Lucifer didn't waste much time after that. Of course, he still very much wanted to groan and sigh, and maybe even complain about his rescue party of three showing up so late, but… Wait, wait - seriously, he could have been not only dead by now, but tongue-less, too. But that could be put on hold until the little Urchin was safe again.

Speaking of Lucifer's nephew, the child was currently babbling something utterly ridiculous in Michael's arms. It sounded like dada, to be honest, and was enough for Lucifer to make a face.

"Yes, son, your father is here. There's nothing to worry about." Amenadiel took a step forward, squeezing himself between Crowley and the doorframe, making the demon move to the side. "Michael, I'm saying that it's quite enough. Give me my son back."

The archangel didn't react much – or, rather, at all – to the order. Amenadiel had once been the leader of all angels, but since he had stepped down and decided to leave Heaven in favor of living on Earth, that wasn't the case anymore. And since Michael still remembered how easily the eldest angel had been defeated thanks to being outnumbered, he wasn't too worried - they were in the Silver City, after all. And the angels here responded to Michael and Gabriel now, not to the Firstborn.

"I'm sorry, Amenadiel, but I'm afraid I cannot do that," Michael said without any emotions in his voice. "Again, I won't even mention the fact that your son is abomination, but he's also the key to starting the Apocalypse. I need that leverage so Lucifer would stay obedient. I have plans for him."

Crowley snorted, just as he gripped the metal pipe in both his hands. "You want Lucifer to stay obedient? Really? Do you even realize who are you talking about?" The demon was definitely mocking Michael. "Good luck with that."

"ENOUGH!"

Amenadiel's wings snapped open with so much force that the blade-like tips of his feathers cut through the wall with practically no effort at all. Both Lucifer and Michael flinched at the display, even if Lucifer hid his reaction much quicker, already focused on something else.

"You will give me my son back. Now."

The angel didn't even finish talking properly when suddenly a glass stolen from the desk shattered against the wall, breaking into pieces and startling everybody. It was all Lucifer needed – a small distraction to make Michael lose his focus, since his damned siblings were so busy talking, and not acting.

"What the—"

"Thank you!" Lucifer snatched the Offspring straight out of Michael's embrace. The baby looked up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent, and Lucifer smiled at it. "Ahh—kay, here you go." The Devil pushed Charlie into Amenadiel's arms, making sure to support the head even now, and then grabbed the flaming sword by the blade, pulling it out of Aziraphale's grasp. The Principality staggered forward, too taken aback to react properly. For the love of God, who on Earth— who in Heaven— took the sword by its blade?! And after already being stabbed the last time for doing something very similar?!

Lucifer just winked at him, hand bleeding, before he spun around and pointed the sword at Michael. The very moment the Devil had touched the weapon, the fire blazed up in a sudden, intense outburst. It was answering to him, bright and strong like never before.

"Try to scream into anybody's head here, and you'll be deepthroating the sword two seconds later." Lucifer smiled at his twin in a warning, all pleasant, and not changing his expression even when Michael clenched his fists - with anger burning in him - but thankfully kept at bay.

"You wouldn't do that," said the archangel, attempting to stay calm while Amenadiel cooed at his son before fixing the blanket the baby was wrapped in. Honestly, that only made Michael's blood boil further. The blade moving from side to side teasingly just inches from his face certainly didn't help either. "Everyone knows how you feel about our family, Lucifer. You'd crawl for us to accept you again."

The only thing that stopped Lucifer from doing something definitely reckless were Crowley's fingers wrapping themselves around his elbow and yanking him back. Still, the laugh that tore out of his throat was nothing but vicious.

"Try me, Mikey. You can even ask Uriel— oh wait. You can't."

Every single word that he spoke about Uriel was like a knife plunged over and over again between his ribs, blow after blow, yet Lucifer said them anyway, crushing his own heart. Uriel dying was— was something he had never— never wanted. It was something that still haunted him in his sleep, along with the other Michael's death. Maybe his beloved twin was right about him being a monster.

Maybe he was also right about Lucifer's desire to belong again.

Truth to be told, Lucifer could sometimes see himself in broken, helpless things, courtesy of his dear old Dad and ever dearer siblings. But he would never get so low as to beg to be allowed back into Heaven. Heaven – to him – was like Hell to humans. He had been so, so young, and already forced to be the perfect soldier, the perfect servant, with every personal opinion squashed and stomped on, with every desire for praise, for recognition, for free will - rejected.

But, very well, then. Broken bones were always the first step to being healed. And this time Lucifer was breaking them himself, setting them right. He didn't need Michael's pity to have a family. He already had one. The Detective, her Offspring, Miss Lopez, Mazikeen, Amenadiel, Linda, his nephew, and - the newest addition - Crowley. Family by choice, not blood. It was more than enough.

"Funny you mention that, Lucifer," Michael spoke through his teeth, "because for someone trying so hard to prevent genocide on Earth, you're a murderer yourself. How do you look in the mirror everyday and not see a monster staring back at you?"

The smile that appeared on Lucifer's face was nothing short of radiant.

"Do I really need a mirror for that when you're standing right in front of me, brother dearest?"

"Stop this," Amenadiel spoke with authority in his voice. Lucifer had been protecting Chloe and their Mother, and so the blame wasn't on him. It was on their Father for not intervening. For allowing that to happen. For abandoning them. "You weren't there, Michael, you don't know how or why it happened. And you're not without blame yourself. Abducting me, my son, even Lucifer now? Trying to end the world itself? How is that good?"

"You're not the one to speak about doing good, Amenadiel. You think we're all blind and deaf here?" Michael tried to move forward only to be stopped by Lucifer blocking his path, sword raised higher now. "You tried to kill Lucifer yourself, didn't you? You bedded a demon first, then you bedded a human. You did something Father specifically forbade – you've created a mutt," he all but spat the last word, and that was all it took.

Lucifer was shoved away so forcefully that he crashed straight into the lap-of-luxury bookshelf - head first, sword hitting the floor with a metallic clatter, and the Devil following soon after it, books falling down on him.

And before Lucifer managed to do anything more than just to curse and push a particularly weighty tome off himself, Amenadiel was already on Michael, hitting him time after time without stopping or hesitation. As for Charlie, the child was wailing loudly, held in Aziraphale's arms now. The angel in mention looked rather like a deer caught in the headlights because of the sudden transfer of the little Urchin to him.

"Ekhm, dear boy, don't cry, I'm sure everything— everything will be quite alright." Aziraphale rocked the baby uselessly for maybe about a minute before Crowley grabbed his shoulders and pushed him towards the door, hissing in clear distress. They didn't have fucking time for that.

"Oh, for— run, for Hell's sake, get the kid and run, Angel!"

It was the last possible, and – fortunately – successful chance for Aziraphale to escape with the child, because not even five seconds later Michael opened his mouth, and all Hell and Heaven broke loose.

Lucifer rammed the sword into the floor just as Crowley hit the nearest wall with the metal pipe, pulling it upwards at the last second. The explosion of light and fire was stopped in time for a short moment before it blew up in everyone's faces with condensed power.

XXX

Gabriel could say he expected a lot of things both in and from his life. Promotion, promotion, and well, another promotion were on the very top of the list. Maybe it was a little bit self-centered, but, really, he always thought he'd make a good ruler of the heavenly host. When their Father had distanced Himself, not talking to the angels anymore, too busy with other worlds, and Amenadiel had left for Earth, busy with Lucifer, it had been Gabriel's chance. He and Michael had taken on the role of the leaders. It had been… good. Not ideal, but good.

Then the Almighty had disappeared completely, and the opportunity to rule everything had showed up. It had been perfect – their Father had mentioned wanting to destroy worlds after being finished with their story, and the signs of the upcoming Apocalypse had been there, too, actually. Automatic summoning of the Horsemen caused by God vanishing, the Child being born – well, that one had needed just a teeny tiny twist, since the kid wasn't Lucifer's, but, really, Gabriel had been more than happy to do that. A perfectly good nephilim was still a perfectly good nephilim, after all.

After Heaven's inevitable win, Gabriel would be ruling all three realms – Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Not too much work, considering that all humans and demons would have been dead by that time, anyway.

Then, of course, Lucifer had gone and thrown a spanner in the works.

However, well, everything that was happening now, still wasn't… bad. Lucifer had been publicly defeated and judged, and now he would take care of Michael's idea of letting their Father out. Gabriel couldn't go against the other archangel himself, unfortunately, not officially. But, even if Gabriel didn't end up ruling Heaven properly now, he still would end up alive and not fallen. He'd take it.

Speaking of Lucifer… No. No, Gabriel didn't want to speak of, or even think of that— evil incarnate. He'd helped him enough – sure, he'd let the Devil out of the cell for his own benefit, but noticing Lucifer's pathetic rescue team trying to act stealthy and unnoticeable at the Gates of Heaven, and then him pointing them to Michael's office… wasn't for that. Not completely. Well. He needed Lucifer alive, didn't he? Having Michael and Lucifer kill each other just wouldn't do.

Of course. That was the only reason.

Just like the only reason Gabriel had never used his own powers on Lucifer was that Michael's were better for offence.

Anyway, that was all that Gabriel was expecting, like he'd said, both in and from his life.

What he hadn't been expecting, though, was for Michael's office to literally explode. Or, eh, maybe not literally – literally, but enough for it to have its door brutally ripped off the hinges, and windows shattered.

The angels around him stopped walking, startled at first, then with fear slowly creeping onto their faces. Gabriel cleared his throat and raised a hand in a calming down gesture.

"It's alright, everybody! Remember, all of you are lean, mean, fighting machines, there's no reason to be afraid!" He said loudly. "Scatter, angels! Nothing to see here."

Gabriel waited with an encouraging smile until the last angel left the immediate vicinity of Michael's office, before rushing to it himself.

XXX

The explosion left everyone either knocked out cold, or sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain and bleeding from various cuts. Lucifer had his eyes closed, head lolled to the side, as he struggled with drawing in one shallow breath after another, tasting the warm, thick blood in the back of his throat. Sure, the plan had been good enough for the heat of the moment – or rather, would have been, if Crowley and him hadn't had different plans, one accidentally amplifying the power of another.

Lucifer had been standing too close, of course.

He more felt than heard someone dragging himself across the floor to him. He also felt something almost… singing to him, enticing him. Like the Shard of Chaos Amara had given him once, but where it had been cold and dark, painful like a poison, this… this was like a fuel for the light inside of him.

"Are you… Shit, shit, shit, are you okay?"

Only then Lucifer realized he was moving himself, trying to crawl closer to the abandoned sword. The light was seeping through the hairline cracks in the blade, and Lucifer was seeing it, feeling it, even with his eyes closed. He opened them, frowning, and not fully understanding what was happening.

Was Crowley talking? He probably was. Lucifer didn't turn to him, still weirdly transfixed on the heavenly weapon. All flaming swords had been made by Dad Himself, with His own essence. And now it was bleeding out through the cracks.

"Are you fucking deaf now?" Crowley snapped. He was on edge, too tense and alert for his liking, and, eh, in too much pain for his liking, as well. Thanks to his own stupid idea – combined with Lucifer's even stupider one – his leg was broken. But that… that didn't matter, not really. What mattered was that a, the kid was safe, b, his Angel was safe, c, Lucifer was safe and alive. The jury was still out on the order of those three little things. "If you can crawl, you can hear me, shithead."

Crowley decided not to contemplate the logic in that sentence.

"How does that make any sense?" Lucifer did it for him, though, just as finally tilted his head to face his brother with confusion and surprise clear in his expressive eyes. All after checking if Amenadiel and Michael were fine, too, thank you very much. And they were! Unconscious, but breathing with no trouble not so far away. They weren't even injured much. "And why do you ask? Why, want to rescue me to death again? Or, wait, to come so late I could have been killed fifty times over already?"

"Oh, oh, right, okay then. You're fine." Crowley squinted at him, irritated, but also oh so relieved that Lucifer wasn't in danger of dying on his hands again. Funny thing, but Crowley really wanted to keep this brainless idiot in his life. "Sorry we couldn't take an express train straight to Heaven." The words… It was an explanation, alright? It was. They'd had to go to Amenadiel first, tell him everything, then work out at least something slightly resembling a plan before trying to get into the Silver City unnoticed. And, of course, of all fucking archangels, Gabriel had noticed. Lucifer must have let out a small sigh, because Crowley dragged a hand down his face, even more frustrated, and guilty, and desperate now. "Listen, I came as soon as— as it was possible. Wherever you are, I'll always come to you. You know that, right?"

"Do I? Dearie me, I think I have trouble hearing, after all," Lucifer drawled out, clearly enjoying the situation, if the wide, brilliant grin appearing on his face was anything to go by. "Can you repeat it, please?"

"I don't know, can you shut it?" Crowley's honeyed voice was just as pleasant. "Feel free to do just that."

Someone cleared his throat loudly, interrupting their banter and causing Lucifer and Crowley to turn to the ruined doorway. Gabriel was standing there, looking both perplexed and gobsmacked while taking in the surroundings. He put his hands together and pressed them against his lips, as if praying for some strength.

"Which one… of you two, idiots… can tell me… what just happened in here?"

"Well," Crowley shrugged from his sitting position on the floor, all exhausted and insufferable now, "you have eyes, don't you? I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself."

"Figure it out for myself?" Gabriel repeated the demon's words way too slowly for it to mean anything good. "Either you tell me, or I'll make sure your fangs are made into someone's necklace, Crowley. Do you know what was supposed to happen? How important that was? Lucifer was supposed to…"

The rest of Gabriel's lecture was drowned out by the languid song. If Crowley answered the archangel, Lucifer didn't hear that either. With no one paying any attention to him, his hand reached out to take the sword out of its own will, and he… he could only watch, completely entranced.

It was calling out to him.

The light seeping out of the cracks was this kind of brightness that would make fresh snow look grey and dull. It was a brightness to outshine the sun itself, and yet Lucifer couldn't tear his eyes away from it. He knew what he had to do. His brothers would never stop fighting, would they? Between themselves, against him, for the Throne, to start the Apocalypse, to let God out. And Dad, or no Dad, but for all the prayers, their Father had never bothered to make anything better. To intervene when Lucifer had stared at the fresh, red-hot blood coating his shaking hands. To intervene when— when they all needed Him the most. All He cared about was… being entertained.

Lucifer did, though. Time and time again, he tried his best to do the right thing, to save the world instead of ending it, even at his own cost.

This felt like the right thing, too.

The song of power and fire was so loud that it filled his brain and his heart, drowning out all other sounds, even as someone started to shout things in that weird, urgent, and utterly terrified tone of voice. But he didn't listen. He couldn't. He couldn't even think anymore. It was more than the Shard. It was more than Chaos.

White light burst forth Lucifer's entire body the moment he drove the sword into his chest straight up to the hilt.