What has Lucifer been going through in Hell since his untimely death? Let's find out.
Chapter VIII: When Angels Fall
After a long battle on the beach at the break of dawn against the Sword of God, Lucifer was down on the ground, pinned down under his brother's heel, defeated, awaiting his banishment from Earth for eternity. He had tried everything to keep his promise to Chloe to fight for tomorrow, but in the end, he had been no match for Michael's control over the elements and his own reluctance to hurt his twin.
Then he saw that glint of a demon blade coming for his brother's exposed back, and all the pain and anguish from Uriel's death came at him all at once. He summoned his remaining strength and the air around them erupted in flames, startling his saintly brother, and freeing himself. He managed to power through the pain and shove his brother out of the way just in time for Mazikeen to break through the wall of fire and stab him in the chest.
He could see in her eyes the realization that she had stabbed the wrong twin, but it was too late. He fell, bleeding from the wound in his chest, surrounded by feathers, just like Cain. Mazikeen was crying over him, apologizing profusely, telling him that she was only trying to save his life on Earth. Michael joined her soon after, shocked at his sacrifice, forgiving him, and pledging his sword to protect Chloe and Trixie. Then he held the photograph of Chloe and Trixie in his hands and slowly faded away while looking at Earth's beautiful blue sky, lost in both memories and fantasies until the end.
Then the sky turned dark, and the bright sand and blue ocean were replaced by jagged floors and pillars of stone. "Bloody ash," he muttered, brushing off the ash that continuously rained down from the sky. He looked down at himself and groaned when he saw what he was wearing, or rather the state his clothes were in. His shirt was bloody, his clothes were battle-torn and scorched, his shoes were scuffed, and he had no idea where his pocket square went. Truth be told, he looked like a homeless magician. He hated looking like this and wished he could wash up and get a change of clothes, even in Hell.
Lucifer looked over his shoulder and saw Hell's gates behind him, then he looked around at the desolation of Hell that he had abdicated from over seven years ago. At least he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do: Michael was safe, and he knew his saintly brother would guard Chloe and Trixie like his life depended on it.
"I'll never see them again," he whispered, burying his face in his hands, struggling to control his emotions. He wished he had been able to bring their picture with him, wanting something to remember them by. "There won't be another tomorrow for me."
He told himself that he couldn't fall into despair, no matter how overwhelmed he was feeling at that moment. No matter what, he had to survive. This was Hell, and every inch of it was designed to punish damned souls. He tried to unfurl his wings, ready to fly back to the throne and reluctantly resume his lordship over Hell, but no wings would come. That's when the horrible realization hit him: he had left his wings behind on his body, which also meant that he was powerless. He was just another doomed soul among billions.
"Why, Dad?" he wondered out loud angrily, looking up at the dark, Hellish sky. "You're just going to leave me here, powerless and pathetic? I saved Michael at the cost of my own life! Doesn't that mean anything to You?" He felt angry, frustrated, and pained at how little he meant to his Father. "I hate You! I loathe You!" he roared.
As he cursed his Father's name for destroying his life, he unconsciously walked toward one of the doors. He didn't even realize that he was grabbing the door handle until it was almost too late. He pulled back as if the handle burned him, gasping, realizing that his guilt was calling him to his very own Hell Loop. What could he possibly be feeling guilty about? Cain? Impossible, he never regretted killing that bloated oaf. Uriel? No, he overcame that guilt the last time he was in Hell to look for the detective's formula to her antidote.
He heard noises coming from behind the door, and he stared at in confusion for a moment. Was somebody already in there? "That can't be right," he said. Each cell in Hell was designed for a single damned soul and if it was already occupied, it shouldn't be trying to pull him in. He pressed his ear to the door to listen better. He could hear the screams of a few unfortunate souls behind it. Why was his guilt calling him to a cell that was already occupied? And by multiple people, at that? "What the Hell?" he asked out loud, and instantly regretted it when he saw the door handle being turned from the other side. He quickly ran around the cell and hid behind it, trying to listen in, hoping for someone to shed some light on the current situation in Hell.
"I thought I heard someone out here," said one of the demons, whom he recognized as Golios, "It kind of sounded like Lord Morningstar. I'd know his voice anywhere."
"Our king has been on 'vacation' for a long, long time," said the other demon, Thalios, and Lucifer could hear a hint of disdain in his voice, "I doubt he's coming back any time soon to fix this mess he caused."
Wait, what mess?—wondered Lucifer.
"He did come back briefly thousands of years ago. Remember when Jamrag spotted him in a Hell Loop? He played some guy named Uriel, I think? Got stabbed hundreds of times by Lucifer himself. Worst job Jamrag's ever had, and that's saying something."
That was Jamrag?! Of all the demons who could've tortured me, it had to be Jamrag—he thought, shaking his head.
"Jamrag always get stuck with the bad loops," said Thalios, sounding amused, "But do we know for a fact that it was Lucifer's soul? Wasn't Mazikeen supposed to protect him?"
I must've imagined her countless betrayals, then—thought Lucifer, rolling his eyes—Or when she stabbed me in the bloody chest and killed me.
"If he ever does come back, I know of a few demons who would love to throw him in a Hell Loop to teach him a lesson for letting Hell get this bad," Thalios continued, and his words sent a feeling of dread coursing through Lucifer. "This whole thing with souls sharing Hell Loops has really gotten out of hand, and it's all Lord Morningstar's fault."
"Throwing that little old lady in with Hitler was a bit much," said Golios.
"Come on, an art critic getting stuck with Hitler in the same Hell Loop? What's not to like?" said Thalios.
This is bad—thought Lucifer. He heard the two demons walking away, still chatting amongst themselves, and he couldn't make out what they were saying anymore. He cringed, thinking about the scenario they described, feeling responsible for it. So, without him around to be Hell's warden, the demons had gotten creative saddling souls together. An art critic with Hitler? And he imagined that wasn't the worst of it.
What exactly do you think happens when the Devil leaves Hell?—he remembered Amenadiel's dire warning—All of those demons. All of those tormented and tortured souls. Where do you think they go?
"Oh, bloody Hell," he whispered, the reality starting to dawn on him.
Luci, since your grand departure from Hell, I've been the one that's had to patrol the gates—he remembered Amenadiel telling him after he sought his help in retrieving his stolen wings—I've been the one keeping damned souls from slipping loose.
And then Amenadiel lost his wings and…oh. The demons must've started throwing all the souls wherever they could just to keep them from escaping through the gates ever since Amenadiel stopped patrolling them. He felt guilty for the state that Hell was in; for all the undeserved suffering that so many damned souls were going through. The souls of the damned deserved punishment, but not like this.
He heard the doors calling to him again, latching on to his guilt, and he tried to fight it. He couldn't allow himself to feel guilt, not in Hell, not when it would pull him into one of those cells. The last time he died and came to Hell he only had to worry about one cell that was destined for him, but this time around, billions of doors were calling his name. He had to get away from them, but where could he go when there was nowhere to hide? There was also the issue of the demons either wandering around Hell or playing all the various characters in the Hell Loops. If the demons found out he was back in Hell without a body, they would throw him in one of those cells like Thalios said.
He was helpless, haunted by guilt, and exposed out here in the corridors. He had to keep moving no matter what. So, he started walking, having no other choice but to avoid facing his guilt and the demons who would punish him for abdicating his throne.
Samael…
Lucifer looked around as he ran, wide-eyed, wondering where that came from. Was that a prayer? It sounded like Amenadiel. He was surprised that he could still hear prayers even without a physical body. He tried praying back to him in his thoughts, but Amenadiel kept praying as if he hadn't heard him. Of course, Dad wouldn't even let him answer prayers as part of his punishment, something which would make his infinite misery more bearable. Classic Dad. The cruelty was the point, as always.
Luci, are you there? Father is upset about something and nobody here knows why. We haven't seen our Father this upset since… well, since you rebelled against him. We haven't heard from Michael either. Are you okay?
Lucifer scoffed, thinking it preposterous that Dad would be upset at his passing. If He truly was upset over his death, it was only because he got sent down to Hell without a physical body. He couldn't rule Hell like this, and he imagined that his Father wasn't all too happy about Hell losing its warden. Well, if He was that upset about it, all He had to do was reunite him with his body. That would solve everything, right? But no, that would make too much sense. This was his punishment for killing a human, after all. Dad always cared more about punishing him than being a Father, and it had been that way since… well, since the Garden of Eden.
Samael was enjoying teasing his brother, Uriel, who was standing outside the gates to the Garden of Eden with a long-suffering look on his face, holding the Flaming Sword. Father had tasked him with guarding the Garden, and Samael had been infinitely amused by the play on words, so of course the bored angel had to tease Uriel about it.
"All I am saying is that you do not have to stand there all day," said Samael, grinning despite his brother's completely annoyed look. "I know you wish to stretch your wings, brother. Embrace your desire! The garden will still be here when you return. And really, it is only two humans. How much trouble could they get into?"
"Brother," said Uriel, sounding deeply annoyed, "If you do not leave me alone, I will run you through with the Flaming Sword and wipe you out of existence."
"Oh, tease! Do it!" said Samael, grinning furiously.
"You are lucky I would never use the Flaming Sword on you, brother," said Uriel, rolling his eyes. "Now go away and let me guard the Garden in peace."
"Oh, guard the Garden! What exactly are you guarding the Garden from?" asked Samael. Uriel just palmed his face, shaking his head, and Samael continued. "Do you need any other guards to help you guard the Garden? Because I volunteer to guard the Garden like a good guard without ever letting my guard down!"
"Samael, you are annoying me, deeply. Go away."
"It must be maddening for an angel who can predict patterns thousands of years into the future to suddenly find himself in such a static position, hmm?"
"I go where Father sends me," said Uriel, and he shot Samael a significant look, "unlike some of His children."
"But surely, there is a better option! Why not send Amenadiel, the Fury of God, to guard the Garden? He is the Silver City's greatest warrior, after all. He would love this task," said Samael, grinning, "Or maybe I could even give it a try. I have had little to do since I shaped the stars in the sky. I would have a lot of fun with these humans."
"You know very well that I am guarding the…" He trailed off at the wide grin on his brother's face. "Ahem, I am at this post to protect the Garden from Lilith and her demons."
"Do you really believe that Lilith would return for revenge? Did your patterns tell you that?" asked Samael, sounding amused.
"Patterns are tricky like that," said Uriel, "It takes time to get a real sense of them. I can predict that she would return for revenge should the stars align in her favor."
"As if Lilith would ever willingly set foot here again. We both know that Adam treated her as if she were his property. He refused to see Lilith as an equal, he shunned the nameless one, and he keeps Eve subject to his every whim. Do you really believe that Lilith would willingly come back for him?"
"Samael, for the last time, go away and find something to do."
"We both know you enjoy my company, brother," said Samael, and Uriel just stared at him, affronted. "Do you not remember? Growing up, you would always want to spend time with us. We always rejected you, but you kept coming back. Well, here I am!" he said, and he laughed at the look on Uriel's face. "You did not see that coming, did you?"
"I swear to our Father, Samael, if you do not leave my sight this instant…"
"Samael!" said Michael, coming to a landing between them, "Leave Uriel be."
"Michael, there you go, ruining my fun again. Uriel was about to run me through with the Flaming Sword!" he said, pointing a finger at Uriel, unable to hide a smile, while Uriel shrank back at Michael's disapproving gaze.
"I was jesting, brother!" said Uriel, sounding defensive, "I would never do that to Samael or any of our siblings! Samael, you know this!"
"You said, and I quote -…"
Michael let out a long-suffering sigh and pulled Samael away, much to his chagrin. "Samael, enough. Come with me. Let us find you something to do."
"I am bored, brother!" he huffed, pulling his arm back, "There is nothing to do in the Silver City! How can you stand it?"
"It is a peaceful existence, and you would do well to embrace it," said Michael.
"I think I would prefer Hell," said Samael, looking deadly serious.
"Samael!" said Uriel, alarmed, "Watch your tongue!"
"Samael, silence yourself!" warned Michael. Samael just rolled his eyes and let out a huff of annoyance. "Do you wish to be in trouble with Father again?" He pulled Samael away from Uriel, who looked relieved that he would finally have some peace and quiet.
"You speak of it as if it were a mere slap on the wrist. I should not be afraid of my own Father," said Samael, "You may thrive on fear, Michael, but not me."
"But desiring to go to Hell?" asked Michael.
"At least I would be free."
Lucifer scoffed, wondering how he could've been so naïve once upon a time. Hell was a place of endless misery. 'Abandon all hope ye who enter here', indeed. He had no hope. Hope was dead. Years had passed already, and his torment was only just beginning. All he could do was wander these wretched hallways for the sake of avoiding a fate worse than this endless limbo. He would rather wander through Hell like this—hearing nothing but the screams of the damned, haunted by his guilt, and listening to unwanted prayers that reminded him of his old life—before going into a Hell Loop. At least he had some semblance of control over where he would go, and that would have to be enough.
Samael. Luci.
"Amenadiel," he sighed. He could hear the sadness in his prayer. He imagined that Michael must've told him the news by now.
I still can't believe that you're gone, Luci. I've never been so proud… and so sad. I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.
He wished there was something that could be done as well, but Dear Old Dad had decreed that he would spend eternity in Hell for killing a human. The only way around that would be if Michael decided to stand up to Dad and take him out of Hell, but he knew that his saintly brother would never go up against God, and especially not for the Devil. Maybe when pigs fly.
If Amenadiel knew, then Michael should have delivered the news to the detective by now. His brother would've found her, somehow, because of course, he would. The detective would confuse his brother for him and imagine that he triumphed over Michael, when the opposite was true. Then Michael would tell her the news in the bluntest way possible because his brother had no tact for these things, and she would break down in front of him.
Without realizing it, his steps gradually slowed until he stopped completely, thinking about the detective suffering in his absence. He wished more than anything that he could sprout wings and fly back to Earth to be with her. He wished that Cain hadn't forced him to kill him. That overstuffed man-ham wasn't worth all the suffering that had befallen him and the detective. How much had she suffered when she saw his Devil face? He must've looked every bit like a monster; a hideous monster who murdered her ex-fiancé in cold blood. She was terrified of him. She ran away from him. Who wouldn't run from a monster?
He heard the doors calling to him again and he snarled in frustration. He covered his ears and resumed running, trying not to listen to the doors. I'm not listening! La, la, la…! He was already enduring one unfair punishment; he refused to fall victim to another one.
Samael watched the Garden of Eden from a distance, hastily putting his robes back on, trying to make himself invisible. Dad was going to punish him—this much he knew. The news was all over the Silver City: humans had disobeyed God and were to be banished from the Garden, and it was all his fault. He could see his brothers and sisters standing around the garden, talking amongst themselves. Uriel was in the middle of banishing Adam and Eve out of Eden with the Flaming Sword. Adam and Eve were running away, naked and trying to cover themselves. From his vantage point, he could see Michael landing to talk to Uriel, and he sighed, thinking that this day had just gotten even worse.
"What happened? Why are the humans being banished from Eden?" asked Michael.
"Oh, you would do well to ask our brother, Samael!" said Uriel.
"What did my twin brother do now?" asked Michael, sighing.
"Oh, not much. He only caused the Fall of Man by starting a 'sex club', as he called it, in the Garden of Eden. We do not know how long they have been committing unspeakable acts. He flew off when I walked in on them. I wish I could say I am surprised. For once in my life, I would like to be surprised."
"Are you certain it was him?" asked Michael, and Samael could tell he was reaching.
"Well, if the 'sex club' is not enough evidence for you, I saw his pure white wings as he fled. One cannot mistake the brightest of all of God's angels, Michael."
"SAMAEL!" Samael heard God's thundering voice calling for him, and he cringed.
"Yes, Father," said Samael, feeling his hands shaking with fear. Of course, Uriel had told Father what he did. He was the one who surprised him in Eve's loving embrace, after all. He took deep, calming breaths, then he pinned his trembling hands under his armpits and flew to meet Him in the Silver City. He walked up to His throne and quickly got down on his knees before Him. "You bellowed, Father?"
"Samael, what have you done to My creation?" asked God.
"I was curious about humanity," he said, keeping his gaze down on the ground, trying not to let it show that he was afraid, "One thing led to another, and…" He chuckled, hiding his fear behind humor. "Eve loves playing with my 'forbidden fruit', as she called it. We were having a great time until Uriel showed up and…" He gasped when he heard the thunder from God and he bowed down to him again, keeping his head to the floor, shaking all over with fear, expecting the worst. "I only asked Eve what she desired, Father," he said, his voice trembling, "She was created to be someone's wife, but she wished to be her own person. How is that so wrong?"
"You have corrupted My creation. They have fallen into sin because of you. Now they will know guilt, and no soul may enter Heaven with guilt on their conscience. They will all go to Hell because of you," said God.
"I will not be vilified for humanity's sins," he spoke up, sternly, knowing that he was out of line, but he refused to be the scapegoat for humanity. "Did You not create Hell? Did You not create the rules of the universe, including the criteria by which souls are judged? Does anything happen that is not according to Your will? You are ultimately responsible for everything, including the humans You send to Hell. It is all part of your plan!" he insisted, and the thunder from God made him bow once again, his wings cocooning him protectively, knowing that he had made a huge mistake in defying Him.
"You will be punished, Samael," threatened God.
"Father, I beg You, have mercy on my brother," said Michael, landing next to Samael and holding him protectively. "He only encouraged the humans to exercise their free will. He is not responsible for their choices."
"I do not need you to protect me," whispered Samael through his teeth.
"I will always protect you," whispered Michael, "You are my brother."
Lucifer was tired, and not just from wandering through Hell for years on end, but also tired of having these memories haunting his every waking moment. When would it end? True, his brother had cared about him once, but they had stopped being brothers when they fought on opposing sides during The Rebellion. They had not even seen each other for eons until recently when Cain's death brought them together again. They had shared a few brotherly moments at Lux, and he had refused to kill Michael or allow him to be killed even at the cost of his own life, but he doubted that they would ever be brothers again. They were just too different. Michael thrived on fear, while he thrived on desire. Michael was wholly devoted to God, while he was the complete opposite. They were destined to clash over and over again.
At least Michael was keeping Chloe and Trixie safe. He missed them so much already and he envied his brother for having the privilege of their company. He focused on remembering every dot of ink that made up that picture he dearly wished he could've brought with him. He remembered Chloe's face, her gorgeous eyes, her tender lips that he had kissed a few times. He so badly wished that he could see her again and show her how much she meant to him.
It's all true…
He shook his head, trying not to think about that, and kept walking. He wished he could go back to Earth and give Chloe the time she needed to process what she saw, and then hopefully resume their 'thing', as she called it. He hoped at minimum for her acceptance and at most for her affections, but how could she accept him after what happened in that loft…
You're the Devil…
He shook his head again, clenching his fists, grimacing, and kept walking. He remembered that time they were interviewing possible suspects in a beach murder, and he remembered how hard he and the detective laughed at this one suspect who was crying over Mazikeen eating his goldfish. Mazikeen, his killer. He'd told her so many times that he didn't want his brother dead, and what did she do? She went and tried to kill him anyway out of some misguided attempt to save him from eternal damnation. And then he saved Michael from her at the cost of his own life. Michael, the one sent by Dear Old Dad to punish him for killing a human being in that loft…
You're Satan…
He grabbed at his head, clenching his teeth, hearing the doors calling to him again, and increased his pace. He thought back to his rebirthday party, and how happy he was when Chloe and Daniel came over to celebrate with him, if only briefly. That was right after he burned his wings, which he eventually got back after saving Mum. He remembered how many times he cut them off, which always ended with him passing out in that walk-in closet, until he resolved to keep his feathery burdens tucked away for good. At least until he had no choice but to use them to save the detective from a hailstorm of bullets in that loft…
It's all true…
He ran faster, feeling the doors' pull, tempting him to open them and walk through them to face his eternal Hell Loop. Where he was going, he didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't stay there near those doors.
Samael stormed away from Dad's throne. Where he was going, he did not know. All he knew was that he could not stay there. He sat outside The Silver City gates, hugging his knees to his chest, his pristine white wings fanning out behind him, unnaturally still and quiet. He suddenly felt a presence next to him and he looked over to see his brother, Michael, sitting next to him and putting an arm around him, trying to comfort him.
"Brother, how are you feeling?" asked Michael.
"Angry," he answered, his feathers bristling, but there were tears in his eyes. Were they tears of anger? Pain? Sadness? Fear? Regret? Maybe all of the above. "Father shows the humans infinite patience, but if I step out of line even once, I get punished. It is not right, brother. It is not fair."
"I interceded on your behalf. I am certain that Father will show mercy once He finds an appropriate punishment for you."
"Of course, He listens to the Sword of God," scoffed Samael.
"You did help ruin our Father's creation," said Michael, "They would have lived in glorious peace in the Garden of Eden with their children, and their children's children. But they chose to disobey God, and now they are frail little mortals who are destined to suffer and die horrible, human deaths."
"Oh, is that all?" asked Samael, burying his face in his knees, "Brother, you have no tact for delivering bad news."
"They chose this path, brother. It is not your fault that they disobeyed."
"That is precisely the problem." Another tear ran down Samael's face, and he angrily wiped it away. "Our lives were designed to be about servitude, and worship, and scraping, and bowing, and adoration. He designed the humans the same way, with one small difference: they could choose to either worship him or turn away from His grace. He gave them more than He ever gave us. He gave them a choice."
"Brother, what you are saying is blasphemy," said Michael.
"The humans have free will. But not us; not His angels. We are not His children, brother; we are His servants. In this way, we are inferior to the humans, and I will not accept that. We came first in all of Creation—we should not be beneath them."
"Brother, you are worrying me. You have been behaving poorly ever since Mother and Father separated. It has affected you more than the rest of our siblings. I know that the separation is difficult for you, but it is no reason to behave this way."
"That is not why I feel this way, Michael! I am tired of living my life in His glory." Tears ran down his face again, and he buried his face in his arms. "I am tired of being a pawn. No more. I am done."
"Brother, you are upset. I understand that." Michael pulled him close, trying to comfort him. "Everything will be back to the way it was soon enough. You will see."
"No, brother. For the first time in my existence, my eyes are open."
Lucifer was having a hard time keeping his eyes open as he wandered the hallways of the Hell he once ruled as a hopeless vagabond, growing increasingly weary of the doors calling to him. The only thing that kept him awake was the constant assault of the memories from Heaven and the doors calling to him. What a cruel joke it was—to reminisce about Heaven while he was trapped in Hell. No matter how many times he tried to think about something else, his thoughts would always wander back to either his failed rebellion or the loft scene, and he'd walked up to those doors more times than he dared to count.
Underneath his weariness, he was angry. His father had done this to him, and for what? For Cain? What was he supposed to do, allow Cain to kill him with Mazikeen's blade? Leave him alive in the hands of human justice? Cain would've buried the whole investigation with his Sinnerman connections and his job as a lieutenant for the LAPD. Cain was never going to stop hunting him and would've continued trying to use the detective to exploit the Devil's vulnerability around her. He would've eventually succeeded in killing either the Devil or the detective, or both. No, he had to be dealt with, consequences be damned, for the detective's sake.
Why would God give him such a wonderful gift if he wasn't meant to protect it? He protected her from Uriel and was never punished for it, whereas with Cain… He almost stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, having a horrible realization that felt like he was just hit by a train. Why was Cain more important than Uriel? He killed Uriel and nothing happened. He killed Cain and got the Sword of God sent after him and was punished for all eternity once again. Even Michael had taken it upon himself to get justice for Uriel because God wasn't going to do it. Why the disparity in punishment? Why punish him for Cain but not for Uriel? Was it because he killed Uriel to protect a human? Did that somehow make Uriel's death acceptable in Dad's eyes?
Angels aren't allowed to kill humans—he remembered, furious at God's decree—but it's perfectly fine if we kill each other to protect them.
He was furious, deeply furious. He loved humanity and everything they had to offer, and he missed his small circle of friends and the detective every single day, but the unfairness in God's way of dealing out punishment infuriated him. He had promised Uriel that his killer would be punished, and he had never been able to fulfill that promise. Dad always cared more about His little pet project called Humanity than His angels, as evidenced by how he was cast out of Heaven for disobeying while the humans merely got a slap on the wrist.
"It is not fair that we are punished for disobeying, but not the humans, Michael! Why are they superior to us? Why should we bow down to them?" asked Samael, holding Michael at bay with his own sword. God had sent the Sword of God and his armies to stop his rebellion and while his numbers dwindled, he still pushed on, unwilling to surrender his cause.
"It is God's will, brother," said Michael.
"I do not accept that! They have free will but not us, not His angels. He gave them the freedom that was denied to us! All I want is for us to be free, Michael! Why do you fight me?"
"Your allies have been defeated. You stand alone in this rebellion. You cannot win," said Michael, holding Samael back with his own sword.
"We can still win this, brother. Tell me where Uriel has gone with the Flaming Sword. We can use that to defeat Father once and for all."
"I will not help you destroy Father," said Michael, looking angry with him.
"I do not wish to destroy Him, brother! I will use the Flaming Sword to cut a hole through space and time and banish Him to another universe. Join me, brother. You do not have to be a servant anymore. You can have free will, Michael. Take it!"
"I only need to look at you to see what I could become should I turn away from our Father's grace," said Michael, "I will not become you."
Samael sighed, shaking his head, realizing that he would never win his brother over. He had been hopelessly manipulated by their Father, after all. "And I only need to look at you to see what I could become should I continue to bow down to our Father's will. You are not a son; you are a servant, with no life of your own. I will not become you either, brother."
"No more," pleaded Lucifer as he walked, grabbing at his head, gritting his teeth, trying to keep the memories away. Time passed slowly in Hell, and he was feeling every second weighing heavily on his soul. He wouldn't serve in Heaven, and now he couldn't even rule Hell. What was left for him besides this endless limbo? He didn't know how much longer he could hold on while wandering around in circles. He felt eternity weighing on him again, thinking about doing this until the end of time, and he felt the panic sneaking up on him as the doors called to him. I need a distraction. Think of something, anything.
He remembered that time he broke into the detective's house to cook her breakfast. She'd thought he was a burglar, which of course meant that she had to go confront him in a towel, which of course had promptly fallen off. And of course, he had to return the favor later when she came over to his penthouse later that day, and it hadn't escaped his attention how her gaze had lingered for a little too long on certain parts of his anatomy. Then she had to fuss over his wing scars and the moment had been ruined. Then those wings had grown back, and he had used them to shield Chloe from a hailstorm of… No, no! No thinking about that!
He remembered when Chloe reached out to him at the penthouse before he ran off to find Azrael's Blade to end his own existence. She had saved his soul that day, and she didn't even know it. Then she'd let him lay down on her lap for the first and only time, probably because of how miserable he looked after what happened with Uriel. He had looked into her gorgeous, blue eyes as she ran her fingers through his untamed curls, getting lost in her embrace, and he had felt better than he had in days. He had fallen asleep on her lap and had wonderful dreams of kissing her lips and singing to her, and he was not ashamed of it one bit. Chloe always saw his pain and pulled him out of it. If only she could pull him away from this now. If only he hadn't… He shook his head again, more fiercely this time, refusing to think about it. Focus!
He missed Earth. He missed its blue skies, white clouds, the sun that he and his brother created eons ago, among many other natural treasures. He missed humans, too, and all the good things they had created. Like good food, movies (Hot Tub High School, as corny as it was, was a favorite of his), TV shows (Gargoyles, Bones, and Monk were some of his favorites, but he couldn't stand Smallville for some reason), liquor, game nights, and the face paint. He could list things he loved for years. If only he hadn't… No, no, no!
He missed Chloe's brilliant smile that could illuminate the darkness. She always brought out the best in him. But he had to ruin it all, like he always did, because he was poison to anyone who dared to care about him. His thoughts wandered back to the loft scene, remembering her terror at seeing his Devil face. Maybe he didn't belong on Earth. Maybe this was where he belonged where he couldn't hurt her or anyone else ever again. Maybe Michael did everyone a favor by trying to cast him out. Maybe Mazikeen killing him was a blessing in disguise for those he cared about.
Another door called to him, luring him into eternal damnation by holding his guilt in front of him. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, unable to control his limbs as he reached for the handle. Maybe it was for the best. It had been hundreds of years since he arrived in this place, and he was exhausted. He couldn't walk forever, after all. Maybe he should just accept his fate and cross over to a Hell Loop until the end of time.
Samael, hear my prayer.
"Detective?" he paused in front of the door, stunned. It was the detective's voice; he'd know it anywhere. How did she know to pray to him with that name? Of course, Michael must've told her. Wasn't it bad enough that he was trapped down here, wandering through Hell for eternity completely and utterly alone, running from his own guilt? Now he had to listen to the detective's prayers while not being able to look at her, or talk to her, or even hold her. She was going to inadvertently drive him insane, but at least he'd be hopelessly insane while listening to her voice. Maybe that was the only way to make his infinite misery more bearable.
It's Chloe. Hold on, please. Help is coming.
To say that he was shocked was a gross understatement. Help was coming? Who could possibly help him except for… Wait, Michael? Did Michael finally decide to stand up to Dad? How long had he been wandering around Hell? Apparently long enough for pigs to sprout wings and shoot across the sky on Earth. He never dreamed that his brother would defy God for him, but maybe his inadvertent sacrifice had broken through that heavenly wall his brother had built around himself. But his brother didn't know the first thing about Hell, having avoided it for all of his existence. Maybe Mazikeen was looking for him, desperate to make amends for killing him with a Hell-forged blade. If anyone could find him in Hell, it was her.
If Michael and Mazikeen were working together to save him, maybe his situation wasn't hopeless. When things seemed grim, when he was about to give up, the detective's light shone in the darkness of Hell. Feeling emboldened by the prayer, he ran away from the door and back in the direction he came to hopefully meet Mazikeen in the middle. All he had to do was avoid the doors for as long as he could, and eventually, his soul would be reunited with his body on Earth. Finally, he could look forward to seeing another tomorrow with the detective at his side.
For the first time in years, he dared to hope.
"I had hoped that you would join me, brother," said Samael, looking at Michael with regret in his eyes. Father had taken his brother from him, and he would never forgive Him for that.
"I would never defy our Father," said Michael, "May His will be done."
Samael looked at him again, and he knew that Michael would never stop. He would be defeated, his rebellion crushed, and they would be back to bowing down before God, living a life of servitude until the end of time. "You leave me no choice then," sighed Samael. The air around Michael erupted in flames, making him scream in pain and forcing him to open his wings and fly upwards with scorched feathers, away from the fire. Samael opened his wings and followed him up into the air as his sword erupted in flames. "You will not rob me of a better tomorrow, Michael."
Their blades met in the middle and the two brothers fought to gain the upper hand. He willed more flames around Michael and then he swooped behind him and struck him between his wings with the hilt of his sword, making his wings go limp. Michael cried out and plunged to the ground, stunned on impact.
Samael looked down at his brother, feeling angry at their Father for manipulating his twin like this. He watched as Michael started getting back on his feet, and Samael knew it would be now or never. With regret in his eyes, he angled his wings, brought out his fiery sword and swooped down to meet Michael again, willing more Hellfire around him, trapping him in a wall of flame. He aimed the blade straight ahead as he flew down to meet him, ready to defeat the one angel who could prevent him from taking their lives back from their Creator.
"I want my life back," whispered Lucifer, barely awake, swaying, pushing himself through the exhaustion he felt in every atom of his damned soul. He had been wandering for centuries, and it had been decades since he heard Chloe's prayer. What if Michael and Mazikeen weren't looking for him? What if the detective only told him that to make him feel better? Worse, what if he imagined her prayer, and he truly was trapped in Hell for all eternity? He may never see her again. Sooner or later, she would leave the Earthly plane to live out eternity in Heaven with her loved ones. Despite himself, despite his anger against his Father, he wished that he could join her in eternity someday.
Samael, Michael and Mazikeen just left for Hell, and left me standing here alone on your balcony. I'm wearing the necklace you gave me. You remember?
Once again, Lucifer heard the detective in his head and it was a ray of light in this sea of endless wandering, constantly avoiding the doors and any stray demons, torturing himself with everything he had done wrong since his creation.
I don't know if you can hear me, but…. I'm so sorry.
Lucifer looked skyward in her general direction, worried about her future. Was she feeling guilty about something? He would rather never see her again if it meant that she could go to Heaven as she deserved. He'd never forgive himself if she ended up down here because of him.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you—she prayed, and it broke his heart—I shouldn't have been so far away while you were suffering, alone, waiting for your brother to take you away. If I'd been there, maybe we could've come up with something, anything, to fight this. Maybe you wouldn't be lying in that bed, devoid of any signs of life. Michael told me not to feel guilty, but I can't help it. I feel so guilty, Lucifer.
He wanted to tell her that what happened on that beach wasn't her fault and that she shouldn't feel guilty over him. Whatever it was that she thought she'd done to hurt him, not only did understand her, but he forgave her—whatever it took to keep her from being driven down to Hell by her own guilt.
I want to believe that Maze can find you and that Michael can bring you back, but I know it's a long shot. I don't know if I'll ever see you again in my lifetime. I just… I just miss you. I can't help feeling that everything we shared in all our time together was real. And if it was real, then maybe the Devil does get a bad rap like Ella says.
Everything they shared was indeed real, even if she was a gift from God. It was devastating to him that she doubted that after seeing his monstrous side. The look on her face as she tumbled over the stairs would haunt him forever. Once again, he felt the pull of the doors grabbing on to him by his guilt, and he increased his pace.
I wish I had a sign to let me know that you can hear me.
I'm here, detective! I can hear you!—he thought, desperate, even though he was well aware of how one-sided his prayers were.
I want you to know that I'm sorry. I should've stayed and faced you. I should've talked things out with you instead of running off to Paris and then almost going to Rome to research the Devil. You deserved a chance to explain yourself after everything you've done for me and Trixie. I'm sorry I was too blinded to see that until now.
Her words felt like somebody twisted a knife in him. He didn't want her to feel guilty. She had nothing to feel guilty about. She had a very human reaction to his Devil Face, and he didn't fault her for it. Her guilt was going to drag her down to Hell, and he couldn't deal with that. The doors sang to him again, and he didn't know how much longer he could fight their pull, knowing that Chloe could be dragged to Hell by her own guilt because of him.
It's all my fault. I should've stopped you from going after Pierce alone. I would've killed him myself when he threatened your life. You wouldn't have had to kill him, and you wouldn't have incurred God's wrath and ended up like this. I'm so sorry, Lucifer.
He paused his endless march, unable to keep going. Her guilt over what happened was making him feel guilty in return, and he could the siren's call of the doors increased to near deafening levels. He roared, grabbing at his head, stumbling, and crashing into one the stone columns, sliding down to the floor again, feeling tears in his eyes.
"No, Detective. Please, no," he whimpered, grabbing at his ears, trying to silence the doors, "Don't feel guilty, not for me. Please…"
The doors called to him again with more intensity than ever before. He found himself gazing at the one in front of him, entranced. He found himself standing up, unable to control himself, almost as if he were a puppet pulled by strings, and it took him to the door. He couldn't stop himself from reaching for the handle.
Please forgive me, Lucifer…
Lucifer fought back against the door's pull with every fiber of his being even as it screamed at him that he deserved to be tortured for damning Chloe to Hell. He started turning the handle with a trembling hand, feeling tears running down his face, imagining the detective going to Hell without him being there to absolve her of her guilt. She deserved to go to Heaven when her time came, even if he never saw her again. That thought gave him the push he needed to release the handle and run in the opposite direction, trying not to listen to his guilt screaming at him.
Samael stood before his brother, holding his blood-stained sword in his hand, feeling guilty for hurting him. He watched helplessly as Michael writhed on the floor in agony, grabbing at his right shoulder in pain, flapping one wing as the other lay limp beside him. "I am sorry, brother, but you gave me no choice," said Samael, full of regret.
"How could you do this to me, Samael?" asked Michael, grabbing at his shoulder to stop the bleeding, in horrible pain, "I am your brother!"
"You will be free of His manipulations when I defeat Him. I hope that you will understand someday." He started walking away, but then he heard his brother struggling to stand up, and he turned to face him again. "What are you doing?" He watched, horrified, as his brother picked up his sword with his non-dominant hand, stabbed the ground with it, and used it to push himself back to his feet. Michael looked angry, ready to continue this fight even though he was bleeding, and his right arm and wing were useless. "Brother, stand down! You are injured!"
"Do you really believe that a simple injury will stop me from fulfilling our Father's will?" said Michael, and then his eyes glowed white.
Samael took a few steps back, fearing what the second half of the Demiurge would do next. He felt the ground rumbling beneath him and then it rose and wrapped around him, lifting him high into the air, covering every inch of him until he was suffocating. Samael then willed the ground around him to transform into steel chains, freeing him, and then he grabbed the chains out of the air and flew down to restrain his injured brother.
"May God rebuke you," said Michael in anger.
Samael watched as Michael waved his good hand and willed the chains to wrap around Samael's torso and wings, immobilizing him. Then his brother clenched his fists, tightening the chains around him, making him scream at being constricted and forcing him to drop his sword. Samael slammed into the ground and rolled away, stunned momentarily. When he came back to himself, he saw his brother stumbling over to him, bleeding from the right shoulder, with his right arm hanging limply at his side and a useless wing trailing behind him, holding his sword in his non-dominant hand.
"This altercation is over," said Michael.
"No more," pleaded Lucifer, tormented by the memories of hurting his brother during The Rebellion. He had thought his cause righteous—righteous enough to hurt his brother in an attempt to stop him. He had been so concerned about their freedom and the certainty of Michael defeating him that he had stabbed his brother through the shoulder. He wanted to save his brother from Dear Old Dad's tyranny, but he had failed.
Once again, the doors called to him, and he covered his ears and kept going through the exhaustion. No, his brother was fine. He saw him at the beach and then at Lux, wearing the clothes he had pilfered from his walk-in closet, and he showed no signs of having suffered a debilitating injury. Michael had kicked his arse all over the California coastline, so he knew for a fact that his brother had healed. Michael hadn't even brought it up during their brief time together, and he hadn't mentioned it either, not wanting to dredge up all those negative feelings again.
Samael…
Was that another prayer? That wasn't the detective's voice. It actually sounded just like him, only with their original accent. Was that Michael? Or was he imagining things again? He almost wished that they would stop praying to him—being reminded of his old name wasn't doing his psyche any favors while he was trapped down here. And yet, how he looked forward to each one because of the brief moments of happiness that they gave him, even though it was painful afterwards when he was once again left with nothing but the screams.
It is Michael. I do not know if you can hear me. I want you to know that Mazikeen and I have almost arrived in Hell to locate your soul. I will fly down to retrieve you as soon as she sends us your whereabouts, and I will break through the celestial barrier holding you prisoner.
Hearing that was a breath of fresh air for him. Mazikeen really was looking for him, Michael was just waiting on her to come find him, and the detective was giving him a reason to fight. He hoped that they found him, and soon. His guilt was becoming too much to bear. And his legs were killing him, which was quite a feat since he was already dead.
Long ago, I chose Father over you. But then I came down to banish you from Earth, and I realized that you were not the same angel who had led a rebellion all those years ago. I believe you may still redeem yourself. And so, I am defying our Father to give you the second chance on Earth that you deserve. I will fall as well, but I will do so for a worthy cause. You saved my life, brother, and I will never forget your sacrifice.
Lucifer wished he could pray back to him to thank him. His brother was sacrificing everything that ever meant anything to him, just for him. But he never wanted him to fall out of Heaven like this. He wanted his brother to embrace free will by choice—not because he felt that he was obligated to repay anyone. Despite all that, he was touched that his brother finally chose him over God. Maybe there was still hope for them to be brothers again after all, now that he wasn't being manipulated by Dear Old Dad.
"Brother, can you not see that He is manipulating you?" asked Samael, managing to stand up, still constrained by his own chains. He tried to get the chains off to release his arms and wings, but his brother held them tightly around him with his power over matter. Then Michael kicked him down to the ground and pinned him down under his heel. The battle truly was over, and his rebellion had failed.
"How you have fallen from Heaven, morning star, son of the dawn," Samael heard the Almighty say, sounding deeply angry with him. He glanced around as much as he could. He saw that his siblings were standing around him, gazing at him in judgment. "You are eternally banished from Heaven, Samael the Lightbringer. May you rule as king over the souls of the damned until the end of time. So says the Lord thy God."
"Mother?" he pleaded to Her for aid, but She said nothing. She did nothing. She only watched as he was cast out without saying or doing anything in his defense. Samael, having no one else to turn to, tried reaching his brother one last time. "Brother, you do not have to do this."
"You chose this path," said Michael, sheathing his sword one-handed.
Samael watched in confusion as Michael undid the chains from around his wings, and then he gasped in horror when Michael grabbed his wings with one arm and began squeezing them at the elbow. "No!" he screamed, panicking. "Michael, you do not have to obey Him! You can stand up to Him! You can say no! You can…!" He heard two loud snaps as his wing bones shattered, making him scream in agony and spasm below his brother's heel. He almost passed out from the pain, but his brother grabbed him by the neck and pulled him up to face him, bringing him back to the painful reality he was in. Tears streamed down his face as he gazed at his brother, feeling betrayed. "Michael," said Samael, feeling dazed, his broken wings flailing behind him, "The humans have free will. Why can we not? We do not have to be His servants. We can choose to follow our heart's desire, brother."
"I am the Sword of God," said Michael. He willed Samael's sword to hover near him, then he grabbed it with a grimace with his right hand and used it to slash a line under his brother's chin, drawing blood, as a permanent reminder of what he did that morning. "And I obey."
Then Michael kicked him over the edge and Samael fell from Heaven.
"Please, no more," he pleaded, stumbling, and crashing into one of the stone columns, losing his footing and crashing to the ground, face down. "Ow," he mumbled against the cracked floor. He laid there for a moment, and then he started pushing himself back up when his guilt called to him again, feeling his body shaking all over from the effort. He wanted to stay down, to rest if only for a moment, but he had to keep going if he didn't want to be spotted. He suddenly looked up in realization. "I know this place," he said, and then he pushed himself back to his feet and stumbled with renewed energy. Had he been walking to this place as he reminisced about the events leading to his fall from Heaven? It didn't matter; there were no doors there, and he hoped he wouldn't hear the voices there. Maybe he could rest for a while and then resume his journey. He ran into a familiar clearing, finally steering clear of the doors, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the voices that haunted his every waking moment finally faded away.
"The lake of fire," he whispered as he stumbled to stand in front of it, gazing at the lake burning at his feet. His knees buckled and he finally collapsed on his knees in front of the lake. The smell of sulfur invaded his senses, and it caused all those memories he had long since buried to come flooding back.
Samael could do nothing but gaze up at the Silver City for what he knew would be the last time as he was cast out by his own brother. And then he fell, and he couldn't stop falling. He tried to use his wings to stop his descent, but they were useless in their broken state. He tried to grab on to something, anything, but there was nothing. All Samael could do was scream as he fell—scream in anger, pain, sadness, fear, or regret. He didn't even know why he was screaming. All he knew was that he couldn't stop.
Then he violently crashed through the Heavenly plane and was suddenly surrounded by nothingness in a sea of stars, his mouth open in a silent scream, unable to do so without any air. He saw the Earth below and he entered the planet's atmosphere, falling through layer after layer of its atmosphere in a ball of fire, burning off his robes, screaming the entire time. He saw the oceans and the continents fast approaching, and all he could do was try to shield his face as he crashed through yet another plane of existence. Earth's blue skies, oceans and continents gave way to near complete darkness, jagged floors, and stone columns as far as the eye could see.
He saw a lake of fire fast approaching, and all he could do was scream, unable to stop his fall, trying to angle himself the best he could to avoid breaking every bone in his body. He crashed into the lake at great speed, finally silencing his screams, almost passing out from the force of the impact, but that would've been a mercy, and mercy was not kind to him that day. He sank into the lake, dazed but conscious, reaching up to the Heavens for help as his eyes burned and his vision turned black. He inhaled fire into his lungs, and they burned as well as every inch of his body. He thrashed, trying to free himself, as he sank further and further into the fire.
Lucifer stared at the lake of fire burning in front of him, remembering how much he suffered in there after his fall from Heaven. He had fallen like nobody had ever fallen before or ever would again. He had rebelled against God, and that had been his punishment. Then he heard it again, the siren's call of the doors, and he sighed heavily at going through this again. He had hoped that the lake of fire would give him more than a brief respite from this torment. Guilty, guilty, guilty. That was all he could hear—a constant cacophony of voices screaming in his ear telling him that he was guilty and that he deserved to be punished, and it was becoming nearly impossible to continue ignoring them.
You killed a human, Samael.
"That bastard deserved it," he whispered.
It's all true. It's all true. You're the Devil. You're Satan.
"That is not all that I am," he said, frowning.
Deep down, you know you're a monster.
"I'm not a monster," he lied to himself.
I didn't see that coming.
"Uriel gave me no choice," he said, feeling tears in his eyes again.
All of humanity's sins are the Devil's fault, right?
"I never made any of them do anything," he said, feeling like he was about to break.
All of those tormented and tortured souls—where do you think they go?
"Mazikeen, where in the Hell are you?" he said, feeling desperate.
How could you do this to me, Samael?
"Michael! Get me out of here!" he cried out.
How you have fallen from Heaven, morning star, son of the dawn.
"Why do you hate me, Dad?" he whispered, and the tears finally came.
You can't outrun what you've done; what you truly are…
Lucifer roared in rage and grief and finally fell forward on his hands and knees in front of the lake, weeping for everything he'd lost, his tears falling through the cracks in the floor. "I can't do this anymore," he whispered, his body shaking with sobs. "Mazikeen, Michael, where the bloody Hell are you? Just make it stop. Please, make it stop!"
Once again, he was in the exact situation that he was back then—in Hell, caught in the fire, pleading for anyone to pull him out of his torment.
As the fallen angel burned for millennia in that lake of sulfur and fire, he begged, pleaded to the Heavens for help to pull him out of his torment, but no one in the entire pantheon of the Silver City came to help him. Finally, he managed to break through, just enough for his hand to break the surface of the lake. He finally touched something, and he immediately held on to whatever anchor had finally been granted to him. He used that to finally climb out of that accursed lake, dragging his broken wings behind him, finally feeling something other than fire on his skin. He collapsed on the ground, coughing desperately to clear his lungs, trying to breathe for the first time in forever.
Finally, he took his first breath since the fall, clearing his mind of the fog it had been submerged in for so long. He curled in on himself, in horrible agony, barely able to remain awake. "Michael? Was that you…?" he gasped, looking around to see who had helped him climb out of that torment, but he couldn't see anything. He swayed, trying to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head. "Michael, I cannot see… Michael, help me… It hurts…" he choked out just before he passed out on the jagged floor.
Lucifer stared at the lake of fire with tears in his eyes. Not only did he burn for years, but he burned while knowing that nobody in his entire family cared enough to rescue him. Even Michael, his own twin brother, had abandoned him. He didn't know what hurt more: the fire or being abandoned.
He couldn't look at the lake any longer and he finally pushed himself back to his feet, falling forward in his exhaustion, but he caught himself by planting a hand on his thigh for support, and then he finished pushing himself back to his feet. Then he turned around and went back to wandering the hallways. He was wrong; there was a worse fate than a Hell Loop, and that was the smell of sulfur and the lake reminding him of how alone he was then and now, waiting for help that may never come.
He stumbled, crashing into one of the stone columns, palming his eyes as more tears threatened to show. A sob escaped him, and he took deep breaths to calm down, telling himself to be strong. Help was coming. Michael and Mazikeen were on their way to him. All he had to do was survive until then. So, he pushed off the stone and continued down his wandering path.
"We've got a runner, Squee," he heard a voice saying. Dromos?Lucifer thought to run, to lose himself among the many doors, but unfortunately, he heard the demons calling his name. Of course Dromos was with Squee. He was surprised that he went hundreds of years without being spotted by demons. And those two weren't too bright, and always loyal to him. Maybe he could use this to his advantage to buy himself more time.
"Dromos," he answered, turning to face them, plastering a big smile on his face that betrayed his feelings of dread and how exhausted he was, "Fancy seeing you here!"
"Lucifer!" exclaimed Dromos, and he ran to meet him, "We've missed you so much!" He pulled him into a hug, overjoyed to see him. All that joy instantly disappeared as soon as he realized that he was, in fact, very much dead. "Wait, you're dead? Again?" He backed away, his hands still on Lucifer's shoulders, looking him over. "Who killed you this time, my king?!"
"You know about the last time?" he asked, certain that he would've fallen over if it hadn't been for Dromos holding on to him.
"Jamrag told us all about how you stabbed him over and over again."
"Oh… Right. That," said Lucifer, cringing, remembering when he got stuck in a Hell Loop due to the guilt he felt over killing Uriel. "Jamrag always gets stuck with the bad loops."
"What happened to you now?" asked Dromos.
"Mazikeen happened. But it was an accident," said Lucifer, trying to keep his eyes open, "But not to worry; I'll be back among the living in no time as soon as my saintly twin brother reunites me with my body."
"Oh, good," said Dromos, letting out a laugh. "We should get you someplace safe, my king, until your brother arrives. You look like you're about to fall over. And then you can fly home to us at last!"
Lucifer let out a light chuckle that betrayed his dread. He couldn't lie, but he was still unwilling to tell him the truth because he knew they'd stick him in a Hell Loop, or worse. "Well, I appreciate the offer for shelter, but I need to go see if my brother has arrived. If you will excuse me…" he started backing away, but Dromos stopped him.
"When are you coming back?" asked Dromos.
"I will come back to set things back to the way they were," he said, honestly, but he didn't say anything about staying afterwards, "This thing about souls sharing Hell Loops is not the way to run a proper torture department."
"And then you'll be our king again, right?" asked Dromos, hopefully.
Lucifer stared at him for a moment, then finally sighed and answered truthfully, knowing what was coming. "No," he answered honestly, really wishing that he hadn't pressed him for more information. Welp, I'm doomed.
"Lucifer, you've been on vacation forever! You didn't write, you didn't call. You didn't even send a burnt offering. The demons of Hell… They need a king."
"Very well! Dromos of the Lilim, by the honor of Grayskull, blah-di-blah-di-blah, I hereby name you King of Hell! There you go! Throne's all yours."
"Yeah, that's very funny," said Dromos, looking at him oddly, "But we all know that the king—he needs to be an angel."
"Fair point, yeah," said Lucifer, thinking that this wasn't going well at all.
"Lucifer, Hell has been really bad since you left," said Dromos.
"Tell me about it. I've just spent the last few centuries wandering these wretched hallways listening to the screams of the damned sharing each other's Hell Loops and nobody's even noticed me until now."
"Hell has been overburdened for almost a million years. We had to make do with what you left us, Lord," said Dromos, "We couldn't let the damned souls leave through the gates."
"I will fix this," promised Lucifer, "But I won't leave my life on Earth."
"What's so great about Earth, anyway?" asked Dromos.
"Well, no offense, but the company's far greater, the work more interesting, and the liquor far superior," said Lucifer, wishing he had a drink in his hand. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must go wait for my saintly brother." He started backing away, but Dromos grabbed him by a shoulder, and he tried not to flinch.
"You weren't just on vacation, were you?" asked Dromos, and Lucifer could feel the tension in the air. "My Lord, we have been by your side since you fell from Heaven. How could you just abandon us?"
"I'll always be grateful that I didn't have to spend eternity alone after my Father's unjust punishment," said Lucifer, knowing this wasn't going to end well, "but I would much prefer to stay on Earth. So, back to punishing souls you go, it seems."
"I see," said Dromos, nodding his head, pursing his lips, and Lucifer could tell that something inside him just snapped. "You reek of guilt, my Lord. Maybe a Hell Loop will change your mind about abandoning us." Dromos and Squee grabbed him by one arm each and dragged him away despite his struggles. He tried to break free, tried to save himself, but it was futile in his state. "Or maybe we'll just keep you there until you have no life to return to on Earth. We've waited this long for our king, what's a few more millennia?"
"Unhand me!" he roared. They dragged him to a specific cell, and he tried not to let it show that he was panicking. "You're going to pay, Dromos!" he snarled as he saw them opening one of those doors that he had been running from for centuries, then he got tossed through the door. He landed on the floor in a heap, and quickly looked over his shoulder at Dromos and Squee standing behind the door.
"Here's your new roommate," said Dromos with a big grin on his face, "I hope you'll be real happy together."
"No!" yelled Lucifer as he stumbled back on his feet and made his way to the door, but Dromos closed it in his face. Instantly, the voices disappeared, as did his tiredness. Even his clothes had changed to something more presentable. He looked down at himself, recognizing the clothes he was wearing when he and the detective went to the loft to save a nonexistent sister. No, he couldn't have fought for so long just to end up in a Hell Loop. He opened the door, but he couldn't see Hell on the other side anymore. Then he tried opening the door again, but the result was the same. "No, no!" he screamed as he slammed the door shut and opened it several times, but the result was the same every single time. "This can't be happening to me!" he cried out, slamming his fist on the door.
"Well, look who's here," said a voice behind him.
That voice sounded disturbingly familiar. Lucifer turned around, finding himself back in that loft, and he saw who he was now sharing a Hell Loop with. "You," he sneered.
"I told you that you couldn't outrun what you've done," said Cain, followed by that chilling laughter that he remembered so well.
Of course the demons thought it was hilarious that he was trapped in a Hell Loop with Cain, the reason he was down here in the first place. In a way, they had both sent each other to Hell. There was something poetic about them being stuck in Hell together, but he couldn't quite place it as enraged as he was at this human who had caused him so much misery.
"So, who killed you?" asked Cain, sounding amused. "Was it Mazikeen? That demon is always betraying you. All I did was flash the prospect of going to Hell in her face and she turned on you on a dime. I would've killed her myself already. Actually, come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I almost did. It's been a while."
"This is all your fault," said Lucifer, clenching his fists in anger.
"On a scale of one to ten, how screwed are you for killing a human?"
"You knew the whole time?" he asked, glaring at him.
"I always wondered why you were so eager to kill me when you knew your Father forbade you from killing humans. Did you think you were exempt from the rules or something?"
"I was using you to piss off Dad," said Lucifer, smirking briefly, and then he glared at him, "Then you tried to kill the detective and myself, and pissing off Dad became a necessity."
"How did God screw you over for breaking His rules? My punishment was to wander the Earth alone for eternity for killing my brother. What was your punishment?"
"I wasn't punished for…" For killing my brother. He paused for a moment, trying not to dwell on that, then he cleared his throat and amended himself. "I got banished from Earth by my own twin brother, Michael. Since there was nowhere else for me to go, here I am."
"Brothers, am I right?" said Cain, echoing his own words, "I mean, I get it, I killed mine. Don't you wish you had that option?"
"How dare you?" breathed Lucifer, affronted at having his own words thrown back in his face, "I am here because I refused to kill another brother!"
"Another?" asked Cain, and Lucifer could see the amused realization all over his features. "So, you killed a brother, too. No wonder we got along so well… you know, at first. We're more alike than I thought."
"I am nothing like you," said Lucifer, glaring at him, enraged. "I killed my brother because I had to, and it almost destroyed me. You killed yours out of jealousy and never regretted it."
"Well, I bet you regret killing me now," said Cain, smirking.
"Not at all," said Lucifer, and Cain's infuriating little smirk disappeared. "If this is my fate for killing you, I'll gladly suffer through it for eternity. You'll never hurt the detective, or anyone else, ever again, Cain."
"I loved Chloe," said Cain, and Lucifer scoffed in disgust, "I wanted to marry her. I never wanted to hurt her."
"Oh, spare me! You pointed a gun at her! You ordered your henchmen to open fire on us as I was cradling her unconscious body in my arms! If my wings had unfurled a second later…"
"I was only trying to kill you. She was just in the way, unfortunately," said Cain, shrugging. "I told her to step aside, but she didn't listen."
"Just like Charlotte was in the way?" asked Lucifer, furious. "Did she also refuse to step aside and allow you to murder someone, hmm?"
"And now I'm paying for it," said Cain, looking around at the loft, then back at Lucifer. "My only consolation is that my men will avenge me. The only one who could've stopped them was you, and oh! Look who's here!"
"You monster!" he roared at him, terrified for the detective's safety. "If they hurt her, if they so much as harm a hair on her head, I will tear you limb from limb for eternity!"
"I've spent the last few centuries watching my life fall apart after shooting Charlotte, over and over again. You think I'm afraid of you?" said Cain, scoffing. "At least now I get another chance to kill you."
"Really, Piercey?" he said, amused. Here was the man who killed Charlotte, who tried to kill Amenadiel, who hurt the detective, and destroyed his life on Earth. And now here was the same man, threatening from beyond the grave to hurt the detective once again. And by Dad, he was going to make him pay for that. "Till death do us part, darling."
"Bring it, sweetie," said Cain, sounding amused, and then he adjusted his stance. "I guess it's just you and me now."
Lucifer adjusted his stance, ready to fight, licking his teeth in anticipation. He watched with amusement as Cain grabbed a gun off the floor and shot him seven times in the chest, accomplishing nothing but a ruined shirt.
"There's no point. The detective's a safe distance away now," said Lucifer.
"No, that's good," said Cain, tossing the gun on the floor. "I came prepared." He grabbed Mazikeen's blade and twirled it in his hand. "As I recall, this can kill you pretty well."
"A fair fight it is then, Cain," said Lucifer.
Cain went after him with the demon blade, and Lucifer quickly turned that blade on him and stabbed him in the chest, just as he did that day in the loft. He watched as Cain keeled over and fell on his back, clutching at the demon blade sticking out of his chest, and he felt every bit like the monster he accused Cain of being.
The fallen angel wandered around Hell, completely and utterly alone. There wasn't a single soul in Hell. His only companions were the darkest sky he had ever seen, the ash continuously raining down from the sky, the jagged floors, and the stone pillars stretching as far as the eye could see. He couldn't even fly to Earth in the condition his wings were in. He had been dragging them on the floor this entire time, unable to hold them upright. The broken bones had healed wrong, and he couldn't set them himself. He didn't know if he would ever fly again.
He glanced down at his hands, seeing the burns covering them, wondering if they would ever heal. At least his vision eventually came back so he wasn't forced to wander around in complete darkness for eternity. "This is what I wanted," he told himself as he wandered the hallways, and it had to be true because he never lied, right? "The Silver City never felt like home. My siblings all hate me now, which is a blessing in disguise. Why would I want to see them after they left me to burn? Good riddance." He kept walking in the dark, telling himself over and over that he was exactly where he wanted to be. "I will never have to bow down to Dad ever again. I will never have to fear Him again. In fact, He did me a favor by sending me down here."
He eventually caught sight of his reflection and it felt like his entire world crumbled in an instant. "No!" he cried out in horror, "This cannot be happening!" His eyes were glowing red as if he was burning with Hellfire from the inside. Instead of nails, he had claws. Instead of smooth skin, he had burns and scars covering every inch of him. His beautiful, long hair was completely gone.
"No, Father, no…!" he screamed, grabbing at his bald head, panicking and hyperventilating, whispering 'no' over and over again. It wasn't enough to kick him out of Heaven, his Father had also given him that monstrous face so he would be reminded every day of what he had done. "Please, no! I am not a monster! I am not…!"
He had caused humanity to fall. He had turned all their siblings against each other during a failed rebellion. He had stabbed Michael through the shoulder. He had sought to banish God from this universe and seat himself atop His throne. The damage he had done to his family was incalculable, and he would be reminded of it every time he saw his reflection.
"I am a monster," he sobbed.
"Deep down, you know you're a monster," said Lucifer as he loomed over Cain, watching as that former immortal slowly expired before his eyes. "And that you belong in Hell where you would torture yourself with that truth for eternity." His face burned, then the flames spread to his back, and then to his entire body, slowly turning his flawless skin into something hideous and monstrous. "Cause no matter what you tell yourself, you can't outrun what you've done. What you truly are…"
Cain grabbed his hand and looked up at him with a twisted, self-satisfied smile on his face. "And neither can you!" said Cain, laughing, before the laughter died in his throat and he fell back to the floor, devoid of any signs of life.
"Lucifer?" he heard the detective saying as she came down the stairs behind him.
Lucifer slowly rose back to his feet, feeling his back burning, and turned around to meet the detective with a big smile on his face. "Detective!" he said, ecstatic to see her again. But she didn't look happy to see him, and the smile quickly left his face. She looked like she had just seen a monster, and it felt like he got stabbed in the chest himself. "Detective?"
"It's all true," she whispered, backing away from the monster before her, finally tumbling over the stairs in the back of the loft. "It's all true."
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, alarmed. His worst fears had come true. The detective knew who he truly was, and she was terrified of him. Still, he desperately tried to reach her, afraid of losing her forever, but she only recoiled in horror. "I would never hurt you, detective."
"You're the Devil. You're Satan," she whispered, trembling.
"This is not all that I am," he pleaded with her.
"You're a monster," she whispered, looking at him in abject terror, and then she ran up the stairs and disappeared from his view.
"Detective!" he cried out, but she was gone. He glanced down at his hands and saw the burns all over his arms. He touched his face and felt the burns and scars covering every inch of it. He noticed that his wings were out, and he reached around to his back to feel his wings, wondering why she screamed in terror upon seeing them, and he gasped when he couldn't feel any feathers. He grabbed a wing and pulled it closer to examine it, seeing the burned, scarred skin and complete lack of white feathers.
"I'm a monster," he whispered, falling to his knees next to Cain's body, hugging his midsection with one arm as the other reached around to his back to touch those cursed wings. Everything he touched, he ruined. The name 'Samael', the Poison of God, never felt more appropriate. He was poison to everyone and everything he touched. Maybe that was why God had chosen that name for him. Maybe that was why he was kicked out of Heaven and then Earth. Maybe all that he deserved was Hell.
Then Lucifer saw Cain standing up as if nothing had happened and he jumped away from him. He watched, stunned, as Cain ripped the blade out of his own chest, and then put it away on his person. "I guess it's just you and me now," said Cain.
Lucifer grinned at him, his earlier revelation forgotten, and he willed his Devil face away and put his wings away one by one, crying out in pain each time. Once again, Cain grabbed a gun off the floor and shot him seven times in the chest to no avail. Once again, Cain grabbed Mazikeen's blade and tried to kill Lucifer with it. Once again, Lucifer turned that blade on him and stabbed him in the chest, then watched as he keeled over to die on the floor.
"Deep down, you know you're a monster," said Lucifer, feeling his skin burning with hatred once again, unknowingly watching Cain die for the third time, "And that you belong in Hell where you would torture yourself with that truth for eternity…"
"Home sweet home," said Mazikeen, taking in the scent of Hell for the first time in years, while Michael stood around being horrified by the view. "Smell that? That's the smell of despair."
"I could not imagine living in this place for eons," said Michael.
"Yep, this is where you sent your brother when you cast him out of Heaven," said Mazikeen, "And where you were going to send him this morning."
"And where you sent him when you stabbed him in the heart," he said, glaring at her.
Mazikeen looked at him with wide eyes, then sighed and looked away, feeling guilty again for accidentally taking Lucifer's life. "I'm going to look for Lucifer," she said. Easier said than done. He had already been here for centuries, and a lot can happen in that time. "I don't know where he's run off to, if he's stuck in a Hell Loop, or if the demons found him. When I find him, I'll stay with him and send a messenger who'll possess the body of a recently doomed soul. He'll find you at Lux and tell you exactly where we are. I will stay by Lucifer's side while you come down to get us."
"Find my brother, demon," said Michael.
Mazikeen nodded at him and then turned around and disappeared among the stone pillars. She looked up behind her and saw Michael hovering high above Hell, probably hoping he would find his brother. She continued walking, wondering about how deafening the screams of the damned were, even more so than before.
"Is Justin Bieber playing on repeat again?" she wondered out loud, wondering what was causing so much distress among the damned. "Nickelback? Trololo? Nyan Cat? Man, if it's Nyan Cat, even I think that's inhumane." She decided to listen in on one of the cells and heard the screams of multiple souls behind it. "Are souls sharing Hell Loops now? Man, Hell has really taken a dive lately, and that's saying something."
She pulled out the photograph of Chloe and Trixie that Lucifer held as he took his last breaths, which she'd 'borrowed' from him at the penthouse, which he in turn had most likely 'borrowed' off Chloe's desk at the precinct, wanting to return it to him. If anything went wrong, at least he would have the picture to remember his loved ones by. "I hope this is enough to make amends, Lucifer," said Mazikeen, then she put the picture away, grabbed her blades, and set off on her mission to find one lonely King of Hell who was trapped somewhere in his own kingdom.
To Be Continued
Chapter IX: Waiting in the Wings will be up next week! Or you can read it right now over at Archive of our Own. We're almost fully caught up!