Family dinner

~ "Promise me something, S-, Lucifer." They are sitting outside on the penthouse balcony. Michael is leaning against his Twin's chest, staring into the distance, barely existing. Lucifer hums, running his fingers through black feathers as they had so long ago, wishing it would help him. Wishing it would not hurt.
"What do you desire?" His voice rumbles through his chest making Michael smile. He looks up and two sets of equally dark eyes meet.
"Kill me, before the end."
Lucifer jerks back in shock. "Michael, you can't… I" but he knows. He knows his brother has been fading for far too long. His grasp on the power of the Demiurge is getting tenuous at best.
"Promise me?" One last time to show who's the better Twin? To save Creation and little Charlie? To save him from the pain of half existence. Grant him the peace of nonexistence.
Lucifer hugs him tightly, flinching at the pained gasp that escapes his brother. He slowly hides his face in Michael's dark curls and nods. An anguishes sob rips itself from Michael. He clings to his Twin in gratitude and despair, and Lucifer hangs on to his brother like his Will, will be enough to keep him tethered. ~

A family dinner sounds innocent enough but knowing his family it will be anything but. So far, the only positives he can think of is Lucifer being afraid of two of the tiniest women born to Man. Now he also knows why Ella went to extraordinary lengths to choose the right footwear for tonight. Maybe he should forget about the sword and become a master of la Chancla instead. Michael had been pushing around the food on his plate for some time now. Despite having gone hungry for weeks now, his stomach is roiling at the very thought of putting something in his mouth. His father is seated at the head of the table, with his beloved sons on either side looking like a fucking painting. The forced laughs, Lucifer's awful puns, Amenadiel's proud look when he talks about Charlie, it's enough to make him sick. They were given what had been taken from him. A woman to see his Twin, to love him for who he is. A child to love and protect for his other brother. All he has are the empty chairs around him and the fear he can taste all through the room. God laughs at something Amenadiel says, their conversation going back and forth as if their father had always been there. Like he never forgot about his children.

With Ella suffering through a psych eval after the whisper killer case, there's nobody to protect him from the disapproving glare Chloé sends across the table. If looks could kill, he'd be dead many times over by now. Linda however seems to sense the way the situation is developing. Her keen eyes flitting between the Twins and their father. A tendril of fear wafts through the room, though he cannot pinpoint its exact source.
"What I wasn't planning on though, was you coming back to Earth, Michael." A few more nervous laughs titter across the table and Michael tries to hide his scowl into his glass. He doesn't see the way Lucifer's hand tightens on his cutlery, bending his fork to the shape of his fingers. Lucifer had been keeping an eye on Michael's growing ire. He knows his Twin and he knows his fear for their father will keep him in check. If only Michael had grown a pair back when Lucifer rebelled, then none of this would be happening right now. He wouldn't want to miss his detective, but pretending their dad cared about any of them is grating, to say the least.

God smiles and tickles his grandson under his chin, making the boy cry and squirm. "Didn't you learn, last time you were here?"
The glass Michael is holding shatters with a bang. The alcohol proving to be a nice burn to set alight his own temper. Silence descends on the scene, made even more glaring by the harsh sound of his chair being shoved backwards in anger.
"Why?" His hand is dripping blood all over the floor, the pieces of glass biting into the palm of his hand. He stares at his father over their abandoned dinner. He has all of their attention now. Lucifer scoffs and Chloé looks ready to tear into him for disrupting their stupid little charade. No doubt she had been hoping for some sort of closure for his brother. Closure that wasn't his to have. No, this time he would make himself heard. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Mike! I never pegged you for being so melodramatic." Linda puts her hand on his arm to stop Amenadiel, but he's having none of it. "Father just wants to enjoy a nice family dinner; can't you play nice for once in your life?"
"Shut up Amenadiel!" Michael clenches his fist digging the glass in deeper. "You don't get to speak for Father!"
"Sit down Mike, before I make you." Amenadiel cracks his knuckles in warning. Charlie is full-on wailing now, his fears ramping up exponentially. It leaves Michael gasping for air.
"No! You get to keep your beloved Chucky. Father even fucking came down from wherever the fuck he's been to play grandpa." Linda looks torn between snatching her son from God's hands and trying to talk Michael down. "Don't you see, it's all a sham!"

"Michael, sit down son."
"No, Dad! Why did you… You gave them everything. They fell and you gave them a woman to love, a child to keep." He gestures wildly at his brothers. "I did everything you asked of me, but you still took her." 'Charlie…' the boy is writhing in his grandfather's grip and suddenly all he can see is Cronus devouring his sons. 'No!'
"Mike!"
"Amenadiel, he will take your child too if it fits his plan."
"Sit down." The command is pulling on his very being and he fights it with everything he has.
"No, I won't allow it!" Michael's hand is crushing the wood of the chair to keep his knees from buckling under his father's Grace. His right hand searches uselessly for the hilt of his sword.
"Have you gone insane?"
"Father, please! Where my little girl. Where's my daughter?!" Chloé and Linda gasp at the sudden revelation. He grimaces, did they all think him incapable of love?

'Daughter?' Lucifer looks at his Twin with new eyes. He remembers when he'd felt the strands of Creation unravel and Hell shook apart as much as the rest of the world. Michael's actions had caused so much darkness through those centuries. So much famine, disease and fear and he hadn't understood what caused it. And Michael had conveniently buggered off to heaven after that, unable or unwilling to face the consequences of his actions. It left Hell being overrun with human souls whose fear of the devil wasn't enough to alleviate their guilt. Guilt that blossomed under the tender care of the church. Oh, how he detests priests.

Michael snarls at his father his wings unfurling in Linda's dining room. They look worse than ever. Neat rows of coverts are missing entirely, and Lucifer's eyes widen. So many of the pieces of the puzzle suddenly click into place. He remembers the infant his brother had been clutching to his chest. He remembers the burns, the state of his wings, the exhaustion and pain in Michael's face.
"I won't let you take him." Michael bites out through clenched teeth and suffocating fear. "I will destroy Creation if you do."
"Enough!" Strangely the command is echoed by Lucifer who is on his feet.
"I just need to know Sam" Michael looks at his brother who is stalking across the room with murder in his eyes. "Lucifer…" He begs his brother for an answer, for respite from all the feelings that are overwhelming him. Lucifer lunges for him and in a whirlwind of white feathers, they are gone.

"Father I…" Amenadiel looks downtrodden. Despite everything he had hoped their family could reconcile. To be an actual family again.
"It seems to me," Linda is bouncing little Charlie on her arm trying to get the boy to calm down after all the excitement. She looks at God with a calculating eye. God returns her gaze, and she flinches, before soldiering on. She faced the Goddess, Mother of Angels and survived. She'd seen more Celestial bullshit than anyone else. "Did you really," she cuts herself off quickly, holding her little boy tighter against her chest. Not that it would help if God decided to take him. 'Please, Amenadiel…' She would do anything to keep her son safe. Even an impromptu therapy session with the Father of all Creation. She sits down in the armchair, inviting the Lord to sit on her sofa. It's enough to make her cackle like a lunatic on the inside, but she keeps up her professional front with white-knuckled fingers. "You love all your children, I see that. But…" Linda swallows hard. The sound loud between them.

God sighs. He rubs his eyes wearily and leans back against the soft cushions littering the sofa. Amenadiel creeps closer. Trying to edge himself in between his father and his son. Linda coughs before trying again.
"It seems to me that your lessons are perceived as overly harsh by both Michael and Lucifer. Does this not bother you?" God looks tired. The exhaustion of a worried parent clear on his face.
"Some children just won't be told."
"But, Michael..." Surprisingly it is Chloé who speaks up for the dark angel. She cannot even imagine the pain of losing Trixie. It's a thought she shies away from even on the best of days. To see it written so plainly on the scarred copy of the face she loves so much. The archangel acted like a dick yes, but she had seen through his walls for the shortest of moments. Outside that hangar when she told him she liked the new Lucifer. She had seen it so many times before in her work. The fear, the lying, the grasping at straws at even the slightest sign of care and she used it as he used her. She hadn't even thought about his motives. "He was already hurting."

"Ah, you misunderstand me my precious Miracle." God smiles at her lovingly. "Michael wasn't the one that needed the lesson, he was the lesson." Amenadiel stares at his father with abject horror on his face, matching the growing fear on Linda's, and Chloé sees for the first time the fear all God's sons have for their father.

He lets his brother go, the minute they step into the penthouse above LUX. Michael stumbles away from him, having to hold on to the furniture to stay on his feet. His whole back is twisted, the wings hanging uneven, and the right arm is stiff and useless. Lucifer breathes in heavily through his nose and frowns. His healing had done nothing for his Twin. It had only served to assuage his own guilt and jealousy.
Michael's Creation had bred scores of soulless Lilim, many of which Lucifer regards fondly. An army to rival Heaven's legions. And now, his creation had apparently even begotten him a child! What had his Will gotten him? He had no more use of it than an extra limb, or two… without Michael, there was nothing to will into existence. The humans had their own will, their own ability to create or destruct. He was only good enough to show them their desires and then to sit back to watch. To punish them later… Yes, the sex is great. He loves the arts, and his first love will always be music. But it all had been hollow without someone to share it with. He had been jealous of his brother. He had turned a blind eye to Lilith. But now he could see at what cost. Now that the glamour is down, the is lie exposed, the truth catching up to all of them. No longer blind, he sees, really sees the way his brother holds himself stiffly. How his every breath is pain, and his anger leaves him in a whoosh.

Lucifer takes the lower edge of the grey turtleneck between his fingers, moving it up, slowly revealing bruises upon bruises and his eyes widen. Michael grabs his hand with shaking cold fingers, forcing it down, but Lucifer is having none of it. He lifts it up and over his brother's head, leaving him in bare skin and ragged black wings. He softly runs his fingers up his Twins side, not missing the wince of pain that flashes across Michael's face. With a frown he caresses his brother's skin properly, shocked by how Michael jerks away in obvious distress. Such a different reaction from the brother who was gleefully laughing under the violence dealt to him by Amenadiel and Lucifer himself. 'Oh, Michael.'
He regards his Twin as he stands before him on shaking legs, exhausted, defeated. He lets Lucifer touch him as he pleases, despite the agony it obviously causes him. Accepting his fate, accepting care as punishment, his mind accepting only violence as something to be desired. His brother had fallen like Lucifer never had. Believing himself to be unlovable to the point of his own body torturing him for wanting somebody to care. Damn self-actualization. Damn Dad!

Michael had been fading and nobody had even noticed it. Like Twin stars, one sucking the other dry. Either collapsing into each other or flinging the weaker Twin out into space to die alone. Lucifer envelops Michael in his arms, in his wings. His fingers remember the art of grooming, even though he hasn't done so in aeons. Automatically finding the bald spots in dark wings, tenderly breaking apart the keratin sheaths covering the new feathers. He rubs Michael's bare skin and grooms his brother's wings as he remembers, and Michael lets him, despite the pain he is in.
"Why are you are still doing that?" He asks when he finds yet another spot of newly developing feathers. Michael chuckles weakly.
"It makes me remember."
'Bloody Hell…' He undresses his brother further, keeping himself from growling at how the bruising continues down his legs and even extends under the soles of his feet. How is he even moving? He convinces Michael to lay down in the massive bed and he's out like a shaking light the moment his head touches the pillow.

Lucifer finds a folded piece of paper in one of Michael's pockets. Far too bright to be human-made, but obviously well worn. He folds it open, and his eyebrows raise almost up to his hairline.
'Azrael, we need to talk.' He leaves the prayer unfinished. He knows she'll appear sooner rather than later.