After Amenadiel finished getting more information out of Lucifer as to why Michael was there - To bring Lucifer to Heaven in exactly a month - His oldest brother had decided to help calm Lucifer's nerves by taking the whiskey from him and pouring him a nice glass of a mix of vodka and whiskey. Lucifer didn't protest, for once, as his brother sat him down and turned the TV on, switching it to some random show and sitting beside him. Since Lucifer honestly wasn't tired, he stayed up even after Amenadiel fell asleep beside him.

As he listened to Amenadiel snoring beside him, he couldn't help but think back to how it used to be - Just like this, without the alcohol and TV. After a day of pure torment and torture from Michael, Amenadiel would sit him down and… They'd talk. Or they'd just sit quietly until one or both of them fell asleep. In any case, Amenadiel was the one to comfort him when Michael finished terrorizing him.

The Devil sighed and sipped at his drink, which was steadily growing emptier. Amenadiel had insisted this was his last shot after he'd downed at least three of them back to back, so he'd been taking his time with the one he had now. Then again, his oldest brother was asleep, and there was nothing left to stop Lucifer from grabbing another bottle and pouring himself a shot. Not like he could really get wasted, anyhow.

But, out of respect for his brother's wishes and feeling a little too lazy to get up to pour himself a drink, he finished off his last shot and sat back, turning his attention to the TV wordlessly. He still wasn't at all tired, and the TV didn't really interest him at all… Lucifer frowned, looking down and twisting his hands together. He really wanted to solve this case to get things back to normal as far as work went - But, at the same time, part of him didn't… For a multitude of reasons.

Funny, he usually wanted to punish the sinners. Then again, a sinner had already been punished…

Lucifer sighed, looking over at Amenadiel for a moment before pushing himself up and brushing himself off, turning and heading back to the bar. He set the glass down on the counter, but he didn't grab another bottle, instead seating himself in one of the stools and crossing his arms over the table, laying his head down.

"I have to go back to Heaven," he mumbled to himself, voice muffled. His fingers curled into fists, tapping his knuckles against the counter, and he groaned. "I have to go back to Heaven with - With Dad…" After a moment of consideration, he let out a mirthless laugh. "Hell… I have to go back to Heaven with Michael," he whispered.

Silence fell after that, besides the gentle snores from Amenadiel. Lucifer sighed and lifted his head, eventually grabbing the bottle of whiskey Amenadiel had taken from him before and putting it to his lips, taking a small sip. It tasted more bitter than usual.

"Oh, you're getting a kick out of this, aren't you?" The Devil asked dryly after a moment, lifting his head briefly toward the ceiling before looking back down, setting the bottle down in front of him. He lightly spun it around, clicking his teeth. "And you sent him because you know… You know he's the only one who could make me come back there. Oh, my, Dad - You're a smart one sometimes. But I have to wonder why you didn't just send him to get me back to Hell in the first place… Though, there's always the chance that I wouldn't have stayed put in the end."

He cocked his head, not quite expecting a response, and he didn't get one. Lucifer chuckled wryly and lifted the bottle back up, taking a sip and clearing his throat as he continued. "Ah. Dear old Dad, of course you knew that. You know everything," he muttered bitterly, coughing and setting the bottle back down. "So what? What are you going to do to me when I'm in Heaven, hm? Lock me up, hold me prisoner, punish me for not obeying your every command? Perhaps for what happened with Uriel? Though, if you cared about Uriel, this might have happened sooner." He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, then looked back down at the bottle of whiskey.

"I don't know what more I expected from you," Lucifer sighed, tapping his fingers against the bottle idly. "Though, this? Sending Michael to deal with me, of all angels - Effective, yes, but such a low blow, even for you." He grimaced, clenching his teeth together and glaring up at the ceiling once more. "Knowing our history, as well. I'm guessing that he's going to be the one that tortures me. Keeps me in line. Are you going to force me to work for you again? Is that it? Forcing me to be one of your angels. Of course. First the wings, and now Michael - It never ends, does it? You will never stop trying to control me until I just, what? Roll over and give up and bend to your every will?"

Still no response. Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, lowering his head and tightening his grip on the bottle. "This has nothing to do with you, Dad," he hissed, his voice starting to shake from the anger, bubbling up and over again. "I'm not doing this because of you, you realize this, don't you? How does it feel knowing you still can't control me - Or." He paused, and laughed bitterly. "Or maybe you can. Through him. Hilarious, how you use your children as weapons against each other. How you don't even care. Of course, none of it matters, nothing matters as long as you're the one in control, you manipulative bastard."

There was nothing but the sound of glass shattering in response, and Lucifer opened his eyes and looked down. He'd squeezed the bottle too hard, now broken in his hand as he clenched his fist tighter around it. He let it go abruptly, whiskey, but no blood, running down his hand as he quietly brushed the glass off on his pants, spinning around and standing up. It hadn't hurt, but it was a waste of whiskey, ultimately.

He sighed, sparing a glance toward Amenadiel, who was still fast asleep, before glancing back at the half-broken bottle on the table. He brushed his hand off again and turned away, heading to his room. Not that he planned on sleeping, but he did just need to lay back and try to relax. His anger was at its peak right then, and he needed to control it.

He got halfway to his room when he heard the familiar sound of wings fluttering behind him, and he froze in his tracks. His gaze darted to the floor, and he gritted his teeth before spinning around to stare at Michael, who cocked his head to the side and stared at him in amusement, amber eyes flickering. He folded his wings back, both of them disappearing effortlessly as he walked forward to stand in front of his brother, and Lucifer edged back instinctively.

"Oh, relax, I'm not here to torture you," Michael chuckled, amber eyes gleaming. "But I can't sleep. Clearly you can't, either. Compromise. Let's work on the case."

"Get out," Lucifer told him quietly, anger returning. For a moment, just a moment, it was enough to take away the fear. "Get out."

"Sammy, c'mon." Michael did the exact opposite of that. He walked forward, amber eyes brightening with that familiar fire, and Lucifer gritted his teeth, unable to move his gaze. "You're stuck with me for the month, get over it. I get it, you're scared. You should be! Because the only thing - And I mean the only thing - Stopping me from ripping you apart piece by piece is that you've been oh-so cooperative thus far and I haven't felt the need to put you in your place."

Lucifer stayed silent, swallowing and leaning back as Michael stopped in front of him, barely any space between them as his older brother stared down at him. "Dad told me to return you to Heaven in one piece, Little Lightbringer, but he didn't tell me I couldn't rip you apart and put you back together before then."

Michael grinned sharply, and Lucifer tried not to flinch, holding his gaze wordlessly. "So, what's it going to be, Sammy?"

Lucifer had honestly been about to relent. But that last word - Simple as it was - It set him off. The Devil growled, lifted his chin, and glared straight into his brother's eyes. His own eyes darkened, blazing a bright red for a second before settling back to normal. "Get. Out," he snarled, stepping up to his brother and lifting his head. He still had to look up at Michael, but, for once, he felt a lot less terrified while facing him.

"Mm," Michael sighed, and smiled, cold and calculating. "I was hoping you'd say that." With that, he grabbed Lucifer by the front of his shirt, spun them both around, and shoved him back with unsurprising force. The strength the archangel put into the throw sent Lucifer flying through the air, crashing back into the shelf of alcohol behind the bar. The Devil fell to his knees, gasping, before summoning the strength to push himself up.

Michael's amber eyes were glowing, filled with amusement and rage all at once, his wings once more spread out. Lucifer gritted his teeth and pushed himself up all the way, straightening up. He couldn't let Michael intimidate him, not this time.

"Come on, Samael, this could be avoided so easily," Michael hissed. With a simple beat of his wings, he was in front of Lucifer, one hand clasped around his younger brother's neck. The archangel lifted him up, forcing him into the air and bringing Lucifer up to his level. "But, then again, I'm not complaining," he breathed. "I've always loved kicking your ass."

"Go to Hell," Lucifer choked out, ignoring the slight irony to that statement. He shoved himself forward, kicking Michael as hard as he could and sending the older archangel smashing back into the opposite wall. Lucifer managed to land on his feet, gripping the counter tightly with one hand and glaring at his brother through blazing red eyes. At that point, Amenadiel had long awoken and had scrambled off the couch, gaze darting between them.

Lucifer spared him a glance, a clear warning for him not to get involved. Amenadiel was mortal now, and Lucifer couldn't afford to let anything happen to his brother while he was vulnerable. This was his fight with Michael, and while it was a fight he wasn't sure he was going to win, he didn't want to just give in so easily this time. Not this time.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Michael sneered at Amenadiel, shoving himself away from the wall and taking a few steps toward Lucifer. "Did you have sweet dreams?" He lunged, and before Lucifer could react, his brother had crossed the room and grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him up into the air and swinging him around to slam him back into one of the walls. The Devil heard a sharp snarl from their oldest brother, but Michael paid no heed to the warning, grinning at Lucifer coldly.

"Don't mind us," his older brother added to Amenadiel, not taking his gaze off of Lucifer. "Just a little bit of a conflict, right, Samael?"

"Samael is not my name!" Lucifer roared, hands flying up. He grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt and pushed him off of him, keeping his grip firm and steady as he spun around and slammed Michael back into the wall that Lucifer had previously been pinned against. Michael seemed a little surprised, but mostly amused, as if he realized he was definitely going to be winning this fight. That cocky ass smile did nothing to calm Lucifer's nerves. At all.

"Michael, Lucifer, stop," Amenadiel ordered sharply, taking a few steps toward them. Lucifer turned his head toward his oldest brother, then back to Michael, just in time to see his older brother waving a hand toward Amenadiel. By the time Lucifer turned back to look, Amenadiel had gone.

"There. Now." Michael had grabbed Lucifer by his hair, yanking his head back and slamming his fist into the Devil's throat. When Lucifer released him, gasping, Michael took the chance to spin him around and turn, once more slamming him into the wall, this time with his back facing Michael. "You seem to forget, Little Lightbringer, you learned all your tricks from the best," the older archangel hissed, slamming his hand into Lucifer's back.

The Devil bit his tongue to keep himself from yelling out from the pain, trying to shove himself back to get Michael off of him, but his brother's grip was firm. "Stop." He snarled, though he knew at this point it was no use. He was strong - Strong enough to even take down Amenadiel a few times. But Michael was the fighter of Heaven. Michael was the soldier. The warrior. Michael was the one who had trained Amenadiel, for crying out loud. Lucifer barely stood a chance against his oldest brother - There was no way he could fight Michael. And when his older brother had him pinned, he knew he was a goner.

"You really thought you could beat me," Michael laughed, sounding amused. His fingers dug into Lucifer's back - Right there where one of the scars were, and the Devil finally couldn't bite back the yell this time, still trying to twist around and push him away. "Or maybe you just wanted to go down in a blaze of glory?"

"Michael," Lucifer gasped, slamming his head into the wall and gritting his teeth, breathing heavily. So that was why Michael had been touchy-feely all day, figuring out Lucifer's weak spots in case this happened. And now he was using it against him. "Stop."

"Hey, Samael, I was okay going without a fight," Michael commented. At this point, his fingers had ripped through Lucifer's shirt with the strength he was using, fingernails ripping into the skin. The younger archangel snarled from the pain as his brother continued. "You're the one that wanted to try and be all big and bad and tough and try and show me up. How's that working out for you, Sammy boy?"

"I said stop!" Lucifer finally managed to shove himself back, spinning around and slamming his fist into Michael's face. He hadn't really meant to, and he knew it would piss him off, but right then, his back hurt like all Hell and he just wanted to curl up and stop feeling it all. He took a moment to catch his breath and recover as Michael stood still, eyes narrowed, rubbing a hand across his face wordlessly.

"Oh, oh, Little Lightbringer," Michael sighed, and at that point, his eyes were literally blazing with fire. Lucifer stiffened, swallowing as he leaned back. "You shouldn't have done that."

By the time Michael finally stopped, Lucifer was practically begging. The Devil usually wasn't so easily hurt, but it turned out Michael had also brought a few of his weapons from Heaven - Many of them that Lucifer recognized - And the torture went on for hours. Lucifer had, eventually, stopped fighting back. But even for a while after that, he'd refused to start pleading for Michael to stop - Until he just. Couldn't take it anymore. His brother had no problem ripping him apart, and he only stopped when the sun started to rise, sunlight streaming in through the window and casting a brilliant, bright light across the damaged penthouse.

Lucifer was on the floor, gasping for breath and covered in blood, and a few bruises here and there from his brother throwing a table at him and landing a few good punches, and Michael was standing over him, twisting a bloody sword in his hand and getting ready to stab Lucifer for the… Tenth time, was Lucifer's guess, since he'd brought out the sword. Several other weapons were littered around them - Most of which being knives. Each weapon had a different effect.

Like the sword. Every stab wound, it felt like it was ripping his flesh off, skinning him alive in the most painful way ever.

And Michael eventually tossed the sword to the side, delivering a sharp kick to Lucifer's stomach, which caused the Devil to hiss and curl in on himself. "Get up."

Pissed and hurt, but reminded of exactly why he'd been scared of Michael to begin with, Lucifer reluctantly forced himself up, silently cursing both his brother and his Father. He took in a shaky breath as Michael grabbed his shoulders, pulling him forward and leaning in a little too close for comfort. "Now, listen," his older brother told him, his voice lowering. "You are going to cooperate with me. Be a good little Devil and listen to your big brother, m'kay? No more snide remarks, no more glares, and I swear to Dad if you tell me what I can or cannot call you again, you're going to beg for the sword back, got it?"

Lucifer swallowed and shook his head, but he mumbled a quiet, "yeah."

Michael nodded and released him, shoving him back onto the couch and turning away. "Clean yourself up and meet me at the station." He glanced out the window, and Lucifer followed his gaze, taking in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly. "We've still got that case."

Then, with a simple whoosh of his wings, he had gone. Lucifer groaned and sank back into the couch, bloodstained fingers curling into the cushions. He sat there for a little while, breathing heavily and trying to work up the strength to get up and get ready for the day. He tensed up when the elevator made a soft ding and the doors slid open, but relaxed when he heard a familiar voice yelling his name.

"Luci?!"

"Right here, A- Amenadiel," he broke off, voice hitching in the middle of that sentence as he tried to force himself to stand up. Amenadiel was in front of him in an instant, his hands clasped firmly over Lucifer's already-aching shoulders and gripping tightly as his oldest brother pushed him down onto the couch. "Brother, I…"

"Stop, just don't move," Amenadiel growled firmly, looking him over. None of the wounds were fatal - Michael had made sure of that - They just hurt like Hell and would definitely leave a few marks. "Dammit, Michael- Dammit. Okay. What did he say?" He demanded.

"I have to go to work," Lucifer grumbled, shaking his head and trying to focus. "We… We have a case, he wants me to…" He broke off, another spike of pain rushing over him, and Amenadiel grimaced. "I- I have to get cleaned up. Let me up."

"Hey. You are not getting cleaned up on your own, first off, you look ready to pass out," Amenadiel snapped, holding him down easily. Lucifer huffed and rolled his eyes to the side, shaking his head as Amenadiel continued. "If you have to go, fine. But at least let me help." His brother gave him a pointed look.

Lucifer sighed, staring blankly for a moment before letting out a groan and rolling his eyes again. "Fine."