Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N:

Lots of brotherly angst in this chapter. Raphael tries to find a way around his missing healing fire to heal Lucifer. He finds it deep inside of himself. While the method is successful, the outcome is unpredictable and puts Raphael in harm's way. Amenadiel inadvertently helps Raphael save himself.

I introduce the Archangel Michael in this chapter, and he is not what we are all led to believe he is. Lucifer learns that he may not have been his Father's first choice to become the devil.

As always, I appreciate your feedback and reviews.

CHAPTER 15: BROTHERLY LOVE

Raphael: Heal Thyself

How loud the sounds of silence can be, I'd never noticed. I've just roared at my Father, in anger, and frustration. Like a child, I stamped my foot, had a temper tantrum.

"Why?" I shouted at the sky. "Who's taken my healing fire from me?" He did not answer—He never answers.

Three of us holed up in the confines of this tiny studio apartment of Amenadiel's, with only a bed and a single straight back chair to share among us. Sandwiched between neighbors engaging in bouts of wall-banging sex on one side and acrimonious domestic bickering on the other. Silence is a valuable commodity in this place.

Despite the cramped conditions, Amenadiel's flat is bright, bathed with pure white light. I find it oddly reminiscent of home, an outpost, a little hub of spiritual energy. Time seems to follow an otherworldly path here. Curiously, the noisy neighbors have abated. Perhaps the word has gotten out that they shouldn't rouse the devil in apartment 2B.

Breaking from his thoughts, Raphael stammers, "I…I don't know what to do, I've never felt so helpless. I want to heal Luci, but I can't."

Tensions rise high within such close quarters; a mood settles in that is palpable enough to hack with a dull blade. As the only being in the room whose powers are still intact, Amenadiel knows that he must stay strong in light of the afflictions that have befallen Lucifer and now, Raphael.

A sinking feeling wrenches at Amenadiel's gut as the angel of healing seems to unravel before his eyes. "Rafe, are you okay?" He asks hesitantly.

Planted at the foot of Lucifer's bed, Raphael watches the pained expression on his brother's face and hears the quiet moans that escape his mouth. The Archangel feels himself slipping into despondency.

Blinking away the tears, he shakes his head in disbelief, "no brother; I am not…okay. It's all gone—I have nothing left."

Not fully grasping the gravity of Raphael's situation, a frown twists itself across Amenadiel's face, "what do you mean, nothing left."

"My healing fire has been wrested from me...my powers are gone," Raphael's his voice trails off. His hands cover his ears in an attempt to quell the noise. All he can feel is the beating of his own heart so hard against his chest that he hears it pounding in his head.

Nervous energy unsettles the angel, compelling him to pace up and down the small room. Raphael looks like he's about to lose it at any second. His mouth feigns speech, opening and shutting like a sick fish, he mumbles, "What have I done? How could such a routine treatment go so terribly wrong? It should have been a simple fix. I should have been able to heal him. Now, he is in more pain than ever. How can that be?" His tear-filled eyes grip Amenadiel's, looking for an answer, "Brother, please tell me how did this happen?"

Amenadiel curls his muscular arm around Raphael's hunched shoulders, and attempts to comfort his brother,"Stop! Just stop for a second. Don't beat yourself up, Rafe-you tried your best."

"Obviously, my best is not good enough, it only serves to disparage my abilities. It is as if each injury was predestined to become worse under the touch of my healing fire. I felt an outside force interfering with me while I was working on Luci. There are only two beings in all of creation with the kind of power that could cause my healing hand to tremble and falter. I know it wasn't Father, so it must be Asherah. She knew that I would be Lucifer's last hope to heal the injuries she'd inflicted on him."

"Asherah seems more than willing to show us her capabilities. I think she wants us all to understand and, to fear the extent of her supremacy. She may be almost as powerful as Father, but she doesn't wield her powers with the same grace and goodness that he does. She likes to flaunt her forces and play mind games with all of us. Asherah doesn't care who she hurts in the process as long as she gets what she wants."

Silhouetted by the thick grayness of the L.A. sky, Raphael stands at the window with his hands spread apart on the sill and his head hanging low. The sky had grown dark, a storm was blowing in and inside, the room grew dim. It had become darkened enough in the apartment to reveal a tremulous, nearly translucent, shimmering white aura emanating from the angel's body.

"Hello old friend," Raphael whispers at the white light that naturally glows from his hands. And then it dawns on him, "Why hadn't I thought of this before? I can use my inherent powers as an empath to heal Luci. Yes, that should work out well—except with one remotely possible caveat."

Tuning everything else out, the Archangel gazes off into the distant sky as the storm unleashes a cloudburst of rain that dissipates into the soft sound of droplets pelting against the window. The gentle pitter-patter produces a calming effect, conducive to self-awareness and introspection. Raphael begins a standing meditation while he tries to reconnect with his inner self. To his delight, he finds that his mind-body-spirit is still intact, in fact, there has been no change, except in his ability to call up the healing fire. Relaxing his breathing, taking slow, deep breaths, Raphael finds that he can center himself. At that moment, the angel regains his composure, clarity, and confidence to heal once again.

The Awakened Heart

In a matter of moments, Raphael's aura had already grown in brilliance, and intensity; he could feel its euphoric emotions gently flowing through him. Turning around from the window, he sees that Amenadiel has fallen asleep while slumped on the floor. The Archangel, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently rouses his brother, he whispers, "Amenadiel, wake up."

Startled by the bright light in front of him, Amenadiel awakes abruptly, "Rafe, is that you?" He says sleepily, "wow, what have you got going on there? I thought you no longer had your powers."

"Correction my somnolent brother, the healing fire was a gift from Dad. However, the aura that you see now is just me. It has always been a part of me."

"I was dreaming that you had healed Luci when you woke me up." Rafe, "do you think that you can make him well by using this aura of yours?"

"While it does have some limitations, healing someone through the empathic release of negative energy is powerful medicine. I am quite confident that I can treat Luci using that method."

"But Rafe, what about Asherah, could she have somehow blocked the powers you have from your aura?"

A smile widens across his face, "she may be mightier than I, but she hasn't got me beat—yet. I still have some other ways to get around her. Besides, I barely know Asherah. At best, her knowledge of my powers is superficial; she doesn't know much about me. She thinks she's blocked my healing abilities, but she hasn't gotten to all them. There's more to me than the healing fire. I'll bet she hasn't thought of this…at least, I hope she hasn't. No matter, it's worth the gamble."

"Brother,let me try to heal him one more time-I know I can do this."

"And if you don't succeed?" Amenadiel responds flatly.

Looking his brother straight in the eye, the angel retorts, "Failure is not an option."

As Raphael begins the process of calming his head in preparation to heal Lucifer, an unwelcome interloper intrudes. The voice of Michael thunders in his brother's ear, "Leave him be. Do not interfere with his fate."

His voice filled with anger and indignation; Raphael defies his command, "Damn, you Michael, I will not let Luci perish without a fight. I'm going to give it everything I've got. If I fail and go down in the process—so be it. I know you want him dead, but not this time and not because I couldn't heal him."

"Very well, brother, but be ready to suffer the consequences," Michael warns.

Ignoring Michael's threat, Raphael continues to prepare himself to heal Lucifer. He begins by taking deep calming breaths, centering himself. Next, he envisioned himself grounded and connected to the earth: balanced, stable and secure.

Turning toward Lucifer, Raphael's heart clenches at the sight of him. He is ashen, barely breathing and deathly still. "I must hurry," he murmurs.

Closing his eyes, Raphael imagines that there is an enormous sun above him, sending its beams of light into his heart and down into his hands. His will directs the light wherever it needs to go. His hands feel hot to the touch, glowing with white light, they are ready to start the healing ritual.

Raphael's hands glide within the energy field a few inches above Lucifer's skin. Starting at his head, he passes his hands over his brother's body in broad sweeping motions, working his way down to his feet. Lucifer responds to the first pass by releasing his anxiety and relaxing his body, making it easier to continue to work on him.

Placing his hands on Lucifer's head, Raphael begins a slow and careful scan. He pauses over areas of negative energy and continues to hover his hands over the affected area until it clears before moving on. Slowly he makes his way down to the soles of his brother's feet.

On the final sweep, starting once again at Lucifer's head, Raphael's hands glide free over his body, no more negative energy obstructs their path. It feels like a gentle, cooling breeze flows beneath the warmth of his healer's hands. The final pass elicits deep gulps of air from Lucifer as his body slumps; pain drains from him, all traces of stress leave his face, his breathing gains regularity—he seems to be in a deep and comfortable sleep.

Raphael has taken away all of Lucifer's pain and taken it inside of himself. He feels it's coldness as it enters him.

On the other side of the room, Amenadiel kneels in prayer, with an eye on his brothers, he squints at the brilliantly bright, aura that envelops Lucifer and Raphael.

Raphael breaks away from Lucifer and turns around to face Amenadiel. Sweat drips from his forehead; his mouth is dry, and his breath is quick and shallow. His eyes stare out blankly, belying the magnitude of what he's just done. As he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze fixes on Lucifer who is sleeping, peacefully. Ignoring the hurt that he has taken inside of him, Raphael smiles, if only briefly.

Then it hits him; the coldness inside turns white hot as he feels as if a burning blade has just stabbed him. Gasping for breath, he doubles over in pain as he feels the full impact of Lucifer's injuries.

All of his strength drains from him, as he falls to his knees, Raphael crosses his arms over his stomach, clutching tightly as the painful injuries he has transferred to himself begin to manifest.

Amenadiel rushes over to the stricken angel as he collapses onto the floor, "no! Rafe—No!" Amenadiel screams.

"What have you done?" Amenadiel whispers as he cradles the convulsing angel in his arms.

Raphael is shaking, his face glistens with sweat, swallowing hard, he takes a deeply pained breath and closes his eyes. "I healed him," he grins.

"Yes, I can see that," Amenadiel murmurs, "but at what cost? Don't tell me you transferred his injuries and pain to your body? You resorted to transference to heal him, didn't you? Rafe, why would bring all of that upon yourself-suppose you can't shake it off?"

Feeling the full brunt of Lucifer's pain, Rafe is panting and moaning,looking up at his brother, he squeezes out, "it worked, didn't it?"

"But at what cost?" Amenadiel cries, "Why? Would you do this?"

"Because he's my brother," Raphael whispers, "Haven't you ever put yourself in harm's way for someone you love before?Besides, it felt good to stick it to Michael. He knows what I have done today. He already threatened me with dire consequences if I was to heal Luci and save him from his fate."

"Did you speak to Michael?"

In too much pain to speak, Raphael nodded, "yes."

Worried sick, Amenadiel scolds him, "you're an idiot."

Amenadiel notices that Raphael's aura has almost disappeared and that the dim glow left, flickers like a failing fluorescent light, his life force was quickly fading. "Rafe, how did you expect to get out of this?" He demands.

"I…I thought…I could push it all out…but it's too painful. I can't center myself enough to call upon the light to help me." Raphael begins to slip away; he is falling in and out of consciousness.

Tears stream down Amenadiel's face as he implores Rafe, "stay with me, please…"

"I can't hold on much longer Amenadiel, please let me go." Raphael's head falls to one side, freeing the pendant from his collar.

Amenadiel couldn't help but notice the strange symbols engraved in the silver and the huge turquoise stone in the center of the pendant: it was oddly compelling. "Rafe—Rafe, what is this pendant?" He holds it up to the angel's face so he can get a good look at it.

"Oh, he smiles, clutching the pendant to his chest, it's for spiritual healing and meditation…"

"How do you use it," Amenadiel presses him?"

"Like this…" Raphael rubs the beautiful blue-green stone with his thumb and almost immediately, he begins to feel calmer and clearer. A few minutes later, he can control his pain long enough reach a calm centered state. His aura brightened significantly, its soft glow grew steady once again. The Archangel smiles weakly as he feels the warmth of the white light returning to his hands.

While it took longer than he'd imagined, Raphael was finally able to get the upper hand on clearing the negative energy and jettisoning it from him. The effort left him so exhausted, that he could barely keep his eyes open, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

All of these close calls with his brothers has frayed Amenadiel's nerves. He can't help but feel frustrated by his headstrong siblings. As he felt the flush of his anger rising to his face, he tries to quell that angelic temper of his from clouding his judgment. Although, he wasn't sure which one of his brothers he wanted to strangle first. They were equally driving him crazy. Turning his eyes skyward, he offers up a prayer of thanks, "Father, please keep them safe: I know that's not an easy task for these two." Then, he falls asleep still cradling Raphael in his arms. Soon all three angels are snoring and sound asleep.

Some time later, Raphael awakes with a start; he feels the pain has gone, lifting his tunic; he sees the injury is gone too. Breathing a big sigh of relief, he feels like his old self. Jumping to his feet, the newly restored angel of healing is visibly elated. Let's see if I've still got the old touch back!

Amenadiel scrambles to his feet, "now what are you up to?"

"Dear brother, I'd like to give you a parting gesture, a token of my appreciation for saving me, from certain death. I know you've been through so much lately and I'd like to calm your mind and remove any stress that Luci and I may have brought upon you."

"You can do that?"

"Calm a troubled mind? Yes, it is one of my talents."

Placing one hand on each temple, Raphael becomes still while he summons his healing fire. This time, it appears. The familiar green rays of light stream from his fingers and ripple across Amenadiel's face and head where it is absorbed and melts away. Amenadiel breathes a deep sigh; his shoulders relax, and his head flops back. All traces of anxiety and frustration melt away from his face, his seemingly permanently furrowed brow, smooths out, and he looks like his old calm, cool and collected self.

Flashing that brilliant smile of his, Amenadiel thanks, Raphael, "I haven't felt this great in a long time."

Affectionately slapping Amenadiel on his back, Raphael declares, "I have finished my work here."

"Are you certain that you're going to be okay? What about Michael, I'm sure he'll be none too pleased about the outcome of Luci's fate?"

"I've never been better, and as for Michael, I can handle him if necessary. Now, I must be off as I'm already needed back home. Apparently, some squabbling angels have damaged each other's wings!"

The brothers embrace affectionately, and Raphael disappears in a flash of green light.

A few moments later, Lucifer wakes with a start, his eyes dart around the room, searching for Raphael. Sensing that Amenadiel is still in proximity, he whispers, "Rafe is gone, isn't he?"

"Yes, Luci, he just left."

The Murderous Heart

His disappointment is evident as he shakes his head from side to side on the pillow, "Why?" Lucifer asks glumly. Searching Amenadiel's soft ebony eyes for an answer, the forlorn angel turns away from him and crosses his arms over his chest. "Why did he leave without saying goodbye to me? We may never see each other again. I wanted to thank him for healing me and for risking Michael's wrath."

"Luci, Rafe didn't need you to say anything, the peaceful, pain-free expression on your face was thank you enough for him. Let's just leave it at that. Now that he's figured out a way to come down here, obviously with Father's approval, I'm sure we will see him again. Besides, he seems unconcerned about what Michael thinks one way or another."

"Right then," exclaims a suddenly chipper Lucifer. No longer in the doldrums, he jumps out of bed, "Amenadiel, would you like a cup of tea? I've been jonesing for one for days."

"What, no requests for whiskey and cigarettes?" He smiles, "and yes, Luci, I'll take a cup of tea—with no milk or sugar."

"Bloody Hell! You feathered bastard, of course, I'm dying for a drink and a smoke, but I know asking you for them will be pointless, he frowns." Still dressed in the black tee shirt and jeans that he'd worn while at Doctor Linda's office, his beard had overgrown his usual five o'clock shadow. Lucifer's hair formed unruly curls around his handsome face. The scruffy look suited him.

Still, in his bare feet, Lucifer pads around Amenadiel's kitchenette fixing tea for them both. Grumbling about the uncivilized lack of real teacups in the house, he serves up his tea for two in mugs—much to his dismay.

"Whoa, there Luci, time to take your meds." Amenadiel hands his him a glass of water and an entire handful of meds. Maintaining the schedule like clockwork, he watches his brother like a hawk making sure he takes every last pill.

Handing off the mug of tea to his brother, Lucifer makes himself comfortable by curling his long legs up on the bed. Sipping his tea, he finds himself in a talkative mood. "You, know what irks me…"

He sits backward on the straight back chair, the only other stick of furniture in the apartment, knowing that he's in for a garrulous talk. "No Luci, what irks you?" Amenadiel chuckles.

Lucifer dives right in, "I don't understand Michael. Why does his hatred of me continue to grow after all of these eternities? After all, I'm sure he's gotten from Dad, all that he ever wanted, which was to be his favorite. I was gone a long time ago in that department. He lords over our brothers with an iron fist. Look at how long it took Raphael to sneak off behind his back to help me. Could it be that he's still resentful that Dad wouldn't let him off me for good?"

"On the day, Father cast me from heaven, I'll never forget the look of contempt Michael had, that sneering smile, his teeth were bared, like a wild animal. He had me exactly where he wanted me. I was one twist of the sword under my heart, away from death. He was going to show Dad and all of you, who was the knight in shining armor, fighting to rid heaven of its evil stain—me."

"When Father stopped him from killing me, he slid me off of his sword with his foot to my throat. He kicked me in the gut and sent me reeling. But Father was the one who closed the deal that day when he threw me out of heaven forever. As I lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, I heard Father say to Michael; I have a far greater punishment in store for your brother. Killing him now would not serve the purpose that I have intended for him. Rest assured that He will suffer this fate until the end of time."

"Then he let loose a bolt of lightning from his hand that struck me, and burned me all of the precipitous way down my fall."

Amenadiel hadn't participated in the rebellion, and he wasn't present for the epic battle between brothers, nor had he witnessed God casting Lucifer out of Heaven. He'd heard many versions of what went down on that day, but this was the first time he'd heard it from Lucifer's perspective.

"Be that as it may, Luci, hell did not yet exist when Father cast you out. I think that He channeled his anger at you, by having you fill a job that he was about to create. A unique role that would serve a purpose that was about to present itself. He may not have considered you before, but on that day, when you pushed the old man to the brink; that's when He got the brilliant idea to punish his favorite son instead of letting Michael smite him. He had a position to fill; he needed someone to rule the new realm he'd created. You made it easy for him to decide, favorite son or not, you would be the one he chose to rule hell. It doesn't seem like much forethought went into it."

"Do I think his actions were impulsive? Yes, but from where do you think you get your impulsiveness? From where do you think, you get your temper? The apple didn't fall too far from the tree. You are your Father's son in that respect."

"Luci, Raphael opened up to me about Michael. He told me that things hadn't gone the way Michael would have liked. That even after everything that has gone down between you and Father—He still loves you. Nothing Michael can ever do, will be able to change that. Michael knows that you always have, and always will be his first, and favorite son—and it drives him crazy. I don't know what you are going to do with that, but none-the-less, there it is."

Lucifer sat back and listened to Amenadiel intently, but suddenly, his anger rises and he tries to kill the messenger. He Leaps up from the bed, grabs Amenadiel by the throat and lifts him off the ground. His blood red eyes stab into his brother; he is furious.

Then he loosens his grip, his black eyes glisten with tears, his expression is so pitifully sad, that he looks away from his brother. "Do you think he had someone else in mind?" He whispers.

"Luci, I don't think you were his first choice, it was a knee-jerk reaction."

Tears are streaming down his face, "why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I think that Father has known for quite some time that he made the wrong choice, as he sees the toll being the devil has taken on you."

"Oh, and I suppose you have a pretty good idea who his first choice would have been…don't, you?"

"Well, yes, Amenadiel locks into the pained searching eyes of his brother."

Luci, growls, "go on, out with it, who was it? His fists are clenching, fingers releasing in anger—who was Father's first choice to rule hell?

Certain things among brothers, certain secrets, were never to be revealed, this was perhaps the most guarded, the most revealing, heaven-shattering of all. Amenadiel looked Luci straight in the eye and said, "Michael."

Lucifer's eyes widened in utter disbelief, "no, that's impossible, not his hero, his protector—God's defender?"

"Luci, Michael has always carried murder in his heart when it comes to you. He has been the long-standing jealous sibling who vied for Father's love and attention and always hated you because you had it."

"You were the first of us all, father's favorite. Because you were the first, father had the highest expectations from you—but you had a mind of you own, and you were rebellious."

"Long before your fall, Michael wanted you gone, he longed to see you destroyed by Father; he did what he could to fuel that fire including inciting discontented angels into full on rebellion. For Michael, it has always been about appearances—but in reality, his intentions were never pure or selfless. He is duplicitous and Father knows it."

Father stopped him from killing you, from removing you from existence. And, that nearly destroyed Michael with hatred and anger. Over the years of his reign, he used his power to bend us to his will and to do his bidding, like the bully that he is."

"It is clear that Father has never stopped loving you, and that the tough love thing has worn. Michael maintains the charade—he must."

"Why do you think that when you escaped hell that Father sent me instead of Michael? Shouldn't he have sent his defender down to smite you? Michael was itching for the assignment. But he sent me instead because I was the level-headed, fair-minded, loyal soldier without an agenda."

"Ha, and your pride got the best of you too if I recall,"

"Yes, it did, and I'm trying to make it up to you. But the difference between Michael and I is that he wants to end you once and for all, and I was trying to get you back to down to hell—as Father had asked me. Killing you up on earth so you could return to your rightful place in hell, is not quite the same."

Lucifer's head starts to spin from the cocktail of potent drugs; he'd taken earlier. He feels woozy as he plops back down on the bed and puts his hands over his face.

"Are you OK?" Amenadiel asks

"Are you still going to send me back down to hell?"

"No, Luci, I'm not."

"Even if it displeases Father?"

"Yes, I believe he should find someone else for the job, it is destroying you, and he has to see that now."

"Even if that someone, is you?"

"Not because he probably has already considered it, but I am not very good at it, he needs someone more suitable: like… Michael."

Yawning, Lucifer can no longer keep his eyes open. Laying back into the pillow, he drifts off. A final thought crosses his mind. If Asherah doesn't off me, it will be the straw that breaks the camel's back and Michael will surely not be able to stand aside any longer—he will come down and finish the task with or without Father's approval

Father will cast him out, and he will take my place in hell—for the rest of eternity. What a pathetic creature Michael is, he's almost laughable.

Lucifer falls fast asleep, breathing rhythmically—in and out. Settling into a sound slumber, he dreams of Michael, the new king of hell: and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.