It had been a long day of balancing the books for the hotel, but as Lucifer looked through some of the papers on his way back to his office, he felt an extreme sense of pride that he had managed to make all the accounts add up. All he had to do was snap his fingers and create more money or gold or ears or whatever the current currency of Hell was, who could keep track, and voila! The numbers all fell into place. Charlie had been so happy. She hadn't even known they had accounting books! Which—that was sort of problematic, since she'd been running the business for a number of years but hey, she had more important things to think about, like filling the rooms of the hotel! Which were…still mostly empty. Hm. He frowned. Was his baby girl bad at business?

He shook his head of that ridiculous notion. Charlie was amazing at everything! She was his daughter!

No. It was the very concept of business itself that must be wrong.

With a renewed spring in his step, he hummed a jaunty tune to himself, pulling open the door to his office and stepping inside. He'd done such a fantastic job today surely Charlie wouldn't mind if he spent the next couple of hours working on some of his pet projects. He wasn't a step inside before he froze, eyes going wide.

Someone was already inside, standing by his desk and holding up one of his latest little ducks between two fingers.

"Still wasting your time on the mundane, Luci?" The robed man asked, words weighed down by a disdainful drawl.

"M-Michael?!" Lucifer stammered in disbelief, staring for a moment more before snapping out of it, turning to shut the door behind him quickly. "What are you doing here?!"

Michael tossed the duck aside and let the hood of his robe fall back as he leaned down to pick up a picture of Charlie from the desk. His hair was still the rich, earthy brown Lucifer remembered, kept short and trimmed to frame his perfectly chiseled chin and cheekbones. The brilliant amber hue of his eyes reflected off the glass of the frame he held, "Can't a guy check in on his little brother? See what he's been up to for the last…how long's it been?"

"Ten thousand years, Michael!" Lucifer moved further into the office towards his brother, wary and feeling the sting of ancient wounds all over again. "And not a word from any of you. About anything! And you just—you just show up here like it's fine?!"

"Cute kid," Michael said casually, still looking at the picture, "What is she, two hundred now? Three? Shame she's had to spend the whole thing down here. In this pit."

Lucifer reached out and snatched the picture away, pressing it to his chest protectively, "Whatever this is, you leave Charlie out of it!" He gave Michael a wary glare, "What do you want, Michael? Last time I saw you, it was looking up as I fell. You with your tacky flaming sword and that smug told-you-so look on your face. I see you left the sword at home this time," he sniffed, muttering, "Kept the expression, though."

Michael shot him a look that could wither flowers, "I'd be a little more grateful if I were you, Luci. I came to see if maybe you were interested in some time off from all this…" he glanced around the room distastefully, looking for the right word. Or at least a more polite one than that first came to mind, "chaos you created."

Lucifer's eyes widened in shock and he took a step forward despite himself, "You're—you're inviting me back home?"

Michael offered a bland smile, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he walked past Lucifer, who watched him with rapt attention, and made a show of looking at the other pictures on the wall, "We would have to see that you'd learned something from the spectacular failure that has heretofore defined you. To start with, you can show me that you can listen and do what you're told."

"I knew it, I knew you weren't here just to catch up," Lucifer snapped, turning to place the picture of Charlie back on his desk. He wasn't sure who he was angrier at—perfect Michael with his constant air of superiority or himself for allowing that familiar sliver of hope snake its way around his heart. The Charlie from the picture beamed up at him in that way she always did, and he let forced the tension out of his shoulders, taking a quick breath in and out. When he turned back to his brother, he projected an air of express disinterest, looking at his nails, "Why don't you do ahead and ask me whatever it is you're here for and I'll consider it."

His bravado lasted all of a second as Michael closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, looming over the shorter Lucifer who grimaced and shrank back instinctively, "It would be prudent of you to remember your place," Michael warned him, tone so cold that Lucifer shuddered, "That's the same prideful attitude that damned you in the first place little brother."

Just as suddenly he turned away and started walking towards the door, all that menace vanishing the instant Michael's back was turned, "I thought if you didn't want a chance to escape eternal damnation, you'd at least want it for your daughter." He reached out, hand resting on the doorknob, "But I guess you never did think past your ego, Luci."

Lucifer flinched, looking down at the picture of Charlie once more. It was his fault she was stuck here.

It was all his fault.

"Wait."

Still facing the door, Michael smiled.

Lucifer sighed and picked the picture of Charlie up once more, holding it lovingly in both hands. "I'd do anything for Charlie. If…if whatever you're here for means she could have a better life…" he trailed off then looked up with firm resolve, "I'm in."