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Michael didn’t start this starcycle expecting to be dragged down to Hell, but here he was.
“Lucifer?” He called through the ash trodden halls. Michael had been saving and clearing messes in Heaven in hopes of visiting Earth in the next millennia or two, but he had been absolutely overrun since Amenadiel and Uriel’s… permanent departures.
(He tried to mourn Uriel, and he did. But nothing was greater than seeing his other half hale.)
“Lucifer!” Michael yelled into nothingness. “What I wouldn’t give for a foul mouthed demon right now,” he muttered to himself.
He would fly out himself, but for him to be dragged down here meant, well, that…
Lucifer had died. Meaning he was somewhere down here.
Michael despised the notion of being used so, but the things he did for his siblings… let it not be said that he didn’t love them.
Lucifer was finding himself there again, going in with a lunge at this fake-Uriel when strong hands pulled him back.
“Lucifer,” the person said, restraining his arms by the act of pulling him into a hug. “Please stop.”
Lucifer allowed himself one staggering breath before he pulled himself back.
“Who — Michael?”
“I’m here,” his twin said, dark wings blending just-so in the recreation of Lucifer’s home. “What are you doing here, brother? Dying, really?” He scoffed, like the immortal, impenetrable (heh) beings they were.
Lucifer’s eyes widened at the reminder.
“Michael, as glad as I am - We’ll have to talk later,” he insisted with urgency, ripping past him to the door–
“What? Lucifer—”
“Come talk to me on Earth! I've got bigger fish to fry at the moment, brother!”
“-I would face a thousand Hells to save my son!”
Lucifer gasped awake to the hum of electricity coursing through his body. Not so unlike the light he had formed into existence himself, eons ago.
He didn’t even allow himself the time to retort to that particular ball of chaos. Charging out the door and to Chloe’s side once more.