Rating: M

Pairings: Michael/Lucifer

Warnings: BLASPHEMY UP THE WAZOO, seriously, incestuous relationship, brothers getting it on, you know the drill.

A/N: Ok so here's the extra little bit! Hope you guys like, I am so going to hell for this...eh at least I'll be in good company :P NOW this story is done. I hope. haha! I just really wanted everyone to have a happy ending, especially Michael. Dude grew on me for some reason. So overload of fluff ho!


The warm summer breeze carried with it the scent of honeysuckle, and Michael breathed it in, eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his face towards the sun. A vast expanse of unblemished blue stretched above him; the golden grasses around him whispering to one another as the breeze stole through them, curious about the creatures nestled within their midst.

Opening his eyes, Michael glanced down at the motionless figure in his arms. The devil had been a malevolent force, an unstoppable evil that destroyed all in its path. But what lay in Michael's arms now was more akin to a fragile bird, newly hatched and quaking. Lucifer's wings trailed either side of Michael's hips, and with a soft smile, Michael brushed his fingers along their inky tips. Liquid silver danced beneath the pads of his fingers, surging towards him as if recognizing his presence and reveling in his touch. Leaning down, Michael pressed his lips to Lucifer's ear.

"Awake, beloved. It is time."

Behind the two angels rested a long abandoned cottage. It's stone walls were crumbling but still intact, it's roof mostly overtaken by grass and flowers. It had been a summer home for a family long ago, but now lay forgotten. A family of field mice nested within an old cupboard; Michael could hear their soft breathing, the tiny squeaks of pleasure the tiny mouslings gave as their mother groomed them one by one.

This was a peaceful place, a healing place.

Lucifer stirred, his eyes opening blearily to peer up at the blue sky. They lay in silence for a moment; Lucifer gazing up as Michael looked down.

"I never thought I'd see the sky again." The admission was quiet, the voice behind it subdued. Michael stretched his wings wide, allowing Lucifer to pull away, to sit on his own as he looked around them.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Michael met the admission with his own, and Lucifer looked over at him briefly before his eyes skittered away, ashamed.

"I don't…what…I feel…" Lucifer trailed off, blinking. "I feel."

Michael watched him gravely. "Yes."

Lucifer's wings twitched wildly as he struggled to remember, and Michael felt true sorrow when his brother did; the moment when all he had done crashed down upon Lucifer and he struggled beneath its terrible weight.

"No," Lucifer gasped, fingers clawing at his throat as he struggled to draw in breath. "No I…I didn't…I…never."

Michael shifted, but did not offer himself as comfort. Not yet. "It is done, Lucifer."

"No," Lucifer spat fiercely, eyes wild as they finally lighted on him. "No."

Michael watched as his brother unraveled at the seams. Lucifer shook, he cried and screamed as he clawed uselessly at himself, wings thrashing. He pulled feathers from his wings, declaring himself unworthy, shivered in a curled ball on the ground, raged and grieved and pitied. And at last, turned to Michael, his eyes reflecting such broken grief.

"How could I…what have I…Michael."

Michael did not hesitate. He opened his arms and Lucifer was in them, pressing himself as close as he could. Lucifer shuddered against him, face buried in the safety of Michael's neck as hot tears of shame and regret slid in wet rivulets down his cheeks.

The passage of time was different in the place Michael chose. Days, weeks, months, Michael could not say for sure, nor did he care to. It was a healing place, but healing did not occur immediately. Lucifer had his own battles to fight, obstacles to overcome before he could heal completely. Tests of will.

The cottage was a small thing; only three rooms, but Michael fixed them as best he could. He could have simply snapped his fingers and built a mansion, but did not. With his own hands he began to reshape their new home; hammering nails back into place, repairing the crumbling walls and slowly rotting wood. Sometimes Lucifer helped him, other times he sat out in the golden field gazing up at the sky. Michael would join him as the air chilled and the stars winked into existence, and they would lie together beneath the black sky. Michael would recount the stories told to them long ago as Lucifer said nothing, eyes wet and glistening, hand squeezing Michael's so tightly.

Michael did not need to sleep, but found he enjoyed it. He built them a bed inside the cottage, lined with musty moth bitten sheets from a damp chest he found in the basement. He enjoyed the earthy smell, the holes bitten by insects that he traced with his fingers. He felt a part of the cottage, a part of a moment on earth, instead of merely looking down and observing. He was…living.


One morning the golden grasses did not whisper to each other, but quaked, pressing themselves to the ground with fear. The calm breeze was now a screaming force that whipped across the plains; the sky dark and wrathful. As Michael stepped outside, rain lashed down upon him, tearing at his feathers with vengeful claws. Lucifer stood amongst the chaos, arms and wings spread wide as he stared up into the blackened sky.

Michael watched as his brother raged, screaming himself hoarse. Words boomed around him, why me, you, it's not fair…

Michael said nothing. The storm raged for hours, days, Michael was unsure how long. He merely weathered it, eyes trained on his brother even as lightning ripped the sky asunder and thunder made the earth tremble.

But eventually, as all things, the storm passed.

The dark clouds receded, the grasses slowly rising from their cowed places against the earth. Lucifer was a forlorn slumped form among them, and the breeze whispered to him comfortingly. Michael shook himself, shedding glimmering droplets of water from his wings. The earth was wet beneath his bare feet, and Michael relished the feeling, relished the earthy musk in the air.

Lucifer's blonde hair hung in wet straggles, chest heaving. Michael reached out to touch him, fingers moving surely through his wet hair.

No words passed between them. Slowly Lucifer raised his face towards his brother, his eyes glimmering depths of regret. They asked him a thousand questions, yet Michael had no answer for any of them.

His fingers slowly traced the shape of Lucifer's face, smoothing away the guilt and pain. As Michael slowly sank to his knees, Lucifer leant into him, hands trembling as they reached for him. Lucifer's whole body shook, as if expecting rejection and disgust from the one creature he had hurt so badly above all others. Expected to be pushed away, to be hurt in return and cast away. It was all the fallen one deserved for what he had done; the penance he should surely serve.

Michael did none of these things. His fingers rubbed delicate circles into the back of Lucifer's hair as he pulled his brother closer. The two angels breathed each other in, Lucifer small and trembling, Michael quiet and steady.

"Why?" Lucifer's whisper was hushed, barely audible as the grass hummed. "Why, Michael?"

Michael looked down into the face of his brother. A face he had convinced himself he would never see again. Why. Such a loaded question. Why did the Earth spin? Why did the sun rise and set?

Why did Lucifer become the devil?

Why, was not the reason they were here. Why, did not matter. It was done, and this was now. This moment, the two of them, together again. Michael would not allow the why's of the past to undo their now.

"Because, Lucifer," Michael murmured, his lips already tracing a path they had once followed so intimately. Lucifer's skin was pale in the light, soft beneath his hands as their feathers rustled together in the now calm breeze. Michael painted Lucifer's body with symbols, long forgotten letters and drawings that he drew with his fingers, feathers and tongue. Each more powerful than the last, each a murmured apology and absolution rolled into one heated kiss. Lucifer shook beneath him, disbelieving and frightened. He believed himself too broken, too unforgiveable for the evil he had willingly committed. He did not believe himself worthy to be saved.

Michael whispered prayers against the swell of Lucifer's hip, dotted kisses along the pale column of his neck that bloomed like rosary beads. Lucifer muttered his penance, cried tears of sin that ran down his cheeks, and Michael blessed them with open mouthed kisses. He made the Morningstar holy once again.

"Because I love you," Michael murmured into the air between them, against lips that had once spewed anger and hatred. Lucifer tightened his arms around the archangel's neck; pressing his lips more insistently to Michael's.

"Always," the once-fallen angel whispered.

They lived together, in the cottage. During the day the sun would shine, birds would sing. They would lie together in the long grass, voices low as they recounted old stories, moments thought lost. Michael could lose himself once again in Lucifer's smile, in his grinning eyes. And Lucifer would hold onto Michael's quiet strength, his deep laughs that never failed to make the Morningstar's wings curl.

The evenings would be spent either beneath the stars, or curled up together in the musty bed within the cottage. Sometimes they would mate, sometimes not. It didn't matter in those quiet lazy days, tumbled together, so intertwined neither knew where one began and the other ended.


He would never tire of this. Of simply lying with Lucifer, feeling his brother's quiet breathing against him, the beat of his heart. Michael sighed happily, burying his nose in the mess of blond hair tucked beneath his chin. Lucifer stirred at that, causing the old wood bed to creak as the angel drew his wings closer.

"Michael," he mumbled.

Michael nodded, a rumbling purr of contentment rising in his chest. Lucifer chuckled, batting at Michael's wings as they encircled the two.

"You're like a giant cat, you know. With wings."

Michael merely smiled in reply, and he felt Lucifer pull away slightly to look up at him.

"Michael," Lucifer said again, more seriously this time. "I need…I need to ask you something."

Sensing the seriousness of his brother's tone, Michael leant back against the pillows, releasing him. Lucifer looked unsure, worried even as he slowly sat up; hair unruly and wild as his wings twitched self-consciously.

"I…I don't remember everything. But I..." he winced, before rolling his eyes at himself. "Right. Stop the guilt trip." The Morningstar squared his shoulders, wings flapping surely. "Castiel. I need to talk about Castiel."

Michael reached out to take Lucifer's hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "So speak. What of the fledgling?"

He still found it difficult to refer to Castiel as 'his' or 'theirs'. They may have formed him in part, but the circumstances...Castiel was never meant to be theirs. Castiel was his own angel, he belonged to no-one.

Well. Gabriel might have something to say about that.

Lucifer's eyes darted away from his. "Will I…will I see him one day?"

Michael relaxed slightly. Even in their secret place, Michael knew where the seraph was. He liked knowing how Castiel was doing, him and his new fledgling, as well as Michael's other siblings. The family was doing well, healthy and happy.

Slowly the archangel nodded. "Yes, Lucifer. You will see him one day."

The Morningstar's wings fluttered. "I have to…say sorry. Though that seems like a really stupid thing to say."

Michael pulled his brother close against him again. "It is never a stupid thing to say."

Lucifer made an annoyed noise against his skin. "Yeah well, after all the shit I did, it seems kind of…lackluster." Lucifer's fingers tapped nervously against his skin.

"And I…I…there aren't enough sorrys in the world for what I did to you."

The admission caught Michael off guard. In their time together, they had not broached the subject of Castiel's birth. Michael wanted to move forward from it, content to heal together and form new, better memories. But it was foolish to expect such a thing to simply disappear. If he and Lucifer were to forge a new bond between them, the past must be put to rest.

"You…" Michael swallowed. "It is past, brother. I forgave you many years ago."

Lucifer pulled away, scowling. "I can't forgive myself. I just…I lost control. What if it happens again?"

The mice were nesting again; Michael could hear them as they shifted against each other in the cupboard, little bodies pressed tightly against each other in their nest. Tiny hearts beating together in the darkness. Life in all its beautiful, imperfect glory.

"It won't."

Lucifer jerked at his voice, eyes narrowing. "You can't know that. What if I fall again? Maybe I'm doomed to just repeat the same mistakes over and over for the rest of time." He looked away, rubbing his bare arms nervously. "I…I don't want to do that, Michael. I can't do that again. Not…not to you."

Michael pulled him close again; lips warm where they pressed against his.

"You won't," the archangel repeated firmly, and Lucifer relaxed against him. "You won't because I won't allow it. We're in this together, Lucifer."

The Morningstar shone brightly in his arms, and Michael's eyes fluttered shut as inky black feathers trailed up and down his arms; kisses raining down upon his face like cool rain. Within Michael's grace, light pulsed and swirled, content and happy. A heart beat inside him, and it was not his own.

Soon. Michael smiled against Lucifer's lips as the tiny being within him fluttered and crooned. I'll tell him soon.