A/N: I definitely need to up my meds. Oh wait, I already have. Damn.

Summary: Lucifer and Michael have a boys' night out after Lucifer stops the Apocalypse. Yep, that's what I said. Beware, this is a twisted AU angel arc chock full of angst and crack, pure and simple. Don't you know me by now?

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment purposes only and not for profit.

Lucifer, Satan, Beezelbub, the Lightbringer, God's Most Beautiful Angel, was clearly displeased.

Not to put too fine a point on it, he was royally pissed off.

Gone were the clothes he'd worn just seconds before. Instead of his usual faded blue jeans and black Led Zeppelin t shirt he wore a white designer suit, white shirt, no tie.


Lucifer scowled as he looked down at his feet. White socks. White loafers. This was an abomination.

His favorite pink bunny slippers were gone.

"Son of a bitch," Lucifer muttered darkly. "Not again." He ran his right hand through his spiky dark blond hair. He wore the new outfit well, but his feet were already beginning to ache, and the suit was a little too tight through the shoulders. This was not his idea of comfort; his followers always conjured up clothes that made him look impressive.

One minute he was sitting relaxed and content in his man cave in the grand palace of Hell, and the next moment he was here. Standing on a massive wood altar adorned with symbols. Lucifer immediately recognized here as some half assed Satanic cult compound.

In Fresno, California.

On Earth, of all places.

Torches and spotlights flickered in the courtyard. There was the usual assortment of sacrificial farm animals standing around: cows painted with black sigils, black goats wearing garlands of wormwood around their heads. A little grey donkey painted in red symbols looked totally out of place here, but he bravely tried to blend in with the rest.

The noise in the courtyard stopped. The hundred or so cultists standing around below stopped and stared. They were men and women, young and old, black, white, yellow and brown. Some were fully clothed, still others in various stages of undress, and still more were completely naked, with even more symbols painted on their bodies with cow's blood, ritual scars and black permanent markers.

To make matters even worse, a few feet away stood their leader, a tall, bulky male with dark tattoos crawling across his broad pink scalp. He was dressed from head to toe in blood red leather. The fool stared at the Lightbearer adoringly.

Lucifer's wide green eyes darkened with rage.

Everyone stepped back.

"So who do I have to thank for this?" Lucifer rumbled ominously.

Several of the cultists pointed at Leather Boy. "Uhmm…him."

"Your Satanic Majesty," the dumbass in red intoned loudly with a sweeping bow, "we wish only to serve you-"

"The hell you do. This isn't about me. It's about you. It's all about what you want. Hell on Earth. Blood and toads raining down from Heaven. Busloads of sacrificial virgins."

The cult leader nodded, eager, pleased. Hopeful.

"What about me?" Lucifer thundered. "What about my needs, huh? Did I ask for this? Did I tell anyone that I wanted to walk the Earth tonight?"

The cultists thrust their hands into their pockets, muttered softly to themselves as they stared meekly down at their shoes. Some whistled tunelessly. Not having pockets, the naked ones scuffed their bare toes shyly in the reddish dirt.

Lucifer glared. "Don't everybody jump in all at once."

More mumbling and murmuring. No one looked him in the eye, not even the goats. The cows chewed their cud, slowly, patiently. They seemed bored by it all.

"When I start the Apocalypse it'll be on my terms. And not one damn moment before." Lucifer took a step forward and the cult leader fell to his knees.

"Master!" the man gasped.

"Dude, shut your cakehole," Lucifer snarled. He made a careless gesture with his right hand and the leader blew apart like a fluffy dandelion blossom in a high wind.

Everyone else in the courtyard froze, wide eyed. Even the cows.

Lightning flashed overhead. The ground shook. Another flash of lightning and suddenly a freakishly tall young man stood in the middle of the crowd in the courtyard. He wore a sleek black designer suit, with no tie. He was broad-shouldered with shaggy dark brown hair and intense blue-green eyes. The shadow of his wings was massive, easily fifty feet long. The cultists shrank back as he slowly folded his wings against his back.

Lucifer nodded curtly. "Michael."

"Hey, bro'." The newcomer looked around in amusement. His mouth quirked upwards a little when he spotted the livestock all around. "Uh, is this the part where we fight?"

"Fight? No, brother." Lucifer walked down the stairs of the altar and everyone in the place, even the cows and the goats, kneeled before him. That made him scowl and roll his eyes. "This is the part where I find a bar. And drink it."

Michael seemed amused. "Uh, can I come too?"

"I guess so."

Dionysus' Bar and Grill over on 49th Street was packed with customers, even at one in the morning. Di was thrilled. It'd been a while since a genuine heavy hitter entered his place, much less two of them at the same time. The last celebrity was Coyote the Trickster, and that old dog had been on a tear that night. He'd wrecked the place.

But he put it back the way it was the next morning.

Archangels Michael and Lucifer were escorted to the best booth. Dionysus sent over and assortment of the finest champagne and a seven course meal, which included seafood and sirloin steak. Michael and Lucifer worked their way through the meal in silence, and then the brothers made serious friends with Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker Blue Label.

"Nothing happens unless Dad wants it to, and you know it, Mike," Lucifer grumbled.

"You do that evil thing of yours, and He's fine with that," Michael said warily. "You know Dad's a stickler for tradition. Lu, maybe He just means that you oughta get out more-" It was exactly the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't think of anything else.

"I don't want to get out more. I like working from home! That's why I have minions. I can spread evil from the comfort of my home office!"

"Okay. All right. Don't get excited."

"Why doesn't Dad say it to my face? Would it kill him to call me sometime? Have some open communication between us instead? That'd be too much like right." Lucifer stared moodily at the liquor bottles on the table. "Instead we have signs and portents. I hate signs and portents."

"You hear from Gabriel lately?"

"Nah. That deadbeat still owes me for that shipment of gold bullion. I was stuck on stupid the day I lent it to him, and what does he do with it? He tricks this tv evangelist into forging the gold into a giant golden calf wearing a tie and a trench coat. Clueless morons all over the country sent money in as prayer offerings."

Michael willed his eyes not to glaze over. He'd heard this story before.

"They worship the damn thing as the New God, so Dad sends Uriel and he smites the whole lot of them. And who does Dad blame for that? Me. Not Gabriel. Me." Lucifer snorted in derision. "Next time I see that punk, I'll end him. Balthazar told me not to trust him, but did I listen? Oh, nooo." Lucifer's moods usually changed like quicksilver. "How's Casey?"

"She's okay." Michael grinned wolfishly. "More than okay. Now that she's got her angel grace back she can't keep her hands off me. How's Anna? How far along is she now?"

"She's fine. Four months."

"So you're not doing that Anti-Christ thing on earth anymore, huh?"

"Me and a surrogate? Are you kidding me? Nope. Anna won't stand for it. She had a fit when Abraxas came by with that nanny goat. Then Emynyon shows up a few days later with a female hyena. Pretty little thing," Lucifer added wistfully.

Michael stared blankly at his brother. This was really awkward.

Lucifer blinked. "What? Nothing happened. I swear it! I never laid a hand on her! Anna walked in, and that was the end of that. Man, the look she gave me was brutal." Lucifer shuddered. "I spent the next five days sleeping on the couch, so I…I hired her younger brother just to make her happy."

"Yeah? What's his job now?"

"He's the Unholy Sower of Worldwide Depression, Discord and Despair."

"Wow. So he's responsible for the global economy?"

"Who? Zaphod?" Lucifer huffed, then hiccupped noisily. "Hell no. He got lucky, that's all. But…" he lifted his shot glass and stared hard at the amber liquid at the bottom. "Anna's happy. So if Mama's happy-"

"-everybody's happy," Michael finished.

The Lightbringer nodded and then drained his glass.

"Huh. I'm gonna be an uncle," Michael's tone was quiet, thoughtful. "You thought up a name for the little rug rat yet?"

"First the Hell Council wanted us to name him Zebulon. Then I vaporized a few of them. Now Anna and I can name him any damn thing we want. Even Fluffy."

Michael chuckled.

"Zebulon. Not bloody likely." Lucifer sighed. "Not my kid." Another awkward silence, then: "This isn't what I wanted for myself, y'know?"

"I know."

"This gig is tough enough without dragging kids into it." Lucifer poured two more fingers of Jack into his glass. "So…back there with Tattoo Boy…you really thought the Apocalypse was on, huh?"

"Yep. We all did."

"Minions. Demon or human, it doesn't matter. Can't live with 'em, can't do the Apocalypse without 'em. Man, it's like playing telephone with those lousy bastards. I give an order, and by the time it gets back to me I don't even recognize the damn thing anymore." Lucifer sipped some whiskey, stared at the glass again. "Would you believe some of them tried to recruit Lady Gaga to be my High Exalted Priestess on Earth? Lady Gaga? Geez!" He shook his head ruefully as he finished the glass.


"Had to smite their asses. Big, bloody and spectacular. An example had to be made. What about you?"

Michael shrugged. "Same crap, different day. Defending Dad's name. Visiting sinners on their deathbeds. Some of those idiots think they can trick me into thinking they're truly repentant. Not a chance."

Luc thumped his glass hard down on the table, then stared blearily at the empty glass. "Do you…do you ever wonder if it could be different?"

"Sometimes." Michael shrugged. "And then sometimes I think that we play the hand we're dealt."

Lucifer scowled. "The hand Dad deals us."

Michael raised his glass in a toast. "Same difference, brother."

"Huh." Lucifer swayed back and forth in his chair. His moss green eyes were glassy.

"You're drunk!" Michael said quietly.

"Yep! I sure am." Luci slurred cheerfully. "And if you don't start drinkin', I'm gonna leave."

Michael lifted one of the whiskey bottles and saluted his brother. "Well, hell, we can't have that, now can we?"

Hours later Michael and Lucifer stood side by side in front of the great door at Lucifer's palace in hell. Michael held Lucifer up, one arm slung around his shoulders. Not to put too fine a point on it, they were both toasted. Wasted. Feeling absolutely no pain at all.

It was a wonderful night and they didn't want it to end.

"Show me the way to go home…I'm tired an' I wanna go to bed…" Michael sang off key.

"I had a lil' drink about an' hour ago," Lucifer hiccupped. "An' it's already gone to muh head…"

They both sang the words at the same time: "where ever we may roam…through sleet or something something or something else…"

"You got your keys?" Michael slurred as they swayed together from side to side.

"Yep!" Luci said cheerily. He made absolutely no move to dig them out of his pocket.

The lack of keys turned out to be a moot point in the next moment. The heavily ornate bronze door swung open

Michael shouldered Lucifer's weight and smiled loopily at his demon sister in law. Anna's formal title was now "She Who Must Be Obeyed-Or Else." She looked beautiful. Marriage and pregnancy suited her; she was absolutely breathtaking.

"Hi, Anna."

"Hi yourself, Michael."

"Jus' bringin' the wappershipper…uh…th' whippersnapper home."

"You boys weren't fighting, were you?"

"Nah. Jus' boozin' and eatin'."


Lucifer staggered forwards and swept Anna up in his arms. He wanted to lift her up, but his body and his head weren't cooperating, so he settled for putting his arm around her waist. He stared owlishly at his better half, and his head bobbled a little.

Anna smiled up at her husband. "What?"

"You look damn good, you know that?"

Anna stood on tiptoe and tenderly kissed the tip of Lucifer's nose. "Yes baby, I know." Anna leaned into her tipsy mate, then turned and smiled at Michael. "You can stay in the guest room overnight if you want, Michael."

"Nah, I'm not that hammered. I can hold my liquor. He can't." He nodded at his brother. "Boy's a lightweight. Always has been."

Lucifer snorted.

"Thank you, Michael."

"No problem. I'll be there the next time those idiots on earth jerk him back up there again."

"…and I'm tellin' you…I'm not going…" Lucifer sang softly.

" 'night, Michael." Another smile and nod, and Anna closed the door.

Michael unfurled his wings. He felt a little lightheaded, but he was fine otherwise. It was such a beautiful night, he didn't want to go home. Not just yet. He could put the fear of God into Crowley and the others while he was down here and have some fun at the same time. Dad wouldn't mind that. Luc and Anna wouldn't either.

Michael chuckled to himself as he lifted off.

So many demons to play with, so little time.


Pop culture references:

Lady GaGa – Do I really need to explain this one? Seriously?

Zaphod, Anna's neer-do-well brother - named after Zaphod Beeblebrox, from The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.

"If You Don't Start Drinking, I'm Gonna Leave" – George Thorogood

"Show me the way to go home" – inspired by that scene from Jaws when Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss and Robert Shaw tried to drink each other underneath the table while they were on the fishing boat.

"And I'm Telling You, I'm Not Going " – Jennifer Hudson – Dreamgirls.