But I am going to kill him. Because it is right, and I have to.
When Michael first arrived in Hell, all he could do was scream.
He wanted to keep his composure for as long as possible, but Lucifer just crossed his arms, cocking his head at him with that smile, and he lost it. He ignored the souls of their vessels and went after Lucifer directly, attacking him with all the strength he could muster, though it was damped by the restricting power of the cage. Every so often he would stop, panting, then continue. The fighting seemed endless.
And I return with a macro I’ve made
I said no, and I do not intend on changing my answer. The safety of those you care about is none of my concern. I have no love for humans, nor for demons. But I do know of one of my archangel brethren who does. And it is his[Gabriel’s] destiny to stop the Leviathan. Not mine. So if you wish to talk to responsibility - I suggest you talk to him. Best of luck.
You’re going to need it.
No disrespect, but this is why people lack faith. Because of angels like you. How could you want them to believe in something that isn’t there? It’s like you’re your father. And again, no disrespect. Just saying what I see. So thanks for listening.
Michael’s eyes widened before narrowing into dark slits, wings billowing out behind him and stretching out in obvious fury that darkened the skies before illuminating it with crashes of lighting and thunder. With a thought, and a flick of his wrist, he snapped both of Jesse’s legs at his knee, curling his hand into a fist to crush his ribs. “Just who do you think you are?” he asked in a tone dark, and very dangerous.
Jesse tensed instead of jumping at the sound of the thunder, looking around before looking at Michael, knowing that he probably shouldn’t have said what he did. Before he could say much, he was on the ground with a cry of pain. With a hand around where his ribs had just been intact, his breathing became uneven quickly and he dared to glare over at Michael. “…Someone who had faith in you… That’s who,” he responded in a less than confident tone, keeping his glare on Michael. If he were going to die, he rather it be in the hands of an angel than the Leviathan.
Michael had a hand raised, and was seconds away from snapping the antichrist out of existence before he heard those words - and stopped himself. His anger softened, and he dropped his hand, kneeling next to Jesse and cupping his hand under the boy’s chin, tilting his head up to look at him. “You’re wrong about me, Jesse.” he told him, healing the antichrist’s ribs and legs before stepping away. “I cannot help you. I will not.”
Jesse closed his eyes, ready for the kill. But when he felt Michael’s hand beneath his chin, his eyes opened and he looked up at the angel. He let out a breath, feeling his knees and ribs being healed. Slowly, he stood, gaze glued to Michael. “No, you’re wrong…” Cautiously, he continued. “You wanna know why you think I’m wrong? Because you don’t believe in yourself the way others do. And.. I’m sorry.. About what I said. I.. shouldn’t have said that.” Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he looked down. “It probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I do have faith in you.”
The archangel laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head as he did so, “Don’t pity me,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know about this whole ‘believing in myself’ business, but it sounds rather ridiculous and self-centered. I’m humble and therefore don’t need to believe in myself. I have Lucifer to do that for me. Don’t you understand how it works?” Michael smiled, and it was bittersweet. “I’m not exactly the Michael you used to pray to, not anymore.”
Lucifer’s wings jittered behind him in agitation,”You really think you’ve seen the horrors this Cage holds?”
He shook his head, chuckling bitterly as his Grace slowly started pooling from him, sheets of permafrost cracking underneath their feet. He had kept it contained the whole time they had been imprisoned together— almost ashamed of what he had become, but now he hid nothing, and sought to show Michael just how gnarled his Grace had become.
“I mourned for a long time brother; screamed for help, for you and Father to listen. To come and rescue me. I begged for absolution,” he whispered, stalking close to his brother.
“But you don’t know how deep it cuts here— feelings I had never known became a part of my Grace and festered. There was a time when I realized I would never be set free.”
He pulled his wing upward, tugging loosely on the pinions. He had tried to rip them from his being, tear out his Grace so that he might die and end all that suffering. It didn’t work.
“It wasn’t until I found that…wrath, that anger— that was what helped me return to a semblance of what I once was, brother. It gave me something to live for.”
It went unspoken, but that had been his motivation. To try and save his brother from getting lost in all that freezing darkness.
“Stop it, stop.” he hushed, resting a hand to Lucifer’s cheek - closing his eyes as if trying to will away everything that was going on. “Lucifer. No more.” Michael opened his eyes again, electric and green seeming. He rubbed a thumb over his cheekbone. ”If all we have is each other then why should I be wrathful? Why should I give into anger, let something so destructive consume me I am fighting it, brother, it’s the only thing keeping me intact.”
Michael swatted his brother’s hand away, smoothing his own over the ruffled pinions, exhaling slowly. “And I would not be so selfish as to take my own…existence, and bring it to some dramatic end, or try, anyway. I’m not going to leave you by yourself in here.” he admitted in a mutter, turning away from him again. “Just don’t tell me how I’m to go about it in here. If I am wrong I will learn on my own. I refuse to be taught.”
Lucifer very nearly growled, shaking Michael roughly,” Yes you can, Michael.”
He turned his brother to face him, handling him tightly. He hated seeing Michael like this, broken down and weakened. It was his dedication that did this; if he were willing to let his ties to the Host go and feel for himself, Lucifer knew that his brother could find his own strength again.
“But you won‘t. You’re afraid, aren’t you?” he turned Michael’s face up to his, ghosting lips over skin,”Heaven’s First-born is a coward.”
The vitriolic words didn’t fit his tone— something soft and airy, like he was bemused more than anything. He needed Michael to feel that anger, to find something different than all that fading ennui and helpless, even if it meant they were fighting each other.
It was when the fighting stopped that signal that Cage’s victory. They would be broken down together, stars dying out in frigid, unforgiving space.
“You don’t understand, Lucifer, stop—” he sighed when his younger brother insisted on continuing talking always talking. It was as if the morning-star was convinced of just how right he was on every note. His eyes flickered dangerously, however, when the other accused him of being a coward.
“How dare you speak of me that way. I am not a coward, you know that I am not which is why your words do not phase me in the way I’m sure you wish that they did.” he moved away from Lucifer, tracing a hand along the icy wall of the Cage. “Fighting is pointless in here, Lucifer. Do you really insist on continuing this childish nonsense? Or do you have some hatred against me, with a vengence still left unfulfilled?”