There are not many things in this world that can bring one like him to his knees. Turn him into a quivering mess, always looking over his shoulder, eyes plastered to the walls as they moved in his imagination.

This was his mortal weakness, the one thing he would never admit to, a human imperfection.

But he, Lucifer, The second born in God's Creation, is terrified of small spaces.

Being locked in small enclosed places.

He couldn't stand it.

There is a small part of his mind, that sounds oddly similar to his brother Raphael, that the possiblity this ailment has caught him in its clutches like this and ensnarled him as such is from his stint locked in the cage.

Four walls.

One way in with no way out.

Nothing but the four walls, slowly moving, inching in closer, getting smaller and smaller with every passing breath. He can feel the air thinning out, its pressing on him.

The cage was even more of a punishment then they had originally thought, seeing as he had never told anyone about his secret ailment, it was more then the solitude and knowing he could never see his family again.

It was the four walls, the cold that seeped in, the air thinning around him as the walls closed in on him.

He looks around in quick forming panic, eyes wide and wild, breathing quickening. And then he's moving.

Lucifer is moving about the enclosed area like there is a hurricane inside him. He's moving like his brain is demanding the energetic expenditure of an athlete but won't tell his limbs what to do. His eyes are wild and when he collides against the wall and falls back, forced to sit, he starts rocking, rocking, rocking. He's getting faster and faster until he explodes into motion again.

Suddenly he's talking.

Shouting.

Screaming.

Sobbing.

Talking like he has so much to say and doesn't have enough time to say it all. His words are crowded and jumbled, some missing, fragmented.

All his fears are tumbling out unchecked by his brain, he's in some kind of mental free-fall, unable to analyze things or assess risk.

More words, not his own, echo around him bouncing from his form like a hard rain.

Lucifer startles when hands take hold of his face, warm long fingers cradling his cheeks, and his vision is filled by another person not the four walls that seem to be creeping closer and closer.

Thumbs stroke his cheek bones, wiping away tears, and he looks up into shining blue eyes.

They stare at each other for a long moment until he sucks in a breath that draws in silence.

"Brother, let me be your shelter.

Never leave you all alone."

And then he speaks. It a voice that rumbles with the thunder, that plays with the winds as they roll over the vast plains, the voice that all of Heaven can hear. The same voice that sung to him when he'd been a small fledgling, that had whispered nothings to him when he'd grown in his wings, that always calmed his raging temper.

He knew that voice.

"I can be the one you call

When you're feeling low."

The hands hold him in place, forcing him to keep his gaze turned up, away from the walls, the enclosed space, looking only into those eyes.

The eyes that twinkle when he smiles and glow when he laughs. The eyes that burn when he gets angry and smolder when someone does something that causes him worry, the eyes that love him so deep that nothing would ever change it, not really.

"Brother, let me be your fortress

When the night winds are driving on."

He was there.

He was there the first time, when he'd taken the forsaken Mark, when he'd wake screaming in the middle of the night. He was there when he'd be mocked by the lesser gods. He was there when he was beyond enraged.

He was always there.

Always protecting him. Minding him. Watching over him.

"Be the one to light the way

Bring you home."

He was home. There was no home without those hands, those fingers, those glowing eyes, the voice.

That was his home.

For the longest time that was all he knew, sometimes, it was still everything he knew.

All he wanted to know.

"And when you call and need me near

Sayin where'd you go?"

Lucifer stares, silent, breathing slow and calm, not wanting to make any noise that would interupt him.

He's captivated, encaptured, ensnarled.

Distracted.

He smiles at him, a smile that has once been his only goal in life, to see him smile is to see the world.

"Brother, I'm right here."

Lucifer chokes, leaning forward, those hands never moving from his cheeks, and presses his face into the strong chest he knew was going to be there. It's so real and solid and he chokes again, breathing in deeply taking in the scent that had always been his place.

Where he was welcome.

The scent of his true home.

"And on those days when the sky begins to fall."

The hands move, and arms come up, wrapping around him securely. A hand presses into the back of his head pushing him closer, holding him steady and protective.

"You're the blood of my blood.

We can get through it all."

A stubbly chin rubs against his ear and he sinks further into the chest, nuzzling his cheek against the chin as he whispers into his ear, stroking the free hand down his back. For once he feels safe.

"You're alright brother. I am here."

Lucifer clutches at him, his knuckles popping and he pulls closer, the arms tighten.

"How did you know?"

Theres a soft breathy chuckle, "I've always known."

"But I thought-"

"You were never as subtle as you think you were. I knew from the very first moment."

The soft rumble, the voice, the scent, everything is just so Michael. His older brother. His family. His home.

He is stable, grounding, and still so so warm.