For I too am a man set under authority."

-Luke 7:8

The only kindness of Hell was how it drained everything away from Lucifer. Feelings flattened into their simplest form. He was left in misery, but its blades were dull and blunt. Death by butter knife. For him, Hell was a long, grey now with no beginning or end. Time was marked only by the constant churn of new souls entering their rooms, meeting their personal torments. They fell from the world above like rain on dirty streets.

That interminable cycle was interrupted when a flash of light passed through the barrier between Earth and Hell. His brother circled once, leisurely, overhead before alighting on the jagged stone pillars at the back of Lucifer's throne, wings outstretched for balance. He then proceeded to stand there, arms crossed, looking around. Like a mountaineer surveying a successful climb.

The first thing Lucifer felt in a long time was annoyance.

Amenadiel's scuffed brown work boots were planted on the back of the Throne of Hell. Lucifer's throne. The dark mirror of Father's throne above and second only to it in power in the entire universe. That throne. And Amenadiel was using it like a bloody step ladder.

Lucifer craned his head around to glare up at his brother. "Do you mind?"

Amenadiel blinked down at him. "Oh," he said, apologetic. "Uh. Could you scoot over?"

"Scoot—" Lucifer seethed, gripping the arms of his most unholy and dark eternal throne, "over?"

He always missed his absent brothers and sisters. And then one of the feathery pests would show up, and he couldn't imagine why.

"Yeah," Amenadiel said, with that perpetual angelic earnestness he'd never lost, not even as a mortal. "We need to talk."

Lucifer sighed. "Brother, dear," he said, forcing himself to be polite, "I have a castle." He casually flicked his fingers toward the distant spire. "Just over there. It's rather more suited to visitors." He looked pointedly at his brother's boots, still desecrating his throne. "Don't you think?"

Amenadiel's gaze followed Lucifer's gesture. He frowned. "I'm worried about prying ears."

That brought Lucifer up short. Though he'd put down the most rebellious demons long ago, they were always looking to take a shot. It was their nature, after all. If Amenadiel had something truly important to convey…

Lucifer groaned. "Fine," he said, "I'll scoot." He shifted his arse so he was perched on one of the wide arms of his throne, his legs dangling over the side. Like an idiot. "But this had better be good."

Amenadiel used his wings for balance as he maneuvered down from the rocky top of the throne to the arm of it across from Lucifer. He shrugged them away, nearly clipping Lucifer in the head. Lucifer ducked and glared at his brother as he settled in, his own legs dangling over the long drop beneath them. With their shoulders touching, Lucifer felt rather like a child crammed into the backseat of a compact car on a long summer road trip. He idly considered giving Amenadiel a shove—but, Moooom, he started it!—before dismissing the thought.

The reward for his generosity was a wallet-sized photograph. Amenadiel tenderly removed it from his brown leather jacket and passed it to Lucifer. The picture was of little Charlie—still an infant. Lucifer was shocked, his fingers tightening against the glossy surface. Charlie looked much the same as when he'd left.

Had so little time passed on Earth? Lucifer's heart twisted. Everyone above was the same as he'd left them, just a flight away and yet forever out of reach. That didn't bear contemplation, so he shoved those thoughts aside. Focused on the photo.

Charlie was dressed in a green and white striped onesie with a cartoon caterpillar on it. His expression was vague, eyes unfocused but not displeased. Like all human children, Charlie wasn't really a person yet. More like a disturbingly undercooked loaf of bread. The promise of a person in larval form. All squishy and smelly and thoughtless.

He was beautiful.

Looking at the littl photo of his nephew the not-yet-a-person warmed Lucifer's heart so suddenly that it hurt. Like sensation returning to a limb that had long gone numb. Dangerous, letting oneself feel things in Hell. They just made it that much harder to bear. Not to mention leaving a chink in the armor for his squalid little underlings to exploit.

Nonetheless, Lucifer looked at it for a long moment, allowing himself that much. Then, without asking permission, he slipped it into his suit's breast pocket, right over his heart. He'd keep it there and only take it out when he was alone. He took a deep breath, nodding his understanding to his brother.

Amenadiel was right not to do this where they could be overheard. It was too important.

It would cheapen the depth of his gratitude to try to speak it, so Lucifer didn't. Instead, he groped around for something pleasant to say, some way to imply his thanks via smalltalk. "Was the gender-neutral clothing Linda's idea?" he asked. A disturbing number of humans thought it cute to force their spawn into rigid little pink or blue boxes before they could even hold their own heads up. "I wholly support it. Let the little creature develop higher brain function and," he waved a hand, "figure it out for himself." He blinked. "If Charlie is indeed a he, I mean—" He shrugged. "One never knows."

Amenadiel smiled. "We agreed on it together, actually," he said, looking proud of himself. "Nature themes—" he spread his hands out, "fireflies, giraffes, hippos, caterpillars, happy little suns and moons and…" Amenadiel's shoulder gently nudged Lucifer's, "stars too."

The warm, tender feeling in his heart spread out across his chest, like a joyful case of hives. His lips quirked. It was nice, to be included in his nephew's life, if only in a small way.

What would it be like to watch little Charlie become a person before his eyes? Like the Detective's offspring had. Every time Lucifer turned around, the little urchin had some new opinion. Or a charmingly conniving plan to wheedle money out of him. What surprising quirks would Charlie have? Would he like sports or music? If he was into science, Lucifer could buy him a telescope—

The thoughts were sweet like honey on his lips, but they turned to poison in his stomach, tearing into his guts. That wasn't possible. None of it. The best thing Lucifer could do for Charlie was to be far, far away from him. Staying here, buried in the depths, was the only way to keep everyone safe. A hot pang of tears came to his eyes and he ruthlessly blinked them back.

This little visit had become too much of a good thing now. Too much by far.

"Do keep me updated," he said, brusque and businesslike. "On Charlie's…" he waved a negligent hand, "gender and other preferences. Once he grows a personality and all that." He smoothed his hands over his trousers. "It was good to see you, brother," he said, his tone a dismissal.

Amenadiel shook his head. "I've come to relieve you."

"Relieve me of what, precisely?" Lucifer asked, wary.

"Your duty here," Amenadiel said, patting the smooth, onyx seat of the Throne of Hell that lay between them. His eyes were soft. "You deserve a break, Luci."

The gesture was kindly meant, surely, like the photo had been. And Lucifer didn't want to run off the one family member who gave enough of a shit to drop by. But it was so bloody obtuse. Insulting, really. How could Amenadiel truly believe Lucifer would want to go on one of his usual quick romps to party up top? Now, when he couldn't have the life he wanted with the only person he truly desired?

Lucifer shared none of the cutting remarks that came to mind. He had appreciated the photograph. One out of two wasn't so bad, was it? "That is certainly an idea," he said, coolly. "But I'm not interested, so if you'd just—" he flicked his fingers toward the portal, "be on your way. I'll see you in a few millennia, eh?" It would be nice, to have something to look forward to. Maybe he'd bring another picture of Charlie. "Say hello to Linda for me."

Amenadiel looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "But, brother… Chloe misses you. Don't you want to see her?"

Lucifer couldn't hold back the anger that tightened like a vise over him, making his shoulders clench up. "What would you have me do, brother, pop back up just to break her heart all over again?" That was an even more insulting suggestion than that Lucifer go have a wild time partying. "What good do you think that could possibly do? We've already—" The words 'said our goodbyes' stuck in his throat. They brought to mind the softness of her cheek against his fingers, the hot tracks of the tears across her lovely face. Her pain. And his own helplessness.

He couldn't say more on the subject without letting all of those feelings unfold inside him. Who knew how long packing them all away again would take? He stopped speaking and looked away, shaking his head.

"But you wouldn't have to break her heart!" Amenadiel said, shifting to face Lucifer, closing the already slight space between them. His knee bumped into Lucifer's thigh. "Luci, I'm offering to share responsibility here. Permanently." His eyes were bright with all the avid enthusiasm of a Scientologist offering a free personality test out on Hollywood Boulevard.

And likely with a similar end result as well—dashed hopes and mountains of debt. Lucifer was certain that Amenadiel didn't mean to be cruel. But he was just as sure that dangling false hope like this was a cruelty. And he'd had quite enough of it.

"Don't be absurd," he said coldly, straightening his back. "Amenadiel," Lucifer continued, because names were power, especially their names, "you do not deserve this place." He said it deliberately, pouring power into the words so they held the weight of passing a sentence. Hell bent itself around Lucifer, pushing at Amenadiel.

Be gone from here.

Amenadiel fought it, reaching up to grip Lucifer's shoulder. "Brother," he gritted out, "brother…" He struggled, drawing his own power around him. " Lucifer," he said finally, his fingers digging in, "neither do you."

Amenadiel's voice held a command as well. Lucifer felt the mantle of this place—its deadening weight—shift. He choked back a cry of pain. It was like moving a boulder from the leg it had crushed; numb pressure was exchanged for agony as he felt everything he'd lost.

Why did love always have to hurt so much?

Lucifer shoved Amenadiel's hand away. "What are you playing at?" he hissed.

His brother's eyes showed nothing but kindness. "I'm trying to help you, brother."

"Have you considered," Lucifer asked, tightly, "that I might not want to feel like this—like I'm ripping a wound open—over and over again? What if I just want it all to stop?"

"Does Chloe deserve that?" Amenadiel asked, his tone hushed and gentle. He was as insidious and tempting as Lucifer himself was meant to be. "Since you left…" He sighed. "Lucifer, I've never seen someone in so much pain."

Lucifer felt his brother's words, as sharp and cruel as needles driven beneath his fingernails. His fists clenched. "How dare you?" He ought to beat his brother's arse and toss him back through to Earth. Leave him for Linda to put back together.

"I could ask you the same," Amenadiel said, holding his ground.

Two could play at that game. "Your son will miss you," Lucifer said. "I thought you wanted to be there for him," he added, twisting the knife, "as a father, like our Father never was…"

He watched with satisfaction as Amenadiel flinched. He rallied quickly though. "A lot of parents travel," he explained, like he'd practiced this in the mirror. "For work. And their kids are just fine." He took a deep breath. "That's the cover story, by the way." He gestured between them. "We're managing a family business. If we schedule it out well, I'll only ever be gone for days at a time. A few weeks at most. And if Charlie needs me—if something goes wrong—we can always," he shrugged, "adjust."

"You make it sound so easy," Lucifer said. "Like it won't break your heart every time you have to say—" His throat caught on the word again, but this time he pushed past it. "To say goodbye. Don't you understand? It'll be days or weeks for Charlie, but it will be centuries or more for you. I haven't the slightest idea how long I've been down here. I stopped counting. And it's been, what—a few weeks up top?"

"It will cost us," Amenadiel admitted. "I know that. But neither of us is a stranger to duty, brother." History weighted his words. Before it all went wrong, eons ago, that was all life had been for them. Duty. "And I won't let you carry this one alone."

Again, Amenadiel's words held a command, and Lucifer felt Hell shifting between them, responding to its new ruler. Coming to settle around this new angel, to feast on his light.

What a hungry little beast this place was.

Lucifer resented the interference, but not enough to break up their intimate moment. Beneath the initial pain, the mantle shifting to settle over his brother was a blessed relief. Though the hot, dead, sulfurous air here choked him, he could breathe again. It would feel so good to take flight. Feel the living breeze of the Earth again. Taste the ocean's cool, salty mist on his lips.

Amenadiel wore an expression of peace that Lucifer couldn't understand. This was not a good place. It didn't feel good as it sank its claws in.

"There's something different about you," Lucifer said, watching his brother trace his eyes across the endless, dead horizon. "You can still change your mind, you know," he offered. "I won't hold it against you."

There was no shame in it, if Amenadiel wanted out. He'd guarded the gates of Hell before, but he'd never sat the throne. No one had.

That was Lucifer's punishment.

"I'm a father now, Luci," Amenadiel said, radiating a depth of wisdom and kindness unfamiliar to Lucifer. Confidence in himself. "It changes you. You start to think about the kind of world you want to make for them."

What was he on about? The world was Dad's handiwork, from the highest heavens to the darkest corners of Hell, and all the beauty in between.

Impregnating Linda had certainly done wonders for Amenadiel's ego. "I rather doubt that's within your power, brother," Lucifer said, nearly choking on the half dozen cutting remarks that came to mind.

Amenadiel looked at him like he was the one missing the point. "The world isn't just a place, Lucifer. It's what we do with it." He spread his palm over his own chest, above his heart, "I need to know what I believe, about all of it. Right and wrong. How we should treat people. So I can show my son."

Lucifer's head swam. Now, finally, Amenadiel's tedious angsting during the pregnancy made a brutal sort of sense. He and Linda were Charlie's creators. As Charlie became a person, their influence would be godlike. Their mistakes, as well. After eons spent desperately trying to please Father, Amenadiel had to figure out how to be a person worthy of that title himself. Worthy of being like a god to someone dependent on him.

Lucifer didn't envy him. The responsibility was terrifying. "What has any of this to do with me?" he asked.

"I don't have all the answers," Amenadiel said, looking down at his lap. "I've made so many mistakes…" When he looked up, sorrow and regret were etched in every line of his face. "Especially with you, brother." The sorrow melted into quiet certainty. "I don't have all the answers," he repeated, "but I do know I don't want to be the kind of father who would just..." His eyes grew damp. "Who would just leave my family alone in a place like this."

A shiver of anxiety curled through Lucifer's guts. He certainly didn't need another round of loved ones imploring him to make war on Heaven. He was well and truly done with all of that. But there was joy too. Who could have imagined such a thing: Amenadiel, Daddy's boy, sitting on the Throne of Hell, judging Dad for the way he'd handled things? Someone in the family taking Lucifer's part for once.

When Amenadiel planted himself somewhere, nothing could move him. And, apparently, saving his brother from an eternity in Hell was where he'd chosen to root himself this time. Again, Lucifer found it impossible to speak his gratitude, so he tried to just accept this for the gift that it was. "How long?"

"Linda and I agreed on two weeks this first trip—we have a schedule set up at the house," Amenadiel said. "Check in on her and Charlie, all right?"

"Of course," Lucifer agreed. "And you? Do you," he blew out a short breath, "want anything?"

"Can I have Charlie's photo back?" Amenadiel asked, his lips quirking. "I saw you pocket it."

"Oh!" Lucifer had thought it a small favor to ease his misery. But Amenadiel must have brought it for his own comfort. A little solace while enduring the kindness he'd planned to do for Lucifer.

Lucifer reached into his pocket gently, cradling the photograph in his palm like a holy relic before passing it back. Amenadiel carefully tucked it into his own pocket; Lucifer trembled with a sickly hot ache of love and sadness. A thought came to him then, one that hurt like a colony of fire ants had taken up residence in his soul: did any of the human souls here have someone who loved them enough to take a share of their pain?

Again, tears came to Lucifer's eyes. This time, he didn't fight them back. Putting his arm around Amenadiel's shoulders, Lucifer pulled his brother into a fierce hug.

-end-