Caught in the Fire

Chapter IX: Caught in the Rain

Michael was on the beach, kneeling next to his dying brother, holding his hand through his final journey to Hell. He had been stabbed in the heart by that demon—the same one who was trying in vain to resuscitate him. But he knew it was hopeless. With all his powers, he could not even save him. He watched helplessly as the pool of blood beneath his brother grew and the light in his eyes dimmed. At least his brother seemed to be lost in some wonderful dream, most likely about the Detective judging by that fleeting smile on his face.

"I'm plucking one of your feathers, now!" Mazikeen yelled.

Michael only watched helplessly as his brother started choking in his own blood, still lost in his reverie. He could almost hear a song on his lips. He heard him wheeze out the Detective's name as blood gushed out of his mouth and all he could do was hold his hand tighter. He thought about praying to Raphael, but he'd never get here on time. He could sense Azrael nearby, invisible to them as always, waiting to ferry his soul to Hell for the last time.

Azrael—Michael prayed as he held his brother's hand, feeling as it grew cold in his grasp—Please...

You know I can't—she prayed in response—I'm sorry, Lu.

He felt Mazikeen elbowing him for his attention, bringing him back to reality, and he unfurled his wings, let her pluck one of his feathers, and then he put them away again. It was a valiant effort by the demon who did this, but he knew it was hopeless. He'd seen enough stab wounds in his long life to know that there was no hope with this one. This kind of stab wound, directly through the heart, was fatal, and all they could do was be with him during his last moments. At least his brother seemed happy with Chloe's name on his lips as the darkness took him.

"It worked with Amenadiel; it has to work for him, too!"

Michael watched as Mazikeen placed the feather on Lucifer's chest and he then grabbed on to the blade, ready to pull it out. He gasped, coming back to reality, and he reached out to stop her. "Demon, stop!"

But she ignored his warning and yanked out the blade, making blood instantly gush out of Lucifer's chest. He watched helplessly as Lucifer let out a gurgling last breath and then instantly went limp, his empty gaze fixed upon the blue sky. He heard the sound of Azrael's wings, and he knew his brother was gone. The feather that laid over Lucifer's chest started glowing brighter and brighter until divine light spread out across the beach. When the light faded away, the wound had healed but Lucifer remained still.

"No," Mazikeen whispered, searching desperately for a pulse or any signs of life, but there was nothing. "No, no, no! How?! The feather healed him! Why isn't he back?!"

"His soul has crossed the threshold."

Thunder rumbled in the distance and dark clouds gathered in the sky. Heaven, he imagined, must be mourning its Lightbringer. He was sad that his brother died with the name of his beloved on his lips and a blue sky in his eyes—two things he would never again see in Hell. He reached out with one hand and closed his brother's eyes, then wiped away the last of his tears. He covered his own eyes, taking deep, steady breaths, trying not to give into his tears in front of the demon.

"I warned you that removing the blade would kill him instantly," he told her with a shaky voice, trying to contain his tears.

"I won't let him go!" she yelled, then she grabbed that frame out of Lucifer's hands and tossed it aside, giving her better access to his chest. She ripped his shirt open and then put her hands on his chest, one on top of the other, and began chest compressions. "I saw this in a TV show once. It has to work!"

"Demon..." With unshed tears clouding his vision, he looked back at Mazikeen and saw her breathing into Lucifer's mouth. "Demon, you must stop. You killed him. Accept it."