Feeling nostalgic & bittersweet for no reason so I'm going to divert that energy:
The brothers visit Lilith.
They visit her and it's not a frequent thing but they do visit her.
Most of them have to time their visits just right because either they have to sneak past Cerberus or wait till he's been taken outside.
None of them have realised that 9 out of 10 times when they're planning on visiting her Cerberus is not there, that when they're planning on visiting her they become oddly quiet and distant. That during those times Lucifer always ends up taking Cerberus on a particularly long walk.
The twins kneel on either side of her tomb, one hand each clutching at hers from where they are clasped upon their shared grimoire. They reminisce with her. Talking happily and laughing about shared stories. Conversation flows but there's just enough gaps in it that you'd almost expect to hear a third voice chiming in.
On bad days though, on days where the guilt eats at them, when screams echo and the flames engulfing the Celestial Realm burns at their skin, they come alone. Each sitting by her side and clutching her hand so tightly that their knuckles turn white. They each apologise for their perceived helplessness, believing her death falls on their shoulders.
Beel can never look at her face during those times, instead looking at the ground between his knees. His words are gruff and choked out, tears falling drop by drop and littering the ground.
Belphie can't turn away from her face during those times. His hands are almost claw like from the way he's holding on to her. His eyes are tear filled but angry, his words bitter and snarling until all the fight drains out and he's sobbing his apologies.
Neither of them tell each other about these solo visits
Asmo sits by her side while he paints his nails. He's as bubbly as ever as he tells her the latest gossip.
He tells her how Lucifer's been more crabby lately, how Mammon's being hunted down by the witches again, how Levi flooded the house because an anime character he likes died, how Beel scored the winning point in his latest match, how Belphie once again managed to ace all his classes despite sleeping through them, he tells her about the people she's never met but he's sure she'll love.
"And Diavolo's been gushing about a new circus that's coming to town! He wants us all to go. The others have all being grumbling but you can tell how excited they are!" He's giggling, eyes bright and nail polish brush forgotten as he waves it around while talking.
"You'll love it Lily! I can't wait till you see the - "
He stops. Blinking at the empty space in front of him. Before curling more into himself as he resumes painting his nails.
"The trapeze artists are rumoured to be very good."
The words are notably more subdued, spoken down to his hands while he paints them. He ignores the hitch in his voice and leaves shortly after.
Levi sits crossed legs on the ground, close to her shoulder, back pressed against her tomb.
He doesn't talk much. His eyes are focused on the game in his hand, fingers moving rapidly across the controls. His headphones aren't plugged in and the little sounds from it echo across the labyrinth.
He hardly ever speaks and when he does it's quiet and shy and a little bit stiff as he explains a certain part of a game to her.
Sometimes he watches anime down there too.
It's always an episode he's watched before, usually a filler that can be watched without needing any context, always something he knows she'd like.
He never reads manga down there. It's always something with sound. Something that can fill up the space around him. Something he can pretend that she's listening to as well.
Levi never got to share his fondest passion with her and he knows he never will. The thought that there's a significant part of him, a part that defines him and is important to him that Lilith never knew about burns.
This game of pretend he plays with a stone version of his long dead little sister that gives him some type of closure.
Mammon always runs down here when he says he's hiding from Lucifer or one of his many debt collectors.
He knows that's not true but he'd never acknowledge that, not even to himself.
He never looks directly at her tomb, instead he marches up to it and then past it. Pacing up and down its length on the side closest to the wall and furthest from the entrance.
He never spares a glance at the tomb.
Weaving stories of the day he's just had. His hands flying about wildly and gesturing as he lets it all out.
It's never about anything that truly upsets him, there's no sadness or tears here, those wounds are only bared to the eyes of another.
Whether he's pissed off and annoyed or overjoyed and excited, he never swears down here. There's no last second cut off to words that unconsciously tumble from his lips, like it is with Luke, instead the words never come - an instinct that's been ingrained in him after thousands of years of her big eyes following him around as he spun exaggerated tales of the latest prank he pulled on the other angels.
And as he does a turn and walks back his eyes finally catch on her face and his words die. He stops in his tracks and his shoulders relax, his arms fall to his side and his entire face shifts into something painfully gentle.
His hand reaches for hers and squeezes it lightly as if it were really soft flesh and not unyielding stone.
Quiet and honest and simple. Because it really is as simple as that.
Satan stands next to her.
He'd seen her life in glimpses through another's eyes but he didn't know her. Not like the others did.
There's envy and sadness and longing there - that he didn't get to stand in her brightness.
He wonders if he'd even be here if she was still alive. If any other event would have been enough to feed Lucifer's anger to the point where Satan was able to take physical form. If perhaps the two of them would have never met because they would have never been able to exist while the other was alive.
The thought should make him angry, bitter but it leaves no emotions behind. It's an objective thought - a question that he'll never have the answer to and somehow that's okay. There's no changing the past.
He's grateful to be alive and he longs to have known her, to have met her. He longs more than anything for her to have known of him, to have known he existed, to have known his name, to have known he loved her and grieved for her.
They're complicated and conflicting feelings and that's okay. Maybe that's how it's supposed to feel.
He doesn't reach out to touch her, not today, he doesn't know if he's allowed, if he's ready. Maybe one day he will be, maybe one day he will. But not today.
Lucifer stands next to her.
He only ever visits in the dead of night once everyone else is curled up under their blankets. Cerberus dozes in front of them.
Lucifer's eyes never leave her face. Taking in every little curve and bump, engraving them into his memories.
His eyes drift to their grimoire held protectively under her palms, he can't think of anyone more suited to protect them all.
He scans her then, looking for any nick or shift, anything that could have hurt her tomb. He finds nothing, like he knew he would, but that never stops him from looking.
And when he looks back to her face, once he's made sure she's unhurt, he feels the sudden swell of grief and loss, guilt and regret, and the gentle wave of happiness that washes it all away.
Their paths had always been meant to cross, never linger.
She had lived a long happy life with them and he would always cherish that time, but she ultimately belonged down in the bright-dark world she'd fallen in love with, free from the chains of being an angel and free from the Sin of being a demon.
He missed her more deeply than was comprehensible but he would always remain eternally grateful for the human sleeping curled up in their room.
His mouth curls in a small smile and he reaches out, fingers brushing along the delicate wisps of her hair intricately carved into the stone, before he's bending. Lips lingering on the cold, smooth stone of her forehead.
His little sister will always be a treasured and loved member of their family.
They miss her, they love her and they let her go.
Life moves on and they move on with it.
They will visit her here, they will have their moments and they will leave - packing the memory of her into a special nook close to their chest, out of sight yet never forgotten.
Their paths had always been meant to cross, a brief fleeting yet impactful moment in an immortal life, but he knew that the life of the human left in her wake was interwoven with theirs, the threads of fate too tightly knitted to ever be separated.
They're not sure what they could say to her.
To a woman they'd only met for a brief moment in time, to a woman who had watched over them for the entirety of their life - even if it had been for selfish reasons.
To a woman they might have owed their existence to.
There was so much to say.
Thank you or I understand.
I understand why you would use me to see them one more time, to mend their bridges or I understand what it's like to fall in love with a different world and its people.
They have always loved you and they will always love you.
No one could ever replace you in their eyes.
They're troublemakers but they're worth every second.
I'm happy that you lived and died happily.
In the end they simply say, "I'll keep them safe."
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