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[amadrabbles]

The Rider, Part I

Summary: Humans were greedy, but a beast would raise one. Pairing: n/a yet--will become Michael/Lucifer Rating: T CW: child neglect, death Word count: 2263

                    “The baby’s crying again.”

…

“Will you shut him up, Evelyn? He’s driving customers away.”

The blonde woman shot him a look, and though her blue eyes were tired, they were piercing, and she set down her needlework with a loud sigh and stood, stalking over to the back room of the very small shop where a baby lay bundled in blankets, red-faced and bawling loudly.

“What is it?” she asked, addressing the child.

He of course, did not reply with English. He did not reply at all—only continued to cry as if he hadn’t even heard his mother.

“Did you soil yourself?” Dainty hands lifted him, bringing him parallel to her face and she sniffed, smelling nothing. “No, you didn’t. What is it then? Are you just being a pain? Answer me, Nicholas.”

The baby screamed, chubby hands curled into fists and fat legs kicking.

“Evelyn!”

She sighed again, sitting down in a nearby chair and pulled down her chemise to expose her pale breast, and she cradled the baby close as his mouth latched around her nipple and suckled away at it, cooing happily. Icy eyes stared down at the infant, lips tugged into a frown. “It’s not fair, you know,” she said. “It’s not fair that Mummy and Daddy have to starve, while you get to eat whenever you like.”

A man stepped into the room moments later, and his gaze fell upon the baby as well. “Feeding again?” He asked, irritation lacing his tone.

Evelyn hummed a confirmation. “Yes, Adam.”

“Didn’t he feed mere hours ago?”

“Yes, Adam.”

The man scoffed, running a hand through greasy blond hair. “And here we are, unable to afford a fresh loaf of bread. You know, I don’t think it would be that bad if King Charles hadn’t decided to raise the taxes to pay for the Prince’s fifth birthday—who needs a grand celebration for a child?” He was bitter, and he knew it wasn’t his son’s fault. But it was hard to appreciate his own child when he went to bed hungry every night, or when he had to give up every scrap of food to his nursing wife. If it weren’t for the baby, they might be able to share the food. His wife might be able to weave more linens if she didn’t have to always tend to Nicholas’ every need.

“The Prince, clearly,” Evelyn mumbled, watching her son and sharing her husband’s thoughts. “I don’t understand why they do that, though. Have they not learnt? It comes wherever a large sum of gold is held. Our money gets wasted because of their greed and need for lavish affairs—it’s only a matter of time before it strikes again.”

Adam huffed, nodding and turning to the door, watching for any customers that might happen to walk by. “They should slay the beast before they take any more of our money.”

Evelyn seemed to consider this thought, and she raised her golden head to stare at her husband’s back. “Why don’t you? Not only would the King reward you handsomely, I’m sure—you could also keep some of the beast’s hoard for ourselves. We could become a Lord and Lady, and we could live easy lives.”

He turned to her, his own blue eyes flashing with annoyance. “Don’t be stupid, woman!” he snapped, hand on his hip as he leaned against the doorframe. “I am no swordsman, and it would be quite stupid to even attempt such a feat on my own. No, I won’t do it.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “Then shall we all starve to death instead? I am sick of this, Adam!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!”

Evelyn flinched back, an ashamed blush coloring her features. She looked down at the floor in a gesture of humility. “I’m sorry, my love. Forgive me.”

For a moment, he appeared to regret his yelling, appeared remorseful and he stepped toward his wife, combing a hand through her hair. “You are forgiven. I should not have snapped.”

“You are tired, as am I. I do not fault you for unleashing your aggression.”

Adam sighed, grabbing another chair and sitting down in it. “I should not have unleashed it upon you; it is not you I am angry at. It is King Charles, Queen Liliana, Prince Michael, the tax collectors, and…and Nicholas. I’m angry at our own son, Eve.”

She nodded, gaze flickering to the babe still suckling her breast, getting full and fat on warm milk. “I want to love him. But he is more of a burden, than anything else. If only we had the money…”

“…We could always try to steal from its hoard. Maybe while it’s away? We would have to make haste, though.”

Evelyn blinked, staring up at her husband, her weary eyes filling with a renewed energy and hope. “When shall we leave?”

“Tonight. With any luck, we will make it to the mountain by nightfall tomorrow. Take what is left of our savings and buy two loaves of bread once Nicholas is done feeding.”

She nodded, a smile forming on her lips for the first time in weeks.

***

In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid to be as greedy as they were. Adam could’ve gotten them enough gold by himself to last the pair the rest of their lives. But humans were incredibly selfish beings, and they wanted better everything. A better home, better clothes, better food…so Evelyn had joined her husband on the short quest with her own satchel, ready to be filled with riches, and Nicholas swaddled to her back, and they only stopped their trek when the baby started crying, either hungry or having soiled himself.

By the time night had come, and they were waiting at the mouth of the cave that reeked of sulfur and fire, Nicholas cooed wetly, squirming against his mother’s back. She shushed him, waiting for Adam to enter before she followed.

It was almost unbearably hot, and the blond was sweaty and red-faced the further he ventured in, showing the safest way to travel for his wife, praying she wouldn’t slip and fall. But it was nerve-wracking, of course—perspiration pooled in his collarbone and made his hands wet and clammy and slippery, and it didn’t help that the walls of the cave were wet from condensation as well. He heard Evelyn shush the baby again when he moaned unhappily, a hiccup escaping his throat.

But the further they ventured in, and the hotter is got, the harder it was to quiet the distressed babe—they had to move quickly.

Move quickly? They did, yes—but it was extremely unfortunate that they seemed to have forgotten stealth was just as important as agility. The duo had finally found it, the trove where treasures were spread as far as they could see, and their faces lit up and shined just as bright as the gentle hills of gold. Adam looked at Evelyn, expression giddy as he dropped to his knees and began shoveling the coins into his satchel. The woman followed suit, and the clinking sounds of treasures being stolen, paired with Nicholas’ distressed moans, were enough to rouse any beast from their slumber.

And was the beast ever angry. The smell of brimstone intensifying was the only warning given before Evelyn looked up and screamed, a pair of serpentine eyes several stories above her head staring right back at her. Adam looked as well and stumbled back, arms immediately wrapping around his wife to protect her.

Its great maw opened to reveal a set of sharp, stained teeth, its breath reeking of blood and rot and fire. The dragon’s belly glowed orange as it chuckled darkly.

“Humans,” she taunted, her third eyelids flickering over red irises. “What bid you here? Certainly, you don’t mean to steal from me?” She stepped forward, pushing the gold with her giant claws as she moved, her pearlescent scales glimmering in the faint light and making her look every bit as beautiful as she was dangerous.

Evelyn trembled, shaking hands clamped over her mouth to mute the terrified squeaks that came from her throat, and Adam continued to stumble back with his wife in his arms. “No, n-never, you great and magnificent terror!” He said. “We would never steal from you, Draejali the Fearsome! To steal from you would certainly mean an imminent death!”

“Oh?” Questioned the dragon, her nostrils flaring and unleashing a thin cloud of smoke. “Then perhaps you should tell me why your bags are full of my gold? I don't like liars—your excuse best be good.”

The woman started crying, tears rolling down her cheeks until Nicholas started to cry as well. Then, she appeared shocked, and immediately untied the cloth that secured her baby to her back. She held the child in her hands and offered him forward, head bowed.

“Great Draejali,” Evelyn said. “We have come to offer you our first born son in exchange for some of your riches! We are very poor, you see, struggling to even feed ourselves! We simply wish to no longer suffer!”

“And what use would I have for a baby?” the dragon roared.

Adam and Evelyn flinched, but it was Adam who spoke this time. “He is nice and plump, see? Perhaps he shall make a great snack for you, O Terrible One!”

“That is no snack,” Draejali said, offended, her great wings stretching out in agitation. “That is a mere taste. How dare you insult me with such a meager offering, you foolish humans!”

Evelyn sobbed. “Please, forgive us! We are just so hungry; we want nothing more than to be able to afford food for the rest of our lives. We will exchange Nicholas for however much you believe he is worth!” she cried, begging the dragon to show mercy.

And the beast seemed to ponder this, her ruby eyes narrowing in thought; and after hearing the two humans beg and simper like they were for another moment or two, Draejali said, “Very well. Leave him here and dump your satchels—you may take three gold coins each. That should be plenty. I do not want to hear any arguments, you understand me?”

The humans nodded quickly and, after Evelyn had set the sobbing baby down on a pile of gold, made haste of emptying their bags and grabbing only three gold coins each, as per instruction. “Oh, thank you, Magnificent Creature! You are so merciful and we are blessed, thank you for sparing us!”

Draejali folded her translucent wings against her back and puffed out her proud chest. “Leave my lair and never return,” she commanded.

“Yes, thank you! We shall never disturb you again, Great Draejali!”

The beast watched as the humans stumbled out of the cave, reeking of piss, and she waited until she could hear they were returned to the fresh air before she turned to the screaming baby.

She tilted her massive head to the side, watching him kick and scream at the blankets, face red from how loud he was crying, until she moved forward and sniffed him, nudging his small, plump form with her nose. Soft, tiny hands uncurled from their fists and patted her muzzle, and his crying turned to happy coos when he realized how cold it was, elated for some relief from the searing heat of the cave.

Draejali felt a certain kind of hatred bubble forth. Humans were pathetic and greedy. Rage swallowed her mind. Humans were willing to abandon their own kin just for a few gold coins. She turned away from the baby, eyes directed toward the exit. They narrowed, and she roared, charging out of the cave and bursting into the air, spreading her magnificent wings and flying toward the rising sun, her great wings blocking the light from it before her crimson eyes narrowed in Adam and Evelyn, who were halfway down the mountain. She swooped down, great maw open and belly glowing orange, and she watched with delight the way the human pair bore a shared expression of shock and terror as she breathed fire, burning them alive and serving justice. Their screams were music, and she circled around, hind claws slicing into charred bodies and shredding them until nothing remained except blackened bone.

<<There,>> the beast said coolly in her native tongue. <<You had more than enough gold to last you the rest of your pathetic lives.>>

But she didn’t return to her cave just yet—Draejali knew enough about humans to know that there was no way the child could survive on meat just yet—she had not seen any teeth in the baby’s mouth. So the great beast had flown over a field and plucked a stray goat from it, careful to not let her claws pierce it, and though it was bleating and trying to escape, she wouldn’t let it.

Draejali entered her cave with the terrified animal clutched in her hand and set it near the baby and blocked the exit. The goat had nowhere to run, and it bleated its fear until the baby had screamed happily, hands grabbing for its nipples. Draejali settled her head on her arms, watching the goat as it lay itself down, allowing the human baby to move in an suckle from its nipple, warm milk dribbling down his chin.

<<You are my child now, infant,>> she said. <<And my child shall not have his human name. You will be my Light Bringer, my Morning Star. You shall be called Lucifer.>>

[amadrabbles]

Diminutive

Summary: Michael never really got used to Lucifer's nicknames for him. Paring: Michael/Lucifer Rating: T CW: Implied incest Word Count: 2105

For Caff, because she really likes nicknames.

                                                       * * *

          Michael could remember the first time he had met Lucifer. He had come back from the earth--where his strong hands were busy molding the fires and magma into mounds and sealing them, turning them to obsidian and pumice and making the earth solid for the next stages of God's plan--and he saw God waiting, his hands clasped in front of him. Michael landed gracefully before him.

"My son," He started. "I have a gift."

And He opened His hands, and a light brighter than any he had ever seen before spilled from his hands. Michael was awe-struck with the beauty of his Father's latest creation.

"He is Lucifer, and he is your brother, Michael" his Father said. "You are to love him and care for him. Be close, and teach him everything you know."

"Lucifer," Michael murmured, testing the name on his tongue.

The creature beamed, and his entire being glowed with love. "Micha."

"Michael," he corrected, immediately stepping into the role of teacher, as his Father assigned him.

But that light dimmed, and Michael did not want that. He gave an explanation, hoping to bring it back. "Our names were given to us by God, our Father. They are good, and they are perfect, just as you are good and perfect, as He created you. It would be insult to insist upon a name that He has not given us, Lucifer."

His brother nodded his understanding and he lit up once more, and Michael smiled and took his hand. It was searing, hotter than the core of the sun, but it only made sense to Michael. Lucifer was the Morning Star.

                                                        * * *

          "Micha, take me with you," demanded Lucifer, staring at him with an almost terrifying intensity.

"Lucifer," he warned.

That earned him a sigh that should not have been endearing in the least bit. "Michael," he tried again.

"Good."

"Take me with you to the earth. I want to see it up close. Father has been making it magnificent."

"No," Michael said. "You have not yet perfected flying. It is too dangerous of a trip for you."

Lucifer's eyes sparkled with challenge. "Am I not the brightest, Michael?"

"No, you are. Of course you are."

"Then do not doubt me."

Before Michael could really stop him, Lucifer unfurled his opalescent wings and beat them once, twice, and took off soaring to the earth. Michael panicked, and hurried after him, calling out for him, Lucifer! Lucifer! and when he landed, his Grace immediately shot out, feeling, grasping for his brother's, and he found it, humming and warm and happy. Michael sought him out, and he finally found him sitting beneath a tree, grinning and rolling a fragrant fruit between his hands.

"Told you not to doubt me," he teased, peeling the skin off the fruit. Its aroma only became more fragrant, and he watched as Lucifer pulled off a section of the fruit to pop it in his mouth, its juice wetting his lips.

"And I told you 'no.'" Michael bristled, upset with his little brother for his defiance.

Lucifer merely smirked. "You said 'no' to taking me with you. So I went by myself." He popped another section of the fruit into his mouth.

Michael wanted to argue, but he found the only words leaving his lips were those of praise. "You are perhaps a little too bright, Luca."

The younger angel stilled, staring at Michael. "What did you call me?"

"Nothing."

Lucifer grinned.

                                                       * * *

          "Hey Ralphy, look what Luci taught me!"

There was a long groan, causing Gabriel to give his older brother a puzzled look. "Not you too!"

The youngest archangel still bore a look of confusion, and he waved his hand, dismissing the glimmering illusion of a double. "Better?"

"Not that," Raphael said. "Those stupid names Lucifer uses."

"Stupid?" Gabriel echoed, voice incredulous.

"They are wrong. My name is Raphael; it is the name Father gave me, and it is good and perfect."

The messenger snorted, idly changing the color of his eyes. "Geez, Mikey's got you wound up tight."

"Michael has not got me 'wound up,' or anything of the sort," Raphael argued. "He is teaching me the right ways. Lucifer is sabotaging you; you would do good to not let his behavior influence you."

"You would do good to let loose a little!" Gabriel decided to let his eyes settle on liquid gold.

"No."

"Eh, whatever. I'll still have fun with Luci. Hey Ralphy, have I shown you this?"

Raphael tried to not grit his teeth as his armor started sprouting fur.

                                                       * * *

          God was gone, and Michael had to stay strong. The rise of humans meant the fall of Lucifer, and Michael couldn't help but feel like a failure. He was too lenient with him. He let Lucifer get away with things he wouldn't let his other brothers get away with. He raised him wrong. If only he had drilled into his head that God's word was final, and that included names, then perhaps this wouldn't have happened. Perhaps Lucifer wouldn't have been so defiant if he hadn't praised him when it first started to become an issue, when Lucifer first flew to the earth. Perhaps, if he recognized that smirk as he was eating that orange was a sign of Pride, he could've saved him. He could've saved him, instead of ejecting him from Heaven, to protect the rest of his siblings from being influenced by the serpent Lucifer had become.

Perhaps if he had been more strict, Lucifer wouldn't have lashed out when he was finally punished, wouldn't have twisted the human girl's soul until it was ugly and tortured and evil, wouldn't have witnessed his beautiful brother create a horrific abomination. Perhaps he wouldn't have had to open the earth beneath his brother's feet and lock him away in complete and utter isolation.

There was no time for weeping for the absence of God. No time for weeping for the loss of his brother. He could not dwell on Lucifer's pleas, Micha, please! Micha, brother, stand with me!

His brother would be a lesson, and he would be Heaven's viceroy.

                                                       * * *

          He had been watching Lucifer's rising when it happened; it was hard to miss, after all. There was no light that shone brighter than his.

                                                       * * *

          Finally, he thought. Finally, after all these years, he laid eyes on his brother once again. It was a shame that his true beauty was stifled by a human vessel, but Sam Winchester fit his brother like a glove and he had to find appreciation that he could even manage to contain Lucifer's Grace.

"It's good to see you, Michael."

"You too. It's been too long." Far, far too long. "Can you believe it's finally here?"

"No. Not really."

"Are you ready?" Michael wasn't. He never would be.

"As I'll ever be. A part of me wishes we didn't have to do this."

"Yeah. Me too," he said in earnest. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to kill Lucifer. He was supposed to love him and care for him.

"Then why are we?"

"Oh, you know why! I have no choice, after what you did."

"What I did? What if it's not my fault?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it. Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am! God wanted the Devil."

"So?" He was wrong. Lucifer was wrong. God was right.

"So why? And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point."

"What's your point?"

"We're going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard."

"I'm sorry. I-I can't do that." Michael was torn. He wanted Lucifer back. He wanted to see his smile, he wanted to see him shine like the Morning Star. But he was-- "I'm a good son, and I have my orders." God was right. God was always right.

"But you don't have to follow them."

"What, you think I'm gonna rebel? Now? I'm not like you."

"Please, Micha--"

He interjected quickly. "You know, you haven't changed a bit, little brother." He had to be strong, he had to be strong, had to be strong. "Always blaming everybody but yourself. We were together. We were happy." He hasn't been happy since. He wanted to be happy again. "But you betrayed me--all of us--and you made our Father leave." Perhaps, if Michael had been a little more strict...

"No one makes Dad do anything. He is doing this to us."

No. No, no, no. God was right. "You're a monster, Lucifer. And I have to kill you."

He almost looked away. He couldn't bear to see the look of betrayal on his brother's face for a second time.

"If that's the way it's got to be...then I'd like to see you try."

This is it, he thought, as he circled his brother, heart pounding.

They stopped, and they both turned to look as a 1967 Chevy Impala rolled up to them, music drifting from open windows. Dean winchester parked and got out. "Howdy, boys."

Michael exchanged a look with Lucifer. No. This needed to be quick. He couldn't let Dean stall this, make him want to change his mind.

"Sorry. Am I interrupting something?" the human asked, and he is full of arrogance and Michael hated it, hated these damned humans because perhaps, if they were never created, he would still have Luca. "We need to talk."

"Dean," he heard his brother say. "Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid."

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Sam."

Michael bristled at the Winchester's utter disrespect toward Lucifer. "You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here."

"Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry."

"Adam isn't home right now," he sneered. His patience was wearing thin; Dean needed to go before he had second-thoughts about killing Lucifer.

"Well, then you're next on my list, buttercup. But right now, I need five minutes with him."

No. No, that was too long! "You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story!"

Michael moved to destroy him, and he would've, but he was caught off guard by, "Hey, ass-butt!" He stopped and looked, and he saw Castiel, and he threw something at him and no, NO, NO! He screamed in agony, his body engulfed in flames.

He came to in Heaven, writhing in pain as his body desperately tried to heal itself. It hurt, it hurt so much, and Michael vaguely wondered how he'd ever be able to deal with the pain of killing Lucifer if this hurt so much. He could come back from this. Lucifer wouldn't come back if he went through with God's plan. It would be a pain that could never heal. Lucifer--

Michael shot up, though his body protested. No. This couldn't go on. He couldn't--Damn it, no! He had to fight! God was right, God was right!

Lucifer wasn't there, but Sam was, as was the hole in the ground and he was standing over it. No, NO. Not again! "Sam! It's not gonna end this way! Step back!" Michael never pleaded, but he did in that moment.

"You're gonna have to make me!"

"I have to fight my brother, Sam! Here and now! It's my destiny!" Anything, anything to keep Lucifer from being locked up again.

But no, Sam was going to fall, and so was Lucifer, and Michael grabbed him. He wouldn't be alone again.

                                                       * * *

          It was cold. It was the exact opposite of what Lucifer's Grace used to be, and Michael wept because he couldn't imagine what sort of pain his brother must've gone through; surely, the ice ate at his exposed warmth and burned him something fierce. It was cruel. Surely, because without the protective layer of Adam, he felt it.

Lucifer (finally in his pure form, he noted) watched him from across the cage; he could feel his eyes on him, boring into him. And then he heard it, that quiet whisper of "Micha," and he no longer held back. God was gone. Michael moved to his brother, stopping only when he was in front of him.

"Luca," he finally choked in reply.

A small smile graced the younger angel's lips, and Michael embraced him, nearly crushing him. He was ice, liquid nitrogen, the arctic sea and Michael missed the warmth.

"Luca..."