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tamingthemuseTitle: Breaking Point [ficlet]
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: 275 - tranquil
Warnings: General spoilers for season 6, specifically Appointment in Samarra. Light Lucifer/Michael.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~850
Summary: Lucifer's one goal while locked in the cage with Michael is to break his brother.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
There is blood everywhere.
The hot, dry air is thick with the scent of copper and iron, and the bars of the cage gleam wetly.
It's streaked across Lucifer's face like war-paint and drips thickly from the tips of his fingers. Michael lays at his feet looking nothing like the boy whose skin he's wearing.
There's a gasp, a gurgled breath for air as his brother shifts slowly, attempts to rise. He struggles, harsh pants through his mouth and nose causing the blood spilling from his lips and trickling from his nostrils to froth and bubble. Michael climbs to his knees and pauses, head bent in what only looks like submission.
Lucifer moves forward, easy strides of long legs eating up the short distance between them, and stands before Michael. "Surrender to me, brother," he says, pushing his sticky fingers through the tangled, blood-darkened strands of Michael's vessel's hair to force his head up, their gazes to meet.
"No." The volume of his voice says weakness, but the look in his eyes and the set of his mouth shout defiance.
"One day, you'll give me what I want. I don't care if I have to wait another millennia." He snaps his fingers and the whole scene resets, Michael's young, borrowed body healing, bruises vanishing before his eyes, broken bones mending and torn skin repairing itself.
Michael's eyes open, a startling, clear shade of china blue, and they share a moment of peace before things begin again, before the heavy smell of sulfur is overtaken by the scent of blood, before Lucifer can start flaying his brother's skin open with his mind.
oxo
Even without a body, Lucifer can still use his vessel's soul to manipulate whatever he chooses to, even become corporeal if he so chooses. He's been at this for decades, now, breaking his brother. Michael is so close to giving in he can taste it in the blood smeared across his lips. It's sweet.
Michael lasts a few more days before he coughs and splutters blood, body ceasing to strain against the leather straps that bind him to the table in the center of the cage. He goes limp as the fight leaves him, as his hope fails and he breaks. "Okay," he whispers, voice rasping from all the screaming he's been doing. "Okay."
Lucifer sets his blade down, strokes his fingers down the side of Michael's face as his brother's eyelids flutter at the first gentle touch to his skin since they were cast down into the pit together and locked into this cage. "Have you had enough?" He smooths his thumb over Michael's brow anointing him with his own blood.
"Yes."
Lucifer studies those limpid eyes, bluer than the ocean depths, searches for any hint of dishonesty and finding only his brother's shattered will. He presses his lips to Michael's, tastes the blood on his teeth, the victory. "You've made the right choice, brother," he says and snaps his fingers for the hundred and eighty-eighth time. Lucifer presses ghostly fingers to Michael's cheek, draws Michael's focus to his face. "What's mine is yours and we will rule this realm together."
Michael blinks slowly, gives a minute nod.
This detachment was somewhat expected, it'll take time for that righteous fire to flare back to life inside his brother. When it does, Lucifer will mold it just like he does the souls he torments. He'll shape it until Michael is a reflection of the very best parts of his brother. "Soon, you'll see." He turns to look out the bars of their cage at their kingdom. "You'll see." He reaches over and takes Michael's hand in his own.
They're standing there, hand in hand, when the cage begins to shake, bars trembling with an ominous groaning of iron. The endless expanse of blackness above them opens on a hazy view of the cosmos, a gale streaming in through the portal nearly strong enough to send Lucifer to his knees.
Then he feels it. The tug of the tether between his form and his vessel's soul being stretched taut, then the searing pain of it being severed completely. All his power leaves him, his ability to influence and manipulate is gone and he's left just a swirling mass of his fundamental self, his blackened grace.
Rage doesn't begin to cover what he's feeling. Michael's already given in but he hasn't laid hand on such a pure soul in so long and his seething anger can only be calmed in one way.
Without Sam's soul he isn't as strong, can't hold the illusion for as long. He's less than he was. But he'll make do with what he's got. In the blink of an eye, Michael's strapped back to the table, cornflower stare wide with shock. "Lucifer, I-"
Lucifer presses his fingers against his brother's soft mouth. "I know. But I need this."
Michael's scream as the first blade works its way beneath his skin soothes a little, but not nearly enough. That's all right, though: Lucifer has all the time in the world.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: 275 - tranquil
Warnings: General spoilers for season 6, specifically Appointment in Samarra. Light Lucifer/Michael.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~850
Summary: Lucifer's one goal while locked in the cage with Michael is to break his brother.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
There is blood everywhere.
The hot, dry air is thick with the scent of copper and iron, and the bars of the cage gleam wetly.
It's streaked across Lucifer's face like war-paint and drips thickly from the tips of his fingers. Michael lays at his feet looking nothing like the boy whose skin he's wearing.
There's a gasp, a gurgled breath for air as his brother shifts slowly, attempts to rise. He struggles, harsh pants through his mouth and nose causing the blood spilling from his lips and trickling from his nostrils to froth and bubble. Michael climbs to his knees and pauses, head bent in what only looks like submission.
Lucifer moves forward, easy strides of long legs eating up the short distance between them, and stands before Michael. "Surrender to me, brother," he says, pushing his sticky fingers through the tangled, blood-darkened strands of Michael's vessel's hair to force his head up, their gazes to meet.
"No." The volume of his voice says weakness, but the look in his eyes and the set of his mouth shout defiance.
"One day, you'll give me what I want. I don't care if I have to wait another millennia." He snaps his fingers and the whole scene resets, Michael's young, borrowed body healing, bruises vanishing before his eyes, broken bones mending and torn skin repairing itself.
Michael's eyes open, a startling, clear shade of china blue, and they share a moment of peace before things begin again, before the heavy smell of sulfur is overtaken by the scent of blood, before Lucifer can start flaying his brother's skin open with his mind.
Even without a body, Lucifer can still use his vessel's soul to manipulate whatever he chooses to, even become corporeal if he so chooses. He's been at this for decades, now, breaking his brother. Michael is so close to giving in he can taste it in the blood smeared across his lips. It's sweet.
Michael lasts a few more days before he coughs and splutters blood, body ceasing to strain against the leather straps that bind him to the table in the center of the cage. He goes limp as the fight leaves him, as his hope fails and he breaks. "Okay," he whispers, voice rasping from all the screaming he's been doing. "Okay."
Lucifer sets his blade down, strokes his fingers down the side of Michael's face as his brother's eyelids flutter at the first gentle touch to his skin since they were cast down into the pit together and locked into this cage. "Have you had enough?" He smooths his thumb over Michael's brow anointing him with his own blood.
"Yes."
Lucifer studies those limpid eyes, bluer than the ocean depths, searches for any hint of dishonesty and finding only his brother's shattered will. He presses his lips to Michael's, tastes the blood on his teeth, the victory. "You've made the right choice, brother," he says and snaps his fingers for the hundred and eighty-eighth time. Lucifer presses ghostly fingers to Michael's cheek, draws Michael's focus to his face. "What's mine is yours and we will rule this realm together."
Michael blinks slowly, gives a minute nod.
This detachment was somewhat expected, it'll take time for that righteous fire to flare back to life inside his brother. When it does, Lucifer will mold it just like he does the souls he torments. He'll shape it until Michael is a reflection of the very best parts of his brother. "Soon, you'll see." He turns to look out the bars of their cage at their kingdom. "You'll see." He reaches over and takes Michael's hand in his own.
They're standing there, hand in hand, when the cage begins to shake, bars trembling with an ominous groaning of iron. The endless expanse of blackness above them opens on a hazy view of the cosmos, a gale streaming in through the portal nearly strong enough to send Lucifer to his knees.
Then he feels it. The tug of the tether between his form and his vessel's soul being stretched taut, then the searing pain of it being severed completely. All his power leaves him, his ability to influence and manipulate is gone and he's left just a swirling mass of his fundamental self, his blackened grace.
Rage doesn't begin to cover what he's feeling. Michael's already given in but he hasn't laid hand on such a pure soul in so long and his seething anger can only be calmed in one way.
Without Sam's soul he isn't as strong, can't hold the illusion for as long. He's less than he was. But he'll make do with what he's got. In the blink of an eye, Michael's strapped back to the table, cornflower stare wide with shock. "Lucifer, I-"
Lucifer presses his fingers against his brother's soft mouth. "I know. But I need this."
Michael's scream as the first blade works its way beneath his skin soothes a little, but not nearly enough. That's all right, though: Lucifer has all the time in the world.
