Lucifer, But I'm Not The Devil

Lucifer leaned back on the plush leather couch, his long legs stretched out as he cradled a crystal glass of wine. His shirt, torn at the collar from the earlier fight, hung loosely on his broad shoulders. A dark bruise marred his cheekbone, and dried blood clung stubbornly to his knuckles. Yet, his expression was one of smug confidence, his lips curling into a faint smirk as he glanced at Sariel, who sat not far from him, nursing his own wounds with silent stoicism.

Their mother lay on another couch, a soft blanket draped over her fragile frame. Her breathing was steady, the rise and fall of her chest the only sound cutting through the tense quiet. The room, lit by the dim glow of the city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, seemed to hold its breath.

Lucifer swirled his wine, the ruby liquid catching the light as he spoke, his tone laced with wry amusement. "As soon as she wakes up," he said, nodding toward their mother, "I'm sending you both back to hell."

Sariel scoffed, a low, dismissive sound that carried his disdain. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest as he regarded Lucifer with a look of dry amusement. His shirt was torn in several places, revealing the pale, unmarked skin beneath—evidence of his divine resilience. He tilted his head, the motion deliberate, as his lips twisted into a mocking grin.

"I'd like to see you try," Sariel drawled, his voice smooth but edged with challenge. His piercing gaze locked onto Lucifer, his smirk widening just enough to reveal a hint of his teeth. "You may have gotten a few good hits in, little brother, but let's not pretend you could finish what you started."

Lucifer chuckled darkly, his smirk deepening as he took a slow sip of his wine. He set the glass down on the low table with a deliberate clink, his movements unhurried yet purposeful. His golden eyes glimmered with a mix of amusement and something more dangerous, his expression sharpening like a predator toying with its prey.

"I know you were holding back earlier," Lucifer said, his voice low but firm, each word punctuated with a quiet certainty that made Sariel's smirk falter ever so slightly. "But I'm not worried. I've got the greatest warrior of the Silver City on my side."

Sariel's brows furrowed, his grin fading as a flicker of genuine curiosity passed over his features. He leaned forward slightly, his body tense but controlled, his eyes narrowing as he studied Lucifer. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but laced with suspicion.

Lucifer leaned forward as well, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression turned inscrutable, though the faint curve of his lips hinted at satisfaction. He met Sariel's gaze with unwavering confidence, his golden eyes glinting with secrets. "I made a deal," he said cryptically, his tone light but layered with implication.

Sariel's frown deepened, his jaw tightening as frustration flashed in his silver eyes. "What deal?" he demanded, his voice sharper now, tinged with unease. His fingers curled into fists against his thighs, his posture shifting into something more defensive.

Lucifer opened his mouth to reply, but a soft, broken sound interrupted him.

"Lucifer... Sariel..."

Both brothers froze, their gazes snapping to their mother as she stirred. Her delicate hands twitched against the blanket, and her eyes fluttered open. She looked at them with a mixture of confusion and sorrow, her once-commanding presence now tempered by weariness.

Lucifer immediately stood, his movements fluid but swift, his concern poorly masked by his usual arrogance. "Mother," he said softly, his voice losing its edge. His golden eyes softened as he knelt beside her, his hand hovering uncertainly before finally resting lightly on her arm.

Sariel rose more slowly, his expression guarded. He crossed the room in measured strides, his brows knit with something that resembled guilt. He stood a few paces behind Lucifer, his body stiff, as though unsure of how to approach her after everything that had transpired.

Their mother's gaze flickered between them, her lips parting as though to speak. Her voice, when it came, was faint but steady. "You two... still at each other's throats," she murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite the exhaustion in her eyes. "You haven't changed."

Lucifer's black eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability as he gazed at his mother. For a fleeting moment, his sharp features softened, the weight of centuries pressing down on his shoulders visible in the slight downturn of his lips and the tension in his jaw. But just as quickly, his expression hardened, the mask of indifference snapping back into place like armor.

He straightened, his hands falling loosely at his sides as he tilted his head, his tone laced with forced detachment. "What are you doing here, Mother?" he asked, his voice quieter than before, though the underlying edge of authority remained. His gaze flicked to Sariel, whose silver eyes betrayed no emotion, then back to the Goddess. "You don't belong here. Neither of you do."

The Goddess tilted her head, her eyes—ancient and filled with knowledge far beyond mortal comprehension—lingering on Lucifer. She sat up slowly, the blanket slipping from her shoulders like a fading memory. Her delicate hands rested briefly on her lap before she rose, her movements graceful despite her weariness.

Sariel watched her with a guarded expression, his lips pressing into a thin line. He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture defensive yet uncertain, as though torn between his usual defiance and a deep-seated guilt. His gaze shifted briefly to Lucifer, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

The Goddess took a step toward Lucifer, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the Lightbringer faltered. His posture stiffened, his shoulders squaring as though bracing for a blow. Yet his black eyes betrayed him, a storm of emotions swirling within them—anger, pain, confusion, and something far more fragile.

She stopped just in front of him, her head tilting as her gaze searched his face. Then, without a word, she reached out, her arms encircling him in a gentle but firm embrace. Her hands pressed lightly against his back, her touch warm and steady, as though she were grounding him in this moment.

Lucifer froze, his breath catching in his throat. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides, his body rigid with tension. For all his power, all his bravado, he stood there like a lost child, caught completely off-guard. The air around them seemed to shift, the oppressive weight of their history giving way to something softer, more intimate.

The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside. Slowly, as though against his own will, Lucifer's arms rose. His hands hovered hesitantly before finally settling against her back. His fingers curled into the fabric of her robe, clutching it as though afraid she might disappear.

Sariel shifted uncomfortably in the background, his gaze darting away as though intruding on a moment he wasn't meant to see. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides, but he remained silent, the tension in his body betraying his own inner turmoil.

The Goddess pulled back just enough to look at Lucifer, her hands coming to rest lightly on his shoulders. Her eyes, filled with centuries of love and regret, met his, and the cracks in his armor deepened. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Instead, he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought to maintain control.