They brought Lucifer to the Hospitium on Raphael's insistence. Some angels who saw him picked up arms and remained outside the building, just in case it was a trap. But the Devil had no fight left in him.
Lucifer permitted Raphael to strip him of his dust and blood-covered armour, leaving him in his black shirt and trousers. He barely noticed Raphael treating his wounds, too shaken from witnessing his son kill his own mother. The little hope he'd held onto for Margaret's sake had dwindled with her ashes. There was only one way he could save Samael now. And only one person he could turn to.

"The wound is clean. It might need a few stitches, though," said the young woman assisting Raphael.

"Thank you, Cate; I can finish up. Go back to the children."

She nodded and purposefully avoided Lucifer's gaze as she walked around Raphael to the door.

"You're Catherine of Alexandria?" Lucifer called to her. "Marina's friend?"

She froze, one hand on the handle. 

"Marina spoke fondly of you," he continued. "She told me you were one of the smartest and most passionate persons she knew."

Catherine's lip quivered. A tear glistened on her cheek as it fell.

"Cate, go," said Raphael.

She threw the door open and fled from the room. Raphael scowled at Lucifer.

"You don't talk to her. Ever." He closed the stitch on Lucifer's leg and gathered his instruments, moving to inspect the claw marks on his face. "These aren't that deep. They'll heal quicker with —"

"Tincture of rosemary and lavender," finished Lucifer. "With calendula and chamomile against infection."

Raphael raised his brow. 

"Don't look so surprised, Raphael. Listening to your tedious voice may have been sleep-inducing for most, but that doesn't mean I didn't pay attention when it mattered."

"Hmph, glad to see someone did," muttered Raphael. "I already wondered how you treated Gabriël's wing. Good student."

"Good teacher."

Raphael stared at him for a moment, then cleared his throat. He was about to apply the balm when the door burst open, and Gabriël stormed in, followed by Michael. Gabriël's hand was at Lucifer's throat before he had time to react.

"Where is she, you son of a bitch? Where is my daughter?"

"Gabriël, calm yourself!" yelled Raphael. "I will not permit any fighting within Hospitium walls."

"Fine, I'll drag his ass out."

"Gabriël, enough!" Michael tried to pull him off. "He cannot speak if you keep such a hold on him. Let him go, now."

But Gabriël ignored Michael's reasoning and squeezed, making it difficult for Lucifer to breathe.

"You've got some nerve showing up here. Where the hell is Marina, huh? What did you do to her?"

"She's dead!" screamed Raphael.

Gabriël let go, and Lucifer fell back against the examination table, coughing and rubbing his sore throat. He lowered his gaze, incapable of meeting Gabriël or Michael's wide-eyes expressions out of fear he had to recount the story again.

"Samael killed her using Death's hand," Raphael said in his stead. "He took the baby."

Gabriël groaned in exasperation and raked his hands through his hair. Michael stood silently near the foot of the bed, but fidgeted. There was a gleam in his eyes, and his body leaned in a little. It looked like he wanted nothing more than to take Lucifer in his arms. He imagined Michael was probably happy that his rival was out of the picture. At least he had the decency to appear contrite.

"I... I cannot imagine how..." Michael stammered.

"Save it, Michael," said Lucifer. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you."

Gabriël scoffed and sneered at Lucifer. "Oh, that's rich. I suppose you want to blame Michael for Marina's death, too. Sure, why not? It's not like we can blame anything on you, right?"

"Gabriël, please, stop." Michael threw him a warning look, but Gabriël ranted on, unperturbed.

"Joan, Marina, Isabelle, countless others. Yeah, they all died because of Michael, not you, no. Never you. Because you are Lucifer the Good, Lucifer the LightBringer, Lucifer the Morning Star! You're right up there with Jesus Christ, aren't you?"

Lucifer jumped up and slammed the bed against the wall. Vials and flasks fell from the cupboards, shattering on the floor. Michael jumped in front of Gabriël, preventing Lucifer from ripping him apart.

"You were the ones who made me who I am!" he yelled. "You made me the greatest villain in history! Don't talk to me about blame, Gabriël, because I have had a lifetime of it! Every bad thing that happens, everything the mortals do out of their own depravity and cruelty, it's all attributed to me! It's always the Devil who made them do it!
"Well, whose name was it they sang at every pointless crusade? In whose name did so many innocents die through the course of history after they were persecuted and judged by ignorant, narrow-minded fools, supposedly because they did my bidding when all they sought was knowledge? In whose name does the end justify the means? Not mine! Not Lucifer, Satan, or Beelzebub, but the Almighty God in Heaven, and the reason we are all standing here! I have lost just as much as you, so don't you dare call me the evil one!"

Lucifer's blood boiled, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as it thumped erratically. He barely acknowledged Michael pushing him back; his focus was entirely on Gabriël and the challenging glare he shot him.

"Raphael, please take Gabriël outside," said Michael with a clear voice.

"Gladly."

Raphael grabbed Gabriël firmly by his vest and dragged him along. Lucifer's eyes followed them until the door closed, and he was left alone with the man he held responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life. The man who was both the murderer and the saviour of his son. The man he had loved with mind, heart, body, and soul.

***

Michael walked past Lucifer to pick up the ointment Raphael had saved during the fight. He held it out to Lucifer, but the latter didn't take it from him. After a brief hesitation, Michael dabbed his fingers into the balm.

"Sit down on the chair," he said.

Lucifer's jaw clenched, and his dark eyes shot a threatening scowl. For a moment, Michael thought he would attack him, but Lucifer eventually did as he was told. Michael gently applied the healing balm to his cheek. Lucifer hissed and cringed at his touch, but didn't pull back.

"I suppose you feel good about yourself now," he spat.

Michael's hand stilled as he met Lucifer's stony stare. "You think it pleases me to see you like this?"

"Don't pretend. Go ahead. Rub it in; you were right about Samael all along."

"I... I did not want to be."

Michael stepped away and returned the jar to the cupboard. There was so much he wanted to say, but nothing would ever be good enough. Words of regret would fall short. Words of comfort would only hurt more. He could never say the right thing. Still, he had to start somewhere.

"I know it will change nothing, but I am sorry. For all of it."

His words earned him a scoff. "Keep your sentiment, Michael. I have no need for it."

Michael sighed. He crossed his arms and leaned against the storage cabinet.

"Why did you come here?" he inquired.

"Why do you think?"

"Ask me then."

Lucifer's lips pinched, and the corners of his mouth turned down. He gritted his teeth. Michael knew the unspoken request was killing him, but he wanted Lucifer to say it aloud.

"Will you help me stop Samael?" he finally asked.

"Do you want me to use Heaven's Fire on him?" countered Michael.

"Yes."

"Then no."

"You sanctimonious bastard!" Lucifer's head jerked back, his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring.

"Call me whatever you like," said Michael. "It does not change the fact that your son killed his mother. That is one of the most heinous deeds one can commit. His heart and soul have darkened beyond the point of no return. If I use Heaven's Fire on him, Samael will die."

"That was always a risk."

"Now it is reality."

"I understand that!"

"Do you? Because I will not kill Samael just so you can have another excuse to continue your crusade for vengeance on me."

Lucifer jumped up, and the chair fell over with a loud bang. Michael stood indifferent to the Devil's tantrum and prepared himself. He knew the real reason Lucifer had made the request and needed him to admit it. Even if that meant taking the brunt of his anger, grief, and pain.
Lucifer crossed the distance between them in less than a second. He grabbed Michael's shirt with one hand, closed the other into a fist, and punched him hard in the face. Michael had expected it, but the impact was still brutal enough to leave him dazed.
The next thing he knew, Michael was on the ground, with Lucifer holding him down, relentlessly pounding on him. Michael took every hit, feeling his skin break and his blood run. He let it happen. He had suffered far worse. Lucifer had broken his heart. The Devil had invaded his mind and attacked his being. Now, Lucifer struck at his body. Still, Michael refused to fight back.

"You did this, Michael! You made us what we are, cursing us to our fate, and for what?" The force in Lucifer's punches wavered. His voice broke. "I wanted it to be with you! I wanted you to be a part of my family! But you never gave us a chance! You made me kill what we had and damned us! You... vilified us..."

Lucifer's rant came to a halt. He hung over Michael, panting heavily, his bloodied fist resting on his chest. His dirty raven-black hair fell like a curtain in front of him. Michael slowly lifted his hand to push some of it back. Lucifer froze. Their eyes locked on each other.

"I hate you."

"I know."

They drew closer.

"Michael, I fear for... Samael can't..." Lucifer's breath choked. "It has to be you. You alone can... You're..."

Michael ran his hand through Lucifer's hair before placing his hand at the nape of his neck.

"I know."

Closer.

"I... Michael, please, I... I can't do it alone."

Michael brushed his lips against Lucifer's. The Devil closed his eyes, and his fingers gripped the Archangel's shirt. A tear fell on Michael's cheek. There it was. Finally...

"Me too, Lucifer. I need you too."

***

After he calmed down, Gabriël asked Raphael to take him to Tepes. They found the Prince of Wallachia with Anne Boleyn and Thomas Wyatt, awaiting orders from Michael or Gabriël. Hypatia and Richard had left for the Castel Sant'Angelo to tell the others what happened and continue the fight.
Gabriël found Anne looking pale from the blood transfusion, but she seemed to recover well. She'd been distraught upon seeing her husband's wrapped up stump, but Thomas shrugged it off. He joked that now he, too, knew what it was like to lose a body part. To Gabriël's relief, Anne attributed the misplaced quip to the lingering anaesthesia and just rolled her eyes at him.
He wished he could do more for them, but he could only see that they returned to what remained of their family in one piece (or at least without losing more limbs). Unfortunately, another problem arose when the Nephilim learned of his and Michael's intent to enter the lion's den to retrieve the baby — they were coming along.

"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Raphael. "It's bad enough these two idiots want to go down by themselves, but there is no way in hell I'm letting you go with them!"

"I made a promise to Joan, Raphael," said Anne calmly.

"And where my wife goes, I go," stated Thomas.

"Oh, for the love of..." Raphael grunted in annoyance. "Anne, you still have some of Bath — sorry, Lilith's dark magic inside you, and Michael is nowhere near ready to use Heaven's Fire to heal you. What if you fall prey to the Circles' pull? And Thomas, need I remind you that you are one limb shorter? Da Vinci isn't finished with your prosthetic yet. And even if he were, you'd need a thousand-page manual before you could actually use it. If you two leave now, there is a high probability you won't make it out of the Circles alive!"

Thomas shrugged his shoulders in reply. "Die in the Circles, die in the Mortal Realm; it makes no difference to me."

Raphael turned to the others in the room.

"Am I really the only one who is against this?" he exclaimed.

"I have not known Lady Anne and Lord Thomas that long, but they do not seem like the type of people to jump into things," said Tepes diplomatically. "They can decide for themselves what to do, surely."

"For God's sake!" Raphael threw Gabriël a desperate look. "Gabriël, say something, please!"

The Archangel had been following the discussion silently, his mind preoccupied with his baby girl still in Samael's grasp and Lucifer's unexpected presence in the Vale. When Raphael called him out to take command of the situation, he looked at the two Nephilim who had lost as much as he had. More even.

"You're going after him?" he asked.

Their silent nod and resolved expressions said enough. 

"Do me a favour when you find him; destroy that bastard."

"What? Gabriël, how can you just...? Fools, the lot of you!"

Raphael stormed out of the room, nearly bumping into Michael and Lucifer. Both furrowed their brows at the physician's furious departure.
The first thing Gabriël noticed when the pair walked in were bruises and cuts on Michael's face, already treated and nearly healed. Lucifer's wounds also looked better. Perks of being what they were. The second thing he noticed was the faint blush lingering on their cheeks, which didn't appear to be solely from the exertion of a fight, but of an entirely different sort of tussle. Gabriël's eyes narrowed at them.

That sure went from one extreme to the other. Dammit, Michael.

As much as he tried to keep it hidden, his contempt was out for Michael to see. He remained silent, though. There were far more important matters to attend to.