Chapter Text
Detective Decker side-eyed the hallway that had recently swallowed the Devil and broke into a sweat.
Something in the tenor of Michael’s offer felt wrong. But she’d told Lucifer she needed to speak to other sources. And he’d invited her back into his life, knowing her intention — so maybe he was okay with it? (Or at least willing to endure the scrutiny?)
Michael had no such compunction. “Samael’s attack was insidious. He struck at the very cornerstones of Creation.”
Chloe turned to take in the full tableau: Ex-Sword of God at Breakfast.
The detective straightened her shoulders, walked back to the breakfast table, dragged a chair out in such a way that it scraped unpleasantly, and sat her stiff-backed, bathrobe-clad self down across from the witness.
It isn’t the interrogation room, but it’ll do.
She took her time, letting the silence grow to awkwardness as she watched dust mites sparkle and dance in a shaft of sunlight. She took a deep breath in, dropping her shoulders on the exhale. Loosening her posture, she dug deep into her acting skills and tried to decide on her approach.
When in doubt, stick to the classics.
“Let’s start at the beginning. You and Lucifer are twins. How would you describe your early relationship?”
"You mean Samael?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
“Before his Fall? We were close.”
“Were you competitive?”
“Of course.”
“Did your Father ever play favorites?”
Michael laughed. “Always. Samael was quite literally the golden child.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“It wasn’t so bad. I had Mother.”
“You are your mother’s favorite?”
“Before her exile, certainly. It is possible things have changed since.”
“And why would that be?”
“I am the Sword. My function was at cross-purposes with her wishes.”
The way he said it triggered an old memory. Lucifer running around a Hollywood backlot convinced his mother was going to kill him. "You are the one who threw your mother out of Heaven?”
Chloe couldn't quite believe it. Did God never get his hands dirty?
Michael looked perplexed by Chloe’s astounded tone. “I was the Sword. My purpose absolute. She knew this.”
What a family.
Chloe changed tack. “What was your relationship with Lucifer like after his fall?”
“After?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you tell me, Detective. You’ve been present for the lot of it.”
Wait… “What? Are you serious?”
“You did miss a tad this morning, but that would hardly change my characterization.”
Chloe sucked in a breath, watching a solitary knat flutter around the bananas and settle. She would keep her sanity through this. She would.
“Michael, how long ago did Lucifer fall?”
The archangel just shrugged. “Eons?”
“You were close but competitive and then went eons without interacting… up until this past Tuesday?”
“I do not follow human timekeeping, but if by ‘Tuesday’ you mean when Gabriel and I arrived with the delegation, then yes.”
“Was interaction forbidden?"
"Not expressly."
"You just didn't want to see him?"
Michael held a neutral face, unreadable. "Father is omniscient. There was no need."
Chloe was glad she was already sitting down. No need? "I see. How would you describe your relationship now?”
Michael was quiet for a beat before offering up: “Tense.”
“Can you elaborate?”
The archangel didn’t move, didn’t shift, fidget, or reveal any other tells, but Chloe had the distinct feeling it was purely because he’d trained them out of himself. “I had expected retribution.”
“For what?”
Michel shifted his gaze to the empty hallway. “For my part in his Fall.”
“Tell me about that.”
Michael brought his attention back to Chloe, and she felt as though her soul was being measured and found wanting. “It was the turning point.”
“The what? What do you mean?”
“We are evenly matched, Samael and I. But in battle, he refused to advance; defensive maneuvers only. An absurd strategy. We wore his rebellion down easily.” Michael swallowed. “When I bested him, he was bound. I ordered that he stand so I could bring him before Father. When he refused, I was angry; he’d been defeated: it was done. But he refused to take orders from me, refused to move. He taunted me even then. Did he want me to drag him? It was enough. Our siblings had shed one another’s blood over his ideological nonsense. So I made him rise. I pointed my dagger at his chin and pushed up.”
Chloe shuddered. She’d wondered about that scar. “Spat between brothers,” Lucifer had said.
“Even then, he wouldn’t walk. Raguel did end up dragging him the whole way.”
Chloe couldn’t even imagine. “For what? What did he do?”
Michael forked at his waffle, which was now so soggy that it merely crumbled around the tines. “In my experience, humans tend to think of murder as the worst sort of sin,” he began. “But even among murderers, there is a hierarchy. Only the most depraved among you harm children?”
He was looking for her to agree, but Chloe was silent, sensing a trap. Where was Michael heading with this? Her prevarication was a simple defense: “Sin?”
Michael sighed, backtracking. “The simplest explanation I can give is that sin is separation from Father. Father is Generosity, so sin is envy. Father is Truth, so sin is deceit. Father is Life, sin is death. Father is Harmony, so of course my headstrong, fool of a twin names his capital city Discord.”
Discord? Chloe had read that somewhere. It sounded made up. It was not helping with the fantastical, too-bizarre-to-be-true feelings churning around in her gut.
“But as I was saying, even the eldest sage is but a babe compared to the years I have lived. Compared to Samael. Can you see, at least from Heaven’s perspective, why there are such strict standards when it comes to harming the sons and daughters of Eve?”
Chloe nodded, dread pooling in her stomach. She had not thought of it like that.
“As my twin pointed out, he and I are no rank-and-file fledglings. We are Demiurge, of the First Order of Angels. To whom much is given, much is expected. Father’s Invective binds us all the more tightly on account of the Power we bear.”
Michael stopped futzing with the waffle and looked straight into Chloe’s eyes. “If you acknowledge that Hell exists, if you are capable of looking at my brother and understanding that the Devil is real, then you have surely realized that there are things far worse than simply ending a life.”
Chloe hadn’t actually made it that far, what with the existential panic, but he was right. The implications were horrifying.
“I will tell you, Chloe Decker. I will explain it all. I swear to help you understand how Heaven’s favorite son could become anathema, the Adversary, the snake that strikes at my heel. But first, you must answer my one question.”
Michael tossed his fork back into the mess of waffles. He leaned back in his seat, deeply, until the material creaked with pressure. Looking her over, head to toe, the Ex-Sword of God made his demand.
“Who is my brother to you?”