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When Michael first arrived in Hell, all he could do was scream.
He wanted to keep his composure for as long as possible, but Lucifer just crossed his arms, cocking his head at him with thatsmile, and he lost it. He ignored the souls of their vessels and went after Lucifer directly, attacking him with all the strength he could muster, though it was damped by the restricting power of the cage. Every so often he would stop, panting, then continue. The fighting seemed endless.
It felt like an eternity when Michael let himself have his first real break, resting on his knees, panting and shuddering. He was exhausted, and Lucifer had barely broken a sweat., though his chest did rise and fall slightly with each breath. Lucifer had taken to wearing the visage of Nick, while Michael had chosen to wear the form of the younger John Winchester. Perhaps it was his displeasure with Dean and Adam that led him to choose it, but it felt right. It felt wearable, even if it was only a glamour.
“H-How do you do it…” Michael growled, palms pressed flat against the ground, his whole body aching and stinging. Lucifer pursed his lips, glancing up in thought for a moment.
“It’s only been a year, Michael.” Lucifer murmured, his tone a touch bored. Michael felt his throat tighten, and he choked. The break was brief. They started fighting again.
Another ‘year’ went by. It felt like more than a century. By that time, Michael had stopped fighting for a brief time. He was shaking, trying to retain his strength, feeling a touch of jealousy when Lucifer comforted Sam, held him, kissed his brow, cradled him. Giving him affection, telling him it was okay.
When Sam was rescued midway through the second ‘century’, Michael felt relieved. But his attitude towards Lucifer never changed.
Six hundred years in Hell passed before Michael gave up fighting to sit in a corner. Many days he refused to talk to Lucifer at all. Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. He occupied himself the way he had before, watching Sam, the outside world, bored, occasionally intrigued. He didn’t bother confronting Michael. They were both too stubborn.
When a full year had passed, the time in Hell felt like an eternity. Over twelve hundred years of fighting, pain, and occasionally Lucifer’s voice ringing in his ears, a mix of soothing croons towards Sam and bitter remarks specifically for Michael. It was too much.
Michael finally cracked.
He broke down, burying his face in his hands. His breathing came out in choked sobs. Tears streamed down his face. He felt suffocated, his pain intensified ten times over by the stinging needles and attack of hell, seizing him in his weakest moment. His wings were bowed behind him, dropped towards the floor. Every so often his wings would spread, tips trembling as he choked on a low sob, his nails digging into the sides of his head.
Lucifer froze at the first sound of crying, staring at Michael with an almost incredulous look. When he realized it wasn’t a trick, he cleared his throat, moving over to him and awkwardly kneeling beside him. He placed a hand on his back. “…Michael?” It had been years since he’d said a word to Michael.
“I-Is this my punishment?” Michael choked, tears streaking his face. His pupils were blown wide, unseeing as Lucifer slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His eyes focused on Lucifer’s throat, watching his adams-apple bob as Lucifer swallowed thickly.
“…No, Michael. That’s not it, and you know it.” Lucifer murmured, pressing a cool kiss to his brow, fingers splayed over his back as he rubbed back and forth slowly, holding Michael against him as he shook and cried. Michael clung to him, needed him in a way Lucifer had never felt before. It left him feeling oddly satisfied; yet he ached for Michael, worried for his suffering. He had never seen Michael display such emotion – anything other than anger was foreign for him. It was… a welcome change, even if it was worrying.
Michael mumbled and sobbed nonsense into his chest, and Lucifer soothed away his tears, wiping them away with cool fingers. Lucifer felt his anger, his desire for revenge diffuse. Having Michael trapped in the cage with him, experience the same hell he’d gone through – well…in quite a literal sense… was enough for him. And Michael was with him now. They were together.
Smiling slightly at the thought, Lucifer kissed the top of Michael’s head, stroking down the back of his neck. “It’s okay, Michael.” He murmured, closing his eyes. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
And suddenly, an eternity in hell didn’t sound so bad. So long as Michael was there to suffer through it with him.