Absence Letter From School Of Attended Wedding

No, I can not choose a decent title: Surprise, Surprise! Greetings

Title: Dead Star
Author: arial86
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Summary: Lucifer and Michael. Together in the fall, along with the eternal prison. When all faith is now collapsed, Hell will be a place of forgiveness?
Characters: Lucifer, Michael.
Notes: Dedicated to axia_85 , because I bet, would give a kidney to spy on the situation in cage. Special thanks to the wonderful orchidea_lover : You know what really happens down there (courage, tell the world!), And beta is the best I could wish for \u0026lt;3

"And you used to be everything to me
And now you're tired of fighting Tired of fighting

Fighting yourself
Shame on you for thinking You're all alone

If You Want I'll
make you wish you were Failing to impress Why can not you sleep with

Someone who'll protect you? "
(Dead Star, Muse)

Nothingness has no color, has no form, texture or structure. He does not remember the glowing fire that gives life or death, the dark ready to choke in its cold embrace.
is an absence. The absence , probably. You
surrounds and engulfs, however, prevent drowning. Faithful companion, the certainty that never emerge from its stagnant waters. Alienated any flattery or hope, even that, scary, touching one day the bottom of the abyss.
Needless to fight and rebel. Nothing can stop quest'inesorabile fall, except, of course, His Word. But it would make any attempt to sterile condemnation and redemption.
weight, attraction, gravity, wind. These are words without meaning, in this place. However, do not get your hopes to be able to deploy its wings and fly away: as fragile end up torn sails during a storm. I know. I learned this lesson the first time.
Now I just enjoy the journey, waiting for arrivals, sweet and awaited the pain. An impact impossible, to discharge poisonous through every cell of your body and, finally, confirmation of being alive. To exist and suffer. You are not part of anything around you, not yet.
And here it is the ground.
Thousands of ice crystals rise all around, to finally fall in a shower of fine diamonds. I look at them one by one, little gems that disappear in the dark without having obtained the minimum reflection.
I stand up on legs fairly stable and I can not help but congratulate myself a textbook landing. Maybe in the future, I will touch the ground light and agile as a cat. Practice makes perfect, you know.
jet head back and burst out laughing. I feel that I could go on for all eternity. We: are they crazy?
A noise behind me and I remember: I am not alone.
My laughter go out, but a grin still stubbornly holds out the lips. It seems almost poetic.
He stands and looks around. I bet that the perspective from which it has had in the past did not do justice to the place. A hell-hole, literally.
not yet aware of my presence, but it should not surprise me: it's always been looking for something else, someone else's. Approval that despite all his sacrifices seem to have not yet earned.
"That was what you expected?" It
time.
A deep vertical gash on his face swollen and pesto, the right eye almost completely closed, an arm unnaturally abandoned along the side.
"She 'Shut up," he intimate, her voice firm, despite everything.
gives me back again. Its wings are damaged and mottled with red, in various places one can see the bones.
He opposed with all his being to fall, must be exhausted. It is for this that does not heal his wounds?
Part of me feels the need to stand by him, make him understand that it is not alone. To help him.
I'm here, Michael. There have always been.
yet that face constantly facing something that is not me that back and keep me from inflexible approach. How can show off so much better than when he has had to throw away? Where do so casually and detachment? It's his world was torn to pieces, shit.
Bah, to cook in his own juice: the next millennia of isolation taught him to crave a little company, it was also my ...

*

The bent head, the palm that tests the bare rock face, seems on hold.
Yes, his face touching the ancient city wall that imprisons us as wanting to steal the secrets. Behind him, Hell.
heard their voices, Michael? O for indistinct whispers that you are not?
suddenly, clutching a pike. His whole being alert. That
have received? Likely, an aura, pure and bright as his can not remain hidden for long. I concentrate and see the hundreds of demons beyond our prison, Asmodeus at their command. The demon of anger and revenge: this is what you feel, brother? Is that what you want? A
my thoughts and the whole legion disappears. I can not tolerate this scum so close to him.
looked up, surprised. Our eyes meet for a moment, then Michael diverts them again.
begins a sort of routine.
Abaddon, Astaroth, Vassago are destroyed one after another. The King of Hell, my only hope to leave this place again! I would almost believe that is all his own plan to keep us pinned here, but Michael is absolutely innocent.
holds his head resting on his knees, gathered the wings to the body. Does nothing to attract any kind of attention. Yeah, everything is perfectly in line with his character.
One day, the demons crowd to stop the slaughter. I underestimated them so much? Who have finally figured out what it means to try to touch the forbidden fruit?
No, it does not. The light of Michael has changed. Cold, dull, indistinct. We simply do not attract them more.
Terror grips me the entrails. It can not be, not him.
I go, all pretense of caution disappeared.
is that frost in her hair?
"Michael?"
She looks at me, and my suspicions are confirmed. His eyes are lost, tormented. Where is the creature who claimed my gaze with seraphic security? The angel deaf to any voice that it was not that of his Father?
A shy smile makes her way to her lips. It is sweet. Forgiveness. And to say that I have always said that Michael would have kicked even the prodigal son. Perhaps the point of death, even he is willing to make concessions. Because that is what it is, right? My brother has lost his faith and this is killing. We can not live without a purpose, a principle at the foundation of our existence. The truth is that most of the angels because God is love, not because he wants to. Overflow
one of its wings, and a face to disfigure the face. Are icy, anchored to the ground and rock. He shakes his head and holding me his hand enough. And you really expect
that ends well? That let him go this way?
An angel can live up to his faith, I will have a prime example, you just replace it with something more constructive: hatred, resentment, desire for retaliation and revenge. Permanently stain those who receive it, it's true, but they are far better than the alternative.
Strengthen my grasp, and his discomfort becomes pain. Its wings were cracked and the first cries cut through the air.
Sorry. I'm sorry.
"Something still feel, I see."
Surprise, agony, betrayal. Shit, Michael, where anger?
let go and take a step back.
"So? You just sat there waiting for the cavalry? SOS, an archangel is tripped and ended up in Hell? "
He leans forward, unaware of the droplets that run down the wings and the fact that you have transformed our cage in a fiery furnace.
"Go" hisses.
"Yes? Where? You've never been a summit, but you should understand that we are both imprisoned, until death do us part. "
gets up:" Exactly. "
" Oh " mockery, "you have even the courage to attack me, and without the help of daddy!" At the mere mention
our Father loses control. I
claw arms and pushes me to the ground. Rest inert under him: I could not stop it even if I wanted. It seems that Michael is going to fulfill his destiny after all. I
tightens his fingers around the throat and close my eyes I do not want to see them off. His hands are separated: one up to the neck, the other goes down to bring them back. Draws me to himself in a desperate embrace and let go of his anger. A terrible fire raging around us, and the millennial ice of hell are reduced to a river in flood. He gets a hot wind that whistles left along the walls of the cage. It is her close to keep me alive, I know.
Scream again and this time the earth shakes. The echo of his voice is violent, loud lamentations rise of terror all around: is shaking the very foundations of Hell.
A sudden light flickering in front of us. It is an event I thought was so unlikely that I could not understand it immediately: Michael forced the doors of our prison, even though very little. We are free.
buried her head in the hollow of my shoulder, exhausted, and Hell back to close on us. I could escape, but he can not follow them. Replacement its close, looking at the back a block of solid rock. We will have another chance together: I can not leave behind, not here. Not alone.
And if our father had always wanted this? That I had at my side, Michael was free? Perhaps even loved us?
No, this is not what my brother needs to hear.
approached his mouth to his ear: "He never loved you, Michael" whisper. "You were just a pawn in his hands."
I feel his warm tears slide down her neck and gently touched his cheek: "Quiet, you'll get your revenge. "And I
: I have arms the instrument of my victory.