He doesn't know if Gabriel will answer the door, or, if he does, if it will only be to tell Lucifer to leave; they hadn't been on good terms with each other for a very long time. He doesn't know if his presence will be welcome here, even if he is the one of only two possibly still living angels. He has heard nothing from Michael, technically doesn't know if his older brother is even out of the Cage or if he survived, and he is hesitant to look before he figures out his Grace situation.

He is hesitant to look and find that he is wrong, that their family has shrunk to only two.

When the door opens, he does not allow himself the luxury of hope. He doesn't have the energy for hope, which had been novel when he'd first experienced it, but by now has gotten terribly old.

But when his brother lays hands on him, warm and firm on his shoulders, that at least isn't the worst reception that he could have gotten. It isn't exactly a warm reception, but, really, being the Devil kind of removes the possibility of very many people being happy to see him, and he's long since gotten used to that little fact. And Gabriel hasn't reached for an angel blade yet, so this is already going better than the last time they met in this universe.

"Surprise," he says, his voice so flat you could put a rug on it and call it a floor. "Happy Christmas, I'm not dead yet."