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the nicest angel you have

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Thing is, Trixie knows her mom doesn’t believe in it— she’s never said it, but whenever Trixie mentions anything she always frowns the same way she did when Trixie asked about Santa, after she heard her parents talking about what to get her for christmas in the kitchen one day. Whenever Trixie mentions angels and God and Heaven. She would frown, hesitate, then give Trixie a small smile and answer whatever it is that she said rather awkwardly.


That never really stopped Trixie from believing in either of them.

That’s why one day, when she finds herself really really wanting something and not knowing what to do, her first thought is to pray. Except. She knows God doesn’t answer everyone, being very busy watching over the entire universe and everything, and that her request is probably not important enough. Trixie doesn’t want a miracle, she just wants a friend.

And she wants to be sure she’ll get what she asked for.

So when she kneels on the side of her bed and brings her hands together in prayer, it’s not to Him Trixie prays to.

The nice priest from the church her abuelita sometimes takes her would probably be pretty upset if he knew, but she doesn’t let that stop her. The Devil was once one of God’s angels, right? Trixie read that on wikipedia once. So it can’t be wrong to pray to him— he’s probably not as busy as God, and she knows he makes deals.

And deals are sure things, just like promises.

So she prays, confident in her decision, and waits for the Devil to come.

Surprisingly enough, given the number of Satanists on Earth, Lucifer doesn’t get many prayers, if any at all.

Oh, but he’s sure many pray to the Devil— asking for horrible, horrible things and an excuse for their own sins. But never to him, and never from a true believer, instead to whatever warped and vilified version they call by his name from the worse humanity has to offer. In truth, he’s glad for it— to not have to listen to all those awful things— since he can hardly escape them once those people inevitably end up in Hell where they belong, ready to blame him for their rotten choices and souls.

So that’s why it’s a surprise when one day, while he’s sitting in his throne of ashes thinking about his most recent plans of jailbreak and watching as his dear Maze plays with her many knives (and isn’t that always such a sight?), Lucifer feels the unfamiliar pull inside his very being as he hears someone whisper right by his ear.

It’s almost— almost— enough of a shock to make him drop his whiskey.

“Hello Mister Devil, my name is Trixie and I want to make a deal with you,” the voice says, sounding confident and young and oh so terribly innocent. “I know you make deals because the internet said so, though it also said a lot of mean things about you. I don’t believe it though! I’m sure you’re nice. They’re just being bullies, like when that girl made a fake snapchat account just to tease me. It was all dumb lies.”

From the corner of his eye Lucifer can see Mazikeen stop and stare at him, confused and alert, unaware of what’s wrong but ready to take on any threats that may come their way. Lucifer waves her off, though he can barely hide how his hands are shaking.

The voice doesn’t stop.

“And anyway, deals are like promises, right? And everyone knows you can’t break a promise! Like when my daddy was late to pick me up from school and I promised I wouldn’t tell mom if only he got me chocolate pudding for a whole month. Though he made me promise on just two weeks. That was boring, and mom got suspicious anyway— she’s a cop, so she's really smart. But she still doesn’t know, I kept my word!”

Lucifer can’t help but approve of her methods, the clever little minx— though he frowns when he realizes he’s feeling proud of a child he doesn't even know. Father forbid, a child! He doesn’t even like children, the few he’s ever met so creepy it scarred him for life.

What’s happening to him? Is he going soft?

“Please, please, I promise I will be good! I can give you half of my puddings if you want, they’re the best! Second only to chocolate cake.”

He shouldn’t.

There’s no good reason for him to, really. So the child prayed to him. What? Lucifer doesn’t bargain with children— what would they even be able to do for him?— and he can’t just go whenever someone calls him like a dog on a leash, regardless if it’s the first time it actually happens. The thought alone is insulting! He’s not a party trick or a toy, nor charity for that matter.

Lucifer may give his favours to many, but never freely, and never without thought.

It’s mostly to rough talent that could shine and change the world if only given a small push, to people who crave to be and do better but were dealt a bad hand in life, the occasional sob-story who wants a second chance. Or revenge. Or both.

So maybe the right question is what, pray and tell, the child wants from him.

Certainly not a toy or a puppy, or whatever it is that children like— Lucifer would never stoop so low, and surely someone taught their offspring better than that. He won’t give to her whatever it is, of course, but it does make him curious… she seems a little young for revenge, but you can never start too early. Money? Maybe. Or maybe to save someone else’s life, perhaps her mother… Lucifer’s seen his fair share of those.

In truth, he’d presumed he’s seen it all; novelty is rather rare in the life of a Celestial.

Whose first thought at such an young age is to pray for the Devil and not, say, his Father or any of his boring goody-two-shoes siblings? Sure, their usual prayer response policy is radio silence but Lucifer is aware of what humanity thinks of him. What centuries of defamation and misrepresentation and bold-faced lies did to his image. Children were told to fear him, not… not…

Is the child being abused?

Lucifer has to remind himself to calm down as he ends up breaking his glass of whiskey in a wave of anger at the sudden thought. It’d make sense then, for the child to seek him for the punishment of the evildoers. It fits. He hates just the thought of it, but it does.

Oh, but Lucifer will make sure whoever it is gets exactly what they deserve—!

If he were to answer, of course, which he won’t.

If anything because Mazikeen surely would never let him forget, and she already has too much on him. And really, Lucifer would gain nothing from it. He’s not one of his many siblings, when they still would answer to the human’s many pleas. He doesn’t serve humanity. And he loathes children! At worst, they’re nefarious little psychopaths and at best still sticky and loud and so full of germs.

So he won’t, and that’s final.



The child is an innocent, and she prayed to him. To Lucifer. Not a warped version of himself long lost in translation, not the villain of the story nor the Serpent and Slanderer. But him, Lucifer— the real Lucifer— with just enough faith to actually reach him.

If she’s in danger, if her prayer is a call of help… It’d be rather impolite, would it not, to not answer? Just the thought of it alone makes a quite unpleasant feeling weight down inside his chest that Lucifer refuses to give name to. A child that prayer to him, a true believer, who thinks he must be nice and believes centuries of slander to be just that, slander. Who compared it to bullying, and isn’t that just grand.

A child willing to trade with him her beloved chocolate pudding that she got fairly by blackmailing her family.

In the end it’s not such a hard choice to make.

Lucifer looks at where Maze is still staring at him, confused. He gives her a grin and watches as she raises one scarred eyebrow in question, knowing the look far too well to know trouble always follows it.

“What?” she asks rudely— always impatient, his Mazikeen.

“I believe, my dear Maze, that I’ve just been invited somewhere else.”