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Breaking So Many of His Toys

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Hello! This is the sequel to my first Lucifer fanfic 'All of My Worlds Suck' You will want to read that first, seriously, as there's a rather important reveal in that one that plays hugely in this one. ;)

A bit of warning here - I haven't finished this story. I know where it's going to end up, but it's going to take a while to get there. It's at 35k at the moment... the way I write means this'll probably be 70k when it's done ;) Regardless, I took a break from this story a while ago and I'm now getting back into it. There are some awesome moments to come. It's in my usual style of silly and dark though, and it does get quite dark and quite silly.

It also involves the entire cast. And I mean, even more entirely than the last one. :)

Let me know what you think, if you get the chance, and thanks for reading!


Chloe stared up at a ceiling of blue fabric.

And frowned.

"Lucifer?"

"Mmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Updating insta."

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"How? We're in a tent in the middle of nowhere and last I checked I had negative bars. My phone was practically weeping."

Lucifer shuffled beside her and a white, rounded box the size and depth of a thick wallet appeared before her face.

"Satellite receiver. Little gift from Elon after a fun night out. Hooks up to his personal network. Lovely reception, amazing speed. Smile."

A phone appeared and her vision was obliterated by a nuclear flash.

She sighed.

"Lucifer."

"Chloe," he answered, mimicking her tone.

"I don't think you get the concept of camping."

"I'm not lying on a bed, darling. I thought that's what camping was."

Chloe shifted in the sleeping bag to face him. Propping her head on her hand, she tried to blink away the afterimage of the flash.

"Camping is more than 'not lying on a bed'!"

"Oh?" he murmured, turning to face her. The smile he gave her was mischievous in the muted glow of his phone, and his dark eyes held faint embers of flame. "Do tell?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his phone.

"It's about nature, and getting away from things like this," she waggled the phone, before tucking it under the mat behind her, "looking at the stars, and listening to the world breathe, and-"

Lucifer snorted over her. "Listening to the world breathe? What, like a four-billion-year-old asthmatic?" He tsked, and lifted his hand. "Phone?"

"No, not until you promise to turn it off for the rest of the trip."

"The rest of the trip?! Two weeks?!"

"Uh-huh, 13 days now and..." she tilted her head with a smirk, "...four hours for the trip back I think?"

He made a noise of pain. "Absolutely not."

"Then no sex," Chloe said, grinning at him. "Sex or phone. Choose."

"You're blackmailing me to keep me off the phone?!"

She nodded, absolutely confident of her power in this particular situation. "I am."

"Mmmm," he murmured, and the smile returned. "I like. Sex then. But only if that's all we do."

"What?! Wait, you can't turn this back on me!"

"I can and just did. Sex for the whole trip. It's a very natural thing, and you wanted nature."

"Nature as in trees, and mountain views, and animals, Lucifer, not-"

"I can be an animal." He flashed a lustful grin and raised an appreciative eyebrow. "As can you, it turns out."

"Oh my God," she giggled, "not for the whole trip. We have an itinerary!"

"A week then, final offer."

"Three days."

"Deal."

"Deal?" she squeaked. She really hadn't thought he'd agree so readily.

"Oh yes. Now," he growled. "My tongue, wherever shall I put it?"

"Lucifer!" she gasped, as his hand circled her lower back. "We can't have three days of sex right now. We have to sleep!"

"Sleep? What is this sleep business? I think you misunderstood me. Three days of non-stop sex, starting now."

"Oh my God, I'm going to die."

"Yes," he purred, sinking into the sleeping bag. "Many, many, little deaths."

His artful hands danced over her skin, rolling her gently onto her back as he lowered further still.

"Oh, Lucifer, oh Hell, oh!"

And his tongue went somewhere very good indeed.

Chapter Text

On the morning of the fourth day...

The zipper on the tent plunged quickly, releasing a raucous snore from within and the heavily-stubbled face of a man, black hair mussed roguishly atop his head.

"Lovely," Lucifer murmured with a grin, before emerging from the tent and standing tall.

Grunting with a delicious stretch, he rubbed his bare abs briskly, scratched an itch on his bare butt swiftly, then picked a random direction to walk off in and pee.

The tall evergreens about him were rather happy he was there, which was a lovely message to get first thing in the morning. He tried not to pee on any of them, and aimed for a bare spot next to a rock covered in a patchwork of lichen instead, giving a satisfied sigh at the release.

The spot was quite lovely - on a slight rise with a view of a distant snow capped peak, jaggedly young. The hillside was covered with a spray of spruce and pine, carpeted by needles, and dotted with more boulders - the nearest one sporting a fox den.

The mother came to visit as he stood appreciating the view, and asked if they meant well. He assured her they did, and they parted amicably. She even offered to bring him breakfast, but he declined graciously, knowing that feeding a growing litter of five kits was hard enough as a single mother.

The eagle that came shortly afterwards was a little more brusque, its white head turning back and forth as it demanded to know why he was in the area and how long he intended to stay.

So Lucifer snapped his wings out wide, delighting in the bird's startled retreat, and promptly told it to piss off and mind its own business.

He turned and headed back to the tent, shaking his head.

Nature.

What was the appeal again?

Listening to the world breathe?

Snorting at that, he knelt by the tent opening, looking to retrieve a smoke from his backpack.

Chloe was completely out, sprawled over the entire floor of the tent. Her arm was draped awkwardly over his backpack. There was no way to pull what he wanted out without disturbing her.

So he kissed her lovely round cheek with a smile, and grinned at the impressive snore that left her at the touch.

An Albanian field wench indeed.

"Right then," he murmured, straightening once more. "Breakfast?"

Before he'd moved in with Chloe, and she and Trixie then moved in with him - at the Cliff House, not Lux, which was still technically Maze's - Lucifer had been a liquid breakfast kind of Devil.

A couple of fingers of scotch or whiskey made a perfect start to the day. Lovely and smooth, bracing, and warming before it hit the stomach.

But since he'd moved in, he'd found himself needing something much more substantial in the mornings. Something with actual food in it, which turned into one of his new found delights.

Eggs in every form imaginable, bacon with just the right amount of crisp, strawberries and pancakes, the odd hashbrowns with onions and peppers and a dash of salt...

Glorious.

He'd cooked breakfast for other people before of course and his overnight guests had loved it, but it hadn't ever meant much to him.

Unfortunately they'd burned through the entire stock of the like over their three-day sex jaunt, and it appears all they had left even slightly breakfasty was granola bars and condensed milk.

He sat back from the cooler and sighed.

This would not do.

Chloe had lasted impressively - only passing out twice in the last day - and deserved something remarkable this morning.

And he was starving himself. Much more than normal. In fact, he felt a little weary overall, which was new.

He'd had week long orgies with no dent in his stamina, and here he was, three days straight with one woman, tired?

What a worrying trend...

Shaking his head to his thoughts, Lucifer closed the cooler and strung it up again, out of the reach of bears he didn't fear, then turned in place.

Civilization to the southeast, and their main destination to the northwest. They'd passed a gas station diner just outside of the last town, and that was probably his best bet.

The idea of buying bacon at a gas station made him grimace.

Awful. Again, this camping business, the allure was escaping him.

Readying to fly, he glanced down and promptly stopped.

He had no pants.

And no money.

And while he could probably flash his wings for a sacred offering of bacon and a carton of eggs, it would probably have real consequences down the road.

He smirked.

It would be greatly amusing though.

Ah, to be in the 80s again when no one had internet or smartphones and the ability to spread his naked angelic ass across the world in an instant.

Pants. Money. Then a quick flight to town and back before she ever stirred.

Easy peasy.


Btw, Lucifer's ability to speak any language plays a part here, in his recognition of the trees' welcome, a mother fox's concerns, and the belligerence of an eagle.

I'm sure his trip to town will go just great.

Chapter Text

Changed the title of this chapter, btw. Was 'Drowning'.


8 hours later...

The frigid water snapped his mind up out of the dark, and he took in a gritty mouthful as a murky world passed in a blur before his rolling eyes. Everything moved too swiftly to track - he was tossed and tumbling in a space he didn't understand and couldn't seem to grasp, no matter how he struggled to do so. His lungs were burning. He grasped at another breath and swallowed yet another turbid mouthful as something slammed violently into his side, clipping his wing.

Drowning

Flailing, his arms caught the sudden bite of air, and he struggled to rise, his waterlogged wings beating uselessly, bending painfully, even as his side flared in the agony of another impact that sent him spinning.

DROWNING

Where was the surface? A thrashing limb broke the barrier of water to sky, he found something with his foot and kicked off, bursting to the surface and through, spewing water in a desperate attempt to pull in precious air.

Clarity at last - trees and rocks and a low sun spun through his vision as something hit one outstretched wing and sent him tumbling again. Gasping for breath, he managed one spare lungful mixed with the spray of the river's rapids, and then the water swallowed him again.

He tried to find the bottom, but his feet slipped against the slick carpet of algae and he tumbled again, with no sense of up or down and desperately needing one more breath.

He took it reflexively, and water rushed down his throat, closing it up and burning against his lungs.

Choking, he struggled to rise again, thrusting his limbs against anything he could find. His fingers brushed something slick - a log jutting towards him - but it slipped from his grasp, and another boulder clipped him in the shoulder, snapping a bone in his wing and forcing down another mouthful of water as he gasped.

Too much.

The world continued to churn and twist about him, but he could no longer fight it. His struggles ceased. Flowing with the current then, limbs adrift, his wings limply trailing, he endured the brush of rock and tree with no more struggle or care. The last few bubbles of air loosed from his parted lips, as his eyes grew unfocused and heavy.

There was a great, warming light...

...a feeling of home...

...and then a thousand pounds of furred muscle clamped down on his shoulder and dragged him to the surface.

The shock snapped him out of his drowned stupor - with a violent spasm he coughed up a mouthful of water before finding his head under the surface, then above it and under again, as whatever had a hold of him drew him to the shore.

It was large and strong, and as he struggled to breathe, it reseated its jaws over his shoulder and dragged him up on the pebbly riverbank.

It dropped him then, and smacked him onto his stomach, and then it was gone, and all he could see was grey river rock turned brown with the water spilling from his mouth.

It burned. Gasping, choking and shuddering, he lay on the rock, twisting with the pain of it, before finally laying still.

Air. Sweet air rushed down his throat.

Glorious.

Closing his eyes, he promptly passed out.


Thanks to those who've commented :)

Your thoughts are always welcome, and thanks for reading!

Chapter Text

4 hours earlier...

Chloe surfaced slowly, and it took her a while to feel the frame of her body and remember where she was.

Groaning, she turned onto her side, expecting to press against Lucifer's warm body, as her own complained loudly.

But he wasn't there.

She raised her head, and only her head, because everything else wanted to stay right where it was.

"Lucifer?" she called, expecting movement outside, perhaps a descending zipper, or an answering call.

Nothing came.

That meant she had to get up, but she didn't want to get up, because her body clearly hated her.

Every single part of her body.

God, it had been so amazing, and overwhelming, and she could still feel and smell him everywhere.

She flopped her head down and tried to steel herself for movement.

You can do this, Chloe.

Just do it quick!

And she did, twisting up until she was sitting, her head a little swimmy, her mouth dry with a distinct taste of Lucifer.

Mmm, she'd been naughty.

And it had been so good.

Grinning at herself, she shimmied to the front of the tent and pulled the zipper over and down.

Bright midday sun saturated everything, leaving flat shadows at the foot of the tent and the trees nearby. The campfire they'd started last night to cook was cold, the ashes white.

"Lucifer?"

She poked her head out and took a look around.

No sight of him. No bobbing mop of black hair coming up the hill, no grinning angel appearing behind a tree.

"Lucifer!?"

Her shout was swallowed by the trees.

Where was he?

Frowning, she dug around the nest they'd made for themselves and excavated her pants and a t-shirt. Pulling them on, she crawled out of the tent, in an absolutely graceful and effortless manner which led to her almost falling on her face.

Oh god, her body was sore.

The sun felt wonderful though. She lifted her face to it and just stood for a moment, her eyes closed, smiling.

She was still expecting him, in some way, either a touch on her shoulder, or the crunch of pine needles from behind, or his voice slinking through the air towards her.

And when it didn't come, the sun lost a little of its warmth.

Frowning deeply, she started digging in the tent for clues, shortly finding that while he'd left his phone behind, as promised, he'd taken his wallet, and a pair of pants.

Why'd he take his wallet?

She walked away from the tent, and started down the slope a little until the land spread out before her. No movement that she could see. She stared through the trees in every other direction. Nothing but the occasional bird, and a chittering squirrel.

"Lucifer," she whispered. "Where are you?"

The cooler caught her eye then. It was definitely strung up a little higher than it had been, and at an angle.

So he'd hunted for food... and maybe, not liking what he found, went to go get some?

"Huh."

Well, that kind of made sense. He could fly, so the trip wouldn't have been a big deal.

She looked at the angle of the sun more closely. Directly overhead, so right around midday.

God, she'd overslept!

When had he left, though?

She had no idea.

And she was hungry.

Shrugging off her unease, Chloe lowered the cooler and grabbed a granola bar. Hoisting it up again, she returned to the site and sat on one of the stumps arranged around the dead fire.

She'd wait here.

He wouldn't be long.

She nodded to herself.

Then slowly frowned.

Right?

Chapter Text

I made two updates last night, so make sure you catch both chapters :)


Now...

His shivering woke him from the blank void he'd lost himself in, and he groaned with the waking as his brain pounded against the prison of its skull.

Coughing dislodged a fine mist of water against the rocks cold and hard against his cheek. He looked at the pattern of the water's stain on the rocks for a moment, before slowly taking in what lay beyond.

A river. Wide and moving very swiftly. Beyond that rose a wall of trees and distant, jagged mountains.

The sky was azure and deepening, the stars just beginning their play against the growing tapestry of night.

He was lying on his stomach, one hand curled in front of his face, the other by his side. One bedraggled wing was plastered to his back, the other lay folded awkwardly beneath him.

His body hurt terribly.

And he was cold.

Except at his side, where something deliciously warm was pressed.

He tried to turn towards it, wanting the warmth badly, but his head protested the motion and he curled about himself, holding his skull with a shaking hand.

The simple touch hurt. With a sharp gasp, he drew his hand away.

Something dark was smeared against his fingers.

The warmth at his back shifted, rumbling with a deep breath.

Eyes widening, he rolled himself away, freeing his wing and grasping at his head again as the pain lanced through it like a sword.

A very large, shaggily-furred lump sat on the river rock, against the deeply dark backdrop of thick forest.

A part of the shaggy lump turned, and two small wide-set eyes - brown and sparkling in the star light - blinked at him.

"Greetings," it said, in a language of heavy breaths and guttural utterances he'd never before used.

Of course, being who he was, he could speak it.

"Greetings to you," he rumbled back, and then turned to look about himself, suddenly desperate for water. A shallow pool lay nearby. Stooping, he drew some up and drank it from his hand. The act made his head throb awfully, and he almost vomited what he'd taken in.

"How do you feel?" the beast asked.

He looked back at it. "Not well." Then he frowned at a sudden flicker of memory. Of being dragged from the water by strong jaws.

Looking down at his shoulder, wincing at the thundering at his temples, he noticed the splotchy arc of bruises there. His gaze rose to the beast again. "You rescued me?"

The creature gave a wuff of affirmation. "You are a winged one. I could not let you drown."

Nodding, he gave the beast a small smile. "Thank you. I would not have survived without your help."

It seemed happy at that, and sat back on its large rear and short flat-footed legs. It was a very round creature, and immensely muscled, particularly around the shoulders. Likely for digging, for its claws were massive.

His Father's creations never ceased to amaze.

The thought brought another stabbing pain to his head.

And a hateful spite to his heart.

"How did you get in the river?"

The question pulled him back from his body's pains. Opening his mouth to answer, he found himself with nothing to say.

He closed his mouth and stared at the wild rapids.

How had he ended up there?

Why did it hurt to think? Grunting, he lowered his head to his hand and noticed the dark stain again. It smelled like blood. His own. Gingerly he felt for the edges of the wound - a long straight furrow gouging his temple and back, slick with blood.

"Did you fall in? I have seen squirrels do that while trying to cross a fallen tree. I eat them when I find them downstream."

Frowning, he shivered again, a motion that passed through his wings, shaking some of the dampness free and setting his teeth grinding through the pain.

The creature's question stuck with him.

Did I fall?

He looked down at himself, in dark pants, covered in bruises and cuts. Something at his side bled - another furrow, but much deeper. When he cupped his hand against the wound it stung.

Wounds from battle?

He looked back up at the beast and felt the fire in his eyes, burning.

Of course.

Michael.

A diffuse red glow filled the space and sparkled in the creatures's gaze.

It made sense now.

"I did fall, yes," he finally answered, in as cold a tone as the beast's tongue allowed. Needing warmth and a sense of safety, he curled his great wings about himself, wincing as the ends of the broken bone above the wing's wrist ground together. Gingerly finding the spot, he held it, willing it to heal.

"Oh?" The creature's great head turned upstream. "From a tree? Like the squirrels I ate?"

"No." He felt a rush of dark bitterness.

"From Heaven."

Chapter Text

Apologies for the little bit of bouncing back and forth we're doing time-wise here. But hell, if The Witcher can do it, so can I.

At least I'm not flip flopping decades...

(PS, if you haven't watched The Witcher, in this Dark Time of Lucifer Famine, you're missing out ;)

Please leave a comment if you've enjoyed this so far. I may post another chapter tonight.


3 hours earlier...

When Chloe made it back to the trailhead, her heart was pounding. Not just from exertion, because she'd really pushed herself hiking out, but from panic.

No Lucifer.

It'd been six hours now and he hadn't returned to the campsite, she hadn't seen him on the trail, and he wasn't in the car, in some vain protest at roughing it.

He was just gone.

This wasn't like him.

Something was wrong, she could feel it, and she had no idea where to start to find out what.

If he'd left for food, then he'd headed to the nearest town. That's where she needed to go.

She pulled her phone up. She'd left the tent, the cooler, and his gear at the campsite, just in case he came back. Of course she'd left his phone too, but she still didn't have any bars on her own phone for him to reach her anyway.

If only he'd taken his cell. If only she hadn't made that stupid deal with him, she could call or track him once she got to town!

But no, she had to make some dumbass deal, for sex, because of course.

Typical Lucifer!

Her fear was making her angry. She hated that.

Shaking her head to it, she stomped the last few yards to her car, briefly taking in the dark, rusted SUV parked next to her own.

It was covered in stickers, and a few made her smile, despite her worries.

There was a white silhouette of a tall shaggy man, with the words 'Gone Squatchin'. A couple of X-Files logos, alien heads, and an emphatic 'I BELIEVE'. A bunch of national and state park passes going back years, NRA membership decals, and another sticker that caught her eye on the side as she dumped her backpack into her own car:

Official Sasquatch Hunting License

She snorted.

God, people were weird.

Starting the car, she eased out of the spot, her eye caught again by the mass of ridiculous stickers.

The license plate below them made her pause.

HNTN4BF

She smirked.

Were they really roaming around the woods with guns trying to hunt Bigfoot?

That was hilarious.

The smirk slowly fell flat.

She'd heard some cracks that might have been gunshots while she'd been hiking. Certainly nothing high powered though - maybe a .22?

Hunting a giant ape guy with a .22?

Wasn't that a little... optimistic?

Chloe frowned, the world narrowing to that license plate as her car idled.

What if... they saw something else instead? Something that defied explanation?

Like ... a guy with wings?

Her skin grew cold.

What if... they saw Lucifer flying, and they shot at him?

What if they shot him out of the sky?!

She suddenly felt sick.

Was it reasonable? Did it make sense? Was she being ridiculous?!

She didn't like this 'what if' at all. But he'd been gone too long now, and it wasn't something he would do to her if everything was okay.

She needed help, NOW.

Lifting her hands together, Chloe began to pray.

Chapter Text

I posted a chapter before this one tonight, so be sure to catch both. I really need to post more slowly or I'll catch up before I've finished writing... augh.

If you're enjoying this, let me know ;)


Now...

Another shudder passed through him. He closed his wings more tightly, lowering his head to his knees, carefully avoiding the gash at his temple.

"You are not well," the furred creature said.

"No, I am not." He sighed. "I do not understand."

"Why?"

"Because I do not get sick. Another of my kind can wound me, but I should have healed from this by now."

The beast stood to all fours, its bulk somewhat intimidating.

"Perhaps it is because you fell, from the place you call Heaven?" Its jowls quivered as it spoke and breathed, revealing an impressive number of teeth. "Is it far, this Heaven?"

He didn't lift his head, and stared towards the rising moon. "It is, in one sense, yes."

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as his heart clenched.

He would never be allowed back. The gates of Heaven were forever closed to him now.

That hurt. Closing his eyes, he tried to burrow more deeply into the soggy nest of feathers he'd made for himself, and shivered again.

"What is your name?" the beast asked. "I have heard your kind have them. The other two legs do too."

That stirred his interest. Raising his head he stared at the beast.

"I am..." There was no equivalent of his name in the beast's tongue, so he had to use his own.

Samael

"What two legs are you talking about?"

The creature bared its teeth. "Never speak that name again. I do not like it. It is too loud."

With a small shrug, Samael returned his head to his knees. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

"They look like you," the furry creature continued, "but are wingless and weak."

He smirked against his knee. "They survived then? I am glad to hear it. I liked the first of them. We had sex. A lot of sex. First time for me. For all three of us. I would like to do so again. If you see another two legs you must tell me so I can have more sex."

"You sound strange now."

Blinking against a new wave of dizziness, Samael looked up at the creature, surprised to find another of the same exact beast standing beside it.

Slowly the two creatures resolved into one.

Was that bad? That seemed a bad thing.

"What is your name, friend?" he asked, his voice slurring.

"I am me, the bear."

Nodding was a mistake. Samael grasped at his head as everything lurched sideways.

"Me-The-Bear, do you have anything to eat? I am... I think I need..."

Something compelled him to stand, most suddenly. An urgent instinct to outrun something at that moment that his logical mind hadn't quite intercepted as unnecessary.

Samael lurched to his feet as the bear watched, groaned something that might have been a question, then took a clumsy step towards the forest and keeled over.

He did not move again.

The bear's breath rumbled out slowly.

Were all winged ones this odd?

He lifted his great head to stare along the rapids, then to the falls upstream, and back as the river twisted its way through the forest, the trees crowding it thickly on both sides.

A scent reached him on the breeze. Chemicals and sweat. Metal and oil.

Men.

Men were coming with guns.

He looked down at the winged one. He'd spent this much time protecting it. It seemed a shame to leave it here.

Perhaps the Tall One would know what to do with it?

Taking the thing's arm in his mouth, the bear pressed against the winged one's body, and pulled the creature up and over his furred back. One wing trailed oddly, but there was little to be done about that.

Satisfied that the creature wouldn't fall off, the bear carried his charge into the darkness of the woods.

Chapter Text

When Amenadiel swooped down from the sky, his great wings whipping the air around Chloe like a storm, she had to do a double take.

Then, despite the fear and worry that had only built over the last two hours as she'd rushed into town, grabbing food to shove in her mouth and asking everywhere for Lucifer, she burst into laughter.

"What?" Amenadiel asked as he stepped gently to the ground, adjusting the bright green pack strapped to his chest, filled with a happily gurgling baby.

"You brought Charlie?!"

He winced.

"Yeah... Girl's night out and I didn't want to interrupt. No sitter."

Chloe smirked.

Linda and Amenadiel hadn't used a sitter since Charlie had been kidnapped by a demonically-possessed fake zombie night nurse.

She blinked at her own thought.

How had life gotten so weird?

"Besides, he loves flying. Especially when I go really fast. Don't you?" He clasped his son's little hand and wobbled it as Charlie squirmed in delight. "Yes, you do!"

Chloe smiled, caught up in their joy, then quickly shook her head.

"But Amenadiel, there are people with guns involved... I think. What if they decide to shoot at you?"

"Oh, they can't hurt us, can they Charlie?" He looked up from his son with a smile. "He takes after the celestial side of the family, Chloe. We only found out last week when he pulled a pot off the stove. Nothing hurt, no burn. Poor Linda was beside herself."

"Oh," Chloe said, without a clue as to what to say next.

"Which prompts the question - why do you think Lucifer is hurt?"

Chloe felt a sudden rush of tears, but held them back. "Because I feel like something is wrong. He would have shown up by now if he was fine, Amenadiel."

"He hates camping, Chloe - are you sure he's not back in town, seated at a bar?"

"I already checked. And it's not like before - he knows I get worried. Besides... I think he was... enjoying the... um... camping we'd just... done."

Amenadiel gave her a confused look.

"Where's your campsite?" he finally asked.

She brought up the map she'd downloaded to her phone, then pointed at the trees. "Directly that way, just over eight miles away."

"Alright, and the town?"

She turned her phone slightly and pointed again. "That way, 26 miles. There's a gas station a little closer, about 15 miles."

He nodded. "Now, how far from you does Lucifer need to be to be invulnerable again?

Chloe swallowed. "I... I don't know. He's been with me so much lately, he's always been..."

"Mortal?"

She nodded numbly, then looked up at him with searching eyes.

"Is this... my fault?"

Amenadiel stood as close as he could with a baby strapped to his chest and kissed her temple. "No, Chloe," he said softly. "My idiot brother is just being an idiot. I'm going to fly the path he took now."

"Oh, God, please be careful!"

"I will. No one will see us."

When she nodded, her eyes troubled and downcast, he squeezed her arm comfortingly.

"He's fine, Chloe. We'll find him. What trouble could he have gotten into on a camping trip?"


These chapters are pretty short, I realize. They get longer. XD

Hope you're enjoying the story. :) Let me know with a comment if you can!

Chapter Text

I posted a chapter before this one tonight, be sure to read that first ;)


The two men moved with an overburdened, awkwardly-armed grace, over the rocks and boulders leading to the lip of the waterfall. The beams of their flashlights skittered back and forth from the water to their feet to their next likely step.

The man in the front, generously proportioned, with a pair of night vision goggles propped on his head, made a sound not unlike a groan of pain.

"I can't believe I shot an angel."

The other man, lankier and carrying two backpacks, with a long knife at his hip, sighed.

"For the last time Steve, it wasn't an angel."

"It was a guy with big white wings, Art," Steve shot back, flicking his beam into his friends face. "That is the literal definition of an angel, and I shot him and I'm going to Hell."

"Steve. You can't go to Hell, because it doesn't exist. Neither does Heaven, or angels or devils or gods or any of that crap."

"Yes, great, I know you're a heathenous atheist, dipshit. But, seriously, how can you be, after seeing that?!"

"Because he bled when you shot him, dumbass. If he was really a messenger of God," Art framed the words with air quotes, "dontcha think he might have been a little more bulletproof?"

When Steve didn't reply immediately, Art continued, "he was a cryptid, end of story. Like... an incubus or something."

Steve snorted. "Incubi have devil wings, stupid, and they're from Hell."

"I know that-"

"You don't, otherwise you wouldn't have said it."

"Fine, a harpy."

"Harpies," Steve said, raising a hand as if delivering a lecture, "are ugly women with the bodies and talons of birds. He look like a lady to you?"

Art glowered at him.

It'd been a mistake, lending Steve that Monster Manual when they were seven.

"Those weird bird women have to reproduce somehow."

With a sigh, Art threw an arm up at his friend. "The guy had a bag of groceries, Steve! I mean, c'mon! Unless there's some fancy new biblical Uber we don't know about he wasn't an angel!"

Steve was silent for a moment, and the deep hooting of an owl filled the space over the rush of the falling water.

"He did sound a bit funny," Steve conceded. "When I accidentally shot him that first time - when he was standing in front of us asking for directions?"

"Yeah, he sounded English."

"Right, but that wasn't the problem - England is a very proper place and it's a very dignified accent. Angels should sound dignified and proper."

"Wow."

"Shut up, Art. I'm trying to say that I thought he'd be all," he stood up straight and adopted a terrible British accent, 'And lo, do not shoot!' or 'And lo, I bring glad tidings from whatever's, but he didn't."

"No, he said 'Fuck!' and took off."

Steve nodded vigorously. "Yeah - he said fuck! Wasn't that weird? Angels can't say fuck!"

"Or bollocks, which he also said. Remember how surprised he was too? Like right after you shot him, which I still don't get, by the way."

"A man with wings landed in front of us, Art - huge wings, flapping everywhere. I had the gun up already - it was a reflex."

"Right. But then you shot him three more times."

"Only after he flew away," Steve mumbled, then winced. "I dunno, I didn't want him to leave and something in my brain just clicked on - you know, when we used to hunt geese? It was like we'd just flushed one out."

"Right. He turned into a giant goose in your head and you shot him out of the sky." Art snorted. "Great job."

"Oh God. I really did. He fell like a damned stone."

"He wasn't an angel, Steve, don't loop back to that again or I'll shoot you."

"Nah, I'm thinking you're right. I just wish I hadn't fired at him."

"Well, if we find him and he's not dead, you can apologize and hand him back his groceries, before we grab him and get famous. If he is dead, we'll hike out of here with his body and sell it for a shit-ton of money."

"And everyone in the world will hate me."

Art frowned. "Why?"

"Because I shot and killed an angel," Steve moaned.

With a loud curse, Art picked up a rock and threw it at his friend.


I love these idiots.

If you're enjoying my story, let me know with a comment :)

Chapter Text

Chloe was pacing in complete darkness when Amenadiel returned, and started wringing her hands when he lowered beside her gently.

Because Amenadiel was frowning.

Charlie was getting fussy, squirming in his pack. Unclasping the buckles, Amenadiel pulled him out and grabbed a bottle from a side pocket before cradling his son and feeding him.

But his enormous tawny wings were still out while he did so. The sight of a celestial angel - even one dressed in jeans and a jacket - holding and feeding a baby, wiped every single thought from Chloe's mind.

She simply stared for a moment, her mouth parted softly.

Then she shook her head sharply at herself as her fears returned in strength.

Was Amenadiel frowning because of Charlie or because of Lucifer?

"So?"

"He hasn't returned to your site," Amenadiel murmured, tilting the bottle as Charlie drank it down quickly.

"Dammit." She resumed pacing, walking back and forth behind the car with the license plate that had worried her so much. "Dammit!"

"I did the whole flight, back and forth, twice. Even stepped into a couple of bars in town. I didn't see anything."

Amenadiel wouldn't meet her eye. Why?

"You sound worried."

The frown deepened, and he tenderly lifted his son to his shoulder to burp him as he tucked the bottle away. "I'm a little concerned."

"Oh my god," Chloe groaned, grasping her head as she paced. "I feel useless! I can't do anything! I have no cell service, no way to track whoever belongs to this car, and Lucifer's somewhere in there, possibly hurt," she pointed at the wall of trees and the trailhead plastered with notices before them, "in a park the size of Los Angeles!"

There was a click of plastic buckles, and Amenadiel rested a warm hand on her shoulder as he adjusted his son's pack against his chest.

"I have to take Charlie back, Chloe, but I'm going to return with someone who can find anyone, okay?"

She nodded, feeling tears threatening again, but she rubbed at her temple to stop them. "Okay. I'll wait here."

"Do you have enough food and water?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll wait. Just... don't take too long?"

He smiled. "I won't."

"Bye Charlie," she murmured, trying to muster a smile of her own, before they were in the air, and gone.

She turned towards the dark mouth of the trailhead.

The urge was strong to grab her gun and head in. To find him by following her gut.

But it was really dark, and she said she'd wait.

She didn't want to wait.

Perhaps she could start in now, maybe...

Chloe sighed, and shook her head at herself.

No. She'd just get lost herself. And he was probably off trail which would make it even more impossible.

What if he's dying right now?

"Oh, shut up."

What if he's dead?

"Oh God." She steepled her hands in front of her mouth and tried to do something she'd attempted a few times now.

Lucifer, please answer me. Where are you? I can't find you and I'm really worried. I need you to be okay. Please.

Then she waited, as the moon finally breached the trees to her right, illuminating everything in pale blue light.

But no answer came.

She stared up at that moon, and sighed.

"Lucifer, where are you?"


Thanks for the comments/reviews! I love hearing from readers :)

Sorry about the short update - the next chapter is much, much longer. I'll likely post it tomorrow.

It gives a glimpse of a certain major event in Lucifer's life... aaaand features a rather large creature... o.O

Chapter Text

"Drink."

Samael stirred slowly, aware of something pressing against his lips. Everything felt too distant and too heavy to do anything much about it.

"Open your mouth. Drink."

He could manage an open mouth surely?

And he was so very thirsty.

He tried, managing a little, though his jaw felt locked in place. He was still shivering too, though it did not feel cold here?

Where was here?

He was in the midst of prising his eyes open when something awful came pouring down his throat.

He coughed it up with a grimace, and spoke in the language he'd just heard.

"Terrible... what...?"

"Drink it, or you will die."

"W-What?"

"You are very sick. The water made you so, and the wound in your head is stealing your sense." The vessel, with a rough, round edge that felt like wood, was pressed firmly against his lips again. "Drink."

Frowning, he opened his eyes to complete darkness.

"Where...?"

"You are being difficult. I am pouring this down your throat now."

Strong calloused fingers grasped his jaw and pulled it open.

Grunting, he tried to pull the hand away, but his limbs were too slow. The fluid came rushing down his throat, burning as it went.

He swallowed some and spat a lot back up, before the fingers came once more, pulling his jaw down before the horrid drink was poured in again.

"Gah," he managed after swallowing another mouthful. It tasted of acidic dirt and bitter tannin, with something horribly sour binding the whole concoction together. "That is... so... awful... please stop..."

"Yes. That will do. You will rest now."

"Where am I? Who are... I..."

Everything began to feel quite muzzy, and his limbs grew even more distant. "What.. in that... drinn.."

A hand pressed gently against his head. A very large hand. The pressure made him feel as if he were falling.

"Rest."

The world grew muffled and small.

He dreamed.

Of a woman. The lightest blue eyes stared up at him, wide and full of warmth, the fine skin about them crinkling with a smile. Such a radiant smile, framed by full lips and a delicate jawline that he cupped in his palm. Her skin was gloriously soft and warm, and her hair fell about her face in waves of blonde and chestnut.

He was flying, his great white wings catching a warm updraft as he held her in his arms, and the sun was setting before them, turning the clouds bright gold. Behind, the sky was cloaked in deepening purples and blues.

She loved him. He knew this. And he loved her back so much he felt breathless.

But he did not know her name.

Who are you? he tried to ask, but no sound left him.

He tried harder.

"Who... are..."

His voice was muffled and weak, and he stirred with it, his eyes drifting open then closing again.

He sank.

To a war.

The armored foot caught him square in the chest, and the sword was torn free of his stomach with a gout of dark blood.

He teetered for a moment that stretched to a millennia. Knowing what this moment meant as the other angels watched on - Amenadiel bloodied and snarling, Remiel's face barely concealing her glee at ending one of his soldiers. Azrael turning from him, her eyes closing in sorrow. Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Maalik, Nuriel... all standing in judgement.

And his Father's presence - the light over all things, shouting at him in a rage, as his mother watched on.

BEGONE

And with a vicious grin, Michael pushed him with an outstretched finger, sending him over the edge of the portal out of Heaven.

He Fell.

It was agony. The fires that had always been his to command turned inward, consuming him as he fell through each dimension - his body a falling star to the early people of Earth and others of a multitude of realms.

He Fell until the realm of Hell's gate opened like a wound beneath him, and burning still, his wings long gone, his skin charred, his eyes fiery pits, he slammed into the ground of its realm with the force of a splitting atom.

He did not die.

But he was broken.

He lingered, shattered and smoking still for a time that had no definition, for Hell was timeless.

He wished to die. But instead, he grew stronger. Enough to raise his head as one of the Lilim neared. Female, slender, born for battle and eager for pain. She devoured his pain, and returned his strength further. And with her help he finally stood, and spread new wings and rose to claim the realm as his own.

She was his soldier, and willing mate when his pain sought expression in dark lusts. She took it all, and returned it as much, and with her he grew harder and sharper than he had ever been. He embraced his role completely and reveled in the meting of punishment, and his heart grew harder still. Through it all, she accepted and supported him.

But her name was lost to him as well.

"Wake up now," she said, in a voice that didn't suit her at all.

What?

"Wake up!" came the voice again, and the strength of it snapped him from nightmare.

Arms were bound over his chest and head, thickly furred and incredibly strong. His body had been fighting - he could feel the lingering energy of the battle just under his skin, and he bucked against his sudden prison, roaring for his freedom.

"STOP! You are SAFE! BE CALM!"

The words somehow reached him through his pain, and he slowed, finally sinking back in exhaustion.

Everything was dark.

"I cannot see," he murmured, still bound by the arms of his caretaker.

The arms slowly retreated, and the same large hand, the palms calloused and warm, pressed against his head.

Light streamed in as something green was pulled away. He blinked furiously, feeling suddenly raw and exposed. He caught a glimpse of stone above, the fine crystalline facets within sparkling in flickering firelight.

A massive dark hand, framed by fur at the wrist loomed into view.

He jerked from it instinctively, backing his upper body up against the stone wall beside him as the massive creature was revealed.

Very tall, very muscular. Built like a man but longer of arm and thicker about the brow. Every part covered in thick fur, save for the face and the hands, which drew back quickly, palms raised.

The creatures's strange mouth opened - not like a man's at all - and it spoke, revealing impressive canines yellowed with age.

"I will not harm you," it said, in a language of grunts and pops.

Samael blinked at it, not quite trusting its words. But from it came a great feeling of peace and calm, and he found himself relaxing despite his mistrust.

He felt better, too. No longer shivering, and the pounding at his head had lessened.

The creature was kneeling beside him, massive even on its knees. Flickering beyond it was a large fire fueled by jaggedly torn timbers. Furs and dried plants and simple dishes of wood circled the fire, and a passageway led off to the right. Dried meat hung from branches set in notches in the stone walls and the bones of multiple species lay in scattered piles about the room.

Everything smelled absolutely foul, and the creature seemed to be the source of it.

"Your aroma is disturbing."

The creature showed its generous array of teeth.

"Thank you," it said, in what sounded like pride.

Samael looked down at himself. The wound in his side was covered in leaves, the deeper cuts on his chest and legs dabbed with some kind of dirt. Curious, he reached to check the wound at his head, but the creature stopped him with a large hand.

He frowned back at the massive hairy man.

"What are you?"

The thing sat back on its legs.

"I am the Guardian, though I have many names. The ones in the forest call me the Tall One. The ones who infest this world call me Sasquatch, Doolagahi, Yeren, Mande Burung, Tso'apittse, Kakundak, Yeti-"

"You can stop now. I understand, many names."

"You are rude."

Samael glowered at the creature. "Currently, yes. Would you like to know why?"

"No. I am also called Bigfoot here because the people who find my tracks are smaller than I and stupid."

Samael smirked. "Well, you know what they say about big feet."

The Guardian frowned.

"What do they say?"

The smirk slowly fell. Confusion swiftly replaced Samael's mirth.

"I... do not know. I do not know why I said that."

Sasquatch nodded and tapped a thick finger against its temple. "Your sense is damaged."

Frowning, Samael reached for the wound on his head again.

The Guardian stopped him.

"Let it heal."

He yanked his arm free of the thing's grasp, frustrated and disturbed. "It should be healed," he snapped. "I should not be this sick! I should not be this..."

He did not want to say the word, but it bubbled up in his mind regardless.

Vulnerable

"Mortal?"

That word was even more devastating. He stared at the creature, his expression frozen. It could not be true. He did not want it to be true.

But it very clearly was.

The look he gave the creature was imploring. "Is this part of my Father's punishment? To exile me to this place and make me live out a mortal life?"

The Guardian shrugged. "How would I know? I will only say that you may know the reason yourself, but the sense of it is lost. It will come back to you in time, but I do not know when."

Releasing a long sigh, Samael looked about the creature's dwelling.

"How did I get here?" he asked, frowning. "I was on a riverbank? Did Me-The-Bear bring me to you?"

"Yes. You collapsed. The bear knew what you were and did not want to leave you for anything else to eat."

He nodded. "I should thank him. He saved my life, loathe as I am to think it was under threat."

The Sasquatch smiled. "Yes. You can thank him later. First, you need to eat. I have this to offer."

Turning from him, the hairy man reached towards the campfire and pulled up a large steaming bowl roughly carved of wood.

It smelled terrible.

Samael stared at the surface as it neared. Green, lumpy, and randomly dotted with the legs and shells of numerous invertebrates.

He placed a finger on the edge of the bowl as it grew closer, and pressed it resolutely back.

"No."

The Guardian pressed it forward again with an encouraging smile. "It is good for you. Eat."

Samael shook his head firmly.

There was no way in any realm that he was eating that.

"There is snake and weasel meat in this," the Sasquatch said, poking his finger into the soup and twirling it around. He pulled up something long and fat. "Worms and crickets. Very good for healing."

Samael watched the creature pull its finger from the meal meant for him and suck it happily. Something in his gut twisted.

"If you do not stop talking I am going to vomit all over you."

"Rudeness again," the creature grunted. "I offer you my best food and you insult me."

"Yes. Because your best food is the stuff of nightmare."

With a hard sigh, the creature opened its mouth, lifted the bowl, and chugged the entire thing at once. Something with many legs got caught over its lips, and it slurped it up quickly with a fat, dark tongue.

"Mmm... good."

Samael pulled his horrified gaze from the Guardian's mouth and looked about the place for anything else he might eat. He was hungry - his stomach growled painfully, but he could see nothing but gnawed bones, plants he had no interest in, and strips of unidentified meat hunted by flies.

His mind wandered to more palatable suggestions.

Fillet mignon paired with an old-vine Zinfandel? Baked salmon with a squeeze of lemon chased down with a Chilean Chardonnay?

His mouth watered, but he could not conjure up any image of what he was thinking of.

"Do you have..." he started to say, hopefully, then stopped. The creature's language did not allow for the first, but the second had an equivalent. "Salmon?"

The Guardian's brow furrowed, its dark expressive eyes lowering thoughtfully.

"That is more the bear's meal, but... perhaps..."

Slowly it stood, its body taking some time to rise, and Samael tried not to be intimidated by the size and bulk of it when it was finished.

"You are very large," he murmured, without really meaning to.

"Big," the thing said, pointing at its lower limb with no small amount of irritation, "foot." It snorted then and walked to the far side of the room, where it pawed its way through the hanging meat.

"Nevermind," Samael called, starting to feel sick. "I regret asking."

"Ah! Here!" the guardian said brightly, and threw something his way.

The uncooked and slightly rotten body of a silver-scaled creature landed squarely in Samael's lap.

"No!" he yelled, swatting it off of himself, and twisting to stand. "No, I am leaving! I will not endure this a moment longer!"

"But... you are not yet recovered."

The room swam in a fascinating way, but Samael was not to be deterred - grasping the nearest object to steady himself and recoiling once he realized it was a large skull, he gathered himself and took slow, careful steps to the passageway.

The Guardian loomed in his vision and placed two strong hands atop his shoulders. The weight almost bore him to his knees.

"There are people out there hunting you, light-bringer. You should stay until you are well."

Samael looked up at an impossible angle, biting back a swift rush of dizziness, and frowned at the creature.

"Light-bringer?" he murmured. He blinked rapidly - something about that phrase meant something, but he could not work out what. His head began to ache and he shook the thoughts away. "I thank you for your aid, but I cannot stay and breathe your stench a moment longer."

The Guardian shrugged. "Your sense is broken, winged one. But I will not stand in your way." It pulled its hands from Samael's shoulders. "Go then. Try to avoid death. I fear it still seeks you."

"Very helpful," Samael muttered, pushing past the creature and grasping for the passage walls. "Try to avoid death. What profound advice."

The Sasquatch humphed, crossing its massive arms.

And Samael only barely caught what it said under its breath as he pushed forward, seeking the pale light of day at the tunnel's end and the sweet rush of non-fouled air it promised.

"I am glad to see the back of you, you whining cretin."

He glowered at the growing circle of light.

"I heard that!"


I certainly didn't plan to have Bigfoot show up in this fic, btw. I was very happy when he did, not going to lie. :D He's not a major part of this story either, he just happened to be there when Samael/Lucifer needed a hand.  Things get much more serious (well, after one more slightly silly chapter) from here on in. ;)

Very serious.

PS: If you're enjoying the story, hating it, want to share a terribly secret secret or just have a cat that likes to walk on your keyboard, please leave a comment. ;)

Chapter Text

"I do not understand."

The woman with the eagle wings, that Chloe hadn't been able to tear her eyes from, turned from the forest's edge to Amenadiel. The crisp light of the morning was doing very little to warm the woman's features.

"I do not sense him, still. Did he return to Hell?"

Chloe's heart plummeted.

Oh, God, please don't even suggest that.

She couldn't handle it. Especially not after a night of little sleep, waiting as the angelic siblings in front of her had flown back and forth scouting the entire damn park.

Amenadiel opened his mouth to speak, but the shorter girl with the dark bob haircut spoke instead.

Azrael, that was her name, right?

"No, Remiel, he isn't in Hell. He's on Earth," Azrael said in a voice that sounded like it belonged to some high school nerd more than an angel of death. The latter being something that Chloe still hadn't wrapped her brain around.

The person in front of me takes the souls of dead people to Heaven.

Shouldn't she have a scythe?

Azrael looked at her with a smirk. "I did that for a while but it bugged people out, so I switched it up. High School Nerd is working for me at the moment - don't judge."

Chloe cringed inwardly. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry, I didn't know you could..."

"Oh, yeah, sis here reads minds," Amenadiel said with a smile. "Probably should have mentioned that."

Azrael grinned. "Anyway, like I said before, I was pulled to him recently when he was drowning, but-"

Chloe's eyes bulged. "WHAT?!"

Amenadiel winced and shook his head slowly at his sister. "I didn't share that with her Ray, that's not... helpful."

"He was DROWNING?!"

"For this very reason, sis," Amenadiel murmured, rubbing his temples.

Chloe looked back and forth between them, her mouth wide with shock, her heart slamming against her ribcage. "What are you talking about?! WHEN?! Is he okay?!"

Azrael nodded. "He didn't totally die, and I haven't felt a tug since, so for now he seems to be okay."

"Oh my God," Chloe moaned, clasping her hands to her head. "I've been sitting in my car while he's been dying?"

The angel of death shook her head quickly. "Oh no, this was early last night. Like probably 6:12pm Pacific time?" She brought a finger up and started gesturing as if she were doing math, then nodded. "Think I did that right. Someone must have helped him."

"Who?!"

Azrael shrugged. "Don't know. I think this means he's near water though - but we've followed every river."

"None of this matters," Remiel said in a cold voice, "because I should be able to feel Lucifer here, and I do not."

She turned her gaze to Chloe. Of all of the angels Chloe had met at this point, which was honestly everyone here plus Lucifer, Remiel was the most... inhuman.

Was that too harsh?

"You waste energy with pointless emoting," Remiel said directly to her.

Nope. Inhuman was absolutely fucking fair.

A snort made her look from Remiel to Azrael, who gave her a wink.

Oh geez. Please stop reading my mind. Please find Lucifer.

"We will," Azrael answered, with a sincere smile.

"Ray, what did you see when you were called to him?" Amenadiel asked.

Azrael squinted and looked skyward. "Um. He was drifting in very wild water. Few more seconds and I would have had him."

Chloe made a small sound, covering her mouth.

Shooting a stern look at his sister, Amenadiel came to Chloe and pulled her into a hug. "He's okay, Chloe. He's going to be okay."

"We have to find him right now. Please," she murmured into his chest.

"Oh! His head was bleeding," Azrael said abruptly. "His side too. Lots of cuts, but, you know, rocks."

"His head?" Chloe mumbled. "Badly?"

Azrael shrugged. "Wasn't deep - a long furrow from a bullet."

"Azrael," Amenadiel snapped, clasping Chloe closer. "This does not help her!"

Chloe's mind was roiling with yet another awful detail of Lucifer's suffering, but something important about the nature of the wound clicked into place.

"Wait, no that's helpful..." Pushing away from Amenadiel gently, she focused on Remiel. "How does her tracking work?"

The angel stared down at her without blinking.

"Tracking is an inadequate word to describe my talent."

Chloe stepped into her space, and stabbed a finger at her chest angrily. "I don't give a shit about using the right word, lady. How does it work?"

Remiel blinked and took a small step back. "Did you hear how she addressed me?"

"Remy." Amenadiel's voice was low.

Her lips set in an irritated line, Remiel stared down at Chloe. "I sense their soul. I sense their essence on this plane. Who they are. I do not spend my time peering at misplaced dirt."

Chloe turned her back on the woman to face Azrael and Amenadiel. "What if... he's not himself?"

Amenadiel frowned. "What do you mean?"

She tapped her temple. "Head wound. Concussion at the very least, but what if its done more than that? What if he doesn't remember who he is? Like, he doesn't know he's Lucifer anymore?"

An aggravated snort came from behind her. "I do not sense people by their memories, human."

Chloe glared back at her. "No, but don't angels 'self-actualize'? Couldn't he change his nature, or the essence of who he was - what you sense - if he believed he was someone else? He hasn't answered any of our prayers - maybe that's because he's not Lucifer anymore?"

Remiel's gaze grew thoughtful. "Who, then?"

That's where Chloe ran out of steam, and she gave a little half-shrug. "I don't know. I mean, he could think he was anyone, or nobody. That wasn't very helpful actually, dammit."

Amenadiel took her arm in a firm grip, and when he spoke, it was directed at Remiel. "Samael."

His sister frowned, but her gaze grew distant and searching. Then her eyes shot wide open. "Yes! Yes, he is here!"

Chloe's heart jumped as Amenadiel grabbed her in a fierce hug. "What, that worked?" she mumbled, finding herself a little squashed.

"You're amazing, Chloe!" he said, and he pulled her up into his arms as his wings unfurled.

"Whoa! Wait, we're flying? You know where he is?" She directed the last at Remiel, who gave her the smallest of smiles and nodded.

"I know a general direction now, and as we get closer I will narrow that to his exact location. Azrael?"

The angel of death gave a small smile, a short nod, and spread her black wings wide.

And a moment later, they were airborne.


I was soooooo excited to see Azrael pop up in this story :) While she appeared in a sort of non-canon episode lumped in at the end of Season 3, and got a lot of flack for being weird, I really enjoyed her character. I liked the idea of this incredibly powerful, sometimes foreboding, almost omniscient celestial looking like a goofy kid, and loved that she was friends with Ella, who is, in her own right, such a lovely character. (btw, I love commas, I eat them for breakfast)

Remiel too, was interesting, and she plays a very key part in something that's about to happen soon. Everything changes rather dramatically at that point.

PS: I would have love to have seen this many of the angelic siblings taking off in flight with Chloe. :)

PPS: Thanks to everyone who's shared their thoughts so far, I love hearing from you!

Chapter Text

When Samael emerged into the pale light of dawn, he found himself surrounded by an army of tall trees, their trunks dark in the new light, and underfoot a carpet of soft brown needles over moss and scattered stone.

The transition was so jarring, he turned back to the tunnel entrance...

...and found no entrance.

A couple of staggered steps backwards did not cause the opening to reveal itself - he saw only more of the same: trees, moss, rocks.

And then two humans sitting next to a fire, their backs turned to him, about a hundred feet away.

He wavered on his feet, blinking thoughtfully, then turned in place once more, before finally focusing on the humans again.

A breeze swept to him from their direction, and his mouth suddenly flooded.

The humans were cooking something as they chatted back and forth over the fire.

Whatever they were cooking smelled divine.

Hunger steadied his step and he walked closer, studying the men as he neared. One was heavy, one thin - both were in black long-sleeved tops and pants, hunched over their plates. Nearby lay a mound of material - more clothing, bags of some sort, and propped against them, long metal rods.

Smiling, he walked up to and between the two men, reaching to the metal lattice they had over the fire, intending to pull some of the wonderful things cooking there to his mouth.

But he yelled out, yanking his hand back, as the men made shouts of their own.

The fire had burned him.

"OH MY GOD!" one of the men yelled behind him. "ART! He's HERE!"

"I'm not BLIND, Steve, JESUS! The wings are right in my FACE!"

Samael turned to face them, cradling his hand.

The men stood a few feet back, their faces wide with shock. The tall one still held a plate, but the other man's had fallen, and the meal lay a mess at Samael's feet.

Frowning, he picked up the plate and held it out to the larger man.

"I would like food," he said, in their language, liking the way the soft sounds mingled with the firmer ones and the overall cadence of the speech.

It was quite different from the very first people's language, which had been closer to the Guardian's in truth. This language was smoother, more distinctively patterned, and much more expressively nuanced.

He smiled.

"Now."

The large man appeared frozen, but the tall one - Art - held out his own plate with both hands to Samael, bowing awkwardly.

Staring down at it, Samael's smile fell. "Why would I eat the cold remains of your meal?"

He looked again to the larger man.

"Steve, yes?"

A small, odd noise left the man named Steve.

"It knows my name, Art," the man whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"It?" Samael said, frowning between them, before pressing the plate forward more pointedly. "Steve, you will now put food on this plate for me. You will do so quickly."

"Yes I will," the man squeaked, and taking the plate from him with shaking hands, quickly set to filling it with food from the fire. A translucent green bag, marked with Family Market in friendly black lettering, lay nearby. The bag held his attention, but he did not know why.

"Sir, mister, uh, angel, sir, we're really sorry that, ah..."

Samael turned back to the man named Art, stilling the strange idiot's mangled speech. "For?"

"For... um..." The man gestured vaguely about his head. "The... you know..."

A full plate of food was thrust into Samael's hands, followed swiftly by a metal implement that looked like a ladle with tines.

Samael grinned at Steve, who retreated while bobbing oddly.

"Perfect."

He quickly shoveled the... eggs? his mind offered, into his mouth. It burned a little, but he did not care.

Carefully lifting his wings he set himself down in the chair the large one had used.

And swiftly he devoured the eggs, dragging the odd utensil through the yolk left over and drawing it over his tongue, before stabbing at the potatoes, dabbing them into the same, and spooning them off the plate and into his mouth.

"Jesus. Angel can eat."

"That's his food, Steve, let him."

Licking his lips happily, Samael grabbed a piece of the meat - bacon? - and happily nibbled it as his gaze swept the site.

"Drink," he said, expectantly. Then a new word popped into his mind. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

"Scotch?"

The tall one - Art - folded his hands and stepped closer. "Uh, we don't have any hard liquor, sir, sorry. We do have beer?"

"Art," Steve whined. "That's my last can!"

Pointing at Samael intently, Art spoke in a forced whisper, "Angel!"

"Ha!" The large man moved to a colorful container and opened it to retrieve something inside. "You do believe!"

A metal can landed in Samael's hand shortly after as he chewed on another piece of the most incredible bacon. Holding the piece up to his audience, he smiled. "I like this very much. Thank you."

Art nudged Steve in the arm. "Cook more."

Samael nodded his approval and folded his wings forward so he could lean back in the chair. His hands and fingers seemed to move on their own to the can he was holding - pulling back the metal tab for reasons he did not understand. There was a loud popping noise, and a strange froth poured from the top.

Curious, he lapped some of it up.

It was lukewarm and bitter.

Grimacing, he shifted the can over the ground and dropped it.

"Awful."

"Aww, man!" Steve shouted from the fire. He ran over to pick the can up, busy gurgling its contents onto the forest floor. "You don't waste Dogfish, man!"

Samael glared at him. "My name is Samael, human. Not 'man'. Nor 'it'."

Noticeably paler, Steve nodded furiously before returning to the fire.

Art spoke up then, shuffling his chair closer to sit nearby.

"So, you're an actual angel?"

Chewing on another piece of bacon, Samael nodded.

"Then... God's real?"

The meal's flavor lessened somewhat, and he frowned at Art. "My Father is indeed real. I do not wish to speak further of Him."

Art leaned back against his chair. "Right. No God talk, got it."

"What about... Jesus?" Steve asked from the fire, his brow wet.

"Jesus?" Samael asked, holding his plate out for more bacon. "I know of no Jesus."

"Whoa," Art said softly, before gawking at his friend. "Jesus was a fake!"

Steve glared at him. "Was not." He turned to Samael then. "How can you say that? He's supposed to be God's son?"

Samael shook his empty plate at the man with a sigh. "I am God's son. None of my multitude of siblings is called Jesus. What is he known for?"

Art shrugged, digging into his now cold food. "Healing the sick. Talking about God a lot. Telling people not to be dicks."

Samael snorted. "Sounds like a wayward sibling. Probably Raphael slumming it."

Steve's mouth fell open.

"Raphael? He's real?"

Frowning, Samael pressed his empty plate into the man's gut. "If I am real, why would Raphael not be? Or Gabriel for that matter? Amenadiel, Nuriel..." He sagged back against the chair with a sigh. "Curse them all."

Taking the plate, Steve bent over the fire again, frowning.

"Why would an angel curse other angels?" the man finally asked.

Yawning, Samael rested his head on his hand. "Because they cast me out of heaven."

Art raised an eyebrow.

Steve grew suddenly very still.

"Cast you out?" Art asked. "What's that mean?"

Steve made rapid movements across his throat while taking very deliberate steps away.

Frowning, Samael held out his hand for the plate the man was walking away with. "Where are you going with my bacon?"

"Oh my god oh my god ohmygodrun," Steve said in a panicked rush, dropping the plate to the ground.

"What?" Art said back, lifting part way out of his chair.

With an irritated sigh, Samael stood. It was a little too quickly, and he had to grab the chair to steady himself.

"Allenfay angelay," Steven muttered through gritted teeth, staring pointedly at Samael, who'd just reached the pile of bacon on the ground.

"What are you babbling on about, weirdo?"

When he bent to pick it up, Samael was swamped with dizziness.

He fell to his knees.

Art jerked forward, leaning over to help him up. "Whoa, you okay there Sam?"

Frustrated at his own weakness, and greatly irritated by the mangled use of his name, Samael looked up at the man with eyes aflame.

"My name is Samael, human. You would be wise to say it properly."

A few things happened very quickly.

Steve screamed and jumped behind Art. Art jerked back, knocked his friend over, and promptly fell on top of him.

And Samael laughed, pointing at the thrashing pile as he chewed on another piece of reclaimed bacon.

"Do that again."

"HE'S A FALLEN ANGEL!" Steve roared, scrambling out from under his backpedaling friend, over to the pile of gear behind the chairs. "THAT'S WHY HE'S A DICK!"

Samael frowned thoughtfully through his meal.

"Did you just call me a penis?"

The thin one followed after his friend, using his elbows to crawl at speed along the ground.

It was all so incredibly amusing.

Samael sat back on his legs on the ground, the tips of his wings trailing on behind him, devouring the bacon as the two men struggled over the metal rods.

"I have a penis, you know. I have used it before. It felt fantastic."

Frowning thoughtfully, he pushed himself from the ground, much more slowly this time. Wincing, he grasped his head as the two men stood to their feet. "Do you enjoy sex? We could have sex, if you are both interested."

He smiled then, as the men leveled the metal rods towards him.

"I am quite good, I assure you."

"He's a perv, Art!" Steve spat at his friend, his eye firmly fixed along the metal rod. "The fallen angel is a perv!"

Samael frowned.

"Do you mean... pervert? That is an interesting word. No, I am not a pervert. I simply enjoy the act of sex. Do you not?"

"Do we shoot him, Art?"

Art was frowning. He lowered the gun slightly. "He's standing there eating bacon, Steve, and talking about sex. I don't think he remembers us either. I think you scrambled his brain when you shot him before."

Chewing the last piece of bacon in his hand, Samael tried to grasp what they were saying. This talk of shooting, and having shot him?

Guns his mind offered helpfully again, finally labeling the rods in the men's hands.

"Are those guns?" he said, quite happy with his deduction.

Wait...

Shot 'him'?

The smile flattened and he gestured at his temple. "Are you the ones responsible for this?"

"Oh, God, he's gunna kill us, Art! He's a fallen angel! Like the devil!"

Samael blinked.

the devil

His head throbbed wickedly as his mind stuttered over the word.

Gasping, he cradled his temples as his eyes burst into fiery life once more.

Devil?

That is... I... was...

"LUCIFER!"

He raised his burning eyes to face the two men and slowly turned towards the shout.

That voice...

He knew that voice...

"He IS THE DEVIL!" came Steve's cry behind him.

And the air cracked in protest as the men opened fire.


Sorry about the wait on this chapter. Lots of wee edits.

So... things are about to get dark.

If you're enjoying the story, I hope you'll leave a comment :) Thanks to everyone who has!

Chapter Text

The sight of her seemed to bring the world to a standstill.

Samael stood frozen for a moment, his gaze drifting over the woman's frame and features, desperately taking everything he could of her in.

It was the woman from his dream, whose name he had not known.

Did he know her name now?

Chloe

A smile rose on his face before slowly falling again, because she'd made no further move towards him - she seemed stuck in place, her eyes wide, her mouth open with shock but pulling to joy.

Everything about him had slowed immeasurably.

Amenadiel.

The world snapped into crystalline focus - with a swell of rage he finally registered the three standing beyond Chloe.

"Did you follow me here to strike the final blow?" he spat at his siblings, even as his mind worked to put more fragmented pieces together - the woman, the dream of Hell, the wounds coming not from Michael but from the men behind him...

Frowning, he turned to look back at them, realizing that the sound he'd heard had been gunfire.

The men were also frozen, their faces masks of fear. Three bullets were crawling through the air towards him.

Scowling, he took a step away from their trajectory and turned back to his siblings with a growl, his eyes flaring brightly.

Pain exploded in his head as a fist impacted the side of his face like a rock. Something broke inside, and staggering back, he fell to his knees.

Words rose around him, muffled and distorted, as he stared at the ground, watching the blood from his mouth sink through the dry needles below. Evey movement of his tongue caused agony as he struggled to breathe and speak - his jaw hung oddly, broken beneath a shattered cheekbone.

"REMIEL! DO NOT!"

"You heard him, Amenadiel, he was looking for a fight."

Footsteps thundered towards him - his brother's. Beyond his lowered view the human woman's foot had almost finished with its slow descent.

He looked up at her again, longing for the view, ignoring the pulsing agony of his jaw and the squabbling of his siblings.

"He's not immortal, Remiel - you will kill him!"

Standing to his feet slowly, he shrugged off the aid of his elder brother as Amenadiel tried to support him.

"Luci, you'll be okay. We need to get you to help."

Pushing him away with a scowl, Samael stood before the woman named Chloe.

He needed her to move again, to truly be here, not frozen in time.

"...re..lee.." he mumbled through his broken mouth as he stretched out an arm to gently grasp her hand.

"You'll handle the bullets, Remy?"

"Yes."

Something in his sister's voice drew Samael's eye.

Amenadiel was focused on Chloe, drawing his wings out as if to gather her up and fly.

Azrael's gaze was dark and expectant.

And Remy's smile was sharp as she flicked the last bullet from its once benign path.

Towards him.

But she'd misjudged slightly, and Samael saw clearly where the bullet would go.

Straight through Chloe's head.

With no way to speak properly, to halt Amenadiel from relaxing his hold on time, and with a fraction of a second to move, he acted instinctively to protect the woman he loved.

He shifted to shield her, pulling Chloe's hand to draw her forward.

Time restarted.

There was a wet sound and a sharp flash of pain from his wing as he was shoved forward, clipping Chloe in the shoulder as blood misted the air between them.

They both fell to the ground as the sound of gunfire filled the air.

Chloe gave a short cry of pain, grasping her upper arm as blood pulsed around her fingers. He struggled to rise, to reach her to help, and coughed as a tremendous weight settled on his chest.

His limbs weren't moving right either. Grunting, he tried to crawl towards her instead, angry that he'd not stopped her from getting hurt.

But the pressure increased so much he couldn't breathe.

Something warm spread over his chest.

"Lucifer?"

The gunfire stopped and panicked shouts and cries followed. Samael caught a glimpse of Remiel destroying the men's weapons and throwing the two around like toys before he sagged back against the Earth.

Bright blood bubbled from his chest.

But it did not hurt.

"What... no... How did this happen?!" Chloe scrabbled to his side. "LUCIFER?!"

"REMIEL!" Amenadiel roared, lowering to him. "You said you had them all!"

Samael tried to laugh. His brother was so naive.

But he did very little at all as Chloe lifted his head onto her lap.

Another cough left him as he gave her a mangled smile. He tried hard to raise his hand to hers, pressed tight against the wound through his chest.

He wanted to hold her so badly.

But there was little left that he could do as his body grew terribly still.

The world narrowed to a small dot.

Somewhere very far away Chloe screamed.

And Azrael stepped into view.

Chapter Text

When Lucifer slammed into her and something tore through her arm, Chloe fell to the ground, her mind swimming in shock.

She'd seen him standing in front of the two men as she pushed through the trees, and couldn't help but cry out his name, even as her brain registered that the men had their weapons up.

They shouted, he turned.

Their eyes met.

She had one moment to register the wound caked in dirt across his temple, the exhaustion and surprise in his eyes, before the men opened fire.

And then he was right in front of her and they were falling, and something was so terribly wrong.

Not just with her own arm. He wasn't getting up right, and the blood on her shirt wasn't all hers, and...

Oh God

Blood was pulsing from a hole in his chest, just to the left of his sternum, clean through the ribs.

Straight through his heart.

She watched for one dumbstruck second as he coughed in front of her, his skin growing ashen.

And then it really hit her.

"What... no... How did this happen?!" She scrabbled to his side, her own wound forgotten. "LUCIFER?!"

Amenadiel shouted something beside her, but the words slid from her mind as she tried to pull Lucifer into her arms.

He was leaden - she managed to cradle his head in her lap, and quickly thrust her hand against the wound in his chest as the blood poured freely from her arm.

Arterial

But it didn't matter, because Lucifer was trying to smile at her and he was dying and nothing she could do could save him and...

His hand shifted towards her own slightly...

...and the light that was Lucifer deep within those dark eyes grew dim.

And she screamed as the light went out completely.

"I have him."

Hands enveloped her as Azrael stepped near.

"I'll have her too if you don't stop that bleeding."

"Nnnno," Chloe moaned, trying to shake the life back into Lucifer with such little strength it did barely anything at all. His gaze remained fixed to the sky above. His broken and bloodied jaw hung open.

He did not breathe again.

Crying, she looked up at Azrael, whose eyes were fixed on her own intently.

The hands were busy wrapping something around her arm - she tried to pull away, slumping as everything began to spin.

"Hurry."

Azrael's voice drew around her like a comforting blanket, and she let herself go, falling back against Amenadiel as he tightened the bandage on her arm.

"Give him back," she whispered, caught in the angel's gaze.

Azrael shook her head and stepped closer.

"Then... take me too..."

Everything narrowed to Azrael's dark gaze, expansive and shifting with the light of uncountable stars.

"Not today," someone said firmly behind her.

And time froze once more.


One more small chapter after this one then back to my usual long ones.

Chapter Text

Azrael blinked and stepped back as time slowed about her, stilling the human's transition and drawing the soul back within the woman's body.

"Brother, I almost had her."

The ache was one she'd felt before and she negotiated it quickly - the disappointment of something briefly claimed and lost.

She wanted the woman's soul badly now, having had a taste, but it would have to wait.

Besides, she had Samael's, and that one needed special care.

In one of her fake human sounding breaths, as she released her disappointed sigh, a hundred people across the world died, on top of the eighty seven that had died the moment before. She felt them all and ferried them all with other instances of herself and every one felt immensely satisfying.

She drew from that and resettled herself in this moment, cradling her brother's soul gently within.

He was very confused, but greatly enjoying the light show.

"First stop Hell, then?" Remiel said, walking to them from the campsite. "We will return our errant brother to where he truly belongs? This time he will not be able to leave."

Amenadiel stood with the human locked in time in his arms, trembling with rage.

"I can't afford distractions now sister," he spat the word out, "but know I will settle this with you later."

Remiel gaze grew guarded, and she pointed down at their brother's body.

"He never should have left Hell. You knew this. Your task was to return him and you failed. I succeeded in your place."

Azrael shook her head. "You haven't."

Remiel frowned at her. "You would defy the Laws of Judgement and take him to the Silver City?"

Azrael smiled. "His soul is one of the lightest I have ever taken, my sad little sister."

"Our brother is finally going Home."


Btw, I didn't realize this was such a wee little chapter, otherwise I would have posted it with the other one.

Sorry!

Wonder what everyone thinks of Lucifer going Home in this way? ;)

Chapter Text

Long one now :) The majority are, from this point on. If you have a moment, share your thoughts in a comment. :) And as always, thanks for reading.


Chloe

She stirred against stiff sheets as the soft voice tugged her up out of the smothering dark.

"Mmm?"

Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth was an endless desert, and she grimaced, her brows closing down tight.

Are you alright?

"Umwa?"

Those are unintelligible responses, darling. Try a little harder?

The voice tugged insistently at her, it's cadence familiar, the tone warm and playful.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Lu..ci..fer?" she rasped.

A face filled her vision, already overwhelmed by the cold glow of fluorescent lighting, and it took a moment for her to label it with a name.

"...Dan?"

His mouth split in a wide grin and she felt his hand wrap around her own, urgently reassuring.

"Hey, Chlo, I'm here. How are you feeling?"

She watched his features shift with each word, a great deal of her still not quite here, though she was trying to be.

Where was here?

Dan's warm hand stroked the side of her head. "You're still a little loopy, huh."

He irritates me no end, but he does truly care for you, Chloe.

The voice rose about her, and she glanced around what was clearly a hospital room, replete with vases of flowers on a shelf nearby, looking for its source.

"Lucifer?"

Dan frowned and shook his head. "Sorry Chloe. He's not here, and Amenadiel's not saying much. Just that they took him home? No idea where that is though - he ever say?"

I'm right here actually, he just can't see me.

"Where?" she asked the voice, which had no clear source at all.

And then he was standing, beside the bed opposite from Dan, in a crisp blue three-piece suit and white shirt, looking perfectly himself and smiling a warm, yet oddly sad, smile.

"Oh my God..." she rasped, lifting her hand towards him, expecting him to take it. "I thought... you were dead..."

Lucifer brought a finger to his mouth and glanced at Dan. He made no move towards her.

She frowned. Something seemed odd about how he looked.

Then she realized - his ring was gone.

"Who you talking to, Chloe?"

Frowning, she looked back at Dan.

"Lucifer," she whispered, and looked over to point at him, belatedly noticing the IV in the back of her hand.

The man she loved shook his head.

He can't see me, Chloe.

Lucifer's mouth didn't move at all as the voice filled her head. He just smiled.

Sadly.

Dan looked to where she had pointed, then back at her, his eyes worried. "He's... he's not here, Chloe."

He fumbled then, looking for something next to her side. Pulling it up, he pressed the call button for the nurse.

I'm so sorry, Chloe, came Lucifer's voice once more.

"Oh..." she said, as her heart ached with a sudden, terrible pain. "Oh..."

She reached for Lucifer again, wanting him to hold her hand. Just a simple touch. He was right there, why couldn't he just...

A nurse in rainbow scrubs walked into the room, passing through Lucifer as she walked to the side of the bed.

Lucifer grimaced.

And vanished.

And Chloe began to cry.

"I can come back?" the nurse said beside her, as Chloe lifted her hand to cover her eyes and her sobs grew louder still.

"Oh, Chloe," Dan said softly, squeezing her hand. "I'm sure Lucifer's okay."

His voice shifted as he turned from her. "She was seeing things - that from the drugs?"

"Don't think so. She's on very light doses of morphine and a blood thinner. That's it. Was she just waking up?"

"Yeah."

"That's probably why. She'll be disoriented for a little while. It's normal."

Chloe wanted them both to go away, and tried to mumble that, but the words were lost to tears.

A hand touched her lightly on the arm. "Sweetheart, can I get you anything? Water? How's your pain?"

"Go away... please," she finally managed, her hand still covering her eyes. "Please."

The hand withdrew. "I'll come back later."

Chloe finally brought the grief back under control, and lowered her hand as she swallowed her tears.

Blinking up furiously, she looked at Dan.

"Thank you for being here."

He beamed, and squeezed her hand. "Of course, Chlo. I couldn't believe it when they told me what happened, it was-"

"Can you give me some time alone?"

"Oh." He pulled back a little, and nodded, the smile fading. "Oh, sure. Trixie's out in the waiting room, hanging out with another kid. You okay if she comes in?"

She frowned at him, trying to put pieces together. "How long was I out?"

Lucifer's voice returned playfully.

Three years.

"Oh my god," she mumbled, as the tears hit her again, hard. "Oh god..."

Oh, Chloe.

"Chloe, hey, it's only been a couple of days. You lost a lot of blood and scared everybody for a minute there, but you're okay now."

"Please, Dan," she groaned, struggling to appear in control. "I just need a moment."

Dan's hand left her own, and he stood. "Yeah, okay. I'll come back in fifteen minutes, that okay?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Giving her a small smile, Dan left the room and closed the door behind him.

It's strange being privy to his thoughts now. He's really quite a smart man. And he has such love for you, Chloe.

Lucifer was standing again, at the side of the bed, his suit impeccable, his smile hesitant.

Chloe reached for him, her mouth twisting in pain. "Give me your hand."

His smile fell.

"Do it," she said through a sob. Her throat was so tight it hurt. "I have to see."

With a sigh she felt, he walked away from her hand, and moved to take the spot Dan had just held. His movement was odd, with a faint blurriness that made her skin crawl.

With sad eyes, he leaned over her, as if to kiss the crown of her head.

And she felt nothing.

He sighed and stood, and wouldn't meet her eye.

Chloe. I'm sorry.

The tears would not be stopped then, and she turned onto her good arm away from him and curled up as far as her bound arm would allow.

Please don't cry, please.

"You don't get to tell me that!" she yelled, tasting the salt of her tears as they spilled into her mouth. She wrapped an arm about herself. "You're dead... and you died because of me."

I died because of Remiel, Chloe, not you.

"What?" She turned back to him slightly, tears still flooding her eyes, wincing as her arm shifted badly. "Remiel?"

His mouth twisted in a mean smirk.

Oh yes. She never got over what I did. She saw it as the perfect solution to get me back to Hell.

She frowned, watching him as the words filled her head. "Why don't your lips move when you talk?"

He smiled. Because it would be pointless. I can mouth words at you but they have no sound. I'm not in a body that produces it anymore. I put my thoughts into your head instead.

His smile softened, and he mouthed three words clearly:

I love you

It broke her heart. Turning back to him, she reached her good hand out towards his cheek.

He pulled back and shook his head. You don't want to do that. It will only hurt.

"Please."

With a soft, ethereal sigh, he leaned forward, his gaze downward, his mouth a thin line.

She drew closer, willing herself to feel the warmth of the skin she could see so clearly, the rough stubble of his cheek.

But her hand passed through him as if he were smoke.

He was right. It hurt.

Closing her eyes, drawing her hand back to herself, she cried.

He did not tell her to stop, but she heard his sighs and a few soft swear words in the midst of her tears.

It helped the smallest bit, and she finished, staring at a spot of nothing across the room.

Chloe, love, my brother left something for you on the side table there.

She sighed, and shook her head, her gaze still held by the far wall. "I don't want gifts."

This is not a gift.

Frowning, she looked at him. "What then?"

He nodded towards the side table, and hovered a finger over a small leather bag.

I'd hand it to you but I'm a little corporeally challenged.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite her grief.

Oh, lovely. I felt your response to that. I'm glad you enjoyed my joke.

She sighed then and made a token effort to get the bag, but her bad arm was enough of a roadblock to make it impossible.

"I'll look later."

Alright.

Something he'd said before about Remiel hit her then, and she looked up at him in alarm.

No, her plan didn't work, he answered her unspoken question.

You're reading my thoughts?

I feel everything you feel and hear your thoughts as if they were my own. I do love hearing your voice though.

He smiled.

"You... you went to Heaven?" she whispered, feeling a sudden swell of emotion she couldn't quite label.

He laughed, and the sound shimmered through her. It was the most carefree sound she'd ever heard him make.

Relief, is the emotion I think. There's joy there too. He grinned. It was quite the scene - Peter at the gates welcoming me with open arms, a fanfare of angels singing my praises, and cherubs swinging by with glasses of fine malt whiskey...

Chloe's face crinkled. "Really?"

No, he sent with a grin. Azrael had to sneak me in through the back, and told me to keep a low profile for a century or two while she sorted some of my less forgiving siblings out. Quite a few of the apostles were shocked actually, as they'd never really had a chance to know me before my Fall, so lots of fussing about on their part.

Chloe found herself getting angry at apostles, and wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

Lucifer's smile grew wistful. A rare look that made her heart ache.

It felt incredible to be back, Chloe. I just wish... it had been before I died. His gaze fell and she tried to reach for him, wanting so much to be of comfort.

But she stopped, and let her hand sag back to her chest, knowing what would happen.

Lucifer's gaze rose again. I'd forgotten what home was like. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it.

Chloe stared at him for a long moment, caught up in what she could see in his gaze.

Peace.

"Can you take me?" she asked, meaning it in a casual way, but such a swell of longing followed it that she realized it meant something very different.

His smile fell slightly and he shook his head.

No. But I will see you there one day, which is more than I ever thought I'd have.

She nodded, and the wall caught her gaze again.

"When," she said flatly.

Chloe, look at me.

She closed her eyes, letting go of one tear, before turning to look at him.

His gaze was sharp, and held a great deal of worry.

When it's time. And not before.

"Mmm," she said, returning to look at the wall.

Chloe.

She did not turn.

My love.

With a deep sigh, catching the edge of a sob, she looked at him again.

You mustn't do what you're thinking. You have a life very much worth living.

Nodding vaguely, she gave him a smile that meant nothing.

"I think I need some time alone."

His beautiful mouth, framed by his perfectly groomed stubble, frowned.

I think that's a mistake.

"Please go away," she breathed, and looked down at the back of her hand where the IV line was taped.

No, he answered, straightening with the same frown, before it softened. I rather like the view.

She scowled at him. "What? Me in a hospital bed again? You like that?"

Eyes widening, he quickly shook his head. No, that's not what I meant.

"I don't want you here anymore, Lucifer!" she snapped, her voice rising much higher than she meant.

He vanished.

It hurt. It all hurt too much, and now that the painkillers were wearing off, her arm was joining in on the fun.

Her mind wandered over the fact that she was on intravenous morphine.

It wandered over the fact and wandered back. She turned, to trace the line from her IV up to the saline bag on the nearby stand, and back down again to the blue pump the line was fed through. Attached to it was another unit packed with a large syringe. There were numbers on the display - probably the delivery rate, if she had to guess.

This was the morphine, wasn't it?

She reached over and pressed the up arrow button next to the delivery rate.

It did nothing.

Frowning, she stabbed at it, then tried to hit more of the buttons in the hope of releasing whatever hold was put in place.

Chloe.

"My arm hurts!" she mumbled, as her eyes flooded again, and the display blurred away. "I told you to go away!"

My dear Chloe. I will never leave your side.

"Oh, GREAT!" she spat. "That's the kind of afterlife you need, stuck to me like a spectral tick!"

Making noises that had no hope of being words, she groped at the pump, struggling to free the syringe. It was stuck behind some kind of plastic shield. There was a slot for a key... where was the key?

There. On the table to her right, pushed away from the bed. Probably not supposed to be there, but she didn't care. Straining, making her arm so much worse, she pulled the table near and claimed the key.

She'd just take all of it, that would fix everything, wouldn't it?!

No. Do NOT do this.

He stood beside her again, his eyes wild with worry, his mouth framing the same word over and over.

STOP

"We had something I will never have again, Lucifer. I will never hold you again. I can't even hold your hand. I can't... I can't do this..."

Her groping fingers opened the shield about the syringe, and she plucked it free with a quick rush of odd relief.

She just had to squeeze this, deliver it all in one go, and the pain would be gone.

Wouldn't it? Was it a large enough dose?

Chloe, you have a CHILD

"Who has a father," Chloe snapped back at him, her throat closing tight. Her hands hovered over the depressor, willing herself to push.

She did have a child. Trixie would be so hurt.

Look at me.

She pressed a little, but it didn't really move. She hadn't thought it would be this hard.

LOOK AT ME

Chloe looked, her world blurred to tears, feeling hopeless and shattered. She was supposed to be strong. This wasn't strong.

This was so terribly weak.

Lucifer's form, just a blurry smudge of color to her weeping eyes, began to glow.

The colors coalesced into streams of brilliant white light, that grew in intensity until they burned like the heart of the brightest star. The light flooded her eyes, her mind, and every part of her wounded being with a love beyond anything she had ever felt, or would ever feel again.

Everything else disappeared - the room, the bed, the syringe in her hand - and she floated within that light, bathed by it, comforted by it, and part of it, for a time she had no will to measure.

Chapter Text

Hello! Thanks to everyone who's left comments so far - I love chatting about the story with you and hearing your thoughts! :D

If you haven't read my first Lucifer fanfic All Of My Worlds Suck btw, this chapter is going to be a bit of a jolt. ;)


Lucifer felt Chloe slip from his celestial light into a deep, untroubled slumber, and relaxed, drawing back his energies until he looked as he wished to look - perfectly groomed in Armani, with not a hair out of place.

He stared down at her, wishing for nothing more than to brush the tears from her closed eyes. To cup her cheek and place a soft kiss upon her lips.

But he couldn't. He would never do so again. Not here.

She looked... better, though her eyes were still deeply shadowed and puffy, and her skin pale. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths and she felt, at least for now, in peace.

His gaze drifted to the syringe beside her hand.

While the dose she could have delivered may not have been enough to kill her, that didn't really matter.

She had believed it would.

She would have done it, if he hadn't mentioned Trixie.

Lucifer shut his imaginary eyes and released an unnecessary sigh. Another fabrication, the mimicry of what he once was. He could not quite let go of it yet.

He truly hadn't thought her capable of doing such a thing.

But he'd felt her grief firsthand. He'd felt how devastated she was when she'd seen how separated they truly were.

She was lost. She was hurting terribly.

But she would get better.

He gazed down at her in sleep again, so deep it was dreamless.

I will make sure of that.

Voices pulled his attention outside, and he briefly touched the minds of Trixie and Dan as they approached.

He shifted to stand by the chair in the corner of the room so they would not pass through him on their way to Chloe.

It had happened a few times so far and it was unpleasant every time. An intimate sharing of someone's innermost essence, every secret laid bare, a bombardment of thoughts, feelings and desires that left him reeling.

In the words of that lobster from The Little Mermaid:

A little too close

Dan entered first, carrying a plate laden with two lemon slices and a small piece of chocolate cake.

The man was hopeful that Chloe was feeling better, and worried about the confusion and the grief that seemed to hit her out of the blue. Dan's thoughts flicked to Lucifer then, chased by a mess of emotions - irritation first and foremost, followed by a chiding reminder to himself of how much things had changed, how nice Lucifer had been to him lately.

Lucifer snorted. That hadn't been on purpose. It seemed no matter what he meant to say, no matter how biting or condescending he intended his words to be, what came out were endless affirmations of Dan's general goodness and desire to do right by people.

And this had gone on for months now. It had been excruciating at first, but he'd finally come to terms with it, thrown up his hands and let it be.

It had helped that Lucifer had started to see the truth of his words, even more so from this all-seeing angle.

He was, he had to admit, glad that Chloe had Dan by her side.

More of Dan's thoughts passed in moments - was Lucifer dead? Amenadiel's words and expression had been hard to interpret, though he'd admitted his brother had been hurt and said they were taking him home. Did they mean Lucifer's body? Was it possible that Chloe saw his ghost?

Very good, Daniel. As I've said before you are a smar-

"LUCIFER!"

Lucifer's eyes bulged at Trixie's cry - belatedly he realized that he'd felt her stirring recognition of him while dwelling in Dan's memories, but had been too engrossed to take note.

And here now the little human was grinning at him and running to tackle him in a hug, as Dan looked on in shock.

How?!

Too late he realized this would not go well for either of them, but the thought was wiped from his mind when she reached him, arms outstretched...

...and ran through him, straight into the chair he stood before.

He gasped, folding over with her passage as everything she was streamed through him, so much, much more than he had prepared for...

"What the... Trixie?! Are you okay!?"

Dan's fear reached him, that maybe there was something to this ghost business after all, and suddenly Dan was right there, standing in Lucifer as he struggled to recover from what he had felt and seen and known from Trixie's essence.

Because...

Father.. you did... not...

"Are you okay monkey? What's... what's wrong?"

Memories that had been taken from him were returned in a rush. Overwhelmed by them, by what they meant, and struggling to find himself amidst his entanglement with Dan, Lucifer fled the only way he could.

Down through the floor into another person's room.

The room was dimly lit. A lady of great age lay on the bed, her hand held by a woman in tears - her daughter. Lucifer watched the scene dumbly for a moment as his mind roiled over what he'd just learned.

His Father had come to Earth again... as Trixie.

His Father as Trixie had pulled him out of Hell...

... and they'd had a real talk, and Lucifer had finally felt something he'd been missing - his Father's love and approval.

And then dear old fucking dad had yanked the entire thing away from him.

The daughter jumped up with a cry and started shaking her mother.

And the old woman's soul appeared beside the bed and looked around the room in wonder.

Are you an angel? she said softly. Are you here to take me to Heaven?

Lucifer finally registered that she was talking to him.

I'm sorry, he answered, with a small bow of the head, I believe you're waiting on my-

The door burst open and in ran Trixie, her face wide with shock and fear.

"LUCIFER?!"

Dan followed, trying to pull her back from the door, his face flushed, and wincing at the view of the woman bent over her dead mother on the bed.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what's got into her," Dan mumbled, trying to draw Trixie back out of the room.

Lucifer moved quickly to the woman's soul and nodded. Yes, I'm your angel, absolutely, no time to waste!

And the woman let out a bubbly giggle as he circled his arm around her waist and sank them both down another level, glaring at Trixie as they went.

"STOP RUNNING FROM ME!" she yelled after him, darting back out the door.

The old woman looked up at him as the age in her frame leeched away, and he was soon holding a young woman in her 20s, her dark hair beautifully coiffed, her impeccable dress and makeup straight from the 50s.

You're a handsome angel, she said with a bright smile.

Smiling himself, he took her hand in his own and turned their little trip into a dance, twirling her around as they continued to sink through another floor.

She raised an eyebrow playfully. Aren't we going the wrong way?

He grinned at her. I'm not sure, have you been bad?

With a grand sweep of his arm, he twirled her out, then swept her back, and she pressed against his chest with a sultry smile.

If you're what's waiting for me, then absolutely.

Lucifer laughed, finding the woman's advances a lovely antidote to the mix of confusion and anger the recent revelation had brought him.

Sadly, my dear, you're a little too late.

She made a sound of disappointment, that wasn't reflected in her smile, and together they landed on the firm floor of a corridor leading to the main lobby of the hospital.

The dance continued, because it turned out the woman - Barbara - had won quite a few dance competitions in her youth, and wasted no time getting back into the swing of things, now she'd shed her old self.

It was delightful, and for a moment he forgot he was dead. Forgot his Father was currently chasing after him in the body of a young girl, and forgot that the woman he loved had almost killed herself out of grief.

For a moment anyway, because as soon as they reached the doors to the outside, Azrael was there, standing in their way.

"Lucifer, what are you doing?"

Smiling, he gave his sister a little nod, and raised a hand to his partner, who was positively giddy at this point.

Azrael, this is Barbara. Barbara, Azrael.

His sister rolled her eyes. "I know who she is, silly. I'm here for her. Barbara, I'm sorry I'm late."

Oh, that's okay, I had fun.

Azrael nodded, fixed her gaze upon the woman, and Lucifer's partner was gone.

He sighed, feeling her absence rather keenly. The moment truly had been lovely.

I could have taken her there.

His sister laughed. "Another few minutes of that and she'd never want to leave your side."

Her head tilted then, as she looked around him. "Besides, I think someone else wants to have a word with you."

Lucifer glanced back.

He scowled.

Trixie was storming through the lobby, her face a tiny storm of anger.

He turned back, realizing running was pointless.

Sister, did you kno-

But Azrael was gone.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer turned to face his Father.

Chapter Text

Trixie stood before him, her eyes wet and wide, her mouth agape.

"You're dead!"

Lucifer gave a slow golf clap.

Your omniscience is as sharp as ever, Father.

Now surrounded by a small group of people looking on in worry, the child flailed her arms towards him.

"But... how?! How are you dead?!"

Lucifer frowned.

What do you mean 'how'? You're the Almighty! Shouldn't you know?

"Little miss," an older woman in blue said, moving to Trixie's side, "are you alright?"

He scanned the crowd quickly, surprised that Dan hadn't burst through for her yet. Where's Daniel?

"Miss?" The woman repeated, placing a hand gently on Trixie's shoulder. "Did you need help?"

Trixie turned to the old woman. "I'm fine, thank you, I'm talking to the ghost of my dead son. By the way, Gerald left you ten thousand dollars in a hope chest buried under bags of clothes in your attic. You should go find it before your grandson does."

She turned back to Lucifer then, as the old woman looked uncomfortable and shuffled away.

"Dad's back with Mom."

Did you wipe his mind as well? he sneered. You seem fond of that sort of thing.

Trixie glared at him. "I did that to protect everyone, Sammy."

Lucifer walked up and went to tap her on the head. Of course his hand went straight through her, but the sensation was not unlike touching a live car battery. He snatched his hand back and scowled at her.

I feel rather less protected than you might think, Father, what with being dead.

"Miss, are your parents here?"

A security guard stood over her this time, a tall muscular man with a buzz cut. This was his first job after being discharged from the army, and his energy was that of a taut spring.

Trixie gave him her softest smile. "You need to relax now, Dave. Find the nearest couch, lay down, and have a good, long refreshing sleep. Dream of being a child again, playing in the sand on that beach you loved. No one will interrupt you."

"Okay." Nodding, he left for the far side of the lobby.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and walked through the door.

The sunshine beamed down on him, saturating everything about him in a happy yellow.

He couldn't feel a thing.

He sighed.

"Little girl! You can't walk off without your parents!"

Grimacing, Lucifer turned back. Trixie was following him across the parking lot, followed by a middle-aged Indian man and his wife. The woman had a scarf wrapped tightly about her head, hiding a lack of hair. Her skin was sallow.

Trixie turned to face them, focusing on the woman.

"Go get a second opinion, it's not as bad as it seems."

The woman's complexion warmed dramatically, and tugging her husband away, they returned to the hospital.

How very Jesus of you, Father. Feeling nostalgic?

Trixie frowned thoughtfully as she neared, then reached out and took his hand.

Lucifer gasped. He stared down at the small hand solidly clasped in his own.

It was the first sensation of touch he'd felt from a living being since he'd died.

How?

"God," she said quietly, still not fully focused on him. He could practically hear her mind churning.

"I didn't know you were going to die, Sammy," she said finally, frowning up at him deeply.

He booped her on the nose.

She slapped his hand away. "This is serious!"

Am I alive again? he said with wonder, squeezing her hand gently. The warmth of it felt wonderful.

"No. You're just solid for me."

Oh. He sighed. Of course. Everything's for you, isn't it.

"Yes," she murmured, still thoughtful. "Everything is me. I can't help but be for myself."

Excuse me, Lucifer said tersely, pulling his hand from hers and walking away.

"Sammy, don't take it like that!"

Her flip flops slapped against the pavement as she ran after him.

He twisted to face her. Was my death amusing? How about the deaths happening now, in that hospital there? Are you enjoying the death throes of your toys?

"Samael," she said angrily, her hands on her small hips, "stop that right now."

Did you know that Chloe tried to kill herself because I died?! he shouted into her mind. Was that in your plan?!

Trixie's eyes filled with tears. "No," she mumbled, her voice rising.

He sneered and turned away again. Save the affectations, Father, I am immune to them.

"You're not listening to me, Sammy. Please! I didn't plan this - I didn't see this coming! This wasn't meant to happen!"

Lucifer stopped dead.

Which was a little ironic.

He turned on his most fashionable heel to look at her.

What?

Trixie plopped herself on the ground, right in the middle of the parking lot.

I DID NOT PLAN THIS

The world stopped.

Every world stopped. Every sun, star, moon, every asteroid and particle of radiation.

The universe ground to a halt.

Lucifer felt fear.

Again, a little ironic because he was dead. But his Father had never exercised this level of control in front of him before, even when placing the major elements of this universe.

There had always been motion.

And now there was nothing.

Even when his Dad had stopped Chloe and Dan wrestling over him in the apartment, the area had stopped, not everything.

"I am everything, son," Trixie said quietly. "And I need you to listen to me."

Alright, Dad.

Lucifer crossed his arms.

Speak.


Thanks for reading everyone. Forgot I still have some smaller chapters. Anyhoo. I would be greatly alarmed realizing the omnipotent wasn't so much.

There are about... 14 chapters written ahead of this one. I'm not sure I'll be able to finish the whole story before these posts catch up. We'll see what happens. :)

I hope everyone is enjoying the story regardless - thanks to those who've left comments to let me know what they think! They really do make my day.

Chapter Text

The first thing Trixie-dad did was take him back to the scene of his own death.

It hadn't been immediately apparent, why they were in the woods again, and being in the place made him uncomfortable - the ghost of an anxiety that just left him irritable.

He saw his siblings then, arranged around two people.

His own wings caught his eye first and he smiled appreciatively. Until they walked around the frozen scene and he saw the mess that was his body - dirt everywhere and a big glob of it where his head wound had been. His eyes were shadowed, his skin pale. But the worst was his mouth, his jaw and cheek, crooked and bleeding, thanks to Remiel's punch.

Tsk.
Chloe saw me like this.

The sight of her stirred a multitude of emotions. The joy was immediate, followed by the longing to gather her up and shield her from what was about to happen. Then a deep concern - she looked so worried and tired.

A sudden sharp grief hit him horribly, and he found himself turning away as his illusory eyes mimicked the beginnings of tears.

Trixie's little hand looped through his own.

He grasped at it like a drowning man.

Seeing his own death was nothing compared to reliving Chloe's pain.

He closed his eyes as Trixie restarted everything, but the emotions still slid over him.

Are you going to undo this, Father? he murmured as they drew closer to Remiel, and the moment she diverted the bullet.

"You'll handle the bullets, Remy?" Amenadiel asked, his back to her, wings just unfurling to fly.

His brother was focused solely on getting them away, and worried about Lucifer's jaw. He thought pulling Chloe away first would help him heal.

Lucifer frowned. That was the problem though, wasn't it? It didn't seem that her proximity mattered anymore.

"Yes," Remiel answered.

He opened his eyes at his sister's voice, turning to look again just as the past version did.

Time halted.

Father? he asked, as Trixie still hadn't answered his question.

They were at this moment, perhaps he could...

He stepped forward and swung his hand at his sister's as her finger was moments from contact.

He passed through her, insubstantial. Ineffective.

"I can't," Trixie said flatly, studying Remiel's face.

Lucifer frowned, and focused on his sister. A revelation came from the moment.

She never forgave me for Uriel...

He hadn't known.

His sister's triumph spiked through him as the scene began to play again, dampened still by Amenadiel's power.

Trixie's gaze shifted to the Lucifer of this moment, and he followed suit, watching and feeling his own recognition of what was about to happen. The decision to save Chloe.

Trixie's face crumpled. "Look at what you did, Sammy. Look how beautiful your light is right now. I'm so sorry this happened."

Time restarted earnestly, released from Amenadiel's hold.

Lucifer watched Chloe intently as the bullet burst through his chest and tore through her arm, sending them both to the ground. Pain, confusion and shock shot through him from her, chased by a dawning horror and panic.

Chloe, he moaned, her pain growing too much, as she struggled to him, her arm pulsing blood. Father, please. Please stop this.

Time froze again, at the moment he lay in Chloe's lap.

Azrael stood over him.

Chloe's mouth was open in a soundless scream he still remembered.

Azrael's head turned towards them.

"Reviewing, Father?" Azrael asked Trixie.

Lucifer shook his head in disbelief.

Sister, you are terrifying.

The angel of death grinned at him. "Aww, thanks." She returned her attention to Trixie. "He was mortal, Father, I believe that's important."

Trixie lowered to Lucifer's body, nodding slowly. "Yes. Something happened to him that I did not foresee."

Lucifer waved at them both. I know I'm dead, but I am actually present here. Do you think you could stop talking about me in the third person?

Azrael merely smiled.

You knew I was going to die, didn't you.

She nodded. "Yes. I was not sure of the cause, but I knew your thread would be cut at that moment."

Well, thank you so much, dear sister, for saying absolutely nothing at all at the time!

Her face fell. "Oh my dear brother, I can't change what's about to happen. I don't have that power."

Arms crossed tightly about his chest, Lucifer scowled down at his prone body.

So I was vulnerable, Chloe was there. What is the point of this?

But even as he said it, he realized this was a half truth. He hadn't been simply vulnerable. He had been mortal. He'd first been shot when he was miles away from Chloe.

Trixie nodded again and rose. "Yes, let's see that too."

Oh, he snorted at her. Great. Let's.

"Bye!" Azrael said waving before returning her gaze to Lucifer's body.

And the world shifted again.

They were standing next to two men, dressed in camo gear and overburdened with supplies, on a small bluff overlooking the valley and river.

The men were hunting for Bigfoot.

The Guardian's a complete twat, by the way, Lucifer mumbled, irritated about everything.

"No, he isn't," Trixie snorted back at him, her hand seeking his again as she scanned the sky. "He's very kind, and he saved your life."

It was Lucifer's time to snort. Fat lot of good that did. I ended up dying anyway.

"True, but that wasn't his fault. He offered you shelter and food. If you'd taken it, you may not have died."

I would have, because both his food and his shelter were poison.

She rolled her eyes, then smiled at the sky. "Here you come!"

Lucifer looked up, frowning. Yes. Lovely. Fair warning - I was a little drunk.

The landing was not entirely graceful or angelic, as Lucifer's left wing clipped a nearby spruce. He almost tossed the bag of breakfast goodies over his head as he struggled to compensate, finally landing hard and staggering a few feet.

Lucifer slapped his palm to his face.

The men were so incredibly gobsmacked that they couldn't speak. Steve had raised his gun, hearing the commotion in the trees, his finger automatically seeking the trigger.

"Bollocks," the past Lucifer mumbled, checking his bag to make sure everything was fine. He then pointed over his shoulder. "Been flyin' around for hours... do either of you gents know where-"

A crack split the air - Lucifer twisted to his right with a grunt, dropping the bag, then grabbed at his side. Blood spilled over his fingers as he looked back at the men in shock.

"Fuck!"

He took to the air in a flurry of wing beats.

Steve fired three more shots in quick succession.

One clipped the very top of Lucifer's wing, another missed, and the last caught him hard against the temple.

Annnnd, down I go.

He fell, tumbling limply, out of sight.

"WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!" Art yelled, as Steve dropped to his knees in horror.

Everything froze.

Trixie frowned up at him.

Lucifer crossed his arms, feeling rather defensive.

I don't like camping, Father. I went into town, and thought I'd pop into the pub and have a few fingers of whiskey for the return flight.

"And?"

Lucifer frowned. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. He walked to the edge of the bluff and stared down at the churning waters below. I was disoriented, lost, and spent ages trying to find Chloe. Finally saw these two and thought I'd ask them.

"Thought you'd fly down, with big wings on your back, and ask two armed men for directions?"

He winced. I wasn't of sound mind, Father.

"Clearly." Trixie frowned. "It seems you were mortal before you went to town, Samael, otherwise the drink wouldn't have affected you."

He scowled, watching his body just starting to flail in the waters below.

How, Father? he asked, looking up at her with a terrible need. How is that possible?

"I think one last stop will answer this."

Lucifer sighed, and nodded, and bent over the bluff again.

IDIOT!


I enjoy Trixie and Lucifer's interactions so much :D Think I'll explain a few things here. Azrael is a little different from other angels, since she uses multiple instances of herself to collect souls. She's a little more outside of the rules of linear time than her siblings are. Speaking of time - some of the start stops that Trixie is doing in this scene affect Amenadiel's slowed time and then regular time. So sorry about any confusion over that.

I greatly enjoyed the idea of Lucifer crashing into a tree while drunk as well %) Poor dude.

In the next chapter, we find out how Lucifer lost his immortality. If you're enjoying the story, or not, let me know with a comment. And thank you for reading!