I woke up in a strange room, the light of the setting sun flooding the space. I didn't remember coming to this place, or lying down. I didn't remember much of anything right away. I didn't want to remember. So I focused on my immediate surroundings.

The room was huge, easily large enough to contain my living room and most of my kitchen, but for all that, it only contained the king sized bed I was lying on, a single night stand, and an overstuffed easy chair. No lamps, no dresser. Open sliding glass doors led to a balcony, and let in the scents and sounds of the ocean.

Speaking of scents… I could, unfortunately, smell myself…. And feel the grit on my skin. Plaster, gun powder, sweat, and something burned…. Feathers? My mind shied away from the memories. I refused to think about that until I had to.

Shower. I oozed out of bed, discovering that yes, indeed, I was going to have a lovely bruise across my chest if it wasn't there already. The darker of the two archways led to a dressing room/closet: dark colored wooden built ins, a full length mirror, dust free shelves and drawers, and rods filled with hangers. All empty. My entire wardrobe would barely fill up a single section of this room. And another archway leading to a bathroom easily half as big as the bedroom. It had a spa tub with seats for two, a double sink and a separate vanity table complete with stool and lighted mirror, and a shower stall with jets that came at you from every direction.

Finally clean, and wrapped in a towel ( I couldn't bear the thought of putting my filthy clothes back on), I re-entered the bedroom to find a t-shirt and draw-string shorts neatly folded on the bed. Not my size, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. I dressed slowly, mentally preparing myself.

For the memories.

For the truth.

For Lucifer.

I found him in the kitchen on the lower level of the house, removing take out containers from paper bags. I recognized the logo; Dan and I had tried to get reservations there for an anniversary dinner one year. We called two months ahead only to find out that they were currently accepting reservations for a year and a half out.

Of course Lucifer would have no problem getting them to prepare a take out meal. The chef probably drove our food here himself, too, just to ensure nothing happened to his dishes along the way.

"I wasn't sure what you'd be hungry for, so I ordered a little bit of everything." A little bit of everything was an understatement. Garden salad, Caesar salad, chicken and rice soup, clam chowder, salmon with asparagus and mashed potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs, grilled chicken with rice pilaf and a vegetable ratatouille, and for dessert cheesecake and tiramisu. I'm sure the menu descriptions made each dish sound fancier. And alongside that were two bottles of wine that I was pretty sure from the labels had been paired by a professional sommelier for these dishes and not just bottles of a red and white pulled randomly from a wine rack. We ate standing up, just picking bites out of the containers. In silence…. Every now and then he would take a deep breath and let it out. Like he was preparing to say something…. But didn't know how to start.

I mean, how do you start a conversation after revealing yourself to be the actual Devil? I suppose it's easy to say you're the Devil, because no one will believe you. At worst, they would think you belong on medication or in a mental institution. At best, they think you mean you embrace all things carnal or that you're some sort of crime boss. Or that you think of yourself as evil, like I did. Even Ella, who really does believe in God, didn't believe The Devil was standing before her.

I finished eating, poured myself another glass of the red, and headed out to the deck. What was it with Lucifer and balconies/decks? I'd now been to three of his homes, and each had striking similarities. The easy access to the outdoors being one. The wide open rooms minimally furnished and designed for luxurious comfort for another. And the complete lack of internal doors.

In the penthouse, it kind of made sense. Only one person lived there, so I guess maybe you don't need to be able to shut the bathroom door? But here? There was another bedroom across the hall from where I woke up. Based on the sterility of that room, I guessed it was also a guest room. And while there were no other guests at the moment, I would assume that the people who could potentially sleep in these rooms would at least like the option of shutting a door for privacy….

I didn't hear him follow me outside. But I could smell his approach: whiskey, cigarettes and soap. And him. I could see his shadow snaking up the deck railing. For the first time since I woke up, I looked at him fully. God, he's beautiful. I thought back to that face. Red, ruined, scarred. Eyes burning with the flames of Hell. Monstrous was the word he used not even 24 hours ago. Here was a walking illustration of the word dichotomy: Beauty and the Beast, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dorian Gray and his picture.

Time to stop dithering. "Why am I here?"

"I did suggest that Daniel take you home, but you insisted upon me driving you, and then you insisted on not going to your place. There's too much foot traffic through Lux and the penthouse, so…. This place is peaceful. I thought you might need that."

I didn't remember that conversation. Not really. Bits and pieces dribbled into my head. Telling Dan to keep his hands off me, that I wasn't going to the hospital to have my bruise looked at. That Lucifer was quite capable of taking me home. Biting my lip to stop myself from screaming when he squeezed his body behind the steering wheel of my car and his hand accidentally brushed my arm lying on the armrest.

"To be honest, Detective, you're taking this a lot better than I had feared…."

Well, I could be honest, too. I remembered this part quite clearly. "My first thought was to run. My second was to pull my weapon on you. My third was that you did tell me, and I…. God , was that only last night? I could hear you saying if I knew all of you, I would run away." He took a step in my direction, and I flinched; I couldn't help it. And he cringed. I had seen that look, that behavior, before in abused kids. Even after being removed from the abuser, they would have this preternatural stillness to them. An acute awareness of adults' movements. Always anticipating the next blow. Lucifer had that look; he knew I was going to run. The question for him wasn't whether, but when.

He looked normal, sounded normal; this was the man who had worked at my side for over two years. Been my friend, my sounding board. The one person who aggravated me beyond all others. Who invaded my dreams. The catalyst for me to date Pierce, to agree to marry Pierce. To end my engagement.

And yet. He wasn't the same person I had known for the past two years. He was Other. Literally not even a person! I wasn't going to run, at least not in this moment. But I also wasn't ready to return to 'normal'.

We both said, "I'm sorry". I turned back to the ocean and let its gentle rhythm wash away my tension. The last 24 hours had been an emotional roller coaster. And I was quite sure the ride was far from over. Lucifer admitting he had feelings for me. Charlotte. Dan. Pierce. More Pierce. Devil face. I needed to come to terms with all of that. Somehow.

Poor Dan: he had lost not only Charlotte, but the opportunity to be Lucifer's step-dad. We had had a good laugh over that, once.

Oh.

Bloody.

Hell.

How? How could Charlotte have been Lucifer's step-mom? If his dad was God, did that make Charlotte a Goddess? Or did God marry humans? I turned back. "How was Charlotte your step-mother?"

He sighed. "I suppose that's a natural question to have…. You might want to sit down for this." I made my way to a lounge chair and sat as he continued. "The short version of a very long story is that Mum ticked Dad off a few thousand years ago. And He sent Her to Hell. Well, She escaped last year. You remember the murder with the screwdriver? When we first met Charlotte?" I nodded. "The real Charlotte Richards died in that hotel room. Mum's soul lodged itself in Charlotte's body. But the soul of the Goddess of all Creation could not be contained in a human body. She started… leaking… Divine light. That's what killed Chet Ruiz. She had to leave Earth, but I didn't want to take her back to Hell. She wanted to return to Heaven. However, the gates to the Silver City are barred against the both of us… I had my sword, and I suppose I could have cut through them, but…. You once told me we had to move forward, not backwards, and I felt that letting Mum back in heaven would be going backwards. What went wrong between them was never resolved through the millennia they spent apart…. So. That day on the Pier… when She took you hostage. She had already hurt Linda. Amenadiel slowed time long enough for Maze to bring Linda to the hospital. And that gave me the time I needed to use the sword to cut a hole in the world. Mum left Charlotte's body to start over in her own brand new universe. And then Mum or Dad, I don't know who, decided to bring Charlotte out of Hell back to her body."

As far as a story went, it was rather fantastic. As in fantasy. Except it was real. A sword capable of cutting through the pearly gates, through the fabric of the world. A God and a Goddess. Angels and a demon. Slowing time. A tale that should have been found in a novel, not played out on the streets of LA. I couldn't even begin to imagine the immense power it took to create a universe. And he brushed it off as if it was an everyday occurrence.

I think that scared me more than the devil face.

'Do I scare you?' he had asked me once upon a time. And I had blithely told him no. Up until this afternoon my answer would still have been no. Even after seeing him shot with no ill effects. And holding full grown adults up by their throats with one hand. And pushing a man hard enough to shatter a plate glass window. And mesmerizing people into telling him their deepest secrets.

It wasn't that I was scared that he was going to hurt me…. Lucifer had never hurt me. Physically, at least. Well, once. But he didn't mean to. He just didn't want me touching his scars….

The scars from when Maze cut his wings off. Angel wings. Devil face. I curled into a ball on my lounge chair, closed my eyes, and just listened to the ocean. This was just… too much. Too fast.

I must have fallen asleep again, because the next time I opened my eyes, the sky had changed colors from deep blue-purple to black and the stars were out in force. And I was covered by a blanket. Lucifer was a blur of white shirt against the sky. "I don't know why I'm sleeping so much."

"Linda says you're either in shock or pregnant. And I need to allow you your rest in either case. And I'm not to ask if you're the later."

"I'm not pregnant." And very glad to not be for multiple reasons. "You talked to Linda about me?" I squeaked. Yes, I squeaked. Not a very pleasant sound.

"And Daniel. And Ms. Lopez, Maze, Trixie, and your captain. They're all concerned about you. Daniel put you in for a few days off, by the way. Apparently your captain agreed that your civilian consultant and partner killing your lieutenant slash crime boss slash ex-fiancée in an apparent act of self-defense is a plausible excuse for not showing up to work. And I don't think you're pregnant; you don't look... bigger." I could hear his shirt rustling and could well imagine where his hands were emphasizing. Some things would never change; Lucifer checking out my chest being one of them.

Self-defense would explain why Lucifer was free to bring me here instead of being arrested for murder. I suddenly remembered Dan and the SWAT team bursting into the hall, and Lucifer dropping to his knees, hands clasped behind his head. And Dan whispering, "Get up, man. I'm not going to arrest you for killing that son of a bitch and protecting Chloe. Self-defense, ok? He attacked you, and you killed him in self-defense."

"This is real, right?" I asked. "This isn't some nightmare I'm having? You really are the Devil? Pierce really was Cain?"

"Yes. It's all real." He sounded sad. Or resigned. "I could pinch you, if you'd like…."

"No, thanks," I muttered. I didn't need another bruise.

That was pretty much the only thing I was sure about. I almost wished Lucifer's trick worked on me. Then he could ask what my deepest, darkest desires were, and I'd have to answer. Because then I'd know, too.

Once upon a time, I knew exactly what I wanted. I had lost my husband, my professional reputation, my self-confidence. I had simple, attainable wants: to not be despised by my colleagues, to be seen as a competent detective, to be a good mother. Then Lucifer charged into my life like an irepressable puppy and knocked down all my emotional barriers. And helped me build them back up, the right way, until I felt able and whole again. Desired, both sexually and on a personal level. I wanted… more. Him. And I thought, I knew, that he wanted me back. And not just as another notch on his bedpost.

"What are you thinking about?" Maybe listening to Lucifer talk (about himself, most likely) would get me out of my head.

"Everything that I haven't told you that you probably should know to make an informed decision."

"If you're going to start telling me the rest of the truth, I need you to turn on the lights. I need to see your eyes."

"I assure you, Detective, if my eyes start going red, you'll see them. Like two little lanterns glowing in the dark."

"You don't lie, but you don't always tell the whole truth." I quoted him. "I can see when you're holding back on me, when there's something you want to say, but you don't."

"I always tell you everything I want to tell you," he insisted. "Everything you need to know." I'm sure he thought so. But I could easily think of several of our conversations, most of which were while I was dating Pierce, where he didn't tell me everything I wanted to know.

We moved inside. He turned on a light over the kitchen island and lit a fire in the fireplace. I curled up with my blanket in a easy chair next to the fire. Enough light to see by. And more than slightly romantic.

He handed me a tumbler of scotch. "Since you're not pregnant…."

"Do you have children?"

He shuddered. "No. Thank Dad." He once claimed that he despised children. He still startled when Trixie hugged him, but at least he didn't tell her to go fetch anymore….

I couldn't begin to imagine him sitting in the stands cheering on a little league game. Or bragging that his kid scored the game winning goal. But I could picture him being absolutely enthralled by a baby…. Counting fingers and toes, giggling when it burped, crowing when it smiled a gas bubble at him. Singing it to sleep…. Confused as to how such a small being could possibly manage to overfill a diaper. Teaching a son to tie a tie, a daughter to dance. Carefully adjusting little fingers and wrists to better play the piano. Scolding when he discovered peanut butter and jelly fingerprints all over the keyboard. Being utterly bewildered when the toddler insisted on pointing out every 'po-weese cah', 'friar fruck' and 'am-blee-ance' that passed by. Condemning Legos to Hell.

It was all too easy to see myself right alongside them.

"How do you know? Maybe you do have little half-human/half-devils running around."

"I should think not! One of my insufferable siblings would have let me know. And besides, humans and angels are completely different species. It would be like trying to breed a crocodile with a pig: you can't."

"Oh?" I glared at him. "And in this scenario, are humans the crocodiles? Or the pigs?"

"Would you prefer I say wolves and fluffy bunnies?" he grinned. I burst out laughing; I couldn't stop myself. And I kept going until my eyes were streaming and my stomach hurt. That lovely bruise on my chest really hurt now. As I wiped the tears from my face, I looked across at him, looking more relaxed than he had all night. He was still shaking with remnants of laughter, too. And for the first time since I saw that face, my urge to run was not away, but through the few feet that separated us.

I was going to be ok.

We were going to be ok.

"We haven't laughed like that in a long time," I sighed. "I missed it."

"Me, too," he agreed softly.

"The first time we ever had a drink together… do you remember?" I nodded. "I said something like 'you can't deny there's a connection between us'." I nodded again. "I didn't know then the whole truth. Exactly what it was. I'm still not sure of everything; I've made a few guesses, but my assumptions seem to be extremely wrong lately…." He sipped his drink. "But this… thing… between us. It's why Pierce could shoot me, and I barely felt it. But you shot me, and I bled. It's why I went to Vegas while you were in the hospital, but not why I married Candy. Well, not entirely…." I could see he was nervous. I was torn between wanting to hold his hand to calm him down, and not wanting to be touched by him. Not yet.

"So…. The day you got hurt. I was pretty much decided that maybe we could be together…. I was going to ask you out on a proper date. And then Maze invited me to a bar. To an intervention, really. There was a picture on the wall of your mom when she was younger. With Amenadiel."

"What was Amenadiel doing with my mother?"

"I asked that exact question. Did your mother ever tell you she had trouble conceiving you?" I shook my head slowly, not really liking the direction this conversation was headed. "Dear old Dad," the sarcasm was dripping, "sent Amenadiel here to bless your mother. So she could have you."

I have to admit, I was floored by this revelation. God intervened in my birth? God. Intervened. Indirectly, but still…. A being I had denied as real for pretty much my entire life decided I needed to be born. It was a pretty big ego boost as well as being the second scariest thing said tonight.

I mouthed the word why, too disturbed to speak.

"We don't know. Everyone has their theories."

"Everyone?"

"Mum. Amenadiel, Maze. Linda. Pierce."

Linda? "Linda knows? Of course she does." Last year he had mentioned that he broke his therapist. He must have revealed his true nature to her. "So you found out about me, and…. Was that what you were yelling about in my bathroom? The 'did you know?'"

"Yes, I… I was rather upset I thought I was being manipulated by Dad. And I was afraid you were a willing participant."

"And that's also why you went to Vegas." It made sense. Typical Lucifer. Avoid discussing anything emotional. Leave me completely in the dark to wonder exactly what I'd done. Let me think that I was the one who drove him away because of a chaste kiss and a pat on the butt.

I wanted to slap him, to punch him. To make him feel my pain. "You hurt me, Lucifer." I said slowly. "I went way out of my comfort zone and kissed you. You held me and told me 'this is real'. You let me think you cared about me. And then you left me because of your Dad?" I could hear my voice getting louder and more shrill with each sentence, but I didn't care. "I get it, I do. Your Dad made me. And that's why I didn't react to your 'charms' when we first met. And why your mind trick doesn't work on me. But instead of explaining any of that, you just up and left me! And worse, you let your fight with your Dad be more important than us…. Than me!" He stood there, paralyzed. Mouth gaping like the proverbial fish. I stood up abruptly, blanket falling to the floor. "I'm going to bed now. I'll see you in the morning." I managed to not stomp across the floor, but it was awfully difficult not to.

Once in my room, I wished I had a door to slam. Something to take my frustrations out on. I tried punching a pillow, but that was not helpful in any way. The arrogant, aggravating… ass!

His voice came floating through the shadowy room. "I understand the darker of the human emotions: lust, anger, hate. I've spent millennia observing, and punishing, the absolute worst of humanity. But I was kicked out of Heaven long before any human souls arrived, so I never really got to see the good in people. And when I came to earth, well, I was looking for a good time not necessarily good people." He took a deep breath. "You need to understand, angels and demons don't love. It's not in our nature. To love is to consider something before yourself. And we… we tend to be a selfish lot."

I wished there was a lamp on the nightstand. All I had for light to see by was what little was shining through the open sliders. "What… what are you saying, Lucifer?"

"I'm trying to help you understand. Angels don't change. From the moment we were created, we were fixed. In personality. In likes and dislikes. In abilities.

"I was kicked out of Heaven for rebelling against my Father. And from then on, I did as I pleased. Took part in whatever pleasure was offered."

"I'm aware of that part…" I was more than well aware of the various Brittanies, both male and female, who made a pit stop in his bedroom.

"I'm not saying it right." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm immortal. Nothing on the earthly plane can hurt me. And believe me, people have tried. Spears, arrows, swords, bullets. Until you. Part of what Dad did with you was to make me… more human. When I'm near you, I become vulnerable, mortal."

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do. Angels don't change. But I do. I did." He paused, as if he were waiting for me to make a connection. I felt pretty stupid, because I didn't see it. Sure, ok, he's physically vulnerable when he's around me. That explained why he bled when I shot him, and was just fine when Pierce did. I didn't really understand how it worked, but I supposed that not truly understanding the ways of God and the Divine was a natural part of being human….

"I knew you had feelings for me," he continued when I stayed silent. "I knew when I drove off to Las Vegas that I was going to hurt you. Horribly."

"But you did it anyway." I could hear the bitterness in my voice. The pain.

"I did. I didn't think you had a choice in the matter, that you were designed to care for me just like you were designed to be immune to my charms."

"Lucifer," I warned.

"Detective, no, listen. I need to say this." He grabbed my hands and squeezed. "I couldn't bear the thought that the woman I loved only loved me back because she had to. Because she was forced to." One hand came up to caress my cheek. "I tried to stay away….," he whispered, "For both our sakes. But I couldn't. And then I thought that if I kept you firmly in the friend zone, we could be pretty happy together. But then you started falling for Pierce, and I realized that I was wrong."

"Lucifer," I whispered. My insides were a mess. My heart was beating like mad, my stomach was doing flips, butterflies crawling up and down my spine. My skin felt too tight, too aware. I couldn't breath properly. Had I heard that right? Had Mr. Emotionally Constipated just said, out loud, that he loved me?

Instead of kissing me, he stepped back and turned on the overhead lights.

The living nightmare standing in front of me was naked except for a pair of black silk boxers. Every exposed inch of skin was red or black, burned. Charred. I stifled a scream, and forced myself to look.

"I am The Devil, Detective."

My unwilling feet crept closer, my hand stretched out to touch the scarred flesh. "Does it hurt?"

"No," his ruined face nestled into my fingers for a moment, "Not anymore."

And then it was gone, and my Lucifer was back. He shook his shoulders, and a pair of blindingly white wings spotted with red and brown sprouted from his back. I had thought the wings at that auction were beautiful; these put them to shame. "They're exquisite. Can I… can I touch them?" I breathed.

"Yes, but be gentle. They're still healing." He smiled as my fingers brushed over the feathers.

"Healing?" I know I sounded like an idiot, but I was mesmerized. So beautiful….

"Yes, from earlier. They acted like a shield, protected us from Pierce's thugs." It was only then that I realized the red and brown spots were actually dried blood. A cold wave washed over me at the thought of anyone wanting to intentionally harm such exquisiteness. He shrugged again, and the wings folded away and disappeared.

"Now you've seen all of me. The angelic. The demonic. The man." He waited. I guess to see if I would start running. My feet were staying firmly rooted to the floor. 'A few weeks ago you asked me why it bothered me so much that you were with Pierce. I gave you an answer. A truthful answer. But not the whole one." Another pause. "Earlier today, although I suppose it's yesterday now, you told me you didn't see me as the Devil. But that was before."

Yes. And that there was the crux of the matter, wasn't it. Could I still love this man, Devil, angel, now that I knew exactly who and what he was? Now that the metaphors were gone? I stretched up on tiptoe, and pressed my lips to his. My hands reached up to clasp his neck as his hands reached around to pull me firmly into his body. A few minutes (or hours, I lost all sense of time) later, we finally parted enough to breath in some desperately needed air.

"Chloe… are you sure?" An echo of a dream from long ago.

"Yes."

Yes, I was.

"I love you."

Author's Note: I edited a bit because of Ray Ray calling Lucifer her older brother.

I have a couple paragraphs of a chapter 2 running in my mind. Please let me know in the comments if you want me to continue.