Lucifer was bored.

Hell spread out before him, its vast grey nothingness desolate and infinite. As ever, the loops were operating on their own, the demons were indulging in their duties, and he was left with nothing to do. No souls required his attention today. Of course, he had new guests arriving every other second, that never changed, but frustratingly they had all been condemning themselves to their fate without his interference lately. Once upon a time he might have amused himself with some torturing of his own, but that was no longer an option. It wasn't that he hadn't tried, but every attempt was thwarted by the voice in his head urging him to stop.

Her voice.

Back on Earth, he'd referred to himself as more of a delegator when it came to running Hell. On the whole, that was true. His demons followed the commands they were given, but mostly he left them to their own devices. Apart from a few exceptions, he no longer had any interest in the specifics. Instead, he merely performed the duties that were required of him and nothing more. The only thing he looked forward to in this Dad forsaken place were the days he spent determining what should be done with the rarities when they appeared. The souls actually worthy of his attention. That unique breed of humanity that either felt no guilt, or had so much that they fell through the cracks of the system.

In his experience, guilt tended to be a specific thing; a memory of something gone wrong, an action thoroughly regretted. A dark spot within the soul that if left unchecked, would grow until it tainted everything it touched. It was the penitence never given, the shame you couldn't forget, the remorse felt with your last dying breath. Whether they knew it or not, humans tormented themselves with these wrongdoings for the rest of their mortal lives, and when they died, that torment became their reality.

When the sin was too much though, tied to so many events within one lifetime, a soul might be unable to decide for itself what penance was due. In that instance, the creation of a hell loop would fail. The same applied to those who couldn't perceive the guilt twisted throughout their souls; the ones who made it to Heaven only to be cast down again as soon as they were discovered. They fell, just as he did. He smiled bitterly at that, thinking of the human he'd assisted in skipping that particular step.

Unbeknownst to Cain, from the moment he murdered his brother there lay only two possible futures ahead of him. He would walk the Earth forever as his God had ordained, or reside here in the depths with the damned, inside a cell of his own making. For it was never the Almighty alone that had cursed him. In truth he had cursed himself, and no matter his fate, it still meant torture without end.

That however, was information Lucifer had never deigned to share. Why would he, when it didn't serve his objective? The first murderer desired to die and the first fallen desired to grant him that wish. It was of no concern to him what came after. Striking a blow against dear old Dad was all that mattered.

Over time, he started to identify with the immortal whose life he would one day take. Considered him a friend even. It was only their deal that kept him from wavering. When that contract was broken, their comradery soon followed, along with any intention he had of enlightening Cain of his misconceptions. The Silver City had never been destined for the psychopaths, the murderers, the monsters. No, their place was here in dark with him, the biggest monster of them all.

So when they arrived, those sinners without a door of their own, he would greet them. Delivering his welcome speech was bittersweet, the very opposite of what those worthy would be receiving up above. One by one they came to him on their knees, and he would use his gifts upon them, as he now believed his father had intended all along. Drawing out the desires of the damned was even easier than it had been on Earth, all resistance non-existent now that they resided in his domain. It was those desires he would turn against them, forging a method of torture straight from their nightmares, a punishment to fit their crimes. The denizens of Hell gathered in the shadows as he worked, eagerly awaiting for their master to decide the fate of their new toys.

There was no mercy now. Never again would he feel pity for those without guilt; those with so much blood on their hands that no one offence could be considered greater than the others. He may have chosen to stay away from the role of torturer himself, but the sentences he decreed were so much worse than before. For in every sadistic, inhuman soul that stood before him, he saw the face of the man who had tried to hurt his Detective.

Decision made, he yet again began to follow the path to the chamber he had come to know so well. He liked to watch. It reminded him of what he had done when he'd chosen to kill, why he was just as worthy of damnation as his prisoner was. Seeking out the former immortal had been his first priority upon his return. His loop was of Charlotte. Her death, her life that would never be. Almost immediately, Lucifer had begun to alter it. One form of suffering wasn't enough for Cain, it wasn't what he deserved.

It had been an arduous process. One by one, he'd reviewed the memories Cain had retained of his long life, removing anything even remotely positive. When the work was complete, only the reasons he had longed to end it all remained. The boredom of immortality, the suffering of death, the disappointment of resurrection and the loss of everyone he loved. It was a masterpiece in punishment.

Always, without fail, the loop would end with Chloe. The woman Cain had supposedly loved, the woman he'd been so easily willing to kill. As soon as she fired her gun he would awaken. As the bullets rained down, he would remember where he was, and why exactly he was there. Slowly, the realisation of what was about to happen would hit him, along with the understanding that this was all that lay ahead for eternity. The instant that knowledge sank in, it would all begin again.

That was why Lucifer came here so often. To see the terror in Cain's eyes as he recognised his fate. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly vengeful, he would leave him aware, trapped inside his own mind as he relived his existence from the beginning. That particular form of torture never lasted long though, his conscience reminding him that she wouldn't want this. Wouldn't want him to sink to the depths of which he believed himself to be capable.

He wandered further into the depths, idly running his fingers along the coarse stone walls. Fingers that longed for ivory gliding under his skin, for the feel of sweeping back sun-kissed hair. Each time he brushed over the doors, he saw flashes of what was inside. An arsonist here, a thief over there, all in their own personal Hell. He smiled, amused by some of the self-inflicted punishments the human mind could dream up. It had to have been at least a thousand years since he'd spent time exploring the cells like this, and it was a more than welcome distraction from the monotony of having to do the work himself.

He was so absorbed in what he was seeing, that he failed to notice when he took a wrong turn. The halls of Hell were all so similar that it took him a moment to realise he was in a corridor he'd never been in before, another branch of this endless labyrinth. Envigored by the idea of encountering something new, he persisted in his explorations, skimming past the surfaces of the many doors ahead of him. Crimes committed, misdeeds unrepented... his mind was flooded with the memories of these sinners.

And then, he saw himself.

Shocked, he withdrew hastily, yanking his hand away from the rough metal, his mind racing as he backed into the opposite wall. This door couldn't be his, could it? It wouldn't make sense, not now. He'd been here for millennia. Surely, if this chamber was meant for him, he would have been drawn to it a long time ago. There wasn't even a reason for him to have a cell anymore. As hard as it had been, he'd long since come to terms with his part in Uriel's death, and he felt no guilt over Cain's whatsoever. Yes, there were many things about that day that still affected him greatly, but regret over killing that bastard wasn't one of them. His lack of remorse concerning his actions was one of the many reasons he belonged down here after all.

Carefully, he stepped forward and examined the door. It felt like any other. There was no pull, no irresistible urge to go inside, unlike the last time he had become ensnared in his own guilt. When he initially arrived back in Hell, despite his conviction, he'd been wary. He wouldn't have been the first to believe that a death was justified, only to find himself sorely mistaken when confronted by the reality. And that was without even considering the other things he'd done. The hurt he'd caused those he left behind.

But no door lay in wait, and although his time in Hell was nothing if not repetitive, it was no loop. He was sure of it. This infernal place was no different than it had been before; the only thing that had changed in the time he'd been gone was him. Prior to his vacation to Earth, he'd merely been restless, tired of the mantle he was forced to endure. Now, it felt as though half of him were missing.

Every few centuries, when the pain of being without the Detective became too much, he would fly up to the surface, just for a little while. She was a call he could not resist. It became harder each time, forcing himself to watch from a distance instead of being by her side. That wasn't his place anymore.

As time went on, she began to change. The gold in her hair became silver, the lines on her face no longer faded. He barely noticed. To him, she was never anything but beautiful. It was rare she ventured out into the field anymore, the burden of chasing down suspects left to officers much faster on their feet. He preferred it that way, that she stayed safe. A few more years behind a desk saw her hang up her badge, and close her final case. Instead of the precinct, he would find her near the ocean, in a home where she could see the waves wash upon the sand.

His visits grew more frequent, and the temptation to talk to her stronger. There was so much he didn't know. What she thought of during all those nights on the beach, gazing at the stars as she bathed in the moonlight. Why she was still alone, why she'd never chosen someone to spend her life with. If she could ever forgive him for hurting her.

He knew that wasn't possible though. From the moment she saw the truth, it was over. The fear in her eyes as she backed away from him... he didn't want to ever see her look at him that way again. At first he'd been unaware, confused as to why she was acting like this. Then, as he reached out towards her, she recoiled. And that was when he knew.

"Stay away from me."

The decision to go back to Hell had been immediate. There was no time to think about it, no time to prepare. His world was falling apart right before his eyes and he couldn't stand to watch. The anguished cry he made as he spread his wings had little to do with the pain.

And so he left her. And returned to her. Over and over.

Until one day, she wasn't there anymore.

They buried her in fire, and said goodbye in water. When it was over, he remained. Her soul might be gone, but some part of her was still here. On her beach. Their beach.

There were no stars that night.

He would never return to Earth again.

Hesitantly, he placed his hand upon the door once more, and his mirror image appeared before him. He looked very much as he did now, wandering through the desolate passages of Hell, restlessness etched upon his face. It was disturbing, seeing how distraught he looked when no one was watching, the pain in his eyes just as visible as in any condemned soul he'd seen.

But someone was watching. This cell wasn't empty. Pulling his focus away from his own form, a feat in of itself, he could see a shadow there, standing motionless as they observed him. A silhouette that seemed all too familiar. A feeling of dread took hold in his chest as he drew closer to the door. He heard a voice speak his name, and his heart turned to ice.

No.

It couldn't be.

It was impossible.

It had to be impossible.

He blinked, and the vision was gone, leaving only the steel clad entrance in its wake. He didn't even have to think about it. One second he was in the corridor, ash falling down all around him, and the next he was inside, the door closing behind him. It was the first time he had dared enter a cell alone in millennia. The risk had simply been too great. But it was always worth the risk.

For her.