Lucifer opened his eyes and found himself on his feet, wide awake. Odd, yes, but really not the strangest thing he'd experienced in his long life. That had been in Budapest at the turn of the century. This was nothing compared to that.
He blinked, automatically adjusting a cufflink, his fingers appreciating the fine fabric of his suit jacket: white, with a glint of silver.
Well, no, that might make this experience top even Budapest on the weirdness scale. When he'd closed his eyes, he hadn't been wearing anything, and he never wore white suits, even ones with a silver sheen, as this one had. They were too difficult to keep tidy. Really, they made him think of comic book villains and, well, the clothing he'd worn in the Silver City back in the bad old days.
He took a step - really, even his shoes were white - and the sound came oddly muffled to his ears.
The landscape, too, was all pale, undulating into the distance, the muted greys and whites fading into one another, and all, like his suit, touched with a hint of silver.
"Hello," he called, and the thickness of the air swallowed his speech.
Was he in Hell? He would have remembered dying, he thought, but maybe something had happened. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep, one arm slung over Chloe, but now he wasn't sure.
Things had been going too well, that was it. Chloe had accepted him for who he was, and they had finally come to a rather marvelous understanding. Of course something had happened to change that.
Had one of his siblings done this? His father? Lucifer made an exasperated sound that came to his ears as if through cotton and stepped forward, moving somewhere, anywhere. The air thickened around him, dragging at his steps, but he pushed on, and eventually the walking became easier.
He started to see things out of the corner of his eyes, hints of buildings and trees that would disappear when he turned to look at them full-on.
Lucifer walked for what felt like half an age, but, given the lack of consistent landmarks, could have been just a few minutes. He attempted to twitch at his cufflink once more, only to find that the suit had been replaced by robes that hung on him with claustrophobic familiarity. They too were white, touched with silver, and the shoes were gone altogether, leaving his feet bare.
Lucifer frowned at his toes. He'd never been fond of them. Suddenly suspicious, he touched his hair: yes, curly, free of product, and longer than he'd kept it in ages. His face? Clean-shaven.
"What the -" he whispered, though he cut off his words when he noticed the door. It stood some distance ahead, affixed to no wall that he could see. Cobwebs clung to its corner, as if the door had been forgotten, perhaps even by the spider that had spun the web.
Well, thought a tiny corner of his mind, Why should a random door make any more sense than the rest of this?
But a disconcerting suspicion had been growing.
Lucifer eased open the door, mindful of the cobweb's proximity to his hair, then drew back as someone approached.
It was Amenadiel, yes, but an Amenadiel untouched by eons, a granite block to whom some sculptor had not yet taken a vigorous personality chisel.
He hadn't been visible before Lucifer had opened the door, and the landscape on the other side of the doorway held a vibrancy that was severely lacking in his surroundings.
Lucifer stepped back before Amenadiel could see him, watching his brother make his ponderous way.
Well. He really had always walked like that.
Lucifer drew in a breath, as his suspicion crystallized into realization. He knew where he was, though he had no idea how he'd gotten there. Was it a dream, brought on by the wretched candy that Beatrice had insisted he try? (He wasn't certain what circus peanuts were made of, but was quite sure that their inventor had earned a spot in Hell.) Had it been caused by Chloe's obscenely early viewing of It's a Wonderful Life, after Beatrice had gone off to Daniel's for the evening? (Not a Halloween movie by any definition, but Chloe had insisted, and who was he to deny her?)
For it was clear where Lucifer was, if not when: the Silver City, his former home.
Lucifer tried not to skulk as he made his way along the path. Look like you belong, he urged himself. His head felt too big and too fluffy, and he tried not to toss back his hair, firmly reminding himself that at least it wasn't long enough for that. He'd managed to avoid his family, but there was one being he thought he might want to see, depending on when he was.
He approached the dwelling, wishing that he had backup. Miss Lopez would likely be too starry-eyed, and Daniel would be overwhelmed. Doctor Linda would likely want him to talk him through it all, and while the thought of letting Maze loose in the Silver City was a glorious one, Lucifer decided that wouldn't end well for anyone, least of all Maze.
No, it was Chloe he wanted at his side. He missed her determination, the presence. He pushed away his longing, even as he opened the door. "Hello?" he called, his voice tentative.
And there she was, looking the same as she ever had: his mother. She turned to regard him, her eyebrows lifting in inquiry. "Well?"
"I thought I'd come see you," Lucifer replied, drawing no closer.
His mother frowned, pulling on an expression of petulance, though Lucifer saw the pain hidden beneath. Had she always looked like that? Had he just missed it when he was younger, too lost in his own hurt at her unfathomable coldness? "Did your father send you? Has he finally given up those toys?"
Lucifer kept his expression neutral. Whenever he was, it wasn't as far back as he would have chosen to come, and he suddenly wished he had not attempted this visit. "No, Mum." Whatever the time, that was always the answer to his mother's question, for his father's attention inevitably remained with his newest creations.
"Come here, Samael."
Lucifer managed not to flinch at his old name, but drew closer, biddable as his younger self had been. His mother brushed a hand on his cheek and gave him a searching look, and almost it was like the early days. But then her expression shuttered, and she said only, "Tell your father that I'm ready to listen to his apology whenever he has turned his attention back where it belongs."
"He didn't send me, Mum," Lucifer repeated, his voice quiet. He knew nothing good could come of this conversation, and considered a speedy departure. "But one day he will send someone, and just…" Lucifer hesitated, unsure how much he could say. In films and stories, revealing too much about the future never worked out well. So he said simply, "Be careful, Mum." He leaned in to hug her quickly, and disengaged before she could pull away, turning to leave. He risked a glance over his shoulder as he departed, and saw his mother watching him leave, her expression puzzled.
Well, no, he hadn't been a hugger when he had been here as Samael. Samael had tended to keep others at a distance - God's venom, after all - until he too had become intrigued by his father's creations and the freedoms they had been granted. Maybe his mother had seen his interest in the humans as another betrayal; perhaps that was why she hadn't -
No. That hadn't happened yet, and Lucifer didn't want to think about it.
Lucifer came to a stop as a thought struck him, reaching to adjust his robes in a gesture both automatic and distressing. All those years, and he hadn't forgotten how to deal with the dress. He had chosen suits for a reason.
Still, the airflow was pleasant.
He corralled his brain back to the thought that had stopped him: however he had gotten there, he was in the Silver City, in a time before everything had gone so wrong.
Could he fix it? Could he somehow find a way to gain his freedom without ending up in Hell?
Would he want to?
First he would need to see if enacting a change was even possible. After all, it could be that he couldn't change anything major. That would be a particularly grim Hell loop, stuck moving toward his own inexorable fall.
Well, then, he could try an experiment. Could he change something small, something that would, he hoped, have no later impact on his life?
It was worth a try, and then he could decide what else, if anything he might want to try to change.
He set off, full of purpose, and did his best not to be distracted by all the painfully familiar sights. Just there was the tree where his mother had spun tales for Lucifer and his siblings, in better times. He remembered her fingers stroking his head as he nestled against her, lulled to a drowse by her words.
Even then, his father had been mostly absent, but his mother had still been hopeful that he would return.
"What are you doing here, Samael?"
The words jolted Lucifer from his reverie, spoken as they were in a tone both accusing and curious. He recognized the voice, of course. After all, some nights it still haunted his dreams, and he'd struggle awake, putting off Chloe's concern with vague assurances.
Lucifer turned, pasting on a smile over his unease. "Uriel. Brother, hello. Lovely day, don't you think?" Of course it was; all the days were lovely in the Silver City.
Uriel folded his arms over his chest and drew himself up, possibly trying to make himself look taller. "You're not supposed to be here."
You don't know the half of it, brother, Lucifer thought ruefully.
"Where should I be instead?" he asked, keeping his tone light. His brows lifted as Uriel scoffed in response.
"As if you don't know," Uriel replied. "I'm surprised that you have chosen to be here, though, rather than with the humans." Uriel's mouth twisted, as if just speaking of humanity was akin to tasting something sour.
Lucifer sighed. "I suppose I should be off doing something for dear old Dad," he allowed, trying to keep the bitterness from his tone. When Uriel nodded, his expression suggesting that of course that's what he should be doing, Lucifer smiled. "Brother, doesn't it get tiresome?"
"Tiresome?" Uriel echoed. "Serving our father? Of course not." Though he didn't move his head, his gaze shifted, as if he was looking for observers.
Lucifer had managed to forget the intrigue that had overtaken the Silver City in the years before his abrupt departure. He hadn't missed it, though certainly Hell had had its own, more potentially lethal intrigue.
Still, he reasoned that he might be able to try to effect a change here, with Uriel. "Of course not," he echoed, his tone honeyed, though not so much as to arouse suspicion. Dutiful son, he. "But sometimes it's nice to do something for yourself, yes? Go for a flight, that sort of thing." He hesitated, trying to think of something that would appeal to Uriel, but then impulsively suggested, "Would you like to go see my stars?"
Uriel looked for a moment like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, but then his expression softened a little. "You mean, go with you?"
Lucifer felt a twinge of guilt, sharp as Mazikeen's knives. Had he been so awful to Uriel, really, that this simple offer was enough to change his brother's attitude?
"Of course," Lucifer replied, though a niggling voice at the back of his mind suggested that this might not be a small change that he was enacting. He wiped his hands on his robes, still feeling Uriel's blood there, remembering how Azrael's blade had felt as it punctured his brother's flesh. "Do you want to go now?"
Uriel smiled. "I do. I was going to… well, never mind. It can wait."
Lucifer nodded, saying, "We can see them well enough here, but the view really is better down there, if you'd like to try it?"
Uriel's face went stiff, and he looked ready to refuse. Lucifer smiled, then, and Uriel nodded, albeit hesitantly. "For a little while."
The two took to the air, and Lucifer led the way to Earth, marveling at its emptiness. The humans really had built up the place over the years. As he came to ground, Lucifer realized that he had chosen what had been his usual landing site, one that was relatively near to the humans. They did not appear to be active, though, so Lucifer didn't mention it to Uriel, instead gesturing upward.
"See what Lucifer hath wrought," he proclaimed.
"Lightbringer?" Uriel echoed, puzzled, but then he shrugged as he peered into the sky. "I suppose it fits, considering." Squinting, he added, "Looks like you made them into shapes?"
Lucifer looked upward for a moment, then suggested, "It looks better if you look at them this way." Mindful of how his robe flapped, he stretched out on the grass, wings still out, pillowing his head on his folded arms.
Uriel looked down his nose at Lucifer. "On the ground?"
Lucifer couldn't help but laugh at Uriel's dismay. "Give it a try, brother. You might like it." Sensing Uriel's reticence, he added, a small barb to his voice, "Or we could go back, if you're not enjoying yourself."
Lucifer watched his brother's face out of the corner of his eye and saw Uriel's desire to be included warring with his distaste. Grimacing, Uriel eased himself to the ground, the edge of his wing brushing against Lucifer's.
Lucifer didn't say anything, but instead peered upward. His breath caught. Had he forgotten how lovely the stars were? Maybe it was the clarity of the sky, free from air and light pollution and buildings, or maybe it was just that he hadn't taken the time to look, really look in…
Well. A long time. He listened to the sound of Uriel's breathing, and to the quiet noises of the night, and slowly felt the tension leave his body.
"So," Uriel said, his voice tentative.
"Hm?" Lucifer glanced over, but Uriel's gaze was skyward.
"Did you mean to make them like that? I would have thought straight lines would have been easier." Uncharacteristically, Uriel's voice held no judgment, no defensiveness. It was an olive branch, of sorts.
Lucifer bit back on a chuckle, feeling a sudden, bittersweet fondness for his brother. "Straight lines are boring," he said, though gently. "And when have you ever known me to take the easy way, brother?" That drew a rueful chuckle from Uriel, and Lucifer continued, "When I made the stars, I put pictures in the sky for the humans."
"But aren't they too busy just surviving to look into the sky?" Uriel asked, his voice quiet, and Lucifer thought that maybe his brother had more compassion for the humans than he'd guessed.
"Some, yes," Lucifer agreed. "But there are always the dreamers, the ones who look into the sky, wanting something more. My stars are for them. And it was more amusing to put in pictures," he admitted.
Uriel made a soft noise of understanding. "That makes more sense. You do have to keep yourself entertained."
Lucifer heard Uriel slipping into his old disdainful ways, and said, "Of course. But it's more than that." He turned to watch his brother, saying, "Someday the humans will make up stories about what they see in the sky. Look at them." He willed it, and constellations brightened as he spoke of them. "Those will be a hunter, and that will be a harp. And that one," he added, brightening Taurus, "Just reminded me of Amenadiel."
"Huh," Uriel murmured. "It looks like that animal that father created, the one with the horns." He paused a beat then added, with a sly humor Lucifer had not thought him capable of, "The stubborn one."
Lucifer laughed, the noise ringing loud in the peacefulness of this Earth. "Just so, brother."
How had he missed this side of Uriel? The two of them fell into easy conversation until Uriel finally sat up and said, "I should get back. Father -"
He didn't finish, but Lucifer understood. With their father, there was always something. "Coming?" Uriel added.
Lucifer shook his head, though when he spoke his tone was not one of rejection. "I think I'll stay here a bit longer."
Uriel nodded as he got to his feet. "Suit yourself, Samael," he said. His wings arched, but he paused before leaving to say, "I like your stars. The pictures. I'm glad you didn't just make straight lines."
Lucifer watched as his brother took to the air, not sure what had just happened between them. He and Uriel had long been at odds; had it really taken so little for them to reach an accord? Had he been so self-absorbed before, not to notice how his brother wanted to be included?
Well, perhaps. He had been so much younger then, and the tempering of age allowed Lucifer to see things he might not have noticed in his tempestuous youth.
Maybe their conversation would amount to nothing, but it had happened, and Lucifer felt the better for it. And it was a change, for certainly he and Uriel had barely managed civility when Lucifer had lived this the first time.
Lucifer stretched out and studied his stars for a little while longer, until a rustling sound from the nearby brush caught his attention. Without moving, he slid his gaze in that direction, and found a human watching him.
Ah. Him. Lucifer didn't say anything, turning his gaze skyward once more. Eventually, the human emerged, though he remained near the brush. "Was that your brother?"
Lucifer made an affirmative noise and sat up, his wings arching behind him as he turned to face the human.
"Do you like him?"
Lucifer hesitated over his answer, considering what the ramifications could be. But, being himself, he told the truth. "Sometimes. But sometimes not."
Cain nodded, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Lucifer tried to figure out how old he was, how near to his own personal tipping point, but he had never been good at judging ages. Soon, though, probably, if the coldness in Cain's eyes was any sign.
"I don't like my brother."
Lucifer nodded. He studied Cain, idly thinking of the future pain he could spare himself if he just reached out and ended things, but that was rather a large change to make, likely with many ripples as well. There was also that pesky no-killing-humans rule. Instead, he said, "He probably doesn't like you either, if that's any consolation."
Cain snorted, a short, bitter sound. "No, he does. He's the good one."
Lucifer firmly told himself that his situation and Cain's were entirely different. "Maybe you could emulate him," he suggested, already anticipating the response before Cain scoffed a negative.
"Why bother?" Cain asked. "My parents have already set their judgment upon me."
Lucifer hesitated over his reply. He had no particular fondness for Abel, and he knew that nudging Cain away from killing his brother would certainly make a lasting impact on humanity. He also thought Cain should be able to make his own choices - well, while Cain was here, millenia away from the Detective, at least. He must have taken too long to answer, for Cain's countenance darkened, and he withdrew once more toward the brush.
"It seems you have made your own judgment as well," Cain threw over his shoulder as he departed, and Lucifer resisted the urge to call him a wanker. He'd forgotten how prickly Cain had been in his youth, before the eons had stripped away his personality.
Lucifer could get up, follow Cain, but then there was the chance of running into Eve. She, of all the beings he might encounter here in Earth, would be the most likely to realize that there was something off about him.
His decision not to try to influence Cain's life did make him consider whether he should try to change his own circumstances. He would be making his own decisions, after all, rather than attempting to direct someone else's life.
Was there a way to avoid his fate in Hell? Even now, he could remember the agony of the fall. He could try to talk with his father, possibly -
No. That would never work. And for all the misery of his fall, Hell had not been without its positives, odd as that was to say, and that path had led him to Chloe.
His talk with Uriel, Lucifer assumed, would have no lasting impact, but he worried about what might happen if he attempted something else. He didn't want to risk any change that might turn his path from Chloe, from any of his human friends. If his fall was what was required to get him there… well, so be it. Lucifer did hope that he could somehow get back to his time and place, though; acknowledging its necessity did not mean he wanted to live through the Fall again.
So, then, he would stay here a while longer and then go in search of that odd door. Maybe that would help him return.
Thus decided, Lucifer settled back against the grass and once more peered into the sky, his attention lost among his stars.
Lucifer woke, but kept his eyes closed as he tried to figure out where he was. He touched the rich softness of a blanket and exhaled softly: he was back in bed. He rubbed his chin, relieved to feel stubble, then ran a careful hand along reassuringly straight hair.
Good. It had been a dream, brought on by overindulgence in both sugar and movies that should not be watched before Thanksgiving.
Drowsily, Lucifer reached for Chloe, only to find the other half of the bed empty, and he sat bolt upright in alarm, opening his eyes.
The room looked as it had when he'd gone to sleep, with one heart-stopping exception. "Detective," he called, not even caring how panicked he sounded. "Chloe!"
He tumbled from the bed, then hurried throughout the penthouse, finally ending up on the balcony. There he saw, with blinding relief, Chloe seated with a coffee and a case file.
"Hey, sleepyhead," she greeted, with a fond smile. "Thought I was going to have to come wake you up, but we both know how that would have ended."
"I could go pretend to be sleeping," Lucifer suggested, though he could tell from Chloe's concerned look that the joke had fallen flat.
She got to her feet, setting aside her drink. "You okay?"
He nodded, pulling on a smile. "I woke from the oddest dream," he said. "And then you weren't there, and -"
Lucifer couldn't finish the sentence, but somehow Chloe knew. She leaned in and pulled him close. "Hey. I'm not going anywhere," she reassured.
Lucifer all but enveloped Chloe, holding her close. This wasn't the first time she'd told him that, and Lucifer wondered how long it would be before she got sick of having to say it. For that moment, though, she was there.
"But you need to get dressed," Chloe said finally, rubbing lightly at his back before easing away from him. "We're going to get Trixie from Dan's and then go meet up with your brother. That was today, right?" she added, seeing Lucifer's confusion.
"Possibly," he replied faintly. "It will be good to see Amenadiel, I suppose."
Her brows lowered in puzzlement. "Is Amenadiel coming, too? I thought he and Uriel didn't get along."
Lucifer sank to a seat, disoriented by the two sets of conflicting memories Chloe's words triggered. Images of Uriel flooded his mind, and he gripped at the chair's arm, trying to anchor himself to reality.
"… don't have to go," Chloe was saying, when everything finally righted itself in Lucifer's mind. The memory of stabbing Uriel was still there, but hazy, as of a half-forgotten dream. As he drew in a long breath, it faded still more.
"What?"
"I need to get Trixie, but you don't have to go, if you want to go back to bed," Chloe repeated, clearly concerned. "Or I can ask Dan if she can stay there," she added, "If you'd rather not be alone. We can cancel with Uriel; he won't mind."
Lucifer shook his head, and carefully got to his feet. "No, it's all right," he said. "I'd quite like to see my brother."
He did, and it was a different Uriel, friendly and confident, and Lucifer was glad. But still he wondered, in the back of his mind, what else he might have changed.