Chloe slipped her hand from Lucifer's grasp not long after he fell asleep. His father - God - had insisted Lucifer sleep, since apparently extreme fatigue was something that could only be healed via means so complex it was all around easier on even celestial bodies to just sleep it off. She'd sat in a somewhat awkward silence with God for twenty minutes before she caught movement across the window of the room's door and noticed Dan.

She'd nearly forgotten the phone call they had (while Lucifer was getting a bullet removed from his arm) about how worried Trixie had been when she learned one of her favorite people had gotten hurt. They agreed she could visit him after a somewhat tense conversation in which she had to remind Dan that Lucifer couldn't possibly be the embodiment of evil if God Himself had come down from heaven to heal him.

"I'll be right back," she murmured as she stood.

God gave her a soft hum of acknowledgment, but seemed lost in his thoughts. She wondered if he was looking through space and time, or simply haunted by how his falling out with Lucifer had nearly resulted in his son losing his life several times now.

Watching Lucifer fall to pieces from the stress of it all had put a nigh permanent lump in her throat.

Trixie was sniffling in Dan's arms when Chloe joined them in the hall.

"Hey, Monkey," she said softly, opening her arms for her daughter. "It's okay, sweetheart. Lucifer's gonna be okay."

"Who was that man?" Trixie asked as she went to her mother, her subdued voice a clear indicator of how worried she'd been. "He looks a lot like Lucifer."

"He does, doesn't he?" Chloe agreed. "That's Lucifer's dad."

Trixie sat up so quickly it would've been humorous if her expression weren't distraught.

"And you left him?!" Trixie cried. "But Lucifer said his dad hates him!"

She squirmed so hard Chloe couldn't hold her, and bolted for Lucifer's door once she was on her feet.

"We can't leave him alone in there!"

"Trixie wait!" Chloe hissed, chasing after her daughter and hoping Lucifer wouldn't get woken up from his much-needed rest.

Surprisingly, Trixie had the tact to whisper-yell once she got into Lucifer's room.

"Get away from, Lucifer!"

Oh for the love of…

"Ah," God sounded amused. "You must be Beatrice. I wouldn't normally challenge such a willful young lady, but I'm keeping Samael's nightmares at bay. I'm afraid if I stray too far, I won't be able to keep his rest peaceful."

Chloe tried to send the God of Creation an apologetic look, but he was giving Trixie his undivided, infinitely patient attention.

"Are you the one who hurt Lucifer?" Trixie demanded in another fierce whisper.

God shook his head. "Not this time, young one. But we had a rather...unfortunate disagreement a very long time ago. I presume my son has confided in you somewhat. It warms my heart to see his friends gathered to support him...and protect him."

"Trixie," Chloe began gently. "Lucifer's relationship with his dad is...complicated. But his father isn't here to hurt him."

Trixie's posture still radiated distrust, but her raised hackles settled slightly. "Are you really God?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I am," he replied. "You've asked me to keep your mother safe a few times, if I recall."

"And Lucifer," Trixie said pointedly.

God smiled slightly. "And my son, yes. I keep him safe when I can, but it's difficult to do so without taking away his freedom to choose his own path."

Trixie glanced back at Chloe, uncertainty swimming in her eyes, before she turned back to God. "So you're not mad at each other anymore?"

God chuckled. "I imagine Samael is still upset with me, but I haven't been angry with him for thousands of years."

"Do you love him again?"

God's expression crumbled, sadness darkening his gaze. "I never stopped loving my son, Beatrice. I just...made him feel like I had. I'm trying to fix that now."

"Have you missed him?"

"Trixie," Chloe sighed. "Enough, Monkey."

God shared a weighted look with the ten-year-old before him. "Every single day," he answered. "Everything at home reminds me of him in some way."

Trixie finally softened, nodding sagely. "I think he missed you too. But he didn't want to say so."

"The spawns omnipotence rivals yours."

They all turned towards the bed to find Lucifer's eyes cracked open. He looked slightly more rested, but the day's events had obviously taken their toll. He cracked a small smile at Trixie, in part, Chloe thought, to avoid his father's gaze.

"Hello, Child."

"Lucifer!" She ran up to his bedside, unbothered by her proximity to God, and Chloe sighed in exasperation. "Are you okay?"

Only her child would disregard God's personal space so she could check on 'Satan'.

"It's a nonsense moniker, I agree," God mused, standing to give Trixie and Lucifer some privacy. "Forgive my eavesdropping. I've been listening to the thoughts of all humans coming near this room since Samael arrived. Just in case."

"Don't worry about it," Chloe said. Honestly, of all the things she could get her panties in a twist over, God tuning into her thoughts felt like a stupid battle to pick anyway. "So...did the whole garden thing really happen?"

"With Eve?" God clarified. "Yes, but that wasn't Samael. He has a fraternal twin - Azazel. I've...come to realize that Azazel and his mother were the true leaders of Samael's 'rebellion'. They manipulated him to the forefront, likely so he would take the fall for them. It pains me that they succeeded."

"What did Lucifer do?" she asked, watching Trixie frown and gently kiss the bandage on Lucifer's arm, obviously catching him off guard.

He even returned her gentle hug and let her lay against him a while.

"Are your wings okay?" Chloe heard her ask. Lucifer's reply was too soft to catch.

"He learned to think for himself on matters of importance," God said quietly. "It was something I taught him, really. Or perhaps he inherited it. Either way, he couldn't have helped me sculpt humanity if I'd held his hand the whole time. That's why I never asked for help. Samael was the first visionary amongst my offspring…the first to share his own ideas with me on the project at the time."

"Which made him a target for the selfish and bitter members of your family," Chloe guessed.

"Indeed."

Trixie released Lucifer, allowing him to gingerly sit up.

God frowned, worried. "Samael…you need your rest."

Lucifer took a few labored breaths, one hand held out to silence his father. Then he spread his wings.

It took Chloe a moment to realize God had paused time again. Leaving the room's inhabitants unfrozen.

Two tears slid down Lucifer's cheeks as he winced. His wings looked fully healed from what Chloe could see, though.

"Sore?" God asked gently.

Lucifer sighed. "It's fine."

"Is it truly or are you suffering unnecessarily?" God parried.

Trixie's quiet awe turned into worry. "Can he make your wings better?" she asked.

Lucifer nodded.

"Then why won't you let him help?"

His wings drooped. "Old habits, I think...but perhaps you raise a fair point, Beatrice…"

He swallowed audibly, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

God gave him a sympathetic smile. "May I?"

One wing twitched in God's direction. He took a few steps forward and gently soothed some of the feathers back into place as he fed light into them. A tremble went through both wings as the tension left them, and God barely caught Samael's muttered thanks.

"You're welcome," he said warmly. "It's hardly a chore, but I'd commit to the effort if it were."

"See?" Trixie whispered to Lucifer, beaming. "I don't think he was lying. Mommy says she'll always love me no matter what, even if I do something bad."

Lucifer gently reached out to pat Trixie on the head, but didn't seem capable of offering a response.

Chloe noticed how God seemed reluctant to release Lucifer's wing, making her wonder how the extra appendages influenced things like personal space and affection for celestials. She imagined a child-sized Lucifer curled against his father on a cloud and tried to shake the image away before Lucifer noticed.

She forgot about God's mind reading until she noticed his expression had switched from closed off to somewhat amused.

"If a day ever comes where I can tease him again, I'd be happy to give you a peek into the past. One of my younger daughters reminds me of yours, actually. Azrael."

"The angel of death?" Chloe asked.

God nodded. "Collector of souls, really. It was Samael's duty first, but her powers were better suited for the task."

Chloe decided that she needed to do some research, that way she could fact check the celestials and make sense of everything.

She was pulled out of her strategizing when she accidentally tuned in to a quiet conversation between Lucifer and her daughter.

"...I'd be in your debt, Beatrice, if you could inform Mazikeen that my father's presence is peaceful. If he stays on this plane of existence overnight, I'd rather someone help him get settled in my penthouse and lock the elevator. But I think your mother could use some rest as well - be sure to mention that. You know how Maze is, Hell's best demoness won't be looking forward to this task."

Trixie nodded with eager understanding. "I'll tell her that I gave him a talking to already and that she has to be nice."

Lucifer's lips twitched. "That should do nicely, Spawn. And as promised, when I'm free from this healthcare hell, you'll receive your money and your chocolate cake."

Beaming, Trixie held out a hand and they shook on it. Chloe couldn't even muster up some minor annoyance at Lucifer's collusion. Surely being taught how to bargain by God's craftiest son would only open doors in Trixie's future...

God followed his son's loyal demon through the night club he'd only seen from above, a faint smile gracing his features as he took in the space. The ambient lighting reminded him of the first galaxies he ever made with his son, but his impatient guide didn't allow him more than a moment of admiration before she snapped at His Holy Creation-ness to hurry up.

Samael's penthouse was even more fitting. The bright, warm lighting from the elevator and the wall behind the bar were a blatant nod to cooler hues of starlight, perhaps even Sol itself. The openness of the space gave him a similar sense of deja vu. The balcony and jacuzzi made his chest ache. He'd noticed before, but standing in his son's chosen home made it much more obvious that those two features were a blatant recreation of his living space and stomping grounds in heaven.

The historical aspects were also a nice touch, nodding to his previous visits to the human realm.

"I don't know why he's trusting you," the demon said coldly from the entryway. "But God or not, betray him again and I put an end to you. And...don't touch the top shelf stuff. Last time I checked, he didn't like you enough for that degree of hospitality."

Trying to hide his amusement for the sake of avoiding a surely unavoidable conflict, God said, "Last time either of us checked, my son didn't 'like me enough' to offer me the use of his guest room. And I think I mentioned this in the car, but I'm not here to antagonize Samael."

"His name is Lucifer," she snapped. "And whatever. This isn't really my problem anyway. He's hurt. I'm doing him a favor because he used Decker's kid to talk me into this shit."

"I appreciate you doing my son a favor," God said carefully, turning to face Mazikeen. "Although I do wonder if you realize that your freedom is a gift from my son, not some right you've claimed for yourself or manipulated out of him… I'd think you'd have realized how benevolent your master is. He's certainly treated you better about demanding your freedom - not to mention completely disregarding his trust for your own selfish gains - than myself or my other children would have been."

The hate burning in Mazikeen's eyes seemed too overwhelming, preventing her from forming an immediate comeback. Her only response was the hand that twitched towards her blades.

God's smile cooled the room. "By all means, don't torment yourself a moment longer in my presence, dear girl. My eldest will soon bring me a cell phone, though I don't think I need it, and I can certainly call on any of my children if I have need of anything."

A slight snarl came from the demon. "I'm watching you."

He chuckled. "I'm sure you are. Let me know how well that pans out without omnipotent foresight."

She glared at him until the elevator doors cut off her line of sight.

God sighed. Truth be told, he expected that interaction to go much worse.

He moved towards the bar, ignoring Mazikeen's threat about the top shelf since his son had specifically told him that he'd prefer the half-empty bottle resting 'on high'. Single malt.

God poured himself 3 fingers to sip and found the burn as pleasant as Samael promised. The bite of cinnamon left a biting warmth behind as well that he quite enjoyed, but it wasn't too sweet.

He'd just started to relax sometime later when a timid voice floated into his awareness.

...Dad?

He smiled, despite the immediate pang of worry.

"Everything alright, Samael?"

Well, yes, I'm fine. Still not pleased about the humans holding me hostage here overnight, of course, but I was...well I was checking on you.

God paused mid-sip, caught off guard. "Whatever for, Little Star?" he asked. "We agreed I'd stay at your penthouse while I remain on the mortal plane."

He didn't bother mentioning that neither he nor his son was particularly interested in being in separate realms of existence, despite God's ability to travel to and from at will. Especially since Samael could only feel his presence while they occupied the same realm.

God didn't want to call it separation anxiety, despite being fully aware that there was no other accurate terminology for their current plight.

Maze stopped by before heading home with Chloe and the child. She was quite miffed.

God snorted to himself. "We had a discussion that was likely much more unpleasant for her than it was for me."

Antagonizing Hell's finest?

"More like reminding your right hand that I've seen every choice she's ever made and that she doesn't actually deserve your continued favor and leniency after the series of choices she's made these last few years."

...Oh. I see…

"I'm not going to smite your little demon just for some pointless threats, Samael. I know you're fond of her. You helped create her."

My toes aren't trodden on. I'm...just surprised.

God hummed thoughtfully and sipped his scotch. "You've spent an awfully long time thinking I was apathetic to your existence, Little Star. You can speak freely. You're surprised I care enough to speak my mind."

I don't want to whinge. But, yes. I was.

He smiled against his glass. "Mind your pride, Little Star. I think in this case, it's only serving to prevent you from hearing things you long to be true."

Unsurprisingly, Samael immediately changed the subject.

You're settled in then? Did you try the scotch?

"I am and I'm on my second glass. It's quite good. It's been some time since I've enjoyed human creations. They're quite the artisans when it comes to their sins, aren't they?"

You'd like wine tastings, I think. Alcohol is something of an art form for those who can afford the finer things.

"You'll have to guide me. What about bread and cheese? Are those still artisan crafts?"

He talked with his son for hours, casually enjoying drink recommendations and eventually moving to the balcony so he could enjoy the limited view of the stars. It was easier to talk to Samael this way, to God's surprise. His son was much more comfortable just...chatting when they weren't face to face.

Though it made sense. God was overwhelmed with guilt and memories when they were in the same room together, or any time he laid eyes on his Light Bringer. (A silly name, actually given to him by humans due to the light emitted from his wings. Light Maker was the original moniker for his abilities, though God still quite preferred Little Star. He wondered if his son realized how similar the nickname sounded compared to his chosen mortal name.)

The moon was quite high when Samael's responses began to slow, his thoughts growing sluggish and jumbled.

"Sleep, Samael," God said gently. "You need rest, especially if you have to go to the police station with your detective tomorrow after your release… I'm not going anywhere."

I'm...not tired enough to fall asleep. Not yet.

God made a quiet, disbelieving noise. "I imagine you're too old for a bedtime story to send you off, as well."

Samael's indignance was louder than any audible scoff. Of course I am.

A brief silence fell between them, heavy, but comfortable.

God felt his eyes prickle, knew his son's were doing the same, and took a deep breath as he finished off the amber liquid in his glass.

"Once upon a time, a baby boy was born…"

He wasn't the first baby boy born to the family, nor the last. He wasn't even born alone. He had a brother, born moments after him, who's light wasn't nearly so bright.

In fact, none of God's children had even been born as bright as his newest son.

He loved them both, as he loved their older brothers and sister, and as he would love those who would come after them. His little angels were all unique in their own way, all beautiful.

This one, though, the first twin born from this particular pregnancy, was the first of his children to look like him.

He had the same dark hair, bright, fiery eyes, and he glowed brighter than all of his siblings.

He was born disgruntled as if he hadn't enjoyed being born any more than his mother had enjoyed giving birth, but like most parents, God felt compelled to soothe the child in his arms, and Goddess did the same with their other son.

Only one of the newborns stopped crying long before falling asleep.

God swore the baby in his arms, with gentle light coming off his skin, smiled at him on purpose.

All was well.

The babies grew. Before the end of their first millennia, the brightest of the twins had sprouted his wings - making him the youngest, the only , of God's children to ever crawl with wings.

The baby's older brothers and siblings were so proud of him. They called him cherub - which was heaven-speak for the soft, downy feathers that made up the undercoat of their wings.

Heaven glowed just a little brighter every time the baby smiled.

From a young age, he preferred his father's company. Like all babies, he loved his mother as well, and had his fair share of "Mummy's Boy" moments, but when he couldn't sleep, he wanted his father. When he was unwell, he wanted his father. When he got hurt playing, he'd cry for his father.

And his twin did the opposite.

Their parents found it amusing at the time. In the early days, neither was jealous of being preferred by one twin as opposed to the other.

There was balance. There was peace.

The babies grew into toddlers and the Goddess conceived again. The brighter son learned to make stars and began to follow his father everywhere he could.

He learned to fly and his siblings, as children do, were jealous of the little one getting so much attention. So instead of taking care of their little brother when they went out to play, they planned to trick him instead, and finally prove to their father that he wasn't any better than they were after all.

Children don't always think things through as well as they should.

They planned a race through the forests of heaven, the very forests where the sapling for the Tree of Eden came from, that was full of twists and turns. Each angel was to race one at a time, and the two eldest - Amenadiel and Michael - promised to fly up and fetch golden apples for the winner, since the others were too young to get their own.

Michael, whose powers were underdeveloped at the time, could only consciously induce a sense of fear in people when he concentrated. Amenadiel could inconsistently freeze people or time, but not both together.

When it was their little brother's turn, they reminded him to fly as fast as he possibly could, then Michael made him panic and Amenadiel slowed him down at random.

It wasn't long before he clipped a wing and was knocked out of the sky.

The older siblings didn't even think to feign innocence, they were so proud of their 'accomplishment'.

Their father was less so.

Much much less so.

He healed his son's broken wing, scolded all of the children old enough to understand where they went wrong and punished them accordingly.

In hindsight, keeping his youngest son with him for the rest of the day may not have been the wisest course of action long-term, but his baby had been hurt and needed cheering up.

He would do anything to keep his children happy, but he couldn't deny that the compulsion and protectiveness was a little stronger with his youngest son, even after many more of his siblings had been born. The son that looked like him, glowed like him and was especially attached to him remained glued to his side.

His father would do anything to keep him happy and safe.

"No matter what," God finished quietly.

He could feel Samael on the edges of sleep, his mirrored heartache, and decided that they could pick up this story another time.

"Sleep, Little Star, I'll be here in the morning."

Do you swear it?

God smiled wryly. "Do you desire me to be here in the morning?"

Yes.

"Then you have my word, Sammy."

God enjoyed the ambiance of L.A. nightlife while he waited for Samael to drift off. Then he took a few spare minutes to bathe in the not-silence before reaching out to some of his children.

Azrael. Gabriel. Michael. Raphael. Amenadiel.

Four of his children landed along the balcony, but the flutter of wings behind him assured God that Amenadiel was present as well.

"Father-" his eldest began.

"Relax, my son," said God. "I'm not here to harm your brother nor scold any of you. I'm no more upset with any of you than I am upset with Samael for building himself a life here."

When worry still graced his children's features, he added, "I really don't care that your brother left hell, you know."

"You...don't?" asked Azrael. "But...Luce- Sam thinks you do."

God nodded. "It's a long story, but your brother and I have spoken. I dare hope we've started to mend things, even… the point is, your brother now knows my feelings on the matter. Unfortunately, he was hurt protecting a human friend of his, and he's still in a mortal hospital. He's to be released tomorrow morning."

Some of his children shared glances as Amenadiel joined them outside. "Father," he began. "Why are we here?"

God took a deep breath. "I've realized that my own cowardice and refusal to face certain painful truths has caused our entire family harm, but Samael has taken the brunt of that pain and shouldered it on his own for millennia. I'd like to rectify this issue. To try and restore our family to what it once was, if possible. Samael was always closest to the group of you. Seems silly to let you all continue to avoid him unnecessarily."

Azrael's expression brightened the most at the news, but God was surprised to see Michael's tighten. He shot his son a concerned look.

"Who harmed Samael?" he asked gruffly. "And how?"

"Cain," God answered. "Your brother is rendered...partly mortal under certain Earthly circumstances. Cain took advantage of those circumstances to threaten someone your brother cares about, then tried to kill your brother. Cain's been punished."

Michael's fist clenched. "By whom?"

"Samael killed him. I made sure he went to hell. I may fly down there myself and tweak his arrangements personally once your brother has come to terms with the shift in our relationship," God said. "He's adjusting better than I hoped, but…"

"He has trust issues," Azrael chimed hesitantly. "I haven't been down here to see him personally, but I checked in on him some time ago. Amenadiel was trying to bribe him back to hell. He really didn't trust him."

God nodded solemnly. "Amenadiel took it upon himself to 'save me the trouble' of getting your brother back to hell. What he neglected to ask was…" he paused, a pained, bittersweet smile gently gracing his lips, "was whether or not that's what I desired. It wasn't."

God shook the melancholy haze from his mind. "I'm just trying to make sure that the members of this family most likely to listen and keep their heads understand what's going on. He may not ask for it or even realize he needs it, but if I convince him to visit home for a spell, he'll need a support system while your other siblings come to terms with things."

Raphael cleared his throat. "Would Samael accept my help if I offered to ease some of his mental sufferings? Minds are more complicated than bodies, but I could take the edge off?"

God shook his head. "It pains me to say, but this pain may run too deep for any of us to attempt to heal. I haven't tried, aside from keeping nightmares at bay. Your brother needs to experience the full weight and relief of healing on his own if he's going to move past this - and so do I."

Michael and Raphael shared a near-identical worried glance, as God's first set of twins often did when worrying for their younger siblings. Gabriel was pensive, silently standing beside his sister while Azrael sniffled quietly.

"Have you anything to say, loves?" God asked them, suddenly worried that he'd misjudged - that they weren't ready to forgive their brother for misdeeds that weren't truly his own.

Gabriel swallowed before he spoke. "It was Mom and Azazel, wasn't it?"

His other siblings turned towards him, fearing, God hoped, that it was true and realizing what that meant for Samael.

"They tricked him, didn't they?" Gabriel continued, his voice shaking.

"Yes," God said softly, his throat tight. "Yes, I believe they did. Successfully too, since Samael ended up taking the brunt of the punishment."

Michael's eyes burned a shade of blue Samael had dubbed 'prelude to supernova' eons ago.

"Sammy wasn't the real frontrunner?!" he exclaimed. "He was misled! He's a victim, Father! All this time the victim's been getting punished in place of the truly guilty?!"

The brightness of Michael's anger fizzled out into despair faster than God had ever seen, and his second son dropped to his knees.

"Jophiel thought Sammy was safe...that Mum wouldn't dare target him. How'd she manage it so perfectly?"

Raphael extended a wing to his twin in comfort. "We will fix this and welcome Samael home. We owe him no less than that, except perhaps our patience. Trust takes much time to heal."

"Can I go see him?" Azrael asked in a small voice. "When he wakes up?"

God's features softened. "Of course, my winter star, although I cannot promise your brother will be pleased to see any of you at the moment. He's...slowly getting used to my presence. Learning of his mother's deceit...broke a part of him. He's been rather subdued, dare I say timid since. I'm worried for him."

"What would you like us to do, Father?" Amenadiel asked.

God thought for several moments. "Do as your brother would have you do," he decided. "Whatever you wish. Except I'm going to set some ground rules - any further acts that intentionally bring any manner or harm towards your brother or those he holds dear will be punished severely ."

"Can I help?" Michael asked darkly. "If anyone's foolish enough to dare?"

God shrugged. "If Samael doesn't desire the honors, certainly."

His second eldest nodded, satisfied, and stood. Raphael's wing stayed around his twin and one hand came to rest on his shoulder.

Gabriel was pensive and clearly as upset as the rest of his siblings, which God hated to witness. It was unavoidable, he knew, but it hurt him nonetheless.

"You all need time to consider what I've told you," he said. "Please, go give yourselves time to process."

Amenadiel flew away first. Then Michael and Raphael. Gabriel hesitated but eventually left with a sigh.

Azrael lingered, unshed tears lining her empty gaze.

"Rae," he said gently. "Come here, my love."

He stood and wrapped his arms around her as she wept for her brother.

"Does he hate us all?" she asked.

"Samael could never hate you," he said. "He may be cross for some time, but Samael would do anything for you before this mess, Azrael. He's likely missed you, missed many of us, and has been too hurt to admit it to himself."

It was several minutes before Azrael pulled back and wiped her face with her hands.

"We'll fix things," she said with watery conviction. "We have to."

God watched her fly away, then went back inside and poured himself another glass of cinnamon scotch.

Dawn was teasingly staining the sky, just barely lightening the deep blue hues, when he reclaimed his seat on the balcony. He got the sense that the day ahead would be a long one.