A/N: Lucifer is a REALLY difficult to write for. Yeeeesh!

Chapter 3

Lucifer stared up at his bedroom ceiling with a frown as he lay tangled in the limbs around him. He glanced at the two women sharing his bed and felt unsettled. It wasn't that his late night activities hadn't been enjoyable, that would be ridiculous, it was just that it hadn't left him feeling as satisfied as it usually did. After a moment's thought he decided the most likely culprit had been his mood as he'd gone into the threesome. He'd come home angry and all but thrown himself into Maze's pre-planned activity hoping it would wash the bitter taste of disgust from his mouth. It hadn't worked. He was the Prince of Darkness, the King of Hell, and human depravity still managed to surprise him at times. Those girls, and they had been children, had been innocent and they'd been treated worse than animals. The scales of justice so out of balance it made his skin itch. His only solace was that the helper maggots would never escape what they'd done. Though he'd dearly love to get his hands on the masterminds of that operation. Hopefully the way the case played out would give him the opportunity to have his own little conversation with them without his by the book detective getting in the way.

He shifted the women gently so as not to wake them as he got out of bed and headed for his bar to get a drink. Thinking of her, he wondered if he shouldn't head over to her house and see how she was doing, maybe make her breakfast again. She'd been strangely silent by the time she'd dropped him off and he felt uneasy. He knew she'd seen her daughter in the faces of those girls, he'd seen that in the haunted angry look in her eyes. He really should check in on her.

Decision made he downed the last of his drink and headed for his closet when he noticed that the phone he'd dropped on the counter was blinking. He picked it up, confused about why he hadn't heard it, before he remembered that he'd silenced it when they'd gone into the warehouse. He was surprised to find a message from Chloe on it and then he felt sharply disappointed when he read it.

We have the day off, protocol after what happened, so do whatever. I'm going to spend mine with Trixie.

He frowned, she was warning him off politely, that wouldn't do, and then it deepened at the timestamp, five in the morning. She couldn't have gotten home before almost one, why was she awake so early? He was awake because he needed nominal amounts of sleep but he knew she needed more. Had she not slept? Now truly concerned, he began dressing as he sent a response.

Today's a Thursday detective, how can you spend it with her when she's supposed to be in school. Don't tell me you of all people are letting her play hookie?

He'd just started looking for his shoes, where had he kicked them again?, when he got a response.

Trixie refused to go to sleep before I was home. I'm not sending her to school on five hours of sleep. She can miss a day.

He smirked at his screen, my my detective breaking the rules, don't tell me I'm rubbing off on you?

He finally found his shoes and finished dressing, his party from the previous evening still asleep, and headed for the door. Maze could see his lovely guests out the same way she'd let them in. It wasn't until he reached his car that he realized she hadn't texted him back yet. Usually when he teased her she'd respond immediately, he shook himself, who knew why she hadn't answered. She was probably just busy with something, maybe even a shower, and a slow smile spread across his face at the thought.

It was just early enough that LA traffic hadn't truly picked up and he stopped at a grocery store to make sure he had everything he wanted, she still didn't have truffle oil much to his chagrin. So when he reached the house he was feeling significantly better than he had upon waking and all but bounded out of the car with a smile on his face.

"Look Dan I said-Lucifer?!" she gasped in surprise as she opened the door and for a second he could have sworn he'd seen fear in her gaze but it was gone quickly and could have been surprise. Still it made him feel off kilter, of all the people in creation she, and her daughter by association, were the only two he'd ever come across that he never wanted to fear him on any level. It was the main reason he'd never shown her his true face to prove the claims of who he was, "What are you-why do you have shopping bags?"

He smiled as he breezed past her, pushing away his disconcerted feelings, and placing them on the counter. "I thought I'd come over and make you both breakfast."

She squinted at him and he caught sight of the darker than normal shadows under her eyes, so she hadn't slept then. He also noticed the sweats she was wearing and that her hair was wet. Had she taken a shower in hopes of waking herself up? Well at least he had a reason for her lack of response to his text. She looked like she was going to say something and then shook herself before walking away to grab her laptop and bring it into the office area on the other side of the house. He frowned at that, only able to catch a glimpse of the list like document on the screen. She'd done it casually enough, but he knew when someone was trying to hide something from him, interesting.

She yawned as she came back and he began to cut the vegetables trying to think of the best way to approach her. Over their time together he'd learned a great deal about how to confront her, and he knew he had to be careful here or she'd clam up and he'd never learn the truth. "You look like the rest of your night was significantly less fun than mine."

She looked confused and then rolled her eyes as exasperation replaced it, "I, really, do not care so you can just stop talking."

He chucked, "I was simply saying that I slept less than you did or did I?"

"I-," she hesitated and looked away from him, it immediately put him on edge. He hated when she did that, the only true way he could read her was through her eyes, he was still very much learning non-sexual body language, "I guess I just had some things to work through is all."

"Oh?" he asked as he cracked a few eggs, "the case keeping you up? I know I'd very much like to find the leaders of that little gang."

"Not exactly," she muttered and he glanced at her as he put together her omelet. But, before he could delve further into that statement she asked him a disturbingly random question, "So, is your brother still in town?"

The spatula he was using grated against the pan and he almost turned the omelet into scrambled eggs. His eyes were wide and searching as he looked at her, but her face gave nothing away about why she was asking. "Excuse me?"

She shrugged suspiciously indifferently when he could tell that she wasn't at all. Had his brother done something? The thought made his teeth grind. If Amenadiel even thought of coming after her, or using her, he was going to sorely regret that mistake. "What? I'm just asking. I realized I met him at the auction and haven't heard about him since. You two seemed to get along."

He snorted as he went back to his cooking, how her mind worked really was a complete mystery to him at times, "appearances can be deceiving, and to answer your question, yes, he's still fluttering about. He wants me back in Hell and he's not going to stop until I am."

"Hell, right," she said drawing out the word and her continued inability to believe him was both infuriating and comforting at the same time. If she believed him then she'd be terrified of him, that was how it always worked, but he also wanted her to know who he really was past all that. It was a frustrating and dizzying contradiction. "He did say you changed your career. So what, why is he so upset you went from master of all evil to bar owner?"

"Master of Hell love, not evil," he snapped as he put the done omelet on a plate and moved to make one for her daughter. "And as I told you, I retired. I got tired of it all, thankless job being the head of - wait a tick, do you believe me?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, and he desperately tried to kill the hope and push down the fear before they bloomed in his chest. He hated that he was so conflicted about this now. A month ago he wouldn't have cared, but now she was his friend and he didn't want to risk losing that if he could help it, "If you're so offended by being called evil why'd you decide to name yourself after the mythical source of it?"

"I am not the source of all evil," he huffed with a little growl as he beat the eggs harder than necessary. He hated that nickname, "Give a girl one apple and you're marked for life I swear-"

"Apple?...You mean as in Eve and that whole original sin thing? 'Cause according to the legend that was kinda the source of all evil," he threw the bowl down on the counter as he glared at her.

She jumped, her eyes wide, and the startled reaction cooled the more violent parts of his temper. Though he was still deeply frustrated and if he was being honest, a little scared. He wasn't the monster people made him out to be and to think that she might believe he was made something in him ache, "You sound like Michael! Not a good thing mind you, he's a self-righteous prick!"

She was silent as she eyed him and he knew that face. She was sizing him up like she would a suspect who was being difficult. Where was all this coming from? Why was she suddenly asking all these questions she hadn't seemed to care about before now, "So tell me what you think happened."

"What I think-," he took a deep shuddering breath as he stamped down the last of his temper. He could use this moment. If he could convince her that the Devil wasn't as bad as she'd been raised to believe it could help when she eventually realized the truth. She might not run for the hills completely on him. He did so hate to have to track people down, "Fine. What happened was that my father was being an ass and I offered it to her to spite him. It caused a fight in the heavens and I got sent to the underworld for all eternity to 'deal with my mess' as it were. Which is patently unfair! I offered it sure but she still took the bloody thing of her own free will! I never forced her!"

"I thought convincing people to do something they wouldn't otherwise was one of your specialties," she said after several moments of silence.

His eyes narrowed, "I do not!"

"Tell that to Ty Huntly," she offered with a look that told him she considered him cornered, he suppressed a flinch, "Or the multiple suspects who you 'charm' into telling us things."

He scoffed, "Are you actually complaining about that?"

"No," she shrugged, "I'm just saying the devil's not as innocent in the whole sin thing as I think you'd like to believe."

He gaped at her, truly stunned, "who the bloody hell do you think you are?"

"A cop," she snapped, her eyes alight in a way that made his blood race, "it's my job to protect people. It seems to be your job to convince people to do things that will hurt them."

"I've never told or 'charmed' anyone into hurting themselves or others," he glared, his stomach dropping to the floor. This wasn't going well at all, "Don't blame me for the mistakes of others!"

"So then it wasn't you in that alley with Nick and Josh trying to force them to kill each other?" She asked as she moved to stand in his personal space. His heart jumped into his throat and he looked down into her ice blue eyes. In that moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or shake her and stood frozen in indecision as she spoke, "And I doubt that was the first time you've ever done something like to people! But you're right, it's not all your fault! What I'm saying is that you can't set situations into to motion, that you know will end badly, and then step back and say 'well I wasn't holding the gun so not my fault' because yes it is! You own part of that because you put people in the positions you did! So stop playing the victim when people call you out on your bullshit."

She left him alone in the kitchen after that and a suffocating pain he'd only experienced once before in his long life filled his chest. He took a few stuttering breaths before he mastered himself enough to turn off the stove, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the house slamming the door behind him. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go but he knew he needed to figure out what he was feeling, if only to make the strange sensation stop, and there was one place he knew to do that.

Luckily when he stormed into her office this time she was alone and going over some notes, "she's being ridiculous and I feel terrible!"

Linda blinked at him for a moment, looking lost, before licking her lips thoughtfully. He was grateful she didn't tell him to wait for his appointment, he didn't think he could handle that right now, "Alright, how about you start at the beginning."

He made a disgusted sound as he flopped down on the couch, "I was cooking her breakfast, teach me to do something nice, and she just attacks me out of nowhere!"

"Ok," Linda said slowly, "I assume you're talking about Detective Decker, so I have to ask was this a physical assault or -"

"No of course not," he rolled his eyes, "If she'd hit me I wouldn't have cared much but she called me an unfeeling monster!"

Linda seemed quizzical, "She actually called you a monster?"

"Well in so many words," he grumbled, "She accused me of playing puppeteer and being the source of all evil! As if I sat on people's shoulders and forced them to do bad things! I don't!"

"Ah, I remember that being a touchy point for you," She observed.

He glared at her, "I was doing something nice, thought she needed it after last night."

That caught her interest, "Did you finally sleep together?"

"Regrettably, no, she hasn't had the pleasure," he folded his arms as he launched into an overview of everything that had happened the night before, from the stake out to the fight with the patrolman. When he was done she was looking at her notes thoughtfully, then her gaze switched to him.

"Do you think it's possible that the shootout you instigated," she said stressing his culpability in the event, "combined with the stressful nature of the case and her lack of sleep caused her to lash out at you this morning?"

"It's possible" he said thoughtfully, wasn't that, after all, the reason he wanted to make her breakfast? He'd been worried about how quiet she'd been when they parted ways. Yes, stress combined with anger and exhaustion did explain what had happened. Though why she'd focused in on the topic she had instead of yelling at him for what she was really angry about was still a mystery to him. "Yes, actually it's very likely."

"Ok, well, Lucifer, I want to use this as an opportunity to discuss something we've been skirting a little bit more than I think we should have given what's happened," his eyes shot to her, that statement never meant anything good for him. That statement was why she'd had a hole in her wall, "Namely, personal responsibility."

He threw his hands up, his voice becoming more of a growl, "Oh, not you too!"

"Lucifer, I may not agree with how Detective Decker went about it but I don't necessarily disagree with what she said," his leg started to bounce as his temper rose, "You do have a tendency to cause a problem and then step back to watch the chaos spin out of control."

"So that makes everything my fault?!" He snarled.

She held up her hand in a placating gesture but her eyes remained resolute, "If you give a recovering alcoholic with little self-control a bottle of liquor it's the same as pouring it down their throats. The only difference is that with the first version you can pretend you aren't responsible for them falling off the wagon."

He swallowed thickly as he looked away from her, he could see her point. Even so, "Are you actually trying to say that it's somehow my responsibility to make sure you people stay on 'the path'? What tripe! I'm the Devil, I could care less about Righteousness!"

"No," she countered calmly, "People are ultimately responsible for themselves. What I'm saying is when someone isn't capable of dealing with a situation, and you know that, don't put them in the situation. You can't push someone who can't swim into the deep end of the pool and then be surprised when everyone blames you for the drowning."

Her words hit him with painful accuracy and it felt like she'd slapped him. Almost without thought he stood and stormed from the second room he'd been in today, his last possible solace in LA failing him spectacularly. If he wanted to listen to a listing of his perceived failings he would have gone to either Maze or his detective. Why did he even come here? It never seemed to really help and all it ever did was unsettle him. No, he knew what he really needed now and that was a long drive far above the speed limit to somewhere far from all of them.