Satanic Testament
(Lucifer protests…)

She didn't realise it was a mistake until she was actually in the penthouse, staring at a shower-fresh Lucifer, black towel wrapped loosely on his hips as he dried his curly hair with another towel. Chloe's mouth went dry and her mind went blank; she realised she had no idea what to say to Gary Preston.

"Detective!" Lucifer greeted her with a delighted grin, "I thought we were meeting at the station. Just a mo, I'll pop some clothes on. Unless you feel like taking some off?"

Chloe stared at him, trying to see past the urbanely hopeful exterior to the slightly dorky and definitely normal man he had once been. She was distracted by a bead of water that slipped from his collarbone, gliding southwards over his chest. It slid down over his abdomen, disappearing into the towel. Chloe blinked.

Lucifer frowned, clearly concerned, "Are you alright, Detective? You seem distracted."

"I, uh, yeah," she managed incoherently. Get a grip, she scolded herself. It's not like it's the first time you've seen him without his clothes on. With an effort, she forced herself to sound normal.

"Go get dressed," she told him. "I'll wait."

"As you wish," agreed Lucifer, still looking at her with concern. "I won't be a minute."

It was a measure of how distracted Chloe was that she failed to notice the way he carefully kept his newly healed back turned away from her as he left the room – a difficult feat in itself. She fretted as she waited for him, chewing her bottom lip as she paced the room with her arms folded protectively. She wondered what she was doing there, tempted to just leave.

Lucifer paused just inside the room, watching her with apprehension. Whatever could have happened to upset the Detective so? Whatever it was, it would be better faced with a drink in his hand, he decided, crossing to the bar to pour one. Most things were.

"Now, Detective, what's got you so on edge?" he asked her, holding up the bottle in a silent invitation to join him. She shook her head, declining the offer. He expected nothing less. "Is it our case?" he guessed. No, obviously not. "The Douche? Your child? I know, your mother!"

"I-" Chloe cleared her throat. "I need to ask you about your alibi for the other night."

Lucifer sighed in exasperation, irritated that she wouldn't simply accept his word on the matter. "Again, Detective?" he asked, swallowing a generous portion of scotch. "I already told you, I was nowhere near Grand Park on the night in question."

"But you won't tell me where you were," Chloe countered, more comfortable now they were on familiar ground.

"Fine!" hissed Lucifer, "If you really must know, I was here. All night."

"Alright, good," Chloe nodded, pulling out her notebook. "Who can confirm that?"

"No-one," Lucifer admitted through gritted teeth. "I was alone, Detective."

Chloe blinked at him. "Alone?" she questioned. "You? All night?"

"Yes," Lucifer bit out. Hoping she wouldn't ask why and force him to admit that he hadn't been able to bring himself to destroy the lingering scent of her on his sheets by overlaying with anyone's but his own, he went on the offensive. "What's the matter? Don't you trust me?"

Chloe looked miserable as she admitted, "No."

Hell had never seemed so close on Earth. Lucifer forgot to breathe as he stared at her in horrified despair. What-how-who had destroyed the Detective's faith in him?

"Detective," he tried to say, forcing himself to say something, anything.

"How can I trust someone I don't know?" Chloe interrupted. "I mean, I thought I knew you, but I clearly don't. I can't."

"You know me, Detective," Lucifer hated how pathetic he sounded, pleading for her to take it back. Take it all back.

"Not anymore," Chloe whispered wretchedly, hugging herself.

The words hung between them, tainting the air they breathed. Destroying the bonds forged between them. Unable to be unspoken. Lucifer was the first to look away.

"I see," he said, fiddling with a cufflink as he willed a neutral mask into place. "Might… Might I ask what has changed? It's obviously not the case-"

"Screw the case, Lucifer!" Chloe yelled and immediately regretted it, making an effort to calm down. "Nothing's changed. It's just, I know a few more facts now, and-"

"Facts?" Lucifer reared out of his barstool like a cobra about to strike. "What facts exactly, Detective?"

Chloe flinched back from the agonised bewilderment in his eyes, the only clue to his feelings on his expressionless face. Thinking he'd scared her, Lucifer held his hands up and eased back half a step. Gently, he prompted, "These facts, Detective?"

"I know," Chloe told him softly. "Who you were before you arrived in LA. Where you were living, the restaurant. I even know about your wife!"

"My wife," Lucifer was confused. "Of course you know about Candy, Detective, you met her remember?"

"Not Candy!" Chloe was dangerously close to yelling again. "Your first wife." Lucifer stared blankly at her. "Miranda."

"Who?" asked Lucifer, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Dammit Lucifer!" Yup, definitely yelling now, "I know the truth, just drop the act for once."

"There's no act to drop, Detective," Lucifer told her grimly, spreading his arms wide. "What you see is what you get."

"That's the problem," Chloe shot back. "I've seen the videos!"

"What videos? Show me," Lucifer commanded.

Chloe snatched her phone from her pocket, fingers trembling as she jabbed at the buttons that would take her to YouTube. "So help me, Lucifer," she muttered angrily. "Right now I've got enough evidence to book you for bigamy. Or should I call you Gary Preston?"

From the way she flung the name at him like a weapon, it was clear that she expected him to react in some way. Lucifer just felt even more confused. "You've completely lost me, Detective," he admitted with a smile that was supposed to be soothing, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to explain. Who is Gary Preston?"

Rolling her eyes, Chloe hit play and thrust her phone at him. Taking it, Lucifer watched the video playing and failed to find enlightenment.

"I don't understand," he said, "Is this supposed to be…?"

"You? Yes," Chloe snapped. "Obviously."

"Obviously it's a fake," Lucifer protested, beginning to feel angry. Who had planted this poison in his Detective's mind? "It's been altered to look like me. Not that it looks like me at all." He scoffed, "As if I'd ever wear an orange tie! And with a navy suit no less. Talk about an atrocity to the senses!"

"Lucifer," sighed Chloe, "It's not a fake."

"Says who?" Lucifer was offended. Honestly, who wore navy and orange? Terrible combination.

"Ella."

The glass in Lucifer's hand cracked under the pressure he exerted on it. Curiously, he found himself feeling betrayed by the pious little miscreant. He'd never suspected that she might be behind this heinous villainy. Chloe caught sight of his face.

"Dan asked her to look into it after he found the videos," Chloe wasn't sure why she was defending Ella, but she was.

The glass shattered, spraying scotch everywhere. Neither of them noticed. They had more pressing matters to deal with.

"I might've known Detective Douche would be involved somehow," Lucifer growled ferally, blood dripping from his hand to join the scotch on the floor. "I can't believe you'd trust him over me. He's only your ex-husband and the father of your spawn. I'm your partner."

"There's more," Chloe told him, taking her phone back so she could queue up the other videos.

He watched them in silence, growing colder and more distant. She could almost see the walls he was throwing up between himself and his past. Why wouldn't he just admit that she'd finally found out the truth about his past? Was Ella right? Was there some horrific trauma that had caused this delusion that he was the devil? She only wanted to understand, couldn't he see that?

"This is who you think I really am?" he asked eventually, when he'd seen enough. "Some idiotic buffoon who is scared of geese, actually participates in flash mobs, and married a woman who so resembles King Kong that it's her nickname?"

"I…" Put like that, it did sound ridiculous.

"Obviously this worthless piece of human excrement has stolen my human guise for his own nefarious purposes. Dad only knows what it could be. I mean, Surrey, of all places."

And now it was sounding a lot less ridiculous.

"Please, Lucifer," Chloe sighed. "It's time to admit the truth."

"Gladly, Detective," snarled Lucifer, "Except, slight problem, it isn't true! This isn't me." His gaze was scorchingly intense as he continued softly, willing her to believe him, "Detective. I swear it's not me."

Chloe looked up at him sadly, "You need help Luci-" she swallowed and corrected herself sadly, "Gary. Gary," she reminded herself. "Like professional help. And I," she stepped back, away from him, "I need some space."

"Detective," Lucifer protested as she kept backing away. He tried to say don't go, don't leave me, but the words refused to leave his throat as she stared at him like he was a stranger. He barely managed to croak, "Chloe!" as she stepped into the elevator.

Chloe kept her back to him as she pressed the button that would close the doors and take her back to the real world. That way he wouldn't be able to see her crying.

Lucifer stood staring at the elevator until the gashes on his hand began to heal around the glass embedded in it. With a vexed 'tsk' he began to pick the pieces out. Suddenly, the enormity of what had just happened washed over him. Clenching his injured hand tightly, he let out an animalistic roar, kicking out at the nearest available thing and shattering an innocent piano leg.

With a discordant crash, the grand piano toppled. He barely noticed, already moving onto the next target, and then the next and the next…

Untold eons later, he stood in the ruins of his life, chest heaving as he struggled to contain his festering rage. He needed help? He needed help! He needed- Actually… the glimmering of a plan began to dawn.

Maybe he did need help after all. And maybe, with help, he could show them who he really was. Yes, that was it! He'd show her he was so much more than she believed.

Lucifer's grin was more of a feral snarl as he headed down to Lux to make the first of a long series of phone calls.

"Darling? Lucifer Morningstar. Time to make good on that IOU."