Author's Note: Whew. Been awhile, eh? This chapter did not go the way I thought it was going to, but once I started writing it, it just sort of...ran away. Sorry about the delay. I've had a rough couple of months including but not limited to: 10 of my friends dying on the 2 collisions at sea, sitting and listening to my adopted niece give testimony against her step father that made one juror throw up, several members of my family being at the Las Vegas shooting and not hearing from them for several days after the fact because hey - communications were a little wonky. And also - I really, really do love you guys - but some people just want to be jackasses. Honestly, I don't mind things being pointed out to me. Otherwise I wouldn't end most every note with "drop me a line for [xyz]". I do however have an issue with comments that have nothing to do with the story being left as a review instead of sent private message this is threatening, derogatory, or all around rude. It's part of the reason why I mentioned Tumblr, too. So people who are guests or don't have an account can talk directly to me if they have an issue. So, if your anonymous complaint goes missing, it's probably because it didn't have anything to do with the story. On the same note, the admin don't really like people who think to speak on their behalf without consulting them. Who'da thunk? And one more thing (I swear) you'll notice that the rating has gone back and forth from T to M to T again. Remember when I said I didn't notice swearing? Whoops. I went back and fixed most of it with the exception of the car thief, but considering Lucifer the TV show is rated as TV-14 and involves threesomes (or more), gruesome murder scenes, sex jokes, British swearing, and the same types of brawling/fight sequences in this story. So, that being said - T is where it stays now that the language has been fixed.

Ugh. That was long winded. Now. Where was I? Right. ONWARDS!

Chloe clutched at her chest in surprise, her heart in her throat more from surprise than fear. "Really?" she snapped before she could stop herself.

Samael offered a one shouldered shrug. "You called me," he said. "I fail to see why you would be surprised to see me."

Chloe harrumphed. "To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure if I really expected it to work. Or…you know…how."

Samael chuckled without humor. "Mmm, yes. My sister does have a habit of failing to explain things properly. I suppose it comes with the territory, Death being a great mystery and all that."

"How did you know we'd been to see Azrael?"

"Logic," Samael deadpanned, in the same tone Trixie used when she meant an unspoken 'duh'. "You're not one I would call spiritual, Detective, and even if you were, this sudden addition to the perfectly ordinary world you occupy is relatively new. Magic, angels, demons, et cetera. There is no reason why a woman without faith would suddenly arrive at the conclusion that to attract an angel, all one must do is pray. Considering you've never done it before in your life, that would be one hell of a leap, if you'll pardon the expression. Obviously my brothers didn't clue you in, because as far as they're concerned, I answer to no one. Azrael, on the other hand, is relatively local, and more importantly, she knows that I couldn't ignore a direct summons. After all, that's how we wound up in this mess, isn't it?"

Chloe didn't immediately jump in, waiting to see if Samael would explain beyond just a 'she was dealt with' in regards to Delilah Rogers, but when he failed to answer, curiosity got the better of her.

"What…" she hesitated slightly, unsure exactly how to ask what she wanted to know. As much as she gave Lucifer crap about his less than delicate interrogation techniques, she was pretty crap at it too. At least, when it came to friends that she wanted to help without being obvious. Not to mention the whole 36 hours without sleep, and her world view being upended like a card table by an angry toddler. Tact was not high on her list of priorities right now. "What happened after she took you?"

On the other hand, blunt was sometimes the only way to go.

"Not much," Samael said, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled across the thin railing as easily as one would the sidewalk. "Drugged me, chained me to the wall, asked me to pick up my old duties, and when I refused, used Enochian blood magic to tear open my chest to bind my heart and call out me."

At least he'd sort of stopped referring to himself as two separate people.

Even though he was right, and she called him, and she'd been so sure that this is what she was supposed to do according to Azrael, now that she was standing in front of Not-Lucifer, she realized she had no real plan for what exactly to do next. Samael confirmed what Michael and Gabriel already pointed out- she was very, very new to this. She didn't really believe in magic, even now with it staring her in the face. What was she supposed to do now that she had Samael here?

"Your brothers said there are people capable of helping you," she started slowly, gauging his reaction. Not that she thought he would do to her what he did to his other brother, but she also didn't want him to disappear again. "People here on Earth who know how to undo what Delilah did to you."

Samael cast a dark look over his shoulder without pausing his casual stroll across the glass railing. "I'm aware. I even know where they are."

"So…you don't want to be helped?"

"Help in this context is a little subjective, wouldn't you say?" Samael asked. "Who says I want to be crammed back into my box? Who says this isn't the better version of me?"

"You do," Chloe said without thinking, folding her arms across her chest. "Repeatedly, actually."

Samael blinked in surprise, but then smiled with inhuman teeth. "Touchè, Detective. However, there are extenuating circumstances and I've rethought my position on the matter. I was concerned that being this…restored version of myself meant I had to obey certain rules. I see no righteous lightning, nor life ending floods or swarms of locusts or marks on doors for first born children. Who's to say my Father who art in Heaven doesn't give His blessing for my change of heart?"

"Since when did what your father want have anything to do with what you want?"

Samael's step hitched at that.

"Is this what you want?" Chloe asked quietly. "If it is…I mean, there's nothing I can really do about it. And truthfully, I don't know that I would even if I could. I wouldn't be happy about it, but…" she trailed off, hugging her arms around herself as she glanced down at her feet. "I can't make you do something just because I don't like it."

The silence that followed was almost tangible, and when she looked back up, Samael had turned fully to face her, his head tilted to the side in that quizzical bird expression he often had when people baffled him.

"What?" she asked, fidgeting under his black gaze. "Could you at least blink if you're going to stare at me like that?"

"Could you…" Samael began, then shook his head as if to clear it before starting again. "Could you repeat that?"

"Stop staring?"

"No…not that bit." In three quick strides Samael stood in front of her again, abruptly bending at the waist to lean down to look her directly in the eyes. "The other part."

Chloe tried not to flinch away from the proximity. Samael's face was mere inches from hers, and more than a little invasive of her personal space, but she got the feeling he was looking for something. "Is this what you want?" she echoed. "Is this really what you prefer?"

Samael recoiled as if he'd been slapped, jerking back so quickly she was surprised he didn't fall off the railing, supernatural powers be damned.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, though she wasn't sure what she was sorry about. "I didn't mean – "

"Don't be," Samael interrupted. "I was just…surprised, I think." He frowned at that, like he wasn't sure that was the word he meant.

Chloe waited for an answer before she carefully prodded. "Well…?"

"I don't know," he answered, too confused for his reply to be anything less than truthful. "No one's ever asked me before."

Ouch.

"Well…" she offered a small, hopefully encouraging smile. "I'm asking you now."

The blackened gaze was void of any of Lucifer's normal tells, and Chloe absently thought of the old superstition that eyes were the window's to the soul.

If she was honest with herself, she wasn't actually expecting an answer. Not a real one, anyway. Existentialist questions weren't supposed to be easy, immediate answers. She was sort of hoping to hear at least a wisecrack about desire or something else so distinctly Lucifer that she would know for sure that somewhere behind those darkened windows, her friend was still there.

"It's easier this way," Samael said. "It's not really a…want. It's just less complicated. Less messy."

Chloe snorted before she even had time to think about it. "Since when have you ever wanted to do anything the easy way? You don't even like taking the elevator half the time if stairs are an option."

Samael's lips twitched in an aborted smirk. "True enough, I suppose. But that's not what I meant."

She shrugged. "Then what did you mean?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Probably not," she agreed, and was rewarded with another one of those strangely avian, curious looks. "But I want to. You're my friend, and I want to understand this. I won't know if you don't tell me."

"Ha," Samael scoffed derisively, though the smile was genuine. "I've been warned away from bearing fruit of knowledge. I don't fancy another scolding."

"I'm not Eve," Chloe said. "I know what I'm asking. And I know who I'm asking. So…try me."

And there was that look she'd been waiting for. She wasn't entirely sure just what Lucifer was thinking when he did it, but it was just so him that she almost sagged in relief. The closest thing that she could think of to describe it was somewhere between 'you're joking' and 'wait, you're serious – isn't that fascinating' – almost smiling but not quite like she'd done or said something that was so opposed to his embittered world view he was never sure if she was for real.

And just as quickly, it was gone, those fathomless black eyes shuttered once more.

"It's easier to understand if I show you. May I?" he asked, holding out his hand as if he was asking her to dance.

"Uh…sure?" she agreed cautiously. She wasn't a huge fan of flying Angel Air or whatever method of immediate transport they seemed to use, but if that's what it took for her to get Samael to keep talking to her, then fine.

That wasn't what he'd meant.

As soon as her skin touched his, freezing cold and like dipping her hand in ice water, the world shrieked at her.

The maelstrom of voices, the kaleidoscope of colors and sounds and want were like a physical blow she couldn't help but flinch from.

Oh…oh but it was so much worse than that.

It wasn't just any voice. It wasn't just any colors.

It was that sickly green of envy and vibrant red of lust and black as darkest night.

It was wantwantwant and give me and need and hurt.

It was hate like fire and jealousy like knives and greed like oil.

It was –

Samael released her hand.

And just as suddenly as it came it was gone, leaving her reeling and gasping like she'd run a marathon for her life and sick to her stomach, the clawing, itching feeling of wanting to scrub those thoughts from her very being making her skin crawl.

"Apologies, Detective," Samael said, sounding distant but sincere.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded when she found her voice again, pulling her arms around herself once more to ward off the sudden chill she felt – not in the air but in her bones.

Samael watched her, looking strangely…sad? No. Resigned. Like she'd helped him prove a point he hadn't hoped to.

"People are loud," Samael said, echoing his words from Lux. "Especially with their most bases desires."

Her brain struggled for clarity in the explanation. "You….you can hear that? Is it always like that?" The soundproofing of Lux made sense now. She'd just thought of it like Superman's super hearing – just being able to hear the rest of the city.

Not that.

Samael shrugged. "Yes. It's louder now, because I'm less…human. But yes. Always." His wings rustled on his back as he raised them slightly. "I didn't cut them off just for the sake of symbolism. I ask people what they desire because it helps me tune out the rest," he explained. "And I wasn't lying when I said I can't read minds. I don't get specifics if they're not spoken aloud – just the general idea that there's something they desire and are currently denying themselves. And unlike people seem so ready to believe – I don't make them think those things, much less act on them. I just…eliminate inhibitions. Sometimes people don't act on them, even after. Most do." He offered a brittle smile. "It's amazing what people will do when they want something they know they're not supposed to. And it is so much easier to punish them when I don't have to care about them."

Chloe's breathing was slowly returning to normal but the sheer, dark…evil of all those thoughts and desires still clung to her like tar. She felt chilled, even in the LA night heat. "Do…do all of you hear that? You and Michal and Gabriel…and however many others of you there are?"

Samael scoffed. "No, no. Just me. Part and parcel for the job I suppose. Dominion of Desire and all that. It's not exactly what I wanted for a birthday present, but it wasn't so bad when humans were younger. There were fewer of you, for one thing. And fear of my Father and His wrath kept most of you in line."

"I thought the pillar of Christianity was that God loved people?"

"Strange sort of love, wouldn't you say, considering He drowned a fair bit of you to wipe the slate clean. No one loves unconditionally," Samael said. "Not even my Father. And when He couldn't bring himself to love you, He sent me to tell you just how disappointed He was."

Right. Old Testament was a real thing. Ish. At least not entirely a metaphor. She shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

"Would you like me to fix that?" Samael asked curiously. When she blinked owlishly up at him he made a vague gesture encompassing her entirety. Presumably he meant the headache and the bone chilling cold, but he didn't clarify.

She shook her head. "No," she said, her voice shaky. She frowned, cleared her throat and brushed the stray piece of hair behind her ear. "No," she repeated firmly. "I asked to understand. I'm fine. Just cold. I'll warm up eventually."

Samael sighed in exasperation. "Fine. Suffer needlessly. You know, I must say – you're handling this all considerably better than most."

"How did Dan react?"

The grin that lit up his face was incandescent. "Screamed like a dying pterodactyl and passed out on the floor. I wonder if the security cameras at the bar caught it…"

"So why did you tell him and not me?" she asked.

Wrong thing to ask.

Samael stiffened, his entire frame going rigid down to his wings before his entire face darkened, black eyes narrowing. "Come again?"

Chloe tried to backpedal but it was too late. "That's not –"

"What did I tell you when we first met?" Samael roared, stepping off the balcony and forcing her to step back. "What have I been telling you from the very moment our paths crossed? Did I stutter when I said my name? Did I mumble when I told you not only who I was but what I was? Should I have tried another language?"

Chloe stumbled back, almost tripping and falling but managed to catch herself on the wall she found herself backed against.

Samael's open palm smashed into the concrete next to her head, making her flinch and close her eyes against the flying bits of debris.

"Did I ever lie to you, Detective?" he snarled, looming over her. "Did I? Why would I tell you the truth about everything only to spout off such a fantastic lie about who I was? To spend half of every conversation reiterating exactly what I just told you? To tell you every, single time the truth and you scoff and accuse me of lying? For fun? I told you a hundred times and more, Detective. What was I supposed to do to convince you? Terrify you? Show you the True Face of God's Sin Eater? Fine. So be it."

There was a flash of light so bright she had to shut her eyes.

When he spoke again, his voice was back to normal. "Go on, Detective. Have a look. Open your eyes."

Curiosity, more than anything, got the better of her. She knew Samael wasn't Lucifer – at least, not the one she knew now. Samael was more like Lucifer when she first met him. The Lucifer that believed in punishment more than justice and thought there was little saving grace to humanity.

But despite Samael's rage, despite what she'd seen him do to his own sibling or the anger he'd just thrown at her…

She wasn't afraid of him.

But he sounded like he thought she would be.

Chloe cautiously opened her eyes and couldn't help the small gasp as her hands flew to her mouth.

Samael's face was a burned ruin, shiny and raw looking even in the dim of the night sky. Deep gouges carved into his skin as if he'd tried to peel off his own face. His cheeks were hollowed and lips were ragged and torn. Eyes no longer black but burning, fiery red.

All she could think of were the carved out hollows on his shoulders from his purposely destroyed wings and without thinking, she reached one hand out towards his scarred cheek.

"Oh…Lucifer," she breathed, not even noticing the name and he didn't correct her. Her hand stopped, hovering above his ruined skin, wanting to offer some form of comfort but not sure if she would just cause him more pain because the burns were obviously old but so were the ones where his wings had been, and he was adamant about her not touching them. "Why would you be afraid to show me?"

Did he really think she thought so little of him that his appearance would drive her away? Did she really make him believe that?

In the blink of an eye, the wounds were gone. Lucifer – Samael – looked as he always did.

"I don't understand," he said, abruptly pulling away from her, almost tripping over himself to put as much distance as he could between them. "Why aren't you afraid?"

Chloe wanted to go to him. So badly it ached. But he already looked like it was taking all of his willpower not to take off right then and there and she didn't know if he would ever answer another prayer of hers. So she held her ground, forcing herself to stay where she was and to give him as much space as he needed without retreating either. Because she wasn't afraid of him.

"Why would I be scared of you?" she asked gently. "Because you've obviously suffered?" She didn't mention that the gouges looked self-inflicted. "Scars aren't scary, Lu-" she caught herself. "Samael. They're just…proof that you survived."

Samael scoffed incredulously. "Father certainly broke the mold with you, Detective…" he muttered. "People don't normally sympathize with my nastier side."

"What happened?"

Samael frowned in momentary bewilderment. "I happened."

"You did that to yourself?" Chloe blurted out. "Why?" She knew Lucifer had…issues with self-worth, but mostly he just seemed full of himself rather than self-loathing. In spite of her suspicions that yes, it was a self-inflicted injury, she was hoping she was wrong.

"Because of you," he snapped. When he saw her confusion, he explained. "Not you personally…you." He swept his arm out to encompass the skyline of Los Angeles and beyond. "Admit it, this face isn't exactly one to make you quiver in your boots. Quiver somewhere else, yes. But when I didn't want to be the object of desire, I wanted be feared. This," his face flashed momentarily back to the burns, "before it was the face of the Devil, it was the face of Death."

Chloe remembered Azrael's too realistic looking 'makeup' at the bar. Apparently it was more than occupation Samael shared with his sister.

"After the Fall, it worked just as well. Perhaps even better. I wanted to be as ugly on the outside as I was on the inside, to show my Father just what He'd made me into. I couldn't do anything to Him, but I could convince Him to break His favorite toys. And those were the ones He would let me have."

"Lucifer, I-"

"Will you stop that?" Samael snapped irritably. "How many times must I tell you – Lucifer is gone. Only I remain."

And they were back to the split personality. Which made her remember she was quite literally on a ticking clock if what Gabriel and Michael said was true. The longer she messed around, the longer the two of them talked without really saying anything, the worse the binding would get. And the harder it would be to undo. She'd already caught him absently flexing his left hand like it'd fallen asleep on him, or rolling his shoulders uncomfortably as if to loosen them, and considering his…volatile behavior, she could make a pretty educated guess that it was starting to bother Samael, too.

"No," Chloe said, shaking her head firmly. "I don't really believe that, and I don't think you do, either. You already said it yourself. You, Lucifer – you're the same person. Nothing has changed except whatever that woman did to you. That means you have all of the same experiences, all of the same history – it's not like you've forgotten it. Or like it didn't happen. Something made you into who you are today. Your Father didn't do anything more than rename you. You changed. Why?"

"What difference does it make about the hows and whys and wherefores? It's utterly irrelevant. This is me now. A rose by any other name and all that wax poetic nonsense," Samael said. He spread his arms wide, his darkening wings mirroring the motion behind him. "I bear no light – metaphorically or otherwise."

Chloe could feel frustration mounting, building like a lead weight in her chest because how could Samael not see that he was proving her point? This was the Lucifer she knew – the one she met months ago at one random drive by shooting that changed everything. "Something changed," she argued. She pointed a finger at Samael's chest to make her point and the archangel's mouth curled up into a smirk.

"More like reset to default," Samael said flippantly.

"Oh my God, you haven't changed at all," she said irritably. This was like trying to explain consequences in their case with Benny Choi. Maybe she wasn't explaining this right – she had a limited experience with the church and all of its history and angels and who ran what and how what happened. But maybe that was for the best, because no one else seemed to realize what she did. "I don't mean now. I mean years ago. When you were in Hell. When you saw nothing but the worst of us, the worst of humanity, what happened to make you decide we weren't so bad? There had to be something in us that you thought was worth it – worth defying your father, worth leaving Hell. If you hated people so much, why would you leave a place where all you did was torture them? Why leave a place where you didn't have to worry about the law or whether or not someone deserved to be punished? Something had to change. If you just thought people were blanket statement evil…why would you want to live like one of us?"

Samael stared at her with those onyx eyes unblinking, head cocked to one side as he considered the answer. When he didn't speak for several moments, Chloe thought he wouldn't.

"Fine, what -" she began but Samael interrupted.

"You are such funny little creatures, you humans," he said, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I'm never sure if I love you or hate you. Is it possible to do both?"

That was...not what Chloe was expecting as an answer. She shrugged, not sure what else to do.

"Music."

"What?"

Samael mirrored her shrug, and with a ruffle of feathers, his wings vanished. "You asked what made me change my mind. Music."

That...that explained a lot, actually. Lux. Lucifer's love of the history of the building he occupied with Frank Sinatra. His rather oddly extensive knowledge of children's movies – specifically Disney with all their songs. Why so many myths about the Devil involved his interest in music.

"Souls in the Pit are kind of funny, really. They punish themselves – reliving their worst nightmares over, and over. They can stop it, and they know it. All part of the welcome package. Hell isn't supposed to be permanent. After all, the only way I was getting out of being king of it was if it was no longer necessary." He chuckled without humor. "I doubt that's ever going to happen…but some of them, in vain efforts to comfort themselves, to prevent their descent into true madness – they would sing to themselves. I wasn't imprisoned there. How else would I procure all those favors over the years? I could come and go as I pleased – just never to the Silver City. I couldn't go home, but I could come here. And music was about the only thing worthwhile about you."

Chloe knew that casually dismissive tone. She'd heard it many times. Lucifer – or Samael – may not lie to her. But he sure as hell lied to himself. Something else that hadn't changed.

"So naturally…the first thing you did when you left Hell for good was start a club, rather than, oh…I don't know…opening a music store."

He rubbed absently at his chest again, and Chloe resisted the urge to look at her watch.

Tick, tick, tick, she reminded herself. But if Samael wasn't going to let someone help him, she was going to make him help himself. Lucifer could be told something a thousand times, but it never sunk in until he came to the same conclusion on his own.

She just had to get him to do it in a matter of hours, not days.

And she was really, really hoping that an archangel was strong enough to break even an magical (and that still sounded weird to even think it) hold if he really wanted to.

"Yes, well," Samael huffed. "If I was going to be stuck around humans one way or another, I was at least going to be able to pick and choose them. And given human fascination for money, I wasn't about to purposely choose something that only made minimum wage. How else was I going to get out of speeding tickets?"

"No other reason?"

Lucifer's hand clutched compulsively, and she could see a brief flash of discomfort flash across his face, not unlike when he'd convinced her to shoot him in the leg. "Uh, no…" he said absently. "I mean, Lux put me in a position to…" he trailed off, eyes a thousand miles away.

Come on, Lucifer, she thought. I know you can do this…

"To fulfill desire," Samael said, this time pressing his left hand, hard, against his chest above his heart. "To see what people would do if…if given a chance. To see if they would prove me wron-"

The last of the word was lost in strangled shout as Samael staggered. "What the –" he suddenly sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, falling to one knee as he half caught himself on the railing, his other hand clenched white knuckled at his chest.

Chloe abandoned caution as she rushed forward, keeping him from falling face first onto the deck. Rather than shoving her away as she half expected him to, he clung to her like she was his only lifeline.

"What's…" he flinched, hard, "happening?" He choked off another gasp, clenching his jaw so tightly she could see the muscles and tendons in his neck stand out in stark contrast.

Crap. Crap, crap. Maybe she'd made it backfire instead? Instead of getting him to break it, did she just make it speed up instead?

"I'm sorry!" she apologized, not sure where to put her hands, or what to do or what to say. "I didn't mean to make it worse, I just –"

What? Wanted to trick you into wanting to be something else? Someone else? What a hypocrite I turned out to be…

"I didn't want you to die."

"You did this?" he gasped, his fingers digging sharply into her shoulder with bruising strength.

Before she could open her mouth to apologize again, to try and make up for what was an apparently terrible idea, his eyes widened and for a split moment they were Lucifer's.

"Move!" he snapped. Without waiting for a response or even for it register in her head what he'd said, he shoved her backwards with a strength he'd never used on her, sending her skidding across the floor with enough force she hit the table in the living room of the penthouse before she came to a stop.

There was a blinding flash of lightning followed by an immediate crack of thunder and something slammed into Samael, hard enough to crush the marble beneath them where Chloe had just been kneeling and sending them both rolling across the deck, wrestling for control.

No, wait. Not something. Someone.

Someone else with wings, but not Gabriel or Michael – these wings weren't blinding white like the archangels', but so deep black they absorbed light instead of reflected it.

Samael landed a kick to their chest, launching them halfway across the balcony, but instead of hitting the opposite wall, spun with the force of the kick to land on their knees, one arm thrown out for balance as they skidded to a stop.

A tiny, irrational part of her brain that sounded an awful lot like Ryan Reynolds just then chimed in. Superhero pose…

"Long time no see," the newcomer snarled. "Brother."

Samael snorted, touching a hand to his newly split lip. "Ragiel," he said, smiling through blood stained teeth. "You're late."

Author's note: I really think this is going to only have two more chapters. BUT - the next one is gonna take me forever. It was supposed to be on the end of this chapter, but it's another primary fight sequence, and they take foooooreeeeveeer for me to write. Plus side? Not gonna be that long a chapter, so it shouldn't take me months and months. Barring any more disasters, anyway. ::shakes angry fist at the cosmos::
Also, since I don't think this is going to get worked into dialogue, Ragiel is considered the archangel of Justice: "for cause, he brings angels to account", and a demon who passed himself off as a saint to mess with the Church. Arguably, Samael's replacement figure in the Silver City.