Author's note: Lyrics from Great is Thy Faithfulness by Thomas Chisholm and Drops of Jupiter by Train.

Josh absently tossed the car keys into the air, catching them as he stepped through the automatic door into the tiny airport terminal. Of course, there was someone already being helped at the rental car desk, but Josh waited patiently enough, idly whistling Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus as he stood.

He was still whistling as he reached the front of the line, though he stopped and grinned at the attendant's raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Bit prideful, isn't it, son?" He was an older man, with salt and pepper hair and a blue sweater; his faded name tag said Roy, but of course that wasn't his name.

"It's catchy." At the older man's raised eyebrow, Josh grinned and inclined his head in acknowledgement, whistling a few bars of How Great Thou Art instead. He stopped upon catching the level look from the man behind the counter and instead put the rental car's keys on the counter. "You gave him a Rogue? Really? Wasn't that a little on the nose?"

His father shrugged, flipping through the stack of paperwork to find Lucifer's rental agreement. "Well, the only other option that came close was a Scion, and that seemed like kind of a mixed message. Did you fill up the tank?"

"You don't have to ask." Josh leaned against the counter, adding, "They got back to LA all right. Lucifer is still pissed off at you, no surprise there." Seeing his father's steady regard, he sighed. "She'll do what you want. You know she will."

"I know she will." He found the right paperwork, attached the keys, and tossed the bundle into the bin. "See you at home, son."

Josh nodded and turned to leave, lifting his voice in song as he did.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not...

His father looked after Josh as the doors closed behind him, drowning the final line of the verse. "And he said his siblings weren't subtle..."

Some time later, Azrael had managed a shower, with a murmured prayer of thanks for her shower's truly marvelous water pressure, and several hours of deep sleep. She woke feeling... not normal, or whatever passed for her normal these days, but at least better. Reaching for her phone, ready to face it at last, she realized that it wasn't in its usual spot and had to think back to the last time she'd seen it: the evening of the play, when she'd turned it off and stashed it in her backpack.

She distinctly remembered Josh bringing the backpack, which meant it was probably in the living room. Getting to her feet, she pulled on her robe and padded into the hallway, pausing when she heard the music. Leaning against the wall, she watched her brother play. The room itself was dim, only the streaming moonlight providing any illumination. Lucifer's hands moved deftly across the keys, his movements strong and sure. After a moment, he began to sing.

But tell me, did you sail across the sun?
Did you make it to the Milky Way
To see the lights all faded
And that Heaven is overrated?

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me
While you were looking for yourself out there?

She must have made a noise, as he stopped playing and turned to face her, his expression reflective. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Azrael shook her head. "I've been sleeping for most of the day," she replied. "This body decided it was time to get up. Didn't mean to interrupt you; I just came out for my bag." Scanning the room, she spotted it, and crossed to retrieve it.

Lucifer nodded and started to play once more, a slower, more reflective version of the song he'd been singing.

Azrael watched him, enjoying the play of light and shadows as his fingers moved on the keys. Standing next to the piano, she rested a hand lightly on its side, feeling the vibrations of the song.

Lucifer looked up, though his hands continued their motion. "You're looking better," he offered. "Less likely to fall over at a moment's notice."

"I'll give you at least two moments," Azrael quipped. "Sleep and a shower work wonders, I have to say."

"If that shower could talk..." Lucifer mused, grinning at his sister's noise of disgust and playing a few chords that would not be out of place in a porno.

Azrael shook her head. "You can even make the piano sound dirty," she observed, adding quickly, "And no stories about sex on the piano, please."

Chuckling, Lucifer waggled his brows, his manner implying that there certainly were such stories.

"Ew," Azrael murmured, edging away from the piano. She eyed it, clearly considering the logistics, and then shook her head. After a moment she said, "I have a question."

"Well," Lucifer replied, warming to his subject. "That last time, the trick of it was for him to -"

"Not that question!" Azrael interrupted urgently. When Lucifer subsided, amused, and began noodling on the piano, she continued hesitantly, "How did you find me? Did Raf tell you where I went?"

Shaking his head, Lucifer replied, "Actually, Maze provided the solution to that little dilemma." Seeing Azrael's puzzlement, he explained, "She gave me your feather and I used it to track you."

"But it was on the roof." Azrael's expression grew thoughtful. "I closed my eyes so she could hit me," she mused. "Maybe she got it then." She looked back at Lucifer to find him staring at her.

"You did what?" Lucifer demanded, torn between surprise and amusement. "I mean, taking a swan dive off a mountain, that's one thing, but closing your eyes to let Maze hit you? Do you actually have a death wish?"

"Swan dive isn't accurate, "Azrael observed, wrinkling her nose as she added, "I swear, between you and Josh, the death jokes are getting old. Would you believe he actually got Death By Chocolate ice cream for the house?"

Lucifer shook his head recognizing Azrael's attempt at distraction from his own expertise at that particular coping mechanism. His gaze sharpening a little, he prompted, "About that swan dive, though..." Seeing his sister's expression tighten, he still continued, needling lightly, "Looking for a loophole, were you?"

"No." She took a breath. "Maybe. I don't know." Another breath. "It wasn't so much a conscious decision as an action fueled by panic. I wasn't in the best place." Considering her own words, she wasn't sure if she meant the ledge or how she'd been thinking at the time; probably both, if she was honest with herself.

Nodding, Lucifer replied, "I can understand that."

"No, you can't." It was a flat refusal, untempered by any of Azrael's usual niceties. Catching the sharp lift of her brother's eyebrows, she repeated, a defensive note coloring her words, "Well, you can't. Mortal body, here."

Lucifer considered the stubborn set to his sister's jaw, then shook his head, opting for a subject change. "But, really, with Maze? That wasn't so bright, little sister. You should have known better. She could have done you serious harm, what with your mortal body here."

Azrael made a wry face at her brother's teasing mimicry, then shrugged, moving to perch on the back of the couch. "I'd already talked her down a little, and she said she wouldn't use her knives. She had a good point, and I thought it'd be better to let her do it than let her get more angry. Funny how it all worked out; she didn't hit me, though I'm not sure why."

"That is strange," Lucifer agreed. "Well, don't lose hope," he added cheerfully. "She may still pop you a good one. I wouldn't turn your back on her if I were you."

Azrael sighed, muttering, "Gee, thanks." Turning her narrowed gaze on her brother, she added, "Where's my feather, by the way?"

"Oh, I still have it," Lucifer replied airily.

Azrael regarded Lucifer, waiting. When he didn't reply, she asked, too patiently, "Can I have it back?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, I don't think so." At Azrael's exasperated look, he added, "Well, you do tend to take off. It could come in handy to have a way to find you. Plus, should dear old Dad randomly haul you back upstairs, I'd have a way to tell."

Azrael visibly considered arguing, then shrugged. "Fair enough, as long as you keep track of it. I'd hate to have it fall into the wrong hands."

Lucifer nodded, absently picking out a tune as he spoke. "Well, of course. Not that there are all that many who could do much with it, but I'll be careful."

"Thanks." Azrael didn't speak for long enough that Lucifer noticed her silence. Looking over, his hands still moving on the keys, he saw her expression: tense and a little unhappy. She was overthinking things again. Finally, she spoke. "I'm sorry."

Lucifer stopped playing. "Beg pardon?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I shouldn't have asked Dad to stay. I... I should have known how it would go."

"Yes," Lucifer agreed, his tone just a little too light for his easy manner to be truly genuine. "You should have. I suppose he patted you on the head and you rolled over for him."

Azrael slipped down from her seat and stepped around the piano so that she was standing next to her brother. With him seated and her standing, they were nearly of a height, though she didn't feel any taller. Her jaw worked for a moment, and then she nodded. "Basically, yes," she admitted. "What did you expect, brother? What, did you think I'd stand up to him? Because that's worked out so well in the past? But he... he wasn't all bad." Seeing Lucifer's look of denial, she glanced away, but continued, "He had other reasons for sending me here. Not just the task."

"Really," Lucifer drawled sardonically, his disbelief obvious. "What reasons? Do tell."

Azrael flushed, her mouth tightening, but persisted, "He thought I should have a break from ferrying the souls of the dead and... and hearing the welcome speech, after Uri." Lucifer scoffed at that, but Azrael added quietly, "He said he sent me to you because he knew you'd lift my spirits, and he was right." She hesitated, then added, her tone wry, "I mean, not at this precise moment, but in general, you do."

Lucifer didn't respond. Azrael, watching him out of the corner of her eye, held her breath, hoping that her brother would accept what she, at least, saw as paternal praise; she could tell the exact moment when he rejected her words. His expression shuttered, and he closed his eyes. "Right," he said, his voice quiet and full of regret. "You drank the Kool-aid. Got it."

"Luci, no," Azrael protested. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, pulling back at the last moment. He wouldn't want her to touch him just now, she was sure. "I don't have any illusions about our father. I know he's manipulating me into doing... something." She exhaled in frustration. "Something," she repeated. "I don't know what, I swear."

Lucifer shook his head, opening his eyes once more and looking at her. She managed - just - not to turn away from the plea in his eyes. "He told you what you wanted to hear, and you believed him. Azrael, he's playing you, just like he always does."

Azrael took a deep breath. "I know he's using me. I know I'm just another one of his tools, like all his children - well, except you. But I don't have a choice. Don't you see that?"

Lucifer shook his head. "You could..."

Azrael moved to sit next to him on the piano bench, a scant inch of space between them, but it may as well have been a mile. When he didn't finish his words, she asked softly, "What? I could stay here? Live out my life in this mortal body, subject to all the dangers they face?" Gesturing at herself with a shake of her head, she added, "He told me that all this is temporary, but I know that's only if I complete my task."

Lucifer nodded, not looking at her. "And if he's using you as a means to send me back to Hell?"

That gave Azrael a moment's pause. "I don't think that's it." When Lucifer turned away, getting to his feet with a wordless noise of disbelief, she stood as well. "Brother, how long ago did Amenadiel come here to ask you to return to Hell? He seems like the logical choice for that particular chore, not me, and yet here you are."

Shaking his head, Lucifer observed, "But Dad's a sneaky, manipulative bastard. We really have no idea what he's planning."

Azrael nodded thoughtfully, getting up from the piano bench and moving to a chair. "True," she acknowledged. "But when Michael came to take me home, it was right after Chloe and Trixie had seen my wings. I mean, that must have been what he wanted me to do, or at least part of it. Chloe knows about you, now, and that seems to be a good thing, right?" Lucifer nodded in rather suspicious acknowledgement, and Azrael continued, "So Dad sort of did you a favor."

She knew as soon as she said it that she'd made a mistake. Lucifer's expression darkened. "A favor," he repeated. "I don't need his bloody favors."

"Okay," Azrael backpedaled. "You don't, I agree. Maybe it's nothing to do with you." Hearing Lucifer's derisive snort, she grimaced. "Look, I'll ask Josh, okay? I'll see if he has any idea."

"He won't tell you," Lucifer replied flatly.

Azrael exhaled a soft exasperated noise. "What do you want me to say, brother? I'm trying."

Her brother didn't respond, instead crossing back to the piano.

"This is your home, Lucifer," Azrael said, bowing her head. "I can see why you like it here. But even if I had my body, my powers... this isn't home for me. I wish it could be. Then all this would be a lot easier. But it's not."

Lucifer nodded once more. "I understand," he said, sounding pained. "You'll do what he wants, and then you'll leave."

She couldn't deny it. "I'm sorry." She risked a glance at him, then added, "If you really don't want me to stay here, I understand."

Lucifer looked over, surprised. "Where would you go?"

"I'd figure it out."

Lucifer sighed, moving to pour himself a drink. "Whether you're here or not, you're still going to do whatever it is?"

Azrael nodded mutely.

"Then you may as well stay," Lucifer concluded gracelessly.

Azrael nodded once more and got to her feet. "If you change your mind..."

Lucifer looked over with a bleak smile. "Oh, you'll know."

Azrael paused in the hallway and turned back to her brother. "If I really thought it meant you going back to Hell," she said, her voice serious, "Then I wouldn't do it. I'd leave, go back to my house or... I don't know, anywhere else. I wouldn't do that to you." She hesitated a moment, then added, "And I did miss you, while I was gone."

As Azrael closed her door behind her, she heard a sharp, discordant sound, as if someone had smashed a hand onto a piano keyboard. She sighed and pulled out her phone. As she waited for it to start up, she curled up on the bed, cocooning herself in her wings. The phone's screen lit and the notifications began to scroll. As expected, she had increasingly worried messages from Trixie on every possible platform. What surprised her, though, were the others.

The day after the play, Ella had texted several different movie titles and an enthusiastic list of emoji that Azrael assumed was an invitation, and Chloe had sent a message asking if everything was okay, mentioning that Trixie was expecting her. Scrolling further, she saw inquiries from several people at St. Brennan's, including both Mary Grace and Father Joe. Even Jack - how had he gotten her number? - had texted an apology for what happened after the play, and a plea for her to come back to church. Poor kid; he really had no idea. There were further messages from Chloe and Ella, an offer to talk from Linda, and even a tentative query from Trixie's father.

It wasn't just the humans in her life who had left messages. Amenadiel had texted something that, while innocuous, still somehow managed to sound ominous. Her mother of all people had sent It's your mother. Your little bug was here looking for you. Are you all right? Azrael wasn't entirely sure that her mother grasped the concept that the phone actually let her know who sent texts. She had to smile at the attempt, though.

Perhaps most concerning was the message from Maze: Get your ass back here. You made the little human cry. Yeah, that didn't bode well.

Still, as Azrael scrolled through the messages once more, she felt a warm sensation in her chest, a pricking at her eyes. These humans, they cared about her. They cared about - she allowed herself to think it, with the possibility now on the table once more - the Angel of Death. More overwhelming was the thought that she'd grown to care for them, too. She'd spent millenia on humanity's periphery, snatching glimpses of their lives as she coasted through, but all this had happened in only a few short weeks, a blink of an eye.

Azrael took a deep breath, then started replying to the texts. She had amends to make.