Azrael stood outside the door to the house where her mother was living and swallowed hard. She hadn't vomited since that first miserable, alcohol-fueled night in the penthouse and she had no desire to experience that again, but nerves had brought her close to that point. She tried taking deep breaths, with limited success.

The rain had started midway through her flight: not so heavy that she had to land, but enough that she looked bedraggled and felt unpleasantly damp. Maybe her mother would take pity on her.

Since Charlotte hadn't specifically told her not to tell Dan, she could argue that it wasn't outright defiance; that was something she'd avoided with her mother since she'd grown old enough for youth not to excuse her behavior, and then, well, her mother had been in Hell. Still, she wasn't sure Charlotte would see it that way. She didn't know her mother any more, not really; they'd been apart for too long. She really had no idea what the reaction would be to her news.

Part of her wished that she hadn't come, even though she knew that Charlotte should absolutely not find out what had happened by chance, or worse, Dad forbid, from Dan himself. How, Azrael wondered, had she reached the point where she wished she was eating popcorn with a demon?

Ducking into a shadowy spot, Azrael loosed her wings to shield her phone from the rain, sparing a moment of grim amusement for their unexpected usefulness, and sent a quick text requesting her mother's presence.

Azrael tucked away her wings and settled in to wait. The rain had picked up and, feeling her dress clinging unpleasantly to her, Azrael sent a sour look skyward.

It didn't take long for Charlotte to arrive. With a small smile, she drew Azrael under an awning. "Sweetheart, I know you have the sense to get out of the rain."

"It's dark," Azrael replied, though she didn't manage a smile in response. "I didn't see this spot."

Frowning a little at the state her daughter was in, Charlotte cast a look toward her house. "The children are still up, or I'd ask you inside. Here, you look like you're freezing." She pulled off her jacket and tucked it around her daughter's shoulders. "Better?" she asked, with another smile.

Azrael nestled into the warmth of the jacket, knowing that cold wasn't the only reason for her tremors. Still, she said, "Yes, thank you." A oddly familiar scent clung to the jacket: honeysuckle and woodsmoke and something she couldn't quite define, though it picked at her memory.

"Well," Charlotte said, smoothing Azrael's hair the best she could given the damp. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but what brought you here?"

Azrael pulled the jacket a little closer. "Dan." She took a deep breath, unable to continue, and thunder rumbled overhead. Casting a frustrated look toward the sky, she muttered, "I'm trying, okay? I don't need ominous thunder."

Her expression growing suspicious, Charlotte looked skyward as well. "Raziel, if that's you, stop tormenting your sister," she said, her voice stern.

Azrael wasn't sure, but it seemed like the rain lightened a little, and there was no more thunder.

"Now." Charlotte turned her gaze on her daughter. "You were about to tell me something about Daniel."

Azrael, suddenly feeling her body's age, nodded. "I'm sorry, Mother. He knows about us. Who we are." She hesitated, then added, "What we are."

Charlotte did not speak for a long moment, and Azrael actually wished for more thunder; it would break the silence, at least.

"You told him?" Charlotte asked finally, her voice brittle.

Azrael took a deep breath, considering her response. Technically, the answer to her mother's question was no, but she didn't want to give Charlotte further reason for enmity with Maze, especially when the decision to tell Dan had been her own. Strange. There was a time when she wouldn't have hesitated to throw the demon under the bus, even on a technicality. "It's because of what happened at Dan's apartment," she admitted, avoiding a direct answer. "He got suspicious."

"He did seem distracted at first," Charlotte mused, and Azrael grimaced at the mental images her mother's words inspired. Lifting her gaze once more, Charlotte said, her voice sharp, "You were at Daniel's apartment because your father wanted you to be there. Correct? Daniel said your father told you to bring him pudding."

"Mom," Azrael began faintly, not wanting to implicate one parent to another.

Charlotte turned her eyes from the sky to her daughter. "Answer the question, Azrael," she said, a note of warning in her voice.

Azrael nodded miserably. The only reason the saw the pained look that crossed her mother's face was that she was watching for it; an instant later, and Charlotte's expression had smoothed to blandness.

"I see." Charlotte said, her voice small and hard, and hinting at the memory of millenia of slights. "And what was Daniel's reaction?"

"Not positive," Azrael admitted, remembering Dan's insistence that he was going to Hell. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Charlotte shook her head, her jaw tightening. "It was your father's doing. He can't even let me have -" Azrael turned away, and Charlotte fell silent.

"Look, give Dan time," Azrael urged. "These humans, they're resilient."

"Don't I know it," Charlotte murmured, her smile and her tone of voice sending Azrael's imagination places she did want it to go.

Had her mother learned Lucifer's deflection trick, too?

Azrael made a face. "Mom, not everything is about… that."

"No," Charlotte agreed, with a faint smile for her daughter's word-avoidance. "But I've found that it can greatly improve quite a few situations. You may want to remember that."

"Mother," Azrael protested.

"No, hear me out. You're not always going to be in that body, and there really is no reason for your father's antiquated rule." Charlotte tucked a lock of hair behind Azrael's ear, urging, "Listen to your mother, sweetheart. I know what I'm talking about."

Azrael, looking uncomfortable, said, "I'm sure you do, Mom. I just really, really don't want to hear about it. It leads to mental images that I would rather not have."

Looking amused and perhaps a little flattered, Charlotte said, "Are you sure you're imagining the right things? I'm sure Lucifer has some reading material you could borrow. And there are videos, too. Do you know about the internet?"

"Yes, I do," Azrael replied, deciding that trying to fight her blush was a lost cause. "On that note, I think I should get going." She hesitated, then said, "I am sorry about Dan, Mom."

"Well," Charlotte said, with forced lightness, "It's not the worst thing your father's done to me." She fussed with the jacket Azrael wore, adding, "Take this with you, sweetheart. It's chilly, and your brother hasn't seen fit to stop the rain."

"I thought Raziel was supposed to be doing my job," Azrael complained. "How does he have time for this?"

As it happened, Azrael and Charlotte were both looking in the proper direction at just the right time; when the lightning flashed, they both saw Michael waiting down the road.

Azrael heard Charlotte's sharp intake of breath, saw the look of longing on her face, and hoped desperately that her brother would be civil.

The exasperated look Michael sent skyward as he approached was not encouraging.

"Brother," Azrael greeted him as he reached them, a warning in her voice.

"Azrael," Michael acknowledged, adding coolly after a moment, "Mother."

"Oh, son, I've missed you," Charlotte breathed. She stepped closer to Michael and reached for him, her hand faltering as he stiffened.

"Michael," Azrael hissed. "Filial piety."

"I've come to take you back," Michael told Azrael bluntly, ignoring both her rebuke and his mother's dismay. "I was giving you time to talk, as I didn't want a repeat of last time, but apparently our brother up there wants to play games."

Charlotte's hand sought Azrael instead, and the girl allowed herself to be drawn closer to her mother. After the first gut-punch of surprise, she felt… she wasn't sure what she felt, as if she were wrapped in blankets and the emotions couldn't escape.

"Michael," Azrael began, her tone hinting at her request for more time, but her brother wouldn't let her finish.

"You have got to be kidding me," he spat. "What is it this time? I let you tell our mother about the human. Don't you want to go home, Azrael?" When she didn't immediately reply, Michael turned to leave, obviously ready to put some distance between himself and his family.

"Michael." Charlotte's tone was sharp, a command.

He stopped in his tracks, ingrained by millenia of obedience, however long in the past.

"Give your sister a moment," Charlotte instructed him, and Michael returned, though reluctantly.

Charlotte cupped Azrael's cheek gently with one hand. Her blue eyes glistening, the woman said softly, "You can't give up this chance, sweetheart. Your father will restore you. You'll be free of that body."

Azrael caught a flicker of memory: Trixie saying, I like your body, and she almost smiled. Despite its shortcomings, she had found some affection for her current form, though it would never be truly hers. She took a deep breath, willing herself to focus.

Azrael nodded. "I'm sorry, Mom. For… a lot of things." She stepped away from her mother and approached Michael. "I need time," she informed him, her voice resolute.

"No," Michael replied flatly. "No way." Then he looked up, his focus turning inward. "Our father gives you one day," he said finally, his manner reluctant. "This time tomorrow, be ready, Azrael."

Azrael exhaled a soft relieved breath. Then she countered, unable to resist, "Three days? For the symbolism?" She knew better that to suggest forty days and forty nights, despite the rain, but maybe this smaller number would be acceptable.

Michael shook his head, clearly annoyed. "One day," he repeated, with emphasis. "That's more than I'd give you, but our father is apparently feeling generous."

"One day," Azrael echoed quietly. "Thank you."

Charlotte stepped closer to her son, and Azrael sighed, knowing how the interaction was likely to go.

"Michael, please," Charlotte breathed.

Michael turned away, muttering, "I have to go. Azrael, be sure you're ready tomorrow." And he took to the air, not bothering to hide his passage.

Azrael stepped to Charlotte's side and rested a hand on her mother's arm, the motion tentative. "Don't let him get to you, Mom," she urged. "He's a jerk."

"He's still your brother," Charlotte replied, looking in the direction Michael had taken.

"Well, whose fault is that?" Azrael teased gently, eliciting a short, humorless laugh from Charlotte. "Look, I… I need to go; I have a lot to do before I leave. Will you be okay?"

Charlotte smiled. "Of course, sweetheart. Stop by before you leave, if you can."

Azrael leaned lightly against her mother for a moment. "If I can," she agreed. "I'll try."

Charlotte drew her daughter close. "And if you don't get a chance…" She gaze Azrael a long look, weighing her words, then finally said, "Be careful up there."

"I will," Azrael agreed. She reluctantly stepped away from her mother, then slipped into the shadows before taking to the air.

Charlotte stepped out from under the awning to watch her daughter's flight. The rain had slowed, but was still enough to dampen her face. Charlotte couldn't find it in herself to care, and stayed outside long after Azrael was out of sight. She looked to the sky, listening, but she heard nothing but the rain.


Azrael came to a landing on Lucifer's balcony, by now completely soaked. "Thanks, brother," she muttered, already planning what she would say to Raziel the next time she saw him… which would likely be the next day. Azrael's throat tightened and tension gripped her guts. She tipped her head back, letting the rain fall directly on her face; strangely enough, it seemed to help.

"What are you doing out there?" Lucifer, dressed but for his jacket, regarded her with puzzlement from just inside the penthouse. "You look like a drowned cat."

Azrael straightened, winking her nose at her brother. "Thank you," she replied. She arched her wings over her head to keep off the rain, then gave it up as a lost cause and let them fall. "I came to see you. But you look like you're going somewhere? I can be quick."

Lucifer shook his head. "Just downstairs," he replied breezily. "Thought I'd show myself, maybe play a few songs, see what happens from there. Friday night, you know. But that can wait; it's early yet." He gestured for Azrael to come inside, then amended, "Wait, let me get a towel."

"Make it two," Azrael suggested.

"Right," Lucifer agreed. He disappeared down the hall, returning quickly with an armload of towels. "Come in," he said, offering the topmost towel. "Why didn't you just come up the back way?"

Azrael tucked away her wings and stepped just inside the penthouse, then briskly applied the towel to her hair. "I wanted to fly." The flight in the rain had cleared her head somewhat, though the misery of damp clothing was rapidly making her regret her decision to remain outside.

"In this weather? Well, you did hit your head not all that long ago." Lucifer grinned at Azrael's exasperated huff.

Azrael peered at Lucifer through the curtain of her hair. "Did Mazikeen get in touch?" She returned her attention to her drying efforts, the better to avoid eye contact.

"About Daniel? Yes." Lucifer's tone was rather amused, and Azrael risked a look at him. "He and the Detective have hashed things out, apparently, and Daniel has left, likely to do some serious drinking. Oh, don't worry," he added easily, seeing Azrael's concerned look. "Maze sent Amenadiel after him. She also said you went to confess your sins to Mum, but you appear to be in one piece, so the punishment must not have been too awful."

Azrael shook her head. "She blamed Dad," she replied, trying not to feel guilty about that. Her parents' relationship was irredeemable, of course, but some small part of her still wished for something different.

"Well, that's appropriate," Lucifer interjected.

"She was nice, actually," Azrael said, finger-combing her hair. "And of course the conversation turned to… you know."

"Yes, sex," Lucifer said, with a hint of amused impatience. "It's not a difficult word, little sister: just three letters. I've seen you say much more challenging ones. But things generally do come round to sex, with Mum." Azrael eyed him, and he amended quickly, "Not sex with Mum. That's…" He shuddered.

"I know what you meant." Azrael set aside the first towel and reached for another, grimacing as she added, "She all but told me to watch porn on the internet."

Looking amused, Lucifer said, "Well, there's a time and place for everything, I suppose." His expression brightening, he asked, "Have you seen Hot Tub High School? It's not porn, but it certainly has its redeeming qualities."

"Lucifer, no," Azrael protested. "Isn't that the one where Chloe showed her breasts?"

With a bright grin, Lucifer replied, "Those would be the redeeming qualities I mentioned. It certainly isn't the writing."

Azrael shook her head. "I haven't seen it, and before you ask, I don't want to. It would be too weird."

"Your loss," Lucifer said agreeably.

"So," Azrael said, trying to steer the conversation back to where she didn't actually want it to go. "After the whole porn thing - or probably during, now that I think about it - Michael showed up."

His expression gone serious, Lucifer said, a note of irony in his voice, "I'm sure that went well, Michael and Mum."

Azrael nodded. "He was awful, of course." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Michael came to take me back to the Silver City." Lucifer stared at her, shocked, and she added, "Whatever Dad wanted me to do, I guess it's done."

"He wanted Dan to know," Lucifer concluded, and Azrael nodded.

"I'm not sure if it was because of Dan and Mom or what, but, yeah," Azrael agreed. "Considering the timing, that had to be it."

A darkly suspicious look crossed Lucifer's face, but then he turned his gaze on his sister. "But you're here," he said, with a small, puzzled frown. "You didn't leave."

Azrael smiled. "I seem to recall promising you that I'd tell you before I left."

Lucifer stepped forward, checked himself briefly at the sight of the soggy mess that was his sister, and then leaned down to pull her close. "You promised, but I never thought…"

"What, you thought I'd just take off?" Azrael leaned against her brother, stiff for a moment and then relaxing into his embrace when he made no complaints about his clothing. "Brother, I promised."

"I…" Lucifer didn't finish.

Azrael nodded, with an understanding sigh. "There have been a lot of broken promises."

"Yes," Lucifer agreed. He eased away from Azrael. "Well, now we're both a bit damp. Lovely. I'll find you something to change into and we can toss your clothes into the dryer. I do know how it works," he added, jesting.

Azrael did not let Lucifer deflect, but looked up, meeting his eyes directly. "I said I'd do better," she said firmly. "And I will." She held his gaze and smiled when he smiled.

"Thank you," Lucifer said, his voice husky.

"You're welcome."

"Do you want some dry clothes now?" he added lightly.

"So much."

Lucifer smiled. "Can you manage not to drip through my entire apartment?" he queried, turning to lead the way to his bedroom.

"Yeah, no promises," Azrael replied, trailing behind him. "But I have gained some impressive cleaning skills during my time here, so I'll take care of any drips."

Lucifer chuckled, and handed his sister some clothing; she ducked into his bathroom and emerged after a few minutes looking pleased to be relatively dry. She draped her mother's jacket over the back of a chair and took a moment to toss her clothing in the dryer, perhaps preferring her own laundry skills, then rejoined her brother by the bar. He had already poured a drink, and gave Azrael a look of inquiry.

"Just one, thanks." Azrael took the drink and sat next to her brother, amused to note that he had changed out of his damp clothing.

"Best take your wings out," Lucifer advised. "They'll dry more quickly, especially if you shake them out on the balcony. The rain stopped."

Azrael chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course it stopped. Thanks, Raziel. Sure, I'll be right back." She stepped onto the balcony and released her wings, giving them several vigorous flaps to shake off the worst of the water, then returned to her seat, holding her wings up to keep them from trailing on the ground.

"So this rainstorm is courtesy of our brother?" Lucifer queried. "Was he just being a wanker, or was there a point to it?"

Azrael shrugged. "A little of both, I think. You know how he gets. Thinks he's smarter than he is, wants to show off. He is good with weather, though."

Lucifer nodded. "So how is it that you're still here?" he queried, studying his drink. "I would have thought dear old Dad would have hauled you back."

"I told Michael I needed more time," Azrael explained. "He wanted to say no, but I guess Dad told him to give me a day. Same time tomorrow, I'm to leave." Her fingers tightened on her glass, but she did not drink.

Lucifer was silent for a long moment, looking sidelong at Azrael. "Back to the Silver City and the job?" Azrael nodded, and he offered, "Would have thought you'd be happier, as much as you've wanted to go back."

Azrael considered her drink, then nodded. "Yeah. Well, I would have thought that, too." She drained half her drink, then said, "I like my job."

Lucifer seaside his own drink in favor of watching Azrael. "That wasn't very convincing."

"No, I do." Azrael sounded sincere, but thoughtful. "Getting the souls where they should be is worthwhile, and I like having something I do well. It just takes a lot of time. He sent me here with nothing to do but this task… tasks. He gave me all this spare time. I like my job," she repeated, fumbling a little as she tried to express herself. "But it's demanding. There are so many more humans than there used to be. I'm not… I've gotten used to… to living here." Though her posture was still ramrod-straight, her wings drooped, giving her away.

"You're going to miss being here," Lucifer said, restlessness propelling him to his feet.

"Yes," Azrael agreed. "I'm going to miss the time to play piano, and to read and bake, and… Luci, the people. The reason I decided to tell Dan was that Trixie was looking at me like she thought I could fix everything, and I couldn't let her down. She was sure that telling Dan would make him see that I'm not just some strange kid, someone he doesn't want around his daughter. Well, he saw." A short, bitter laugh escaped her.

Lucifer stepped closer to the balcony, just near enough that he could see the sky. Though the rain had stopped, the clouds obscured the stars. "And now dear old Dad is taking you away from her."

Azrael looked over at her brother. "We still talking about Trixie?"

Lucifer didn't turn from his contemplation of the sky. "Who else?"

Azrael shook her head, but didn't argue. If that was how he wanted it, she wouldn't push the issue. Not overtly, at least; she knew how well that would go. She drained the last of her drink and set down the glass. With Lucifer facing away from her, she allowed herself to slump, resting her forehead in her cupped hand. "She believed in me," she said, her voice quiet, but distinct. "She let herself get close, and now Dad's taking me away from her. What a lovely reward for her faith."

"Typical Dad," Lucifer muttered. "He has to interfere. He can't just leave us… her alone." He stepped to the balcony and lit a cigarette, after a few tries.

Azrael got to her feet and moved to stand next to her brother, her wings still drooping. She told herself that it was because of the extra weight from the water, but she knew even as she thought it that she was lying to herself. "I'm going to miss her," she admitted, her words quiet. "I'm going to miss all of them." She inhaled a shaky breath. "I'm going to miss you, Luci. Even when I first got here and was scared and miserable, it wasn't so bad, because you were here."

Lucifer took a deep drag from his cigarette, then exhaled a long stream of smoke. "You could stay," he offered, not looking at his sister.

Azrael reached toward her brother, then cut off the movement, uncertain of her reception. "You know I can't," she replied. "I'm sorry. I… I actually wish I could, but the only way I'll be restored to myself is to go to the Silver City and face him." Her insides roiled at the thought of having to see her father; in the past, she had able to fly under the radar, but she was certain that would be impossible, all things considered.

Lucifer exhaled a soft sigh. He knew that would be the answer, and really couldn't expect anything else. "Well, then what?" He queried, stubbing out the cigarette in a short, vicious movement. "Back to the grind, transporting souls for the old man?" Azrael didn't answer, and Lucifer added, "What if you just told Dad you weren't going to do it any more?"

Azrael took a moment to answer, her silence thoughtful. "I… don't know. I've been the Angel of Death so long, I don't know if I could figure out how to be anyone else."

Lucifer turned and regarded her steadily, his dark eyes fixed on hers. "You've managed pretty well down here."

Azrael was the one to look away first. "If he wants me to do it, I don't really have a lot of choice in the matter." She hesitated, then added, "Luci, I like my job."

"Azrael." It took a moment, but she met his gaze once more. Lucifer continued quietly, "You have a night and a day down here. You might take some of that time to think about what you want."

"What good will that do me?" Azrael queried, her voice quiet and a little bitter. "I'm not you, Luci. I can't… I mean, small rebellions, yes, but I can't say to our father, I will not obey."

"Do you want your job back?" Lucifer persisted. "Not because it's all you've known for millenia, not because it's a worthy task, not because you're good at it, not because somebody has to do it. Do you want to do it?"

Azrael's wings flared, and then she pulled them close to her body once more in an obviously intentional move, her expression frustrated and shading toward angry. "I don't know, okay?" She glanced toward the penthouse and her clothing. "I have to go," she said, her words clipped. "I have too much to do. I have to clear my stuff out of Ella's place, and return some books to the library, and I need to let people know I'm leaving… How am I going to tell Trixie?"

Lucifer caught at her arm before she could go. "None of which is getting done tonight," he replied gently. "Don't leave just because the conversation is getting difficult." Azrael stared at him and he added, his tone a little defensive, "I don't just play on my phone when I see Doctor Linda."

Azrael laughed despite herself. "That's good, Luci. I'm glad." Her smile fading, she said, "That's what we tend to do, though. Michael took off instead of talking to Mom, and neither one of us has a particularly good record for sticking around when things get tough. And I haven't actually been in touch with Amenadiel since the night of the Christmas pageant; we've been avoiding each other." Lucifer inclined his head in rueful acknowledgment of her point, and Azrael added, "I just don't want to argue with you. Not tonight. Okay? Can we not?"

Lucifer, remembering his small sister hiding from their parents' argument, nodded. "You never were one for conflict." He regarded Azrael now, small and damp and honestly looking a little miserable, and suggested, "Stay here tonight." Seeing Azrael's incipient protest, he added, "No, it's fine. You've finished whatever dear old Dad wants you to do, and any manipulation of my life has already been accomplished." He waited for Azrael to nod, then said, "Think about what I said. We don't have to talk about it or deal with all those messy feelings, but just think about it, all right?"

Azrael took a deep, rather shaky breath, then nodded. "All right." She managed a smile. "Thank you, brother. I'm glad to be here."

"Well, we can't have your last night on Earth be spent on a couch, can we?" Lucifer queried lightly.

"Ella's couch isn't so bad," Azrael observed, with another, stronger smile. "I should let her know I'm staying here," she added. "I took off in kind of a hurry when Trixie said it was an emergency." She hesitated, then said, "I… I don't think I can tell her over the phone that I'm leaving tomorrow. Luci, how am I going to do this? I don't want to just vanish from people's lives, but there are so many of them."

Lucifer poured himself another drink and lifted the lowball glass, studying the amber liquid thoughtfully. "Right," he said, drawing his sister's attention. "I can call Miss Lopez and let her know the situation, if you like."

"Would you?" Azrael replied, a flicker of relief crossing her face. Lucifer nodded, and she said, "Thanks, Luci. I really appreciate that. I… I think I might go get a shower, if that's okay."

Puzzled, Lucifer replied, "You just got dry - well, mostly dry."

Azrael looked a little sheepish. "Brother, there's a vast difference between flying in a rainstorm and enjoying your shower. I'm very grateful to Ella, but her place has lousy water pressure." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "And I don't want to hear your conversation."

"Avoiding difficult things," Lucifer suggested, and Azrael nodded, not bothering to deny it. "Well, at least you're staying true to form. Go on, little sister," he absolved. "I'll take care of it. I can do that much for you."

"Thanks, Luci." Azrael peered silently up at her brother, then leaned in to hug him tightly.

"Yes, yes," Lucifer murmured, though he curled an arm around the girl. "I'll miss you, too."

They stood there for a long moment, then Azrael stepped away and into the penthouse, casting a smile over her shoulder.

Lucifer looked after Azrael as she disappeared down the hallway. A few drops of rain fell, and he shook his head, casting a warning gaze skyward. "Don't start, Raziel."

The rain stopped.

Lucifer lit another cigarette, then pulled out his phone and chose Ella's number from his contacts. "Miss Lopez," he greeted. "Yes, she's here. Listen, I have something to tell you."


Author's note: There's less editing than usual on this one, as I wanted to get it out before the episode tonight, so please be gentle. :) Happy season 3 to those who see it tonight!