Previously on My Kingdom Come:

"We're going to need a plan," Chloe said to the group, letting her assertive detective mind take over. "If this operation is going to go smoothly, we're going to need to think this through." She whipped out her phone and pulled up Ella's name, pushing the call button.

This was going to be a long night, and not for the original reason she had hoped.

Lucifer spat, removing his suit jacket and tossing it unceremoniously from his perch atop Hell's highest throne. It was hot in here, hotter than he remembered. In fact, if he looked closely enough, the cold, black ash floating around his head seemed to have a more menacing red tinge to it than he recalled too, more like a slow, smoldering coal instead of a fine, lung-suffocating powder. The glow at the edges of the never-ending view burned like a distant fire. This was a Hell of his own making, that was for sure.

And just like it had been always in this never-ending loop of torture, he felt a ghostly chill that swept through his body – down to his very bones – as he heard the agonizingly familiar, soft, simple notes waft through the humid air, suffocating him more than heat ever could. He gripped the throne he sat in, quite reminiscent of his real throne, fighting against the very real, constant threat of his fear overtaking his sanity as he watched the ghostly, ethereal figure descend from above: an ashen gray whisper of a soul that drifted through the gates of Hell and floated towards its final resting point. He knew it wasn't real, and yet that piano sang like a siren call to him, reminding him of the sweetest of memories with his Chloe.

Except this wasn't real. That wasn't Chloe. And he was in Hell.

Had he known that the siren song of piano wasn't an indication of the Hell that had awaited him before, Lucifer may have been more curious to find out what his former home had planned in store for him now. After all, it had been awhile since he had stumbled into his Hell, and he had long since found forgiveness for himself with Uriel's death. While stuck down here he had been adamant with himself to avoid even finding out what lay in wait for him, lest he get stuck and appear weak to the demons who had spent enough time questioning his ability to lead after the fiasco last winter.

But now, here he was, taking most of his inner strength to remind himself that this was simply a mirage. Stuck without a lifeline and at the mercy of the being he despised the most, Lucifer didn't know how much longer he could keep that reminder going. So yes, even Lucifer Morningstar was man enough to admit that he despised Michael more than he ever did his own father.

"Quite an interesting story this tells," Michael sneered from behind him, appearing for the first time since shoving Lucifer unceremoniously in here. Lucifer whipped his head around and growled.

"I'm in Hell, this is where you wanted me," he threatened, wishing he could will his devil face to show itself. It had been noticeably absent, out of reach of his abilities since ending up in his own suite in the Hell. "If you're so desperate for me to be out of the picture, leave me alone. Let me suffer in peace. Even Hell is better than spending a moment with you."

Michael chuckled.

"I would, but it would seem our siblings have decided to set a trap for me and request our presence at one 'Death Valley, California,'" he sighed, sounding less than delighted at the prospect of allowing Lucifer to be free of his personal torment.

"I'm not interested," Lucifer spat bitterly, turning his head back around as his personal Hell continued its story and the view shifted, soaring down from his perch and entering not real Chloe's not real Hell.

Not real, he reminded himself inwardly, gritting his teeth.

Chloe's Hell – not real Hell – was worse than the worst thing he could imagine. Seeing her in the middle of the space, crying alone on his penthouse floor, all alone and inconsolable, was harder than he could ever imagine.

"I love you," she sobbed into arms which were wrapped around her knees as gasps wracked her body. It took every fiber of his being not to try and reach out to her, because he knew it wouldn't do any good: she couldn't see or hear him. He had left her for a life of self-pity and misery being the boss of Hell once more, and this moment would forever remind him that he had caused insurmountable pain to the woman he loved.

"So tragic," Michael whispered in his ear, causing him to start. Lucifer had forgotten he was there. Michael laughed again. "I hear your little human is going to be the bait in this trap, so that should make it all the more interesting."

"You leave her be," Lucifer growled lowly, tearing his eyes away from Chloe's lonely, sorrowful figure to shoot daggers at Michael. "This is between you and me. I'm where you want me. Leave her alone."

"I don't think so," Michael sighed, tone indicating his boredom of the repetition in conversation. "Come on, let us ascend."

Without so much as a further word, he grabbed Lucifer's injured arm (it screamed in pain) and jolted him upwards. Lucifer hadn't even realized he'd been kneeling. He hadn't felt the wetness on his cheeks until Michael laughed in his face, either.

"So sentimental," he sneered. "Pathetic."

The door to the real Hell appeared and Lucifer couldn't help the leap his heart made as he thought of finally being able to escape the prison he had been stuck in for what had felt like eons. He let out a shaky sigh, as quietly as he could, as Michael marched them through the door and towards Chloe.

"So: you're walking into a trap," he said, fighting his voice's desire to appear breathless. "What are you going to do about that?"

"I am not concerned by my siblings," Michael replied coolly as he marched them right to the entrance gates. His wings unfurled, one single feather slicing Lucifer along the back. He hissed, causing another smirk from the incessant angel. "I have Father's best interests in mind, not yours. I am not polluted by your wickedness."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. Michael lifted up and they ascended back to earth, which gave him a quick idea. It was a long shot, not the best idea, but it was all he had in this moment. Lucifer knew that Michael wasn't the brightest sheep in the flock, and hopefully, with a stroke of luck, he could work that into his favor. Closing his eyes at the breeze that blew against his face, he let his mind empty and his thoughts focus on one being.

Look, he thought. I'm in a bit of a sticky situation here. I have a lot of questions. I'm hoping you have answers. If you really do agree with him, let fate run its course. If you have more to say on the matter… I will speak to you. Anything to save Chloe. Please.

A solemn, rare prayer left his thoughts and headed to the one being who could possibly help him.

Lucifer opened his eyes as they landed in a scorching heat, an intense blaze almost as bad as the one they had just left. Dry, tan sand surrounded them, only dotted in gradual places by dusty, green shrubbery and the distant illusion of sandy hills. This truly was death as a valley: that name was right.

"Remember the rules now," Michael hissed in his ear, his wing curling around Lucifer enough for it to be in his line of sight. Razor-sharp feathers teased the space in front of his neck.

"No cheating, I know," he sighed, unable to keep frustration from leaking into his voice. He really didn't like the feeling of helplessness that he found himself in. "Just don't hurt Chloe and I'll do whatever you ask."

Michael smirked but didn't answer. Instead, he focused his eyes in the distance, beyond Lucifer's head. Lucifer looked that way, too. Figures approached from the distance, dropping from the sky in quick, sudden movements. Within moments there were seven beings in front of them.

Lucifer's heart leapt at the sight of Chloe. She was dressed for the weather in a simple white tank, jeans, boots, and a frown. She was staring at him, concern evident in her features. He offered her a little shrug and a smile – best he could do, given the circumstances.

"Why am I not surprised?" Gabe said first, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Michael, you must have disappeared when father handed intelligence out. What in the world are you doing?"

"Such a child," Michael sneered, glaring next to Lucifer. Lucifer looked between him and their siblings, trying to figure out what the plan was. "Don't make childish mistakes, brother. You've already been brainwashed by Samael, don't be foolish. You've already lost by going against our Father's commands."

"So what?" Gabriel replied with a scoff of his own. "You've decided that your interpretation of his words is the only truth? What kind of –"

"Stop, Gabriel," Raphael said. His voice barely carried on the scorching wind, but it had its power nonetheless. The other angel fell silent.

Lucifer looked at each of the beings in front of him, hardly believing still that any of his siblings were coming to his aid. Jophael was the least believable, and the expression on her face – that cross between impassiveness and disinterest – was enough for him to be incredulous by her even risking her time to come to his aid. Amenadiel and Azrael, of course were there for him. Azrael had the fiercest look in her eyes, not at all dampened by the ridiculous owlish glasses she wore. Amenadiel stood imposing with crossed arms and rather impressive biceps. He stood, the oldest sibling, ready to command even an army if need be. Gabriel was an experiencer: he would always make sure to be around for any experience, except this time he had also chosen Lucifer's side.

Then the two humans on the other side caught his eye. There was dear, sweet, fragile Ella, hands on her hips and eyes sharp behind aviator sunglasses. Her trademark snarky t-shirt had a dangling kitten from a branch on it, with the words 'hang in there!' on it. How appropriate, he thought to himself.

Chloe was the last but always the first he would look to. His heart rose somewhere between his esophagus and throat as he imagined what kind of "bait" his siblings had planned on using her for. Was it merely her presence? Was it something more? The very idea, coupled with the eternal heat that burned in his lungs, left his mouth dry.

"What would you have us do, Michael?" Amenadiel chimed in then, voice low and authoritative. Lucifer almost smirked as he recognized the same tone that his brother had used on him back around the time when he had first met Chloe. Amenadiel could be a force to reckon with sometimes, and Michael was overdue for that treatment.

"My brother, seeing as how even you have been seduced by Samael's wicked nature, I cannot be expected to trust what you say. Therefore, I will make it simple." Michael turned his head ever so slightly, eyes appearing under curls to show him the malice they hid. The action was so slight that none of the others would recognize something had happened.

"Hand over the human and we shall be on our way. You will return to the Silver City and life shall go on. This is not your fight."

Lucifer watched Chloe's hands ball into fists. Even from here, he could see the knuckles stretching white against the skin. Where his heart had been before, it now pummeled to the bottom of his stomach.

"That was not the agreement!" he bellowed, turning towards Michael in a flash. Michael's wing responded accordingly, invading his space and slicing his cheek. Damn. Heat flashed across his face and wetness dripped down his jawline, but Lucifer almost didn't feel it. He would destroy Michael before he had the chance.

"Uh-uh," Michael grinned at him. "You're at my mercy, remember? This mortal side of you is much too fun. Did you know, my brothers and sisters?" he called out to the others, reaching around Lucifer's face before he could notice and smearing red onto his fingers. He held it up for them to see. Lucifer spared a quick glance to see them all in offensive positions, hovering in that moment before taking flight. "Did you know that this beast bleeds? Surely that will show you that Father has no further use for him. He has fallen rank and will never be worthy of his wings."

"So what?" Azrael called out, her voice wavering a bit as she wasn't the type to usually speak out. "He's your brother. He was created by dad. It's not your decision to decide his or anybody else's fate, especially humans."

"You tell him!" Ella whooped, offering a small fist bump in solidarity. "So stop shattering my religious perceptions of angels and quit being a dick already!"

Lucifer snickered a little; even from his position, he would always be cheered by the solid poetic hilarity that ensued from Ms. Ella Lopez. He reminded himself to spend more time with her when this was all over.

If it ended in their favor.

"Guys, cut it out," Chloe finally spoke, causing Lucifer to zero in on her once again. Her voice was wavering a bit too, but she stood tall and firm, arms at her sides, mouth set in a thin line that showed she meant business. "This is Lucifer we're talking about here. I'll go with him."

"Are you kidding me?" Ella squawked, her voice raising up a few pitches.

"Stop it, Detective," Lucifer added his input. No way in Hell – literally – was he going to let her anywhere near Michael. He glared at the feathers that accompanied the wing that reminded him of its presence, daring him to move an inch and allow more of his blood to be spilt. He could feel the blood on his cheek drying and clotting. His arm also screamed out in pain. His feet were sore. He was not in the best fighting shape, but he would see to it that Chloe Decker wasn't allowed anywhere near Michael; he'd give his own life gladly first.

"No, Lucifer, this isn't your decision," Chloe said firmly, frowning deeper. "It's mine. My decision is to take the deal. Michael, if you take me, will you at least let Lucifer return to Hell? He said he would go back. You have my word he would stay there."

What the hell was she saying? She sounded so confident, so sure of herself. Lucifer could only stand there, aghast, as she stepped out of the lineup of angel and human alike, one step closer towards him and what would end up being her own doom.

"I won't let you do this!" he shouted, forcing his fist into the wall of knives that was the wing next to him. His hand splattered blood onto the wing. He didn't care. This was not going down like this. He raised his other arm, sore as it was, and swung wildly behind him towards Michael's face. It collided with a mess of curls and a very solid head, and Michael grunted, wing dropping momentarily. Lucifer took that as his one chance – he dashed out from reaching distance of Michael's wing, focusing on Chloe's shocked and frozen figure. He just had to get to her first.

A slew of other activity happened very suddenly around him, and Lucifer did his best to process it through his one-track mind. The other angels were fanning out around the scene with Amenadiel approaching from the north, his face a mixture of rage and horror. Azrael's eyes were even wider, if that was possible, as she brought a hand up to her mouth. Ella was screaming, fury lighting her expression. Chloe's frozen form, still in shock, let out an unconscious shudder.

And then he felt it. Looking down in slow, terrible comprehension, Lucifer realized that those feathers from the wing he had just escaped were now somehow on the front side of his body again, this time taking the path of greater resistance through his chest. Very human, mortal blood – so bloody red, he thought strangely to himself – was leaking out of him at a rapid pace.

A feeling that scalded like a hot iron sent a convulsion through his body. His knees felt funny, like they had suddenly disappeared. His legs became jelly, falling numb and refusing to support his body. As he fell, he stared at Chloe.

"Oh," he said simply.

All he registered was pain as the wing slid its way back out of his body, dripping in stuff that was supposed to be inside of him. And yet, like the emotions he couldn't hide from his face anymore, they were in the open for everybody to see. Even Gabriel, who would never let him live this down. He coughed out a twisted laugh.

Lucifer thought he heard screaming. He thought he heard his name erupt in a barrage of voices. He couldn't really tell anymore; comprehension was too difficult. He thought he had felt something like this before. Did it hurt this badly? It couldn't have. Nobody could survive this numbing, disgusting pain that tasted like bile in his dry mouth.

Had the sun gotten brighter? He stared up at the uninterrupted sky, ignoring some inner inkling that scolded him for looking directly at the sun. Except, how could he not? The sun had turned into the entire sky. It was so bright it had whitened everything around him. In fact, the light was almost painful enough to make him forget the insurmountable pain that was quickly enveloping him. It was culminating to a point where he wanted to yell, to scream – but no sound made its way from his throat.

And then it all stopped.

Lucifer blinked slowly, the ghost of a horrifying pain the remnant of a cry on his lips. His world came into focus and he realized that he was somewhere different. A lush, green field surrounded him on all sides. The sky was a perfect spring blue, contrasting with the cheerful dark canopy of lazy palm branches and dark, gnarly shade trees. The air smelled sweet, like a perfume that entrapped his senses and calmed his harsh breaths. He took in a deep, sharp breath, letting the scent of honey and flower and fresh spring water wash over him. Then he looked down at himself.

Where there had been blood was now a fresh, clean suit. White shirt, freshly pressed, beneath a dark blue custom tailored, slim fit suit jacket. A charcoal tie and matching solid pocket square finished the ensemble.

Odd, he thought to himself. I don't own this outfit.

Lucifer was sitting on a cold, stone bench, like the kind he had seen adorning cemeteries. A dreary, damp thing, he had never taken much interest in them as they didn't match his style. His knees pointed towards a clearing in the grove before him, through which a single, young tree was attempting to stretch as tall as its palm and shade comrades. A sinking, surprised gut feeling wrenched his way through him. He knew exactly where he was.

"What is this?" Michael's enraged voice came from behind him, and Lucifer whipped his head around, body going on the defense immediately. Memories came rushing back of where they had just come from: the endless torture in Hell, the trap and the bait, the wing, covered in blood, arcing its way out of his screaming chest…

Lucifer felt a growl erupt from his throat as he clenched his fist and started to stand, with every intention of ending this once and for all. Then his fist unclenched. He fell back onto the bench. His mind felt a presence that hadn't existed close enough to feel in millennia.

Michael's face relaxed too, and his eyes fixated at the young tree growing in the garden behind Lucifer. Lucifer felt the presence. He wasn't completely inept. He looked down, turning his body around and taking in the smallest of deep breaths so that the others couldn't see. Part of him reverted back to what felt like a stubborn child about to face their parent.

Wasn't that what this was?

"Hello, dad," Lucifer spat, allowing the slightest tinge of venom to lace his tone. Inwardly, he was having a mini war about the results of his prayer being good or bad. Good: God had heard him and decided this was not his fate. Bad: he was probably about to get the scolding of a thousand lifetimes. He tensed up, waiting for the words to fall from the lips of the one being he tried his best to hate more than anybody else in the world.

"My son, how I have missed you," the voice spoke instead. Lucifer's head shot up and met the eyes boring holes into his. Warmth, love, forgiveness, and an onslaught of other emotions that he couldn't fathom hit him like a ton of bricks, bowling over his venomous insides and overtaking his emotional and mental pain. The façade of anger that he'd held onto for so long melted like ice cream in the sun, the remnants pooling in his stomach and filling him with a wholeness he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm sorry for everything, my son," God spoke, his voice every bit commanding and compassionate as Lucifer remembered. The depths into his expression bore into Lucifer's very soul. "Your path is your own. Your will is your own."

"Father, I –"

"Michael," he responded with a single word. Michael did not continue, and Lucifer did not bother turning around to see why.

"After all this time…" Lucifer croaked, finding the words to speak to be very difficult. His dad nodded slowly, remorse evident in his features.

"I have been wrathful and petty. And then I became negligent. You, my son, have faced odds that none of my children, angel and human alike, have ever come close to surmounting. Your struggles stemmed from a moment of my weakness, for which I will forever be apologetic." He reached out and placed a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. Lucifer wanted to feel angry, he did. He could remember the hatred and the rage that bubbled up inside of him whenever he thought of interacting with his father. But now, here… Those feelings felt like a lifetime ago.

"And Chloe?" he asked simply, trying not to let despair flood his voice. "Will she be safe?"

"You have chosen your path, Lucifer," God replied. Lucifer felt jarred at hearing his self-given name coming from his dad's lips. After Michael had made it a point to never refer to that name, he had just assumed God would be the same. "I am simply holding up my end of the deal. I do not wish to partake directly in all affairs, but for you, my child…you are the world to me. I have wronged you greatly. And I wish to make that up to you."

God held up a single finger in the direction of the young tree. A shimmer appeared on the bark, spreading rapidly as it overtook the trunk. The reflection showed a scene as still as a picture, time stopped on the exact moment where he had fallen. Lucifer stared, agape, at the bloody scene before him. He had been dead for sure.

"You are welcome to return. Your brother will not," God commanded, a new emotion overtaking his nature – pity. "Michael and I will have some serious discussions about 'my will' and the duty he feels to act on it. You are free to go. You are welcome home any time you wish."

Lucifer felt a thousand and one questions on the tip of his tongue. The emotional battle inside his body kept him mute however, and he simply nodded. His dad gestured for him to leave, kindness flowing from his expression to Lucifer's mind. Lucifer numbly stood up and began walking towards the frozen horror scene before him, feeling the air on his face get warmer as he approached. As he stuck a hand out to touch the scene that looked like a painting, he turned back to look one last time. Michael was gone now, but God remained, looking like a father on television beaming at the successes of their on-screen child. Lucifer felt quite like a child right now.

"Thank you…Dad," he stammered. God smiled even more. Then everything changed again. Sand filled his vision, heat captured his breath, and the love of his life was in front of him, tears streaming down her face.

"Lucifer!" Chloe Decker shrieked, running towards him. Lucifer opened his arms, awaiting the reunion that he had been promised.