Be advised, this is crackfic. Do not use it to evaluate the merits of family therapy in the real world. This work portrays the versions of Lucifer, Amenadiel and God as interpreted by our own matchstick_dolly in A Refraction of Light, which deviates from canon at the end of season three and I understand leans heavily on the comics. You want my interpretation, it's over there in Perspective. This 'fic contains spoilers through chapter 52: Ego Death of Refraction. That's also why Linda's not out on maternity leave.

I did have one complication in writing this work. Whenever I found something that I thought m_d might yet choose to use in Refraction, usually a personal revelation or reconciliation, I chucked it. So if you're asking, "Hey, why didn't Lucifer do the obvious thing and just—" it's probably because I thought so too.

Unbetaed.

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The scent of scorched carpet fiber wisped up from the floor as Linda spun on her heel to pace back to the other side of her office. Rent per square foot in West Hollywood being what it was, this did not take long. "This was a bad idea," she muttered, turning around again.

From the couch, Lucifer nodded meaningfully at Amenadiel. Over scotch the previous night, big brother had deliberately lost the game of three-way Rock Paper Scissors and won the role of Designated Doc-Wrangler. Since then, he'd shotgunned four separate YouTube videos about active listening and prepped a stash of cupcakes and whiskey in the bottom desk drawer.

Linda shook her head, spinning another one-eighty like a Roomba set to Dig a New Floor, "It's a conflict of interest. I've been Lucifer's therapist for years. I know all his stuff."

"You don't know all his stuff," Maze said into the ceiling.

"Mazikeen, get your boots of my desk," Linda answered without looking left. She exhaled with a shiver, "You say he's suicidal. I really should see him one-on-one first."

"This is the best we can do, Linda," said Amenadiel. "I was barely able to get him to agree to a family therapy session."

"Family therapy?" Mazikeen flipped upright. "I thought we were doing an intervention. You know, where you tell some loser you're taking him to a party, but instead you've convinced all his friends to ambush him and tell him how much he sucks, and someone gets it all on video and they put it on Channel 32 right after Leave It to Leslie."

Amenadiel turned on his elbow. "Mazikeen why do you think we'd do something like that?"

"Lucifer—"

Lucifer shot Maze a look.

"—told me!"

"Maze..." Lucifer trailed off. "Isn't it possible you misunderstood?"

"You specifically said, 'I want to do an intervention like on that show where you—'" she switched to a British accent "'—ream out some tosser with how much he tosses and film the whole thing for posterity.' But the way I said it was cooler."

"Well yes, I wanted to—" he began.

"This is not that kind of intervention, Maze," said Linda.

Maze frowned. "But it's still basically about humiliating the guy, right?"

Lucifer answered, "Well if we can manage it," just as Linda yelled, "No!"

She scratched one side of her nose. "So ...is anyone supposed to get this on film?"

"No," said Amenadiel.

"Absolutely not!" added Linda.

Maze rolled her shoulders and grabbed a pad of Post-Its off Linda's desk. She walked to the bookshelf and slapped a bright yellow tag across the spine of Deviant Human Sexuality and the Modern Mind.

Linda's mouth fell open. "Is that the book you gave me?" She snatched it off the shelf and flipped it open. "Is this a camera?"

Maze reached toward the book and pulled out a folded patch of paper, "Yes, and a full set of instructions, which you would have seen if you'd read it like you told me you did."

Linda gulped. "Uh..?"

Amenadiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mazikeen? Was that camera in there when Linda and I were still seeing each other?"

"Well why do you think I was so mad at you?" she pulled Amenadiel's hand away from his face, "All the time we were together, I thought you just didn't know how to—"

There was a knock at the door. Linda froze in place. Amenadiel got up to answer it. Lucifer steered Linda toward her usual seat. Maze took out her phone.

"Hello," Amenadiel said near the entryway. "And Gabriel, good to see you. This is actually a family thing, so if you want to stay—"

There was a sound of wings.

"—or not," clipped Lucifer. "Doctor, when we're done here, can we work on Gabby's control issues?"

Amenadiel stepped to the right of the door, and there was a sound of feet against the carpet. Two eyes, gleaming black as the space between the stars looked down at the Dr. Martin where she perched in her office chair.

"Please, sit down," she said, gesturing to the central place on the couch, "and welcome to family therapy."

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I've managed to find a few websites on family therapy, but if anyone knows of a good nonfiction book on the subject, I'd be willing to do some more research.