Lucifer: More Than My Own Existence

Chapter 5

Hell Isn't Just a Metaphor

Sara sat on the front porch swing, watching as the both Detectives and their jerk of a consultant drove off. She wasn't sure why she had taken such an instant dislike to their civilian consultant. It was like having a dream where someone upsets you or pisses you off and you wake up still made at them. It also felt like her anger towards the consultant was misdirected, and given her current state of mind, it might be.

It was Mrs. Stock opening the door and calling out to the other kids that dinner was ready the jolted Sara out of her own mind.

"Oh sorry, dear," she stated when she saw Sara jump a little. "Dinner is ready, Joyce made lasagna."

She nodded her thanks, "I'll get the others." She got to her feet and headed towards the barn, where she knew the others had scattered to. She rounded the corner, "Guys, Joyce made lasagna and it's ready."


Michael watched as Sara herded the other kids into the house. He hadn't been lying when he told Sara he would watch her carefully. He had watched her struggle through her first round of physical therapy after she had been released. He had watched as she was brought to this halfway home and stayed at her bedside the first night, while she cried herself to sleep, and he had been with her on the cliff when she released Liz's ashes. He had nearly laughed out loud when she had called his twin an asshole. He had to admit, not much about his brother had changed. Human emotions still seemed to escape him completely. Granted the only human emotions Lucifer really cared about were lust and desire, so it shouldn't have surprised him all that much when his brother had insulted the male detective.

Sara paused a moment before going into the house and he took a seat on the railing, watching her. He could tell she was holding back a lot of emotions. The hurt and pain over losing her mom were taking their toll on his daughter and other than just being there watching her, there was not much he could do. He still had not gone to The Silver City to check on Liz. He told himself he would go back when the person responsible for her death was found and punished. But deep down he was scared to face her. He had failed her. The whole reason he left was so she and Sara would be safe and now. Well Liz was dead, and Sara was left on Earth without her mom. How was this safe. Maybe he should have told Raphael to shove it up his feathery ass. No, that would have only made his family find out about Sara and they would have taken her from Liz. This was better. She had been raised by her loving, human mother and that was what was best for her.

"I know you're here."

Michael nearly fell off the railing, when Sara spoke. He knew she couldn't see him, not unless he wanted her too. He watched as she closed her eyes.

"At least I hope it's you Mom." There was a small hitch in her voice, and she stood with the screen door open. "Because if it's not, that means I'm loosing what little mind I have left," she took another deep breath, "and I just don't think I can handle being crazy right now."

Moving cautiously, Michael stood up and moved to stand beside her. He wanted to comfort her. To let her know that he was there watching out for her and no matter what he would keep her safe. He stood there with his hand hovering over his daughters' shoulder. Then she shook her head and walked into the house.


Back at the precinct Chloe Decker sat at her desk going over the Fenn file. The cashier Cora Bledsoe hadn't been home, but she had been able to get a hold of her by phone and they now had an interview set up for the next day.

"So," her partners' thick British accent was right beside her ear, "I'm thinking the daughter hired someone to rob the place and it got out of hand."

She huffed, "You weren't in that interview, Lucifer. Sara was genuinely upset about what happened, to the point of nearly shutting down. In fact," she turned to face him, "your stunt with the door could have given her a heart attack."

He brushed off her concerns as he took a seat and picked up Elizabeth's photo off the pile. The woman was pretty he could give her that, but not at all his type. To suburb mom and not enough LA hooker. Although he was starting to prefer blondes. "The child's name alone should be enough to warrant bodily harm. Sara Fenn," he mocked.

"What's wrong with the name Sara, and don't say it's boring. Trixie was almost named Sara."

Lucifer shook his head and he propped his feet on her desk. "It's the combination of Sara and Fenn. A Seraphim is an order of angles. The highest orders of angles." He tossed the photo back on the desk. "An order I use to belong to, before Dad banished me to hell."

She was wondering how long it would take Lucifer to make this case about himself. "Ah, and you are jealous that a sixteen year old girl is named after them," she smiled to herself. She thought the combination was quiet pretty and Sara seemed like a very sweet girl.

"Do give me some credit, Detective." Lucifer was back on his feet and adjusting his cufflinks. "The devil does not get jealous."

"If you say so," Chloe commented. She looked up and noticed Dan coming towards them and he looked pissed. "Dan, is everything alright?"

"I just got off the phone with Mrs. Stock," Dan informed her, refusing to even acknowledge Lucifer was there. "I tried to set up an appoint for her to come in and sit with a sketch artist."

"That's good right?"

He shook his head, "She's refusing to let Sara come down unless he," he jabbed his middle finger into Lucifer's chest, "isn't here."

Lucifer knocked Dan's hand way, "What did I do?"

"Really, Man," Dan asked squaring off with him. "We were asking her to remember what is probable the worst moment in her young life and then you come bursting into the room like Cosmo Kramer, scaring the hell out of her."

"Well, I'll admit that hell can be scary," lucifer responded, clearly not getting the point Dan was trying to make. "But I still don't see how the guardian's refusal to let the child sit with a sketch artist is my fault."

Dan held up his hands, "You not believing you didn't anything wrong shouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Guys," Chole chided them as she grabbed the sides of her head. "Dan, we're going to have Cora Bledsoe, the cashier, coming in to give a statement. How about Lucifer and I talk to her in interrogation one, while you set up the artist and Sara in O'Hara's office. This way they won't be in the same room. How does that sound?" She was getting a headache and she was sure her ex and her partner were the cause of it.

"I'll call Mrs. Stock and see if she is okay with that." Dan tossed over his shoulder as he walked away, "Make sure to keep him on a leash while she's here."

Lucifer looked stunned at Chloe who was still holding her head in her hands, "Can you believe that? Blaming me for something that clearly isn't my fault."

"Well," she told him looking up at his and folding her arms on her desk, "this time he's right. You scared Sara so bad she shut down. So, we weren't able to finish our interview and now we have to try and set up a time and place, where she feels safe, to continue."

"I cannot be blamed for how others…" he tried to defend himself, but she stood up and stopped him.

"Lucifer, try and think about what Sara just might have been feeling. She was already on edge and you bursting through the doors pushed her over the edge. That's why Dan is upset."

There was a moment where Chloe thought he understood, but that moment passed when Lucifer huffed and walked away from her. She simple shook her head.


Sara stood at the kitchen skink and watched as Mrs. Stock hung up the phone. The other kids had cleared off the table, leaving Sara to finish cleaning the dishes, when Detective Espinoza had called to set up the sit down with the artist. "That was Detective Espinoza calling back, he says they'll set you up in an office and you won't have to look at Mr. Morningstar."

Sara nodded, "Thank you again for letting them think it was you who didn't want him there instead of me. There is just something about him that irritates me."

Mrs. Stock smiled understanding. "Well, it may have been your idea, but I would have been happy to keep that man from you. I don't like people scaring my charges." She patted Sara on her left shoulder gently, "How about you head upstairs. I'll finish up down here. You need some rest."

She didn't argue with the woman, mainly because it would have done no good. She headed up to her room and got ready for bed.

The doctor wanted her to wear the sling for six more weeks, but it made sleeping difficult. Instead she would remove the sling and simply propped her shoulder up on a pillow. Once she was comfortable, she started thinking about The Event. Remembering every detail perfectly in her head was easy. Seeing every little thing play out in her mind? No problem, but when she would try and talk about it, her mouth would go dry, the feeling of an elephant sitting on her chest would return and her heart rate would skyrocket. She hadn't been lying to Dr. Martin. She knew if she could just talk about the whole situation it would make her feel better, but these panic attacks would always stop her. Just like with the detectives. Not to mention there were things that Sara couldn't talk to anyone about.

Her daddy issues alone would have landed her in a padded room. How do you explain to someone a reason for your depression is the fear of never being able to fly? Seeing as the bullet had ripped it's way through her shoulder and according to the x-rays the doctors had shown her, she now had a perfect hole in her scapula, Sara had been to terified to try and produce her wings. Or the reason your dad was no longer in the picture is because his celestial family have issues with the fact that you were half human so, he can't be with you in your time of need. No, it was better to stick to what most people thought of as sane. A monster had murdered her mom and that and that alone was why she was depressed. Her inability to produce her wings and the truth about her dad, would have to stay hidden.

She wasn't sure at what point she drifted off but soon she found herself in a dark, ash covered corridor, tall columns of rocks on either side of her. At the base of each column Sara could see doors, some with loose chains wrapped around them, others with nothing baring them shut and even a few of them opened just a crack. She found herself drawn to a door made of light gray wood, no chains, and was surprised when it opened at her gentle touch.

Sara froze when she stepped through and realized where she was. She had just walked into The Coffee Shop. She could see herself at the counter and her heart dropped when she saw her mom standing at the register. They were talking about the up-coming trip to Lagoona Beach.

"I already told you Sara, you can drive there but it will probably be too late for you to drive back."

Just the sound of her mom's voice nearly brought Sara to tears and caused her chest to hurt It was just as she remembered, and she didn't realize how much she had missed the sound.

"But Mom, how will I learn to drive if I don't practice?"

Sara wondered if she had always been so whinnying. She moved closer and tried to get their attention, but it was as if she wasn't really there, which made no sense to her. She was usually pretty good about controlling her dreams once she realized she was dreaming, but this one seemed off. Before her mom could say anything else the front door burst open. Sara spun around, thinking she knew what she would be met with. She was wrong.

Instead of the shooter from that day, there was a dark shadow. The only thing about it that was clear was the gun it had pointed at Dream Sara's chest. Both Sara and her mom screamed.

"NO!"

Sara even tried to step in front of the shadow, but the bullet passed right through her and hit Dream Sara in the chest. She fell back against the counter, as her mom ran out from behind it, screaming Sara's name.

"SARA! No, no, no."

She watched helpless as her mom fell to her knees and cradled Dream Sara in her arms trying to stop the bleeding, screaming the whole time. "Please God, NO! Sara, baby, please. Stay with me!"

This was all wrong. This was not how The Event went. Her mom never made it out from behind the counter, in fact she wasn't even there when Sara was shot. Not only that but Sara could recall exactly what the shooter looked like, there would be no reason for him to be a formless shadow in her dream, she wasn't scared of him.

It was her mom's wail of despair that made Sara realize her dream-self had stopped breathing, the shapeless form moved to stand in front of her mother, the gun raised.

Her mom looked up at the dark form. "Please," she begged, "kill me." It stood there for a moment, then glided out the door, leaving her mom sobbing on the floor, holding her dead daughter, still begging for death.

Sara's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no," Sara gasped out as she realized this was not a dream. No matter what, she would never dream of her mom begging to die. She knelt beside her mom.

"Mom," she pleaded, trying to lay a hand on her shoulder, but the hand just passed through. "Please look at me." Nothing, Liz continued to cry, rocking back and forth. "Mom, this isn't real. This is not real."

Still Liz gave no sign that she heard her.

For some reason, Elizabeth Fenn believed her daughter had died that day in The Coffee Shop and felt such guilt over it that now she had trapped herself in her own personal hell loop. Reliving the day, she watched her daughter die over and over again.

A loud buzzing sound was going off in her ear and it took a moment for Sara to realize it was her alarm.