Devil's Keepers

by Jellico

Alternate version of S4-E2 ("Somebody's Been Reading Dante's Inferno"). Who knew a simple date gone wrong could affect so many people…?

5. The Last Straw

Foreign domestics held captive by their wealthy employers.

Passports stolen.

Food rationed.

Chores endless.

No health care, no vacations, no hope, no reprieve.

Every few years another story on the late-night news had made the headlines around Los Angeles, and Chloe Jane Decker had watched the damning segments on FOX 11 after putting Trixie to bed, even winced in sympathy while reading about it in the morning paper over her first cup of coffee.

Chloe never once worried she would join their ranks.

Why would she? She was a first-world citizen living a life of relative safety and privilege in the United States of America. Her existence was firmly middle-class and life was good. She paid her taxes, loved her daughter, excelled in her job and took no risks in any area unless those risks were well-reasoned or unavoidable.

Then she met the Devil.

Saw his true face.

And the world as she knew it fell apart.

Terror had driven her to the Catholic Church but her reward for simply seeking help, for reaching out and accepting guidance from an ordained priest like any normal person would do, had been to suffer the literal wrath of God. To be silenced without mercy then evicted from the only places she knew, distanced from the only people she cared about. To be wrenched upwards and flown against her will straight out of the country only to be betrayed yet again on the way, discarded like human trash. She could have died then. In fact, she sometimes wished she had, but it wasn't to be.

Her remaining three years on Earth weren't up yet.

And so, her suffering continued. Within minutes of her being dropped mid-flight by Lucifer's siblings and then an absolutely terrifying, precipitous plunge into the Sea of Japan, the crew of a nearby fishing trawler had somehow spotted her flailing limbs once she'd managed to resurface amid the churning waters. Chloe hadn't understood a word of her saviors' many questions once she was helped aboard, but it made no difference in the end. Even if she was fluent in Japanese and the power of speech had not been taken from her by God Almighty, explaining that two angels had abandoned her en route to Russia was not a believable story. Regardless, with her shivering limbs and chattering teeth, Chloe had not been in any condition to attempt communication. Frankly, it had all seemed a miracle to her. To be rescued in the middle of the open sea, fussed over and provided warm blankets and hot tea, to be shown such kindness on the heels of so much cruelty was enough to make any woman cry with gratitude. And Chloe had cried. She hadn't been able to help it.

In retrospect, she should have saved her tears.

She should have saved her tears for what was to come because none of that kindness was to last.

There had been no passport to confiscate in her case, of course, but many people had to have been bribed along the way regardless. How many of the cups of tea that had been proffered to her were drugged? The first? The last? All of them? Chloe couldn't say with certainty, but she had not been conscious when the trawler had docked. She had no idea how they successfully transported her limp body from that fishing vessel to the isolated estate that was now her prison, how many handovers there had been or even where she really was in Japan. She never actually saw the money change hands when she was sold. And she had been sold at some point. There was no question anymore that the head of this katei considered Chloe Decker his property, a slave for his wife, mother, children and staff to use and abuse at will.

For the fiftieth time this day since she had been kicked awake at 5 AM by the two hulking, stone-faced guards whose job it was to rouse her exhausted frame every morning, Chloe prayed while she began the tedious task of weeding the mistress' favorite garden, a spacious sanctuary replete with colorful trees and windings paths, tranquil ponds and small, elegant plants. At first, it was to God Himself that Chloe begged for forgiveness, but like always, her apologies yielded no positive change whatsoever in her situation. Each attempt to speak, even to whisper to see if He had retracted his punishment, all of it was met with silence. Chloe screamed only in her head seconds later when the crack of the head housekeeper's trusty bamboo cane landed six times in succession upon her back, a stern reminder to work faster. As she sobbed without making a sound but nonetheless picked up the pace as much as possible despite the achy stiffness in her bones and the fresh welts across her flesh, Chloe's prayers shifted to Lucifer.

God may have rejected her, but Lucifer would not if he knew of her sufferings. She had only to pray hard enough and then he would hear her, and once he did, he was bound to come to her aid. While Jackiel had carried her out of L.A. he'd taken delight in telling her she had been a gift from their father for Lucifer, a thing created at will specifically for His prodigal son. Initially, Chloe had tried to deny the truth of that statement, but no more did she resist it. She couldn't afford to. If she had been made specially for the Devil, this meant his feelings for her had to have been true. Her feelings for him had certainly changed, but his for her would never, which also meant they couldn't possibly have died in the weeks since his father handed down His cruel decree. Thanks to his father's manipulations, Lucifer would always feel compelled to help his favorite detective if she was really in need, no matter what she had done to him.

She just had to pray harder a little harder and then he would come…

xXxXx

From His throne in Heaven, God hearkened to Chloe's prayers and was greatly displeased. He observed the failed miracle on her hands and knees in traditional Japanese garb for servants, and He listened to her beseeching one of His sons for assistance, a son who had already suffered more than enough and could no longer hear her thoughts in any case.

The more God heard, the more His wrath grew.

Not one word directed to Samael by that woman was an apology. Not one word of her selfish devotions hinted at a sense of shame or personal responsibility or even a simple desire to see her daughter again. Instead, her supplications were merely a litany of her present hardships, a catalog of the various humiliations and beatings she had suffered since her arrival in Tōhoku, none of which she felt were deserved.

She was wrong.

To be fair, God listened to her without prejudice for quite awhile since many humans nowadays closed their prayers with regrets rather than opened them that way, but it was pointless. The time spent on Chloe Decker was utterly wasted. The woman failed to exhibit a single qualm about her treatment of a son of God. Even after hearing Gabriel speak and seeing Samael supported by so many of his angelic siblings, her foolish brain had somehow dismissed it all as a delusion so she could remain convinced of everything Father William Kinley had told her. She still believed that Heaven's Lightbringer was evil even as she prayed to him now for salvation, which, to The Almighty, made no sense whatever. Where was the consistency of thought? Why had she not learned a single lesson of consequence so far? How much longer would she choose to remain so obtuse?

God knew and wasn't impressed. Apparently, His latest miracle was well and truly a lost cause.

God allowed Himself a very brief moment to indulge His mounting anger and to slap Chloe from afar for sabotaging the future He had planned for His most wayward son. At His command, gale-force winds rose up out of nowhere and showered Chloe with tiny rocks and sharp clumps of dirt before systematically uprooting every section of the exquisite garden she had been helping to maintain since her arrival.

By the time the air calmed, nothing of beauty or symmetry was left.

Tentatively at first, the senior women of the Mikitani household stepped outside but then they descended on Chloe en masse, shrieking at her rapid-fire in a language she did not understand about the loss of azaleas, peonies and plum yews. The former detective was being pressured to explain this destruction, but how she would manage such a feat without the ability to write or speak to her new overlords God did not concern Himself.

Much was on His heavenly plate this day, including the return of two of His children to Los Angeles, and what they would do next with the challenges they were about to face, He was most interested to see. Why? Because the new futures He had devised for each was not yet set in stone. There was still time to interfere and to course-correct if He must, but He would not, whatever they did. He had faith in their choices. As their Father, He would keep an eye on them, but that's it. Truly. No warnings and no interference this time. There would be no need.

He was really quite sure of it.

xXxXx

Over an hour outside of Los Angeles in the city of Laguna Beach, Amenadiel touched down after dark on the fully-furnished property Lucifer had gifted him weeks ago. The property had been dubbed a "welcome home" present at the time, a reward for the good sense Amenadiel had shown by moving out of Heaven and choosing to settle on Earth a hair's breadth from the Devil. The house itself was multi-level with several bedrooms and fireplaces, a lagoon-style pool and unobstructed views of the ocean and canyon nearby, and combined with the three acres on which it had been built, as well as its location in a leafy cul-de-sac, the lot size was well in excess of the needs of a single occupant.

Amenadiel had not dared to object.

Personally, of course, he would have preferred a much smaller and far more discreet gift, but the size and opulence of the one he'd been given certainly said something about Lucifer's feelings for him. To complain about it or reject such largesse was unthinkable. Besides, Amenadiel was a celestial on Earth and that certainly came with its own challenges. Set as far back from the road as it was, the new house definitely afforded a great deal of privacy to an otherworldly being who would not always travel by car like the neighbors. If other celestials flew in from time to time, they too were unlikely to be seen and that was obviously a good thing. In truth, the more Amenadiel reassessed his gift, the more grateful he was for it. Of the many personal properties Lucifer could have chosen to transfer to his big brother this one was probably ideal, all things considered.

With no idea where he'd left his new keys – and supremely relieved he'd forgotten to reset the house alarm the last time he'd been inside – Amenadiel shrugged his wings out of sight then broke into his own home as quietly as possible and promptly turned the wrong way in search of the most convenient spare bedroom. That he didn't know where he was going was not surprising, really. Since Chloe's betrayal had taken place fairly soon after the deed to the house had changed hands, Amenadiel was far more familiar with the nightclubs of Europe and Africa than he was with his new home. The thought almost made him laugh, but he didn't dare.

In his arms, Lucifer was still unconscious and Amenadiel was determined to keep him that way.

Oh so carefully – cringing at the slightest sounds and practically mincing with every step –Amenadiel soon lucked into one of the guest suites upstairs where he gently lay his younger brother down. The mattress in every bedroom was supposed to be a Hästens, Lucifer had bragged, the best brand on Earth and the closest one could get on this plane to the type of beds they had enjoyed in Heaven, but the name-drop meant very little to Amenadiel. He didn't care how painstakingly a "Hästens" was made or how expensive and exclusive it was. He just prayed the quality was genuinely good enough to preserve the Devil's sleep.

Amenadiel lingered awhile to confirm Lucifer was well and truly settled then tiptoed out of the room, squeezed the door shut and leaned against the nearest wall with a smirk. It may have taken over two weeks – and tested his forbearance and sanity in the process – but he had done it. He'd not only found a way to get his stubborn brother to rest, he'd also managed to return them both to their adopted home state without a fistfight or a major argument.

Yes!

Amenadiel punched the air in triumph and allowed himself a minute more to be proud then quit with the self-congratulations and left the house so he could take once more to the air. If Lucifer refused to return to his former abode, he would at last need some of the things in it.

Like suits.

Maybe some more cash.

And definitely whiskey. With Lucifer, one must never forget the whiskey.

xXxXx

The penthouse was empty when Amenadiel arrived. The windows were open as usual and here and there lamps were lit, but apart from a jazz record playing at low volume, the private refuge twelve stories above Lux was utterly devoid of signs of life.

Good.

Amenadiel wasn't in the mood to catch up with any young siblings or to be regaled with tales of how they were acclimating to an unstructured life on Earth. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Miles Davis and John Coltrane either. Music was music, as far as Amenadiel was concerned, and after two straight weeks of having his hearing assaulted by it in one form or another, he'd had enough of all types. He tucked his wings away, entered from the balcony and marched straight to the record player. The second he turned it off, he smiled to himself and breathed a sigh of relief at the blissful silence. Amenadiel enjoyed it for several moments more then squared his shoulders set to work.

First, cash.

Amenadiel opened the smallest of the four safes Lucifer had built into the Assyrian walls of his bedroom, reached in automatically … and then stopped. Clearly, the contents of this safe were very well-known to Jophiel, Abigael and Yzabel. Thanks to them, it wasn't nearly as full as it used to be, but a dozen stacks of cash were still left and Amenadiel was tempted to take them all. In fact, he did scoop every one of them out to teach certain sticky-fingered angels a lesson, but then an image of Lucifer popped into Amenadiel's head and he relented. With family, friends and often perfect strangers, the Devil was generous with his material possessions and everyone in Heaven knew it. Always had been. No doubt always would be. Grudgingly, Amenadiel put back half of what he'd just taken but also made a mental note to talk to their siblings regardless. Lucifer's cash reserves and general wealth on Earth was considerable, yes, but it wasn't endless.

Then again … was it?

Amenadiel paused and considered, remembering how many times since The Fall he'd been tasked with returning Lucifer to the underworld during one of his escapes/vacations. There had been many such holidays, each one long enough to collect valuables, strike deals and make investments. With care over the unending existence of an immortal, such riches could multiply exponentially, which meant Lucifer Morningstar – by human standards – might well be the most prosperous being on the planet.

Still, one final look at the almost depleted safe in front of him and Amenadiel frowned.

Yes, he would definitely have a talk with their siblings.

Packing some of Lucifer's clothes was top of mind next and in the walk-in closet things were as they should be, Amenadiel was very pleased to note. No major gaps were visible and nothing appeared to be out of order. Amenadiel helped himself to the largest garment bag then filled it carefully, going from the closet to the bathroom and back again more than once, erring on the side of caution anytime he had doubts.

The second he finished the elevator dinged.

With the overstuffed bag now slung over one shoulder, Amenadiel had just finished taking one last scan of the bedroom. He turned toward the elevator, wondering which sibling had come "home", and then promptly wished he hadn't looked.

Abigael, the most scholarly and dispassionate angel in Heaven, was nude, and not only was she nude, but her limbs were draped around a hardy male partner with her center joined firmly to his. Grunts, thrusts and moans accompanied their steamy arrival, answering a question about Abigael's virginity that Amenadiel had never intended to ask. Two weeks ago, his sister had been curious about sex with a human. Evidently, her curiosity was now more than sated.

Amenadiel desperately wished for an eye wash, a lobotomy or both. He grimaced, spread his wings and took to the air without a word, more eager that he ever thought possible to escape one of his own siblings in favor of seeing another. Unfortunately, his relief was short-lived once he approached his house in Laguna Beach and saw that every room within was now blazing with light. Amenadiel landed on his spacious back deck and shuddered at the memory of Abigael that just wouldn't fade yet then stepped inside to face Lucifer who was on him in an instant.

"Where the me have you been?" Lucifer demanded, the bags under his eyes only slightly less dark and pronounced. "I blink for one measly second and you abandon me!"

"I didn't abandon you," Amenadiel said, shoving the garment bag into Lucifer's chest then heading for the kitchen. "I went to get those while you were napping."

"Do I look like a bloody toddler to you?! I did not nap," Lucifer contradicted in full denial. He followed Amenadiel into the kitchen, his temper still bubbling. "I simply rested my eyes since you were taking a veritable eon to get us stateside!"

"Uh-huh. Is that your story?"

Lucifer did not care for such condescension. Impatient to forget the nightmare that had launched him back into consciousness a minute ago, compounded by the terror he'd felt upon finding himself alone in the house, Lucifer unzipped the garment bag then pawed through the contents at full steam.

Amenadiel leaned against a counter, sipped a glass of water and watched him. At the speed Lucifer was working and the concentrated clench of his jaw, it was obvious he was trying to find fault with his brother's work, but Amenadiel wasn't worried. He knew he hadn't forgotten anything: not the high-end toiletries, not the Louboutin dress shoes, not the custom socks from Harrys of London, not the silky sleepwear and certainly not the color-coordinated pocket squares to accompany every suit. He'd even included two hip flasks. He smirked as Lucifer finally looked over at him, clearly annoyed.

"Fine," Lucifer allowed. "Good on you for not mucking up the job. Now these flasks are empty so where's my whiskey? Surely you brought at least a bottle or two."

Uh no. Couldn't do it with Abbi getting penetrated by her date and there is no damn way I'm going back there tonight!

Lucifer noted Amenadiel's sudden discomfort and gaped at him.

"Brother! How could you forget something so fundamental to my well-being?"

"Well, in my defence, Luci, I was distracted!"

"By what? What could possibly—?"

"Not by what! By who! Abigael was in your penthouse and she…" Amenadiel stopped short and made a face, unable to force himself to go on. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. She was there and I didn't have the stomach to linger. You know what? Sue me for the whiskey and you're welcome for the rest. Now excuse me!"

Amenadiel stormed past and took the stairs two at a time to the top floor. Seconds later, a door slammed.

Lucifer stared at the ceiling in irritation for a moment before his eyes widened in alarm and he followed. On the closed double doors of the master suite, Lucifer rapped swiftly then barged in to find his worst fears realized. The room was empty. The French doors to the balcony were wide open with their gauzy white curtains fluttering in the breeze, and at the sight, Lucifer ran outside, desperately scanning the dark sky above.

"Amenadiel!" he cried when he couldn't spot him right away. "Amenadiel, please! I'm sorry!"

The door to the en suite bathroom opened and the brother in question poked his head out.

"What? What're you sorry for?!"

"I … I…" Lucifer forced himself to speak past the triphammering in his chest. "I'm … sorry to bother you, but I can't seem to find my cell phone. Did you pack it?"

"If it's in the bag, I packed it!"

"Well, I didn't see it and I, um, I'd like to order in. Where's yours?"

On the verge of snapping at Lucifer to get off his case and leave him in peace so he could take a long, relaxing bath that would remove the grime from their recent travels (not to mention unwanted memories of a certain sister), Amenadiel stared at him carefully. There was no missing the sudden pallor in Lucifer's face nor the fright he was trying so hard to conceal, which meant he was still scared to be alone … and he wasn't even close to letting go of the security blanket that was his big brother.

Damn that Chloe Decker. Even from afar, she just kept doing a number on him.

Amenadiel cursed Chloe in his mind then swallowed back his impatience with a sigh. "Honestly, Luci, I don't know where my phone is."

"A-Are you sure, Brother?"

"I'm sure. I haven't had the need to use it since before I took Charlotte to Heaven. It might be around here in a box somewhere or it might even be at the penthouse alongside your own." As Lucifer fidgeted with his suit but seemed hesitant to leave or to speak further, Amenadiel felt a surge of pity. "Look, I suspect you're not in here because you're really missing your phone, but if I'm wrong and you are, I have an idea."

"Oh?"

"Yes. When you gave me this house you said you had it equipped with a landline specifically because I'm still such a 'noob' when it comes to the latest human phone tech. You said I'd probably feel more at home using a push-button relic from 1980 than an iPhone X, so how about it? Can you use that? Do you remember where you had this landline installed?"

"Right. Yes. Of course." Lucifer forced a smile then adjusted the cuffs on his jacket one last time and took three steps across the room. All at once, he stopped and turned back. "Will you be in there long, Brother?"

Amenadiel offered him a reassuring smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Luci. Just give me a few hours to unwind and I promise I'll meet you downstairs. Deal?"

Lucifer nodded stiffly and was gone.

To calm his troubled mind while he waited for company, Lucifer collected the garment bag Amenadiel had so thoughtfully retrieved then returned straight upstairs with it. Apart from the guest suite in which he'd awoken a few minutes before, there were two others on the same floor with Amenadiel's, both nearly as generous in size and shape as the master. Lucifer inspected them each in turn from the hallway right where he stood then claimed the one on the left. Technically, that room was further away from Amenadiel's, but in terms of line of sight, it was perfect. So long as Amenadiel left through the door like a normal person and didn't abscond from his new house using the balcony, Lucifer would be able to keep tabs on his comings and goings anytime they were both in their rooms. Not that that was likely. Now that the Devil had rested his eyes a bit – again, napping at his age was entirely absurd – he was no longer in desperate need of sleep. Really, he wasn't. In fact, he felt more alert than he'd had in weeks.

Working briskly, Lucifer unpacked his belongings then patted down the garment bag one last time in search of his iPhone. He hadn't lied before naturally, he truly hadn't been able to find the thing, but that was chiefly because he hadn't even been looking for it. Now he was and what he'd said was even more true.

He couldn't find the accursed thing.

Lucifer searched and searched, for Amenadiel's phone far more than his own, but its present location was a complete and very annoying mystery. Bloody house was too damn big. Eventually, Lucifer took a break. He showered and changed into comfort clothes then paced the deserted hallway for a bit, waiting impatiently for Amenadiel to exit his own bath. When that didn't happen, he resumed his hunt for big brother's cell, and when that, too, yielded nothing, he gave it up for good. Relying on a landline was so twentieth century, but he really was famished at this point and in desperate need of a meat lover's pizza with extra onions and olives. If using outdated technology would get it delivered poste haste, so be it.

With one last glance inside Amenadiel's empty bedroom, Lucifer ordered himself to buck up and went downstairs.

xXxXx

Outside, lurking indistinctly behind the thick, shady branches of an oak tree in Amenadiel's backyard, Michael ignored the owls hooting high above his head and the house crickets chirping incessantly at his feet. He had a clear light of sight into the house thanks to the eight-foot picture windows in every room all along the rear, and the special films on each one posed no challenge at all for a celestial. Maybe those dark films truly did discourage voyeurism from nosy human neighbors, but to an archangel with eyesight sharp enough to spot the Gates of Heaven while still on Earth, they were a joke. Michael's upper lip curled as he spied with ease on his mirror image some forty yards away.

As usual, Lucifer seemed to have no clue he was in the vicinity. He didn't sense him, wasn't attuned to him, probably didn't miss him or even remember he had a damn twin. After two weeks away, did Lucifer think to reach out with his mind to call any sibling to him, siblings who had flown all the way from freakin' Heaven to support his dying ass? Did he pass by the penthouse to see which of his siblings might still be in town, maybe find out if they needed help, guidance, more money, whatever?

No.

Instead, Lucifer sent Amenadiel to fly over in his place to raid one of the safes and fetch his clothes like some kind of angel gofer, an angel gofer who was just as self-absorbed and indifferent to family lately as Lucifer himself. When Amenadiel swung by the penthouse, had he called out to anyone either? Had he checked around to see who was actually listening to the record player he shut off with zero consideration? Of course not. In fact, he hadn't even bothered look up while he was there. If he had, he would have seen Michael on the library catwalk and they might have even had a frickin' conversation. But no. Big Brother hadn't once looked around because he was far too busy running errands for the Devil and then he had been too deep inside his own head to realize he was being followed.

Selfish bastards, the both of them.

A sudden crack frightened the creatures of the night into complete silence for a few seconds and Michael cursed as he realized his infuriated grip on Lucifer's iPhone in his pocket had just snapped the flimsy thing in two. A chemical smell was now stinking up the air around him thanks to the punctured battery within and Michael swore again as he launched the entirety into the canyon beyond.

Fuck it, he thought. I don't need that stupid phone anymore anyway.

Michael was glowering at first when he resumed his rigid stance in the shadows of the oak tree but not for long. The sounds of nature were picking up again and as the owl in the branch high above began asking the same insipid question that the crickets in the grass kept trying to answer, Michael soon found their racket soothing. It mirrored the conflict that was going on inside his head and he took comfort in it as he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his chinos then leaned against the tree. Inside the house Lucifer had finished his phone call but was now hovering at the base of the stairs and looking up, like he was fighting the urge to call to Amenadiel. Half a month together and he still wasn't sick of him? What was that about? Michael didn't know yet, but he had every confidence he would soon.

First, though, he had other plans.

Messing with others had been fun these last two weeks, but it was obviously time to kick things up a notch. When the time was right and Big Brother Amenadiel was miles away, Michael would have something much better to play with now, wouldn't he. Yes. Yes, he would.

His twin.

xXxXx

Eighty miles to the north and far from Michael's plotting, the joyful weekend Ella and Raphael had spent getting to know one another was coming to an end. The night was chilly, but that wasn't the only reason Ella shivered. She remembered the walks they had taken alongside the thoughts they had shared, and she tightened her hold around Raphael's neck as he landed with her on the balcony outside the living room of her condo.

"Are you cold?" he asked, tightening his own grip on her slim figure.

Ella ducked her head, too shy at first to raise it. "No. I'm just … not ready for you to leave."

Ella hesitated to say more in case she scared him off like Lucifer, who had always been spooked by sentimentality at the beginning of his relationship with Chloe. Then again … Raphael really didn't seem all that similar to his brother. He was different. He had to be because she was falling for him, could feel it happening in her head and in her heart much faster that it ever had with other guys.

Was it because Raphael was an angel?

Because he was so damn physically attractive?

Or because he talked to her and with her like no one ever had before?

Ella didn't know yet. Every other relationship she'd had had been based on pure animal magnetism, using and being used in equal measure to scratch a sexual itch. She didn't want that with Raphael and he wasn't treating her like he did either. Did he like her as much as she was starting to like him? Ella didn't know that either. She could fall back on old and tired hook-up tricks to find out, of course, but even if they worked on a celestial, Ella didn't want to play games. Not with him. They didn't have time for that.

These thoughts and more raced through Ella's mind in a flash as she took a deep breath and vowed to be perfectly honest. Too bad if she was moving super fast and setting herself up for massive heartbreak. Abuelita always said that, for love, any risk was worth taking. And so, Ella gathered her courage, raised her head then said it all, no matter how embarrassing, getting everything out in a rush.

"Rapha, I have a really good time with you this weekend and I don't want it to end yet. I may never want it to end. I know that sounds needy and we humans don't normally put our cards on the table this soon, but life is too short, at least for me, and I just, I-I want you to know how I feel about you before you leave. Because you gotta, I know that, can't keep The Big Guy waiting and all, but I can't let you go without telling you how I feel."

Ella wanted to say more but stopped. She was positive she'd already said too much.

In the sudden silence between them, Raphael felt the heat of three suns bloom inside his chest. After keeping Ella's company at Lux the first night they had met and passing hours in the air this weekend showing her the views of Earth that angels took for granted, he, too, was as loath to leave her as she was for him to depart. They may have only spent two evenings so far walking and talking on the most beautiful, secluded beaches in Hawaii but more flights and more walks could be in their futures if they both wanted it, a lot more.

Easily despite the darkness that surrounded them, Raphael studied every feature in Ella's face just as she was studying his, more than happy to confess how he felt as well.

"Ella, I like you too. In truth, I've felt this way since I saw how eagerly you helped my brother assist his ex-wife. You always help others from what I've seen and you ask for so little in return. You are a very kind, very rare person, Ella. The fears you have about yourself … they simply aren't founded."

Raphael fell silent then as Ella cocked her head and looked at him in confusion. He was determined to give her the time she needed to fully consider his answer and he wasn't wrong to do so.

Ella did need that time. In his arms, her mind was once again awhirl.

Lucifer's ex-wife? Who…?

He must mean Candy.

But when had she helped…?

Oh, right. Vegas.

Wait. But that trip to Vegas had been a year ago, which meant...

Which meant Raphael had liked her for over a year. More than that, he had seen her darkness, seen her lows behind closed doors, lows she always did her best to hide from everyone, and it made no difference to him.

He really, genuinely liked her.

Ella closed her eyes in relief, a smile trembling on her lips. Maybe in another day or two she would feel creeped out at what this news implied, but she didn't think so. She wasn't disgusted by it or embarrassed or angry that Raphael had been watching her for months. She was honored. She'd always believed that angels in Heaven kept a loving eye on those living on Earth and now she had proof.

Of course, this complicated things vis-à-vis a relationship, but so what?

True, the man holding her was an immortal whereas she most definitely was not. They didn't reside in the same city, they didn't travel the same way, and they had so little in common it was almost alarming. But they had just spent a little over a day now finding experiences and thoughts to share with each other, and that should count for something, shouldn't it? Dating a celestial who mostly lived in Heaven wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility, was it? Couldn't they make it work?

Ella had faith they could. She had not forgotten what Raphael had told her about his father expecting him back in Heaven earlier and much as she wanted him to stay, she also didn't want him to get in trouble for disobeying God. Still if Raphael was already this late, maybe it would make little difference if he was a tiny bit later?

Abruptly, Ella wriggled until Raphael set her down then slid open her balcony door and held out her hand to him in open invitation. She'd never used before the expression that she was about to – it didn't fit with the thugs she usually dated – but Raphael was different. He was strong yet kind and he wouldn't mock her for trying it out or accuse her of masquerading as a lady. She was sure of it.

"Rapha," she said, doing her best to ignore her giddily pounding heart, "would you like to join me for a nightcap before you go home?"

Raphael had no idea what a 'nightcap' was and didn't care. He broke into a smile that felt wide enough to split the world and didn't hesitate to take the hand Ella was offering

"Yes, thank you," he said. "I think I would enjoy that very much."

"Awesome!" Ella squealed then hurried to recover her decorum as she heard herself, utterly mortified. She was not in high school anymore. Her fangirlish tendencies seriously needed to die. "S-Sorry about that. What I meant to say was, um, do come in."

"No need to apologize," Raphael said, his smile widening even more. "I like your exuberance, Ella; it's very refreshing. In fact …"

As Raphael paused then reached out to cup her face, Ella's breath hitched. "Yes…?"

Raphael stroked her soft skin. "I love everything about you."

Love, he'd said, not like, and the moment Ella realized that she couldn't help herself. She beamed and launched herself at him for one of her warmest hugs, then snatched his hand and wasted no time pulling him into her condo.

xXxXx

It was closing on eleven o'clock, and Amenadiel felt almost like himself again when he finally traipsed barefoot into the family room in the basement, now clad in black shorts and a matching tank top. To his surprise, Lucifer had also changed in the time he'd been gone and was now barefoot as well, his Lanieri suit shed in favor of a robe and red silk pajama shorts.

From the looks of things, the Devil had not only been hungry since he'd awoken; he'd been ravenous. Two jumbo-sized pizza boxes were stacked on the oversized ottoman with two others on the floor, open, empty and greasy. A giant glass bowl filled with fresh, hot popcorn sat on a side table as well and, in the corner, an old-fashioned popcorn machine on wheels prepped what was obviously another batch. Amenadiel raised an eyebrow at the sight – had this machine really come with the house? – but decided there was no point in asking. It was here and it obviously worked.

Standing by the flat-screen TV on the far side of the room, Lucifer was oblivious to Amenadiel's arrival as he scowled to himself and flipped through the movie collection that the previous owners had included with the sale of the house. He hated that God's Finest was taking so long in the bath. For nearly two hours he'd had no one to talk to, no one to distract him the from fact that he was still exhausted and could use – Dad help him – another nap. The voices coming from the television weren't a diversion anymore. If anything, they were becoming an irritation and he would much prefer—

"Hey, Luci."

As the sound of Amenadiel's voice and the sight of him casually descending the last stair into the family room, Lucifer smiled broadly in relief. It was about bloody time! He tossed a half-dozen discs on the carpeted floor then beckoned Amenadiel eagerly into the room.

"Come. Come join me, Brother. I was just about to stick in a movie since you're clearly not dressed for clubbing and neither am I for once. A relaxing night in is just the ticket, wouldn't you say? When was the last time we did this together? In fact, have we ever?" Before Amenadiel could more than blink, Lucifer rambled on. "Oh, and I saved you some pizza. What do you care to watch while I start on dessert and you begin dinner? I expect you haven't seen any of these, but no matter. Pick one. They're all good."

Amenadiel plopped on the velvet sectional and read the covers of the four Blu-rays Lucifer was holding up impatiently for his inspection. Contrary to Lucifer's belief, Amanadiel was familiar with each one thanks to movie marathon hangouts with Dan.

Chill Factor.

Predator.

Riddick.

First Blood.

Compared to the dramas, thrillers and rom-coms that Lucifer had rejected and tossed to the floor, there was a definite theme among the finalists.

Nothing boring.

Nothing with a romantic sub-plot.

No major female characters unless they were clearly depicted as evil.

In short, nothing to encourage sleep and absolutely nothing to remind the Devil of what a good, trustworthy person Chloe Decker used to be.

Amenadiel sighed and raised a finger to point to Chill Factor just as the doorbell rang. Lucifer perked up and tossed all four movies into his brother's lap on his way to the stairs.

"Ah, finally!" he exclaimed. "Stick in your selection, will you?"

When Lucifer returned minutes later with an unmarked white carton nearly as large as his entire upper body, the movie was in and Amenadiel quickly swallowed the first bite of pizza he'd just taken.

"What's this?"

"Sweets, Brother, to offset the salty. Since you don't have a single thing worth snacking on in your new cupboards yet, I had to take charge."

Lucifer ripped off the top, dug around inside then began tossing one object after another and another into Amenadiel's lap, a mixture of candy sticks, straws, bars and corn, circus peanuts, gummy bears, gumdrops, jelly beans, licorice, lollipops and marshmallows. Amenadiel told himself such poor fare was beneath his tastes, and finishing his pizza was a much more sensible dinner, but a red and white Twist Pop almost as long as his arm wouldn't stop calling to him and that was that. Amenadiel snatched it up, removed the wrapper and knocked everything else aside.

"Since when do confectioners deliver?" he asked once he'd taken his first delicious lick of strawberry cream.

"Since when do they not," Lucifer scoffed. "For the right price everyone on Earth delivers, Brother. Humans do love their money." He dumped the open carton on the floor between them then picked up the remote and started the movie. "Now hush and pay attention. I absolutely love the beginning of this film and so might you."

And with that announcement, Lucifer snagged a bag of gummy bears, sprinkled it liberally over his bowl of popcorn then dug into his snack.

From the side of his eye, Amenadiel watched him for a moment, saying nothing. He was glad to see Lucifer semi-relaxed, but the bags under his eyes were still much too pronounced and the untamed curls on his head still spoke of a disinterest in full grooming. This wasn't good, not for a being as vain as Lucifer, which meant first thing in the morning an appointment with Linda would have to be arranged. Lucifer might argue about it and deny that it was necessary, but too bad. If ever the Devil needed to resume professional therapy sessions with one Doctor Linda Martin, it was now.

With these thoughts in mind, Amenadiel moved the uneaten pizzas off the ottoman so there was room for his feet, then settled back to watch an action-comedy thriller with the Prince of Darkness. Lucifer had been right to question whether they'd ever done this before. They hadn't. Amenadiel slouched a little more on his corner of the sofa, sucked his lollipop and smirked to himself that this day had come.

Apparently, miracles do happen.

xXxXx

RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT-A-TATAT!

With no idea when he'd fallen asleep or how long he'd been that way, Amenadiel jolted back into consciousness from the report of machine gun fire not ten feet from his head. He was a split second away from releasing his heavenly wings and using them to slice those guns in half when he realized he wasn't in Vietnam and he wasn't a human in danger. He was stateside on one of his new sofas with no one else in the vicinity besides his sleep-deprived younger brother. Slouched beside him, unmoving, Lucifer was watching the war movie Platoon at a level that was beyond thunderous. He wasn't reacting to anything on screen either, and the longer Amenadiel glared at him, the more he doubted that Lucifer was even conscious. Annoyed at the persistently high volume on the television, Amenadiel grabbed the remote control and muted the set.

"Excuse me," Lucifer said, blinking at him owlishly. "I may know every language, Brother, but I draw the line at watching telly via lip-reading."

"Luci, what the hell are doing?!" Amenadiel demanded. He held the remote out of reach as Lucifer made a clumsy grab for it. "Are you trying to wake every one of my neighbors?!"

Lucifer lunged at him again, missed, and fell in a heap on the carpet. His near empty bowl of popcorn overturned and sprinkled him with leftover salt and unpopped kernels, which Lucifer stared at in confused silence for a second before he decided what the hell, sat up and began to eat them. After the third hard-rock kernel went into his mouth, he cracked it with his teeth, washed it down with a sip of whiskey straight from the bottle – humans really will deliver anything if the price is right – then addressed Amenadiel from his new home on the floor.

"1) You can see very well what I'm doing, Brother. I'm keeping awake – on my own, I might add – by watching my seventh film of the night. I would have relied on to you help except you passed out hours ago and renounced the job like the slacker you've become. You really should be ashamed—"

"Excuse me?!"

"I'm not finished. B) You don't even know who your neighbors are yet so you couldn't possibly give a toss about waking them up. And 3) it's after nine o'clock in the morning. If your bloody neighbors aren't up at this hour, they're layabouts and slugabeds who deserve to be awoken by the Devil. Now give me back the bloody remote."

In response, Amenadiel tossed it into the farthest corner of the room. He could tell from the way Lucifer was swaying in place that he was too whipped to get back to his feet, and he wasn't far wrong.

Lucifer managed to haul his frame back onto the sofa where he craned his neck to see where the remote had landed, but that was as much as he was willing to do. He scowled at Amenadiel and flapped a hand weakly.

"Go on, fetch it for me. You slept all night so you're well-rested, aren't you? Sure you are, so go. Be a lamb and get it."

"I can't believe you," Amenadiel said, scowling right back.

"Oh, can't you now?"

"You're really doing this again, Luci? Depriving yourself of sleep, on purpose, to the point that you can't even stumble across the room like a two-year-old human can manage?" As Lucifer raised a finger to object but then seemed to lose his train of thought, Amenadiel clutched his own knee to keep himself from reaching out and slapping his stubborn brother across the face. "Lucifer. Your fear of nightmares is never going to resolve itself this way. Chloe Decker is—"

"DON'T!" Lucifer roared. "Do NOT speak her name to me!"

For the first time ever in their very long, often tumultuous relationship, Lucifer's eyes turned red in anger at his eldest brother. The fiery color faded within seconds as Lucifer realized what he was doing and turned away, ashamed and now even more distraught than he'd been a moment ago. It was too late, of course. Amenadiel had seen and they both knew he had.

On the sofa, Lucifer began to tremble.

In the past, Michael had been the recipient of his devil temper many times and so had other siblings. Uriel for one, Zadkiel for another and several of the girls too, always deserved and always without feeling the slightest bit of guilt or discomfort. Hell, he'd even flashed those eyes at their mother quite a few times after she had escaped her prison, and if she were still in this universe, he would likely do it again.

To Amenadiel, though, Lucifer had never.

No matter how often God's Favorite Son had preached and scolded, pushed and annoyed, the desire to flash those evil red eyes at him had never come. Not during their brawl at the penthouse over Maze and Malcolm Graham. Not even when Amenadiel had arranged the theft of his severed wings to force him back to Hell. Not once had he ever felt tempted to disrespect Amenadiel that way, yet now, thanks to that, that woman, he had broken one of his top three unspoken rules.

Exhausted and furious at the control he could feel slipping away, Lucifer's brown eyes burned with unshed tears.

Amenadiel saw and felt far more dismayed than Lucifer at having driven his little brother to such limits. Without thinking, he scooted closer and put an arm around him in consolation. Lucifer stiffened and tried to pull away, but Amenadiel wouldn't allow it. He held on tighter.

"I'm sorry, Brother," he said quietly. "I should not have said her name and I should not have provoked you like that. You're not in a fit state to take it anymore and I should have known better. I'm deeply, deeply sorry."

Lucifer didn't reply but gradually he allowed his muscles to relax.

Amenadiel held on for another minute to ensure Lucifer understood there was not a single hard feeling on his part and then he let him go after one final squeeze. He retrieved the remote control and offered it to Lucifer, who took the device but seemed to have lost interest in actually making use of it. Amenadiel wasn't surprised. He surveyed the candy wrappers strewn in all directions of the family room then turned back to Lucifer, determined to change the subject.

"Listen, you hungry?"

Still holding the remote, Lucifer used it to the point listlessly to the carton of candy that was still half full and within arm's reach. "Got it covered, thanks."

"I meant for real food, Luci."

"This is real enough for me, Brother."

"Well, it's not for me, so I'm going out to get some breakfa—"

Lucifer's head jerked up, his bloodshot eyes filled with panic. "You're leaving me?!"

"What? No! I mean, yes, but just to pick up something to eat!" Amenadiel took a breath then held up a hand to calm them both. "Look, why don't you come along?"

For several awkward seconds Lucifer hesitated to reply. He was loath to say to it, but the fact remained that he absolutely did not want to go out in public just yet. It had taken hours to truly become comfortable in the semi-solitude of Amenadiel's house; there was no good reason he could think of to break his new exile. Why couldn't his brother stay with him? They could order in anything they wanted, Lucifer had proved as much the night before and … and … and it probably wouldn't do to say this to Amenadiel. The Devil would look even more desperate and needy than he surely already did and Lucifer still had his pride to consider, as miniscule as it was fast becoming.

With Amenadiel still standing over him, awaiting his answer, Lucifer straightened his spine and mustered an insolent smile.

"Come along? You mean stand in some long, sweaty line amongst the riff-raff of L.A. when I could just as easily relax here in my jim-jams and keep watching telly? No, thank you, Brother. You-You go on. I'll be fine right here."

Whatever act Lucifer was trying to put on, Amenadiel knew him too well to buy it. On the other hand, coddling him wouldn't help either. Tempted to say something, but knowing he should go, Amenadiel didn't waver. With compassion, he observed his brother straining to keep smiling and not fidget, then asked him gently,

"You're sure you don't want anything?"

"Quite sure, yes. Do hurry up and go. The faster you return, the sooner we can continue this movie."

"I thought you were going to keep watching it without me."

"I…I changed my mind," Lucifer said, unconsciously rubbing his wrists in lieu of adjusting cufflinks that weren't there. "I think I'll wait."

Amenadiel noted the nervous gesture and winced at the sight. "Listen, Luci. After breakfast, I say we take off the day. Let's just get out of this house and whack a few rounds of mini golf or engage in some other manly sport like, uh, going to a batting cage or maybe a bowling alley. I promise you it'll be fun. In fact, Dan and I—"

Amenadiel prattled on about what a jolly time he'd had months ago with the "Douche", but Lucifer stopped listening.

Mini golf, batting cages and bowling? Since when do celestials engage in such mundane human activities?

Lucifer scoffed at the notion and waved his oldest sibling away, interrupting him mid-sentence.

"Brother, the day I find mini golf appealing is the day I shave my head and compete with you for the shiniest bald pate in Heaven. Now shoo. Go fetch an Eggcellent Burrito or some such then hurry back to this couch."

Amenadiel considered Lucifer thoughtfully a moment then left without another word. The idea that he was abandoning his little brother at possibly the worst moment of the last two weeks came to mind, but he pushed it away ruthlessly. He was not abandoning Lucifer. He was taking a small break from being a security blanket, because it wasn't healthy for anyone to keep relying on another for company 24/7. Amenadiel was only doing what any good big brother should: demonstrating faith and reminding his little bro that he was fully capable on his own. Lucifer Morningstar didn't need the very first of their parents' angels to be his bodyguard anymore; he never had. He was the Devil and he had survived countless millennia in Hell. Chloe Decker and her betrayal could never truly break him.

So decided, Amenadiel went upstairs.

In the master bedroom on top floor, he had just finished changing into street clothes when the warble of his long-forgotten cell phone caught his attention, revealing its location barely three feet away wedged between the wall and the night-stand. Amenadiel fished it out, noted the contact name on the screen and answered the call with a smile of relief.

"Linda! You have no idea how glad I am to—!"

On the other end of connection, Linda cut him off. Amenadiel listened to her voice, replied once and was on the verge of interjecting a second time when her next statement rendered him mute. His knees buckled and he found his backside making undignified contact with the floor, the iPhone in his right hand slipping effortlessly from his grip.

All thoughts of breakfast fled Amenadiel's mind.

All thoughts of Lucifer went the same way.

Linda began calling his name, concerned at his sudden silence, and the sound of her anxiety coming through the speaker snapped him out of it. On his feet a second later, his charcoal wings fully outstretched, Amenadiel flew out from his bedroom balcony and headed west. This conversation with Linda wasn't one to be had using technology.

He needed to talk to the mother of his unborn child face-to-face.

xXxXx

Amenadiel's abrupt departure was exactly what a certain conniving brother had been waiting for.

Hours ago, and long before dawn, Michael had left the oak tree in the yard behind to settle on the rooftop deck in a cushioned wicker daybed. Now his patience had finally borne fruit. Determined not to draw premature attention his way, Michael lounged in place and hardly dared breathe as he watched Heaven's Mightiest Warrior jet across the sky without a backward glance, his aim fixed somewhere west of their position. Only when Amenadiel was completely out of sight did Michael relax and then he sat up with a smirk, eager to start having the fun he'd been denied for far too long.

Not too much though. And definitely not too fast. Even as messed up as Lucifer seemed to be, he wasn't a complete dolt. A degree of subtlety would be required if one was to get inside the Devil's head and stay there for as long as possible, so Michael allowed himself only one moment more to snicker then pulled it together.

He slipped noiselessly into the house, paused in front of an ornate hallway mirror to ensure he appeared suitably concerned for his twin then continued down the stairs in search of his brother.

Lucifer was still one more floor below in the family room when Michael found him, but he wasn't guzzling whiskey or smoking cigarettes or doing anything else he normally did to cope with anxiety. This time, Lucifer was sluggishly pacing the floor while stuffing his face with rum-flavored truffles, and as Michael observed his stooped shoulders, disheveled hair and haunted eyes, he bit back a grin. Looking at Lucifer now, he was obviously too far gone to be on high alert.

Messing with his head and his emotions was going to be so damn easy.

Michael stayed unmoving where he was at the top of the basement stairs, reveling for a moment longer in Lucifer's misery, before rearranging his features again to show nothing but concern as he descended the steps noisily.

"So, this is where you vanished to? I've been worried about you, Brother. You and Amenadiel disappeared from the penthouse so fast, I just, I didn't know what to think and … Lucifer? Brother, are you all right?"

Lucifer certainly was now. He'd thought the sight of Michael and the sound of his voice was yet another cruel hallucination from his exhausted brain, but it wasn't. As Michael descended the last step, Lucifer approached his twin warily. He pressed a tentative finger into Michael's ribcage and felt flesh beneath the warmth of a dark green turtleneck sweater, and shock gave way to relief. Amenadiel might have deserted him for a few minutes, but the Devil wasn't alone. Another blessed sibling had come to stand by him.

"Michael, you're still in town! Here," he exclaimed, generously shoving the carton of candy toward his twin, "have a truffle?"

"Can I get a hug instead? I've missed you, Brother, more than I can say."

Michael wanted to vomit just uttering such saccharine bullshit but to look at him one would never know it – especially not a fellow archangel in Lucifer's mental state.

With no knowledge yet of all the dastardly deeds Michael had been performing the last couple of weeks, Lucifer was too deeply moved to hesitate when Michael held out his arms to him. He dropped the carton of candy he'd been holding, stepped into Michael's hug and returned it fiercely. The embrace lasted a good half minute and when the siblings broke apart, Lucifer was the only one to turn away and blush.

"Bloody Hell, I think I'm leaking," he said, wiping his eyes with an embarrassed laugh. "Did we really just hug? I can't believe it. I never thought such a tender moment would occur between us."

"Me neither." Michael made a show of clearing his throat and blinking fast as though to clear a film of tears from his eyes. "Can I stay awhile? Do you mind?"

"Of course not! I demand nothing less!"

"Good. You can fill me in on where you and Amenadiel flew off to." Michael averted his gaze, feigning shame, when Lucifer glanced his way in surprise. "I know I probably seemed standoffish when Father ordered us all to come support you that night, but I really was worried when you guys just left without saying anything. Not at first, I admit, but later and I, uh, didn't behave as well as I should have while you were gone. You might have heard some things about me, but it's only because I was pissed there for awhile. Anyway, I'm sorry."

That last part was added in case Buttinsky Raphael had snitched on him at some point, but as soon as the apology was out, Michael saw there was no need. Lucifer didn't look at all like someone who had just been reminded of unpleasant news. If anything, he looked confused and not even that state lasted long. Before Michael could consider what else to say, Lucifer was dismissing his apology in his usual offhand manner.

"Come," Lucifer ordered, gathering up his box of candy then nudging Michael around the sofa to take a seat right next to him. "I was watching Platoon earlier and you must finish it with me. In fact, let's start over. You can't possibly develop a proper appreciation for the blackguard Tom Berenger plays until you've observed his character from the beginning."

xXxXx

From the sofa where she had passed out the night before in the middle of a conversation, Ella stretched her limbs and opened her eyes to what was surely the most wondrous sight in the world: a Child of God dozing in her humble home, asleep quite peacefully in one of her armchairs across the room. This was a real-live angel she could get up and touch right now, if she wanted. Her angel. Chloe had had one of her own for quite a while, even if she hadn't fully accepted him or respected him, but Ella Lopez had no plans to repeat those mistakes. Not with her angel. She would never treat Raphael as Chloe had treated Lucifer, dismissing his feelings over and over, scolding him endlessly for his quirks, never truly making an effort to see past the surface.

May God punish her Himself in some way if she did.

Unwilling to wake her holy guest this morning, Ella reached out to check her cell phone then relaxed when it wasn't even showing nine-thirty yet. Good. They had more time to be together.

Or they would once she peed.

Damn it, too much wine last night!

Ella raced to the bathroom to empty her bladder then gaped and went for the whole shebang once she caught sight of her hideous bedhead in the mirror. A half-hour later and she was back on the couch cross-legged, smelling clean and tasting minty, unable to help herself from mooning over Raphael in silence like a lovesick schoolgirl.

It wasn't her fault, of course.

It was the fault of God and Goddess for creating their son with all those gorgeous caramel highlights in his hair.

Highlights that called to Ella … urging her to come closer and run her hands through them.

But could she while he was still sleeping? Was it rude? Would he object?

Why, oh why, did his hair have to come down to his shoulders just the way she liked? And the sexy, soft waviness of it! It was all too much!

As the temptation to get up and touch crossed Ella's mind, Raphael's eyes opened and fixed on her with their dreamy, golden flecks, a slow and sleepy smile spreading across his handsome face.

Ella felt a thud in her chest and she was convinced it was her heart falling yet another notch in love. Was his smile an invitation for her to make the first move? They'd spent so many nights already just talking, when were they going to kiss? Should Ella push for it now? Would Raphael consider that moving too fast? A kiss would surely lead to other, er, carnal activities, and given how damp Ella was becoming in the crotch of her panties just looking at him…

Wait.

How much experience did Raphael have bedding humans?

He'd told her the night before that this was his first extended visit to Earth, but surely, he wasn't really a virgin. It was impossible, right? He was billions of years old! At least once before he must have … he had to have ….

Oh God.

What if she, like, became his teacher?

Without meaning to, Ella began to consider the possibility until the heat in her face told her she was blushing, harder than she ever had in recent memory. That did it. She had to stop thinking. Eyes wide, she clambered over the back her sofa then stood behind it to hide whatever evidence might be showing of her arousal, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She hoped she'd moved fast enough to prevent him from seeing anything and she absolutely prayed she didn't look nearly as mortified as she felt.

"So!" she said brightly. "Will you stay for breakfast? My shift today at the precinct doesn't start for another couple hours, so we have time to eat, if you want. Would you like to?"

"I—"

"Trust me, you haven't lived until you've tasted by abuelita's recipe for carnitas eggs benedict. Of course, I can't make it as well she can, but my version's pretty good! The secret it to—"

First, she was thinking too much. Now, she was talking too much.

Oh, please make it stop!

Perhaps Raphael heard her. His smile widened as he stood up and went around the sofa to face Ella, who shut up mid-sentence, blushed anew and snatched a cushion to hold in front of her body.

"Ella?"

"Y-Yes?"

"I don't get to cook in Heaven and I would like to very much, with you, today. Will you show me what must be done and let me help?"

Ella nodded vigorously then backed away toward her bedroom. "Just, um, let me change and I'll be right out, okay?"

"Okay."

"Ten minutes, no more. You won't leave, right? You promise, Rapha?"

"I promise, Ella. You and me and carnitas eggs benedict. We have a date."

"Okay, good!"

The moment Ella shut the door to her bedroom then began to engage in a whirlwind of activity from the sound of things, Raphael lost his smile. He closed his eyes, pressed his hands tightly together in prayer, then turned a half step to the right and tilted his face up to Heaven.

Father, I know I'm late, but please. Allow me a few more days with Ella and then I shall return Home. That's all I ask. Just a few more days to be with her. Please, Father. Please…

xXxXx

Fifteen minutes. That was all Michael could stand of Platoon. As soon as the actors cast some thirty-odd years ago pretended to trudge through some god-forsaken Vietnamese jungle in preparation for an ambush, Michael decided he'd been supportive long enough of his brother's taste in movies. It was time to stir things up and get serious about needling his twin like he'd been looking forward to doing all night.

"It's not your fault, you know," he said, casually reaching inside the candy box. He waited for Lucifer to respond then smacked him lightly with a bag of green Twizzlers when he didn't. "You know it's not your fault, right?"

"Excuse me?" Lucifer glanced his way but then returned his attention to the television screen. "What's not my fault?"

Michael tore open the bag of Twizzlers, removed a rubbery string of licorice then began to munch away.

"What happened two weeks ago with that detective. I mean, don't get me wrong. In one way that Decker woman is getting what she deserves for going too far and trying to kill you, but her freaking out about who you really are? That part's not exactly her fault as far as I can tell. Of course, it's not exactly yours 'cause you can't help the devil that you are, but it's not really her fault either, you know?"

"Sh. Watch this."

Michael wasn't fooled by his brother's efforts to shush him. From the corner of his left eye, he could see Lucifer's jaw muscles beginning to twitch and the hands in his lap coming together to squeeze.

Gotcha!

Michael quieted as ordered for five full minutes then jabbed the needle in a little deeper.

"I'm just saying. I've been thinking about this while you and Amenadiel were gone and I don't know if our family was fair to her. She's only human after all; she couldn't help her reaction to your devil face, Sam."

"Don't call me that, please."

"Sorry, it slipped out, but you know what I mean," Michael said. He held out his bag of licorice and shook it, offering some to Lucifer then raised his voice to be heard over the rattle of machine gun fire on screen that was suddenly louder than it had been. Lucifer had increased the volume. "Anyway. That detective of yours is like pretty much all the humans who've seen your true face so far, so I'm starting to think we can't really blame her. Most of them are weak and she wasn't prepared for such a shock. You have to admit that evil part of you is a lot more monstrous than most people can handle and the way you dumped your devil face on her—"

Lucifer sprang up from the couch. "I'm parched," he announced, heading for the stairs. "Care for a drink?"

"I'd love one, thanks," Michael said to Lucifer's retreating back. "Wait a minute, there's whiskey down here. Brother, there's whiskey right here!"

Lucifer didn't reply and Michael didn't expect him to. He paused the movie and checked the time through the television then settled back into the cushions and propped his feet up with a grin, predicting a good twenty minutes before his anxious twin returned. Should he follow him upstairs and feign worry? Nah. Let him guzzle some booze in peace to try (and fail) to pull himself back together!

Lucifer returned exactly nineteen minutes later. His curls were in greater disarray than before, like he'd been running his hands through them in distress the entire time he'd been gone, and the circles under his eyes were darker – either that or the pallor in his entire face had increased. Michael thought he even detected some redness in those eyes like humans developed after crying, but Lucifer turned away before he could be certain. It was too much to hope for, probably. They hadn't made each other blubber since they were fledgelings.

Michael gave the Devil a solid minute or two to settle back into the sofa, continue the film on screen and immerse himself once more in the swelting, fetid jungles of South Vietnam. Then he struck again.

"Look, Brother, if I upset you before …" he trailed off and glanced over at Lucifer staring rigidly at the television then sighed, faking disappointment. "I did, didn't I? I'm sorry. Truly, I didn't mean it."

Lucifer said nothing at first but then bit by bit his posture softened. "No need to apologize, Brother. Let's just forget it and watch the movie."

Michael gave Lucifer a whole half hour this time to relax and then out came the knives again. He waited until a dramatic swell of music faded away after some Christ-like figure on screen bit the bullet then said quietly,

"It's just … I'm starting to feel so sorry for her. Aren't you?"

Lucifer didn't have to ask to whom Michael was referring and the reminder was like a pinprick straight to his bottom. Even before Michael had finished speaking, Lucifer was on his feet and striding toward the popcorn machine to get a fresh batch going. A nervous laugh escaped his lips.

"Gosh, you really can't take a hint, can you?"

Michael followed him across the room and lay a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Brother, I'm just trying to be perfectly honest, like we used to be with each other when we were young. Before your Fall, we could tell each other anything without fear and we did, every day. Don't you remember that? Don't you miss your twin like I miss mine, Sammy?"

Michael deliberately allowed his voice to catch on that final question and rejoiced internally when Lucifer snuck a peak in his direction then nodded once ever so slightly. Hell, Lucifer was in such a tizzy now thanks to him, he wasn't even bothering to object anymore to the use of his God-given name. Manipulating the Devil really was so very easy. One just needed the right touch.

Determined to take this as far as he could, Michael tightened his hold on Lucifer's shoulder then forced him to turn so they could face each other.

"Look, Sam, I know you don't want to hear this and I'm not saying any of this to hurt you, but I think we should talk – really talk – about Chloe's betrayal."

"Must we?" Lucifer asked tightly. He tried to escape upon hearing that name spoken again, but Michael held him fast.

"Yes, you've run long enough. Now go on. Tell me what you're thinking."

Lucifer stiffened. "I'm not thinking anything … that I wish to share at this time."

Michael nodded with compassion. "I'll go first then and I'll be blunt." Before Lucifer could object, Michael straightened his droopy shoulder and continued. "I fear Chloe Decker is an innocent, Brother. I also fear Dad's punishment was too harsh, and if I think so, I know you do too."

"Michael—"

"No, let me finish. Dad dumped all His wrath on her but let that priest off without so much as a smiting. I mean, how is that fair? That Father Kinley was the one who corrupted Chloe's mind. He's the one who gave Chloe the poi—"

"You know what I'd like to discuss more than this?" Lucifer wrenched himself free with another very short, very uncomfortable laugh. "Nothing at all, so here's a thought. Let's shut our gobs and simply focus on the movie while we await Amenadiel's return. He's been gone for ages, so he should be back any minute. Honestly, I can't imagine what's keeping him. In fact, I think I'll call him right now."

Lucifer closed his eyes and brought his shaking hands together in prayer which Michael promptly boxed apart.

"Stop it, Sam. You're avoiding the issue of your little detective and I won't let you. You want to know why?" Michael stepped into Lucifer's personal space before the latter could withdraw. "Because denial has never once helped you deal with your problems. Use me as a sounding board, Brother. Let it all out. Express what you're feeling about poor Chloe—"

"Don't! Stop talking about her!"

Michael shook his head, his expression one of pity. "I'm only trying to help, Samael."

"My name's Lucifer!"

Michael ignored that and went on kindly. "You need to stop resisting me, Brother, because all I'm trying to do is help you process the trauma and move on. I'm trying to help you realize that Chloe is actually just as much a victim as you are. You can't keep hating her when it was the sight of your terrifying devil face that started all this."

As Lucifer worked his jaw but said nothing, too upset by the potential truth of that declaration to interrupt, Michael sharpened his gaze knowingly and pushed him a little more. He needed to hurry up and finish breaking him before they were disturbed by Amenadiel returning earlier than planned.

"You know I'm right," he urged. "But you can heal from this, Lucifer, all of it. Just trust me and take responsibility. I know it's hard but the first step in getting over this whole mess is admitting fault, however small. If you don't do as I say, I'm afraid it's going to be a very long time until you sleep peacefully again. You are plagued with nightmares, aren't you?" When Lucifer's face pinched and he didn't reply, Michael nodded as if in perfect understanding. "Brother, your habit of denial is going to keep feeding those nightmares until even your waking thoughts fester. You need to talk it out and who better to do that with than me? Who better than with your twin who's known you from the moment you were created? It's exactly what your human therapist would say, if she were here, isn't it?"

Lucifer couldn't bring himself to answer that question either, at least not directly. He retreated to the sofa and sat on it despondently, his fingernails digging crescents into his palms. He wished he were back in Europe. He wished more than Amenadiel was with him.

"Well," Michael pushed, forcing him back to the present. "Isn't that what Linda Martin would say if she were here?"

Lucifer shrugged. "Well, she's not here, is she."

"But she could be," Michael said. "If you can't bring yourself to confide in me yet, I could fly her over here—"

"No!" Lucifer rejected the offer just as quickly as Michael had been counting on him to. "I-I can handle what happened with … with … with Detective Decker on my own just fine."

Michael joined Lucifer on the couch, sat beside him and pressed a hand to his knee, a picture of sibling solicitude. He could feel a tremor running through Lucifer, caused exclusively by the angst he alone had been inciting, and he swallowed a smirk at his magnificent handiwork.

"What about your friend Ella?" he suggested next. "She seemed okay…" Michael let his voice trail off, wavering on purpose. "Actually, never mind."

"What?" Lucifer demanded. "What is it?"

"It's just …" Michael reached for the remote paused Platoon so he would no longer be subjected to anymore annoying background explosions, then deliberately hesitated for several seconds longer, well aware of how impatient his twin was becoming. He waited until he sensed Lucifer about to explode himself then continued with grave reluctance, "It's just … after you left that night, you know, the night Chloe felt she had no choice but to poison you … I think, well, I think it finally hit Ella who you are, who you've always been. I've tried talking to her about you to, you know, try and change her mind, make her see reason, but I get the impression … she just doesn't want to hear it."

Thunder rumbled unexpectedly above the house, ominous and threatening, but Michael ignored it and Lucifer heard none of it. His face fell, his voice barely audible.

"Are you … quite sure?"

As sympathetically as he could manage, Michael nodded. "I'm sorry, Brother, but I don't think she's your friend anymore. A few of our siblings are still in town, so I suppose, if you don't believe me, you can always ask them for confirmation or you could call Ella yourself, but honestly, I wouldn't. Not yet. If it's finally hitting her that you're the Devil and she's that freaked out by the truth, it's probably best if you give her some space for a while."

Lucifer stared into Michael's eyes, his own brown eyes pools of devastation and pain, but all he saw reflected there was truth. Michael must not be lying to him, which meant the weight building inside his chest was his heart collapsing in on itself a little more.

It was too much.

Lucifer could feel wells of depression trying to pull him down, and the temptation to let it happen was strong, but then the strangest sensation seemed to come over him intent on keeping him afloat. Without planning to, Lucifer slid his eyes to the television and noted the figures on screen, frozen in a tableau of rage as well as a determination to fight for their sanity and their very lives. The actors in Platoon were in no legitimate danger of course, but the same could not be said for the men whose lives they depicted. Each one of those frail human soldiers had had a choice during the constant gun battles in Vietnam so many years ago: the choice to endure and hopefully triumph or the choice to concede defeat and succumb to death in a foxhole.

Who was Lucifer Morningstar?

A coward, too beaten down by one human betrayal after another to recover?

Or was he still a warrior at heart, a rebel angel who once had the balls to try and depose God Almighty?

All at once, Lucifer summoned some energy, pushed to his feet and forced a thin smile.

"Would you excuse me, Brother? I think it's high time I changed my clothes and got some air."

"Fair enough, I'll wait for you. I'll just hang out down here and—"

"Actually, Brother, I don't think I'm quite up for your company yet. Perhaps we can meet up later…?"

That didn't sound right to Michael. Damn it, he could feel control slipping away, see Lucifer somehow drawing upon his infernal stubbornness to withstand his twin's attempt to break him.

Fuck, he'd been so weak!

How did this happen?

Scrambling to get Lucifer back to the mental funk he'd fallen into only seconds ago, Michael stood up as well and squeezed Lucifer's shoulders again, the epitome of brotherly concern.

"Can I just say one last thing? I just … I've been thinking about Chloe's daughter, Sam—"

Lucifer's smile vanished as he took a very decisive step back. "I told you not to call me that."

Michael closed the gap between them and offered his own smile of apology. "Forgive the slip, but if you don't mind, I'd like to check up on Pixie for you—

"It's Trixie! Her name is Trixie!"

"Right, Trixie. But anyway, our family has pretty much just ruined her life, and I know you couldn't possibly have wanted that so I'd like to help you out with her. You know, visit her and her father to try and convince them not to hate you. After all, the poor child is an innocent in all this too, but now she lost her mother and is probably suffering more even than Chloe herse—"

"For Dad's sake, I said I don't want to talk about this anymore!"

Lucifer's eyes flashed red and stayed that way, his chest heaving with rage and frustration. There was no sign anymore of the whipped and despairing man Michael had come upon an hour ago, a friendless milksop pacing the carpet pointlessly. That persona was gone, banished unconsciously by The Lightbringer who would always manage to draw on Heaven's radiance for strength in true times of need. It was a gift from their father for Samael alone at the time of their creation and Michael hated the reminder of it more than he ever had before. Still, he didn't dare show it.

"I'm sorry," he said with false sincerity. "I'm pushing too hard and saying the wrong things. The first time we're together in eons and I've ruined it. Truly, I'm sorry." When Lucifer said nothing in return, only stood where he was fuming with both of his eyes still pulsing that hellish shade of red, Michael decided that, in this case, discretion was probably the better part of valor. He raised a hand in farewell and backed away toward the stairs, releasing his wings as he went. "I'll go now. Get some sleep, okay? Even celestials like us can only endure so much."

In the blink of an eye, Michael was gone.

By the sofa, Lucifer worked his jaw and fought to get his emotions under control, but none of the tips he'd learned from Linda over the years was helping. Finally, he gave up. His eyes were still flaming a smidge – he could feel it – but too bad; he didn't give a toss. He'd said he needed to get dressed and damn it, that's exactly what he was going to do. After that, he was going to track down Amenadiel.

And Dad help him if he wasn't still getting breakfast…

xXxXx

At precisely this moment on the cul-de-sac outside, Maze stepped from the cab she'd hailed at the airport. The driver sped off behind her, more than ready to put some distance between himself and the hot (but seriously disturbed) woman who'd spend the entire ride spinning two very fucked-up looking knives.

Maze, of course, paid him no attention.

She stood on the sidewalk and stared disgustedly at the stone veneer mailbox welcoming her to one of the many properties she had bought on Lucifer's behalf years ago. She hadn't understood at the time why the Lord of Hell was forcing her to invest some of his money in real estate way out in boring-ass suburbia. Frankly, she still didn't understand because the surrounding area was too damn tidy, lush and symmetrical. This house needed a moat and some crocodiles to liven it up … maybe an anaconda or two … something terrifying to keep nosy neighbors at bay. God knows, the property was big enough.

Maze looked around and gave the idyllic street one last disdainful sniff before she marched up the drive and kicked the front door in. The moment she was inside, she began to scour each room on the ground floor, her search both swift and methodical while she gave vent to her temper.

"Lucifer, I know you're here! I tracked you down and I can smell you all over! Show yourself or I'll—!"

"Mazikeen? What are you doing here?"

On the verge of retorting that she had a bone to pick with him, Maze stopped at the base of the front stairs, looked up and fell silent. Three-piece suit. Check. Everything else – the perfectly tamed hair, the lively complexion, the rakish attitude – all of it, gone. For a second, Maze was actually repulsed by the changes in Lucifer's appearance, but then she was just … furious. Furious not only with that bitch Chloe for turning the Devil into this, but also furious with Lucifer himself for even allowing it.

Where the hell was the fearsome Prince of Darkness who drew out other peoples' desires?

Where was the handsome owner of Lux who could command a fashion runaway with no prep whatsoever?!

All at once Maze didn't care. She charged up the stairs, demon knives twirling and whipped them at Lucifer's head, one after the other.

Startled by the attack, Lucifer nonetheless caught them with ease and tossed them over the railing where they clattered to the ground floor.

Good. Maze thought. He's not completely useless no matter how crappy he looks!

She whipped out another knife and advanced on him with a snarl, demanding answers.

"Decker just about kills you and you don't think to call me?!"

Lucifer took a defensive stance and caught Maze's wrist before she could get too pokey. "Mazikeen, there was no time to do so nor any need either. My siblings with…" Lucifer swallowed hard and forced himself to continue, "…with the aid of Miss Lopez had everything well in hand."

Mazed wrenched herself free. "You turned to Ellen, but not me?!"

"No, I didn't turn to her," Lucifer snapped. "She simply appeared and made herself useful like the excellent friend she's always been!"

Abruptly, Lucifer spun on his heel and faced away, and though Maze only caught a glimpse his wobbling chin, she felt the remaining anger towards him drain. She couldn't cut him to teach him a lesson when he was looking like this. The guy was too pitiful. She pocketed her knife with a sigh.

"Where is she?"

Lucifer sniffed suspiciously and kept his back presented as he advanced towards one of the bedrooms. He disappeared inside the connecting bathroom. "I don't know," he said, his voice muffled from the other side of the door. "What day is it?"

"It's Monday." Maze plopped down on the bed, nodding once to herself in approval. Not bad. "Why does it matter?"

"Well, Mondays are work days for most humans, so I imagine Miss Lopez is at the precinct."

Mazed wanted to slap him. "Not Ellen! I'm talking about the betrayer!"

"Oh." Lucifer averted his gaze as he stepped out of the bathroom and immediately began slipping his feet into the closest pair of Louboutins. "She's in Russia, if you must know. Zadkiel had her taken to Siberia."

This time Maze did get up and slap him. "I know that already, you idiot! Your brothers told me that when they also told me Chloe tried to kill you! I mean where in Siberia did her double-crossing ass get dumped?!" Maze gave Lucifer exactly one second to answer her then slapped him across the chest a second time. "Well? Pray to your siblings and find out so we can go torture her together!"

"No." Lucifer straightened his shoulders and glared down at Maze. "Absolutely not."

"What do you mean no?!"

"I mean I will do no such thing because I have zero interest in knowing precisely where the detective is or adding to her penance."

"She tried to end you, Lucifer. How can you not want to see me punish her right up close and personal? What the hell's wrong with you? Are you the Devil, or aren't you?"

Lucifer's eyes had finally faded back to brown over a minute ago, but now they flashed red again. "Nothing is wrong with me, Mazikeen. I am still the Devil, but that woman is already being punished quite severely; anymore would be overkill."

"But—!"

"No, Maze. There is nothing either of us need do and that's final. My dad took care of it. Now if you'll pardon my absence, I need to go find Amenadiel."

Enormous white wings sprung forth and Maze jerked back before she lost an eye. She followed Lucifer as far as the open window through which he'd just flown and called after him.

"Fine! Leave! If you don't want to help me, don't! I'll find her my own way and then I'll really make her suffer and I won't tell you about any of it!"

xXxXx

In a cozy bungalow on the southern edge of Simi Valley, Linda Martin paced her living room and tried not to strain her hearing too much as she waited for Amenadiel to return from the powder room.

Was he retching in there?

Did angels even do such a thing?

Linda didn't know since she refused to go closer and eavesdrop, but maybe she would ask in a minute. After all, she'd told Amenadiel on the phone that she was pregnant and he'd reacted to that announcement by flying straight over to pepper her with at least one hundred and fifty-three questions. Every time he'd fallen silent and she thought he'd run out, he'd perked up then fired off a few more about her family history and even her physical abilities like he was searching for proof that she was more than simply human. Now, finally, he'd excused himself. Assuming he didn't vanish out her life for good, she had a few questions of her own, goddammit. It was her turn now.

Linda took one look at Amenadiel's shell-shocked face when he stepped back into the living room and forgot her impatience with him. As soon as he joined her on the sofa, she lay what she hoped was a calming hand on top of his own.

"Amenadiel? Amenadiel, are you all right?"

Slowly, Amenadiel turned to face her. "I'm fine. I'm still just so … stunned." He stared down at their hands a moment then shifted his gaze back to Linda's, a smile filled with pride overtaking every part of him. "I mean, this is history, Linda, real history in the making here. We angels should never be able to procreate, especially not with humans, and yet—"

"You did," Linda said, finishing for him with a smile of her own. "You're definitely not shooting blanks, bud."

"It's just … this is a true miracle baby," Amenadiel said wonderingly. He reached out and lay a warm hand over Linda's belly for the first time, astounded at the divinity he could feel growing inside. He'd sensed it before, of course, pretty much the second he'd flown into the room, but now … there was just no questioning it. "You are really having my child."

"Yes, Dad, I am." Linda was touched at the pleasure she could see in Amenadiel's eyes which made her confident of his answer, but for her own peace of mind, she still had to ask. "And you're happy? You're sure? No regrets?"

"None," Amenadiel said without hesitation. He stared for a moment longer at the hand pressed against Linda's soft belly then beamed as he sprung to his feet and began heading for the kitchen. "I should get us something to drink. We have got to celebrate."

"Only water or something non-alcoholic for me, please!" Linda called out then started as her front door was suddenly flung open to reveal the Devil. Ghastly was the only word to describe Lucifer's appearance and Linda couldn't help herself, her twenty years as a therapist be damned. She was on her feet the second she saw him.

"Lucifer!" Linda gasped. "What on earth happened to y—?"

"Dr. Martin, where's my brother?"

"I'm here, Luci," Amenadiel said, abandoning his plan to break open a bottle of sparkling cider at the sound of Lucifer's voice. It was times like this he really disliked the ability all angels had to hone in on each other with minimal effort. Amenadiel sighed to himself and stepped back into the room empty-handed. "What's the mat—?"

"Brother, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be fetching breakfast. You know what? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Let's just go." Lucifer snapped his fingers then beckoned for Amenadiel to hurry up. He'd pulled himself together towards the end of Michael's visit and kept himself that way more or less in front of Maze, but his self-composure had fizzled on the way over again which meant clearly, he needed his big brother. He snapped his fingers again with greater impatience, all too aware that a film of sticky perspiration was starting to coat his forehead. "Get a wriggle on, please. You need to take me somewhere and distract me. This minute!"

Amenadiel came closer but only to stand by Linda. "Why?"

"Why do you think?!" Lucifer fired back, raking a hand through his hair at the infuriating calm he was being faced with. "We had plans, remember! Mini golf? Batting cages? Bowling? Does none of that ring a bloody bell?!"

It was as if Lucifer hadn't even spoken. Instead of getting his backside in gear as ordered and supporting a younger brother who was clearly on the verge of losing it, Amenadiel lay both hands on Linda's diminutive shoulders, a beatific smile spreading across his face.

"Luci, I have news, the most wonderous news to share." An apprehensive Linda started to interrupt, but Amenadiel talked over her while beaming across at his agitated brother. "We're expecting. We're going to be the first parents ever to have a half-human, half-angel celestial and I just know Heaven is going to … Brother, are you okay?"

"I … I …"

"I know! It's exciting, isn't it?! Linda is pregnant with my child. Mine, can you believe this? I'm gonna be a father and you're gonna be an uncle! I can't wait to see Father!"

"I'm sorry – I can't…"

Lucifer couldn't finish. The one constant these last couple of weeks, the rock he'd relied on to keep him semi whole and mostly sane had been overtaken by his therapist and the … the … the parasite she was carrying inside her. There was no one left to support him now. He was well and truly alone.

As Lucifer's face crumpled and he flew back out the front door without another word, leaving in his wake only a gust of wind, Linda was not bothered by the tax papers on her coffee table that were now floating about the room in complete disarray. She stared after Lucifer wanting to call him back yet knowing it was too late then whirled instead to face the father of child who was still supporting her instead of his own brother!

"Amenadiel!" she scolded.

Amenadiel, too, had been frowning at the empty doorway, looking at least somewhat conflicted, but he shifted his attention to Linda at the reproachful tone in her voice. "What? He'll be fine. He just—"

"Lucifer is clearly in crisis, Amenadiel! You do not spring a surprise like that on someone who's already struggling to cope with something else!"

"But he needed to kno—!"

"Not yet!" Linda snapped. She forced herself to breathe and be patient, to remember that she was dealing with a being who had a tendency to take charge and do what he thought best without taking the feelings of others into consideration. As Amenadiel seemed put out by the way she'd just cut him off, Linda held up a hand then pressed it gently against his chest. "I'm sorry, I apologize. I should not have barked at you like that, and I am thrilled, absolutely thrilled, that you're so proud to be a father, but part of being a parent is knowing when to put another before ourselves. So, please. Go find your brother and bring him back here. Whatever is bothering him, he needs a therapy session to deal with it and he needs it right now."

Amenadiel shook his head with a sigh as he stepped away then dropped onto the sofa.

"Trust me, Linda, one session with you isn't going to be enough. Hell, fifty sessions may not be enough. In fact, no offence, but I don't think anything short of an act from my father is going to help Lucifer cope with what's troubling him this time."

Linda eased onto the sofa beside Amenadiel and waited for him to elaborate, but he just stared across the room in silence then dropped his defeated gaze to his hands. Linda reached out and tilted his chin back up.

"Tell me about it," she said. "You two have been unreachable for weeks, so what happened? What celestial catastrophe have you and he been dealing with?"

Amenadiel surveyed her wearily. "Are you telling me no one's told you yet? Not even Ella?"

"No."

"I … you know what? Let's not get into it right now. The baby—"

"Can wait. I want the details of what happened to Lucifer, please."

"Linda, I'd much rather—"

"No, Amenadiel, I mean it. No more evasions and no deliberately keeping me in the dark. Lucifer isn't just my patient and you know that. He's been my friend for years and he's essentially now my brother-in-law." Linda considered that fact with surprise for a second then brushed it off and repeated her question. "I'm asking you nicely, and I would appreciate a straight answer. Please. Tell me what happened and then go find your brother and bring him back here so I can treat him."

The prospect of reliving the specifics of this ongoing ordeal was far from appealing, but one look into Linda's eyes and Amenadiel knew he had little choice. The gentle, intelligent woman bearing his child was also courageous but most of all tenacious. If he tried to change the subject a second time, or flat-out declined to tell her what she had every right to know, he would be in the doghouse with her again, just as surely as when she'd discovered that he'd lied about being a therapist.

Amenadiel heaved another sigh then began to talk.

xXxXx

There really was nothing.

Lucifer hadn't known where he'd intended to go when he'd first fled Linda's house, but of their own volition his wings had led him here, to the detective's old home – or rather, the section of land it used to sit on. Abigael hadn't exaggerated when she'd told everyone their father had destroyed it, because the place really was barren now, just dry dirt encircled by government tape rippling in the breeze, tape that read 'Danger - State Geological Survey' and warned passersby to keep off the unstable ground.

Lucifer's knees buckled at the sight and he didn't fight it. He sat on a rooftop across the street from an apartment that no longer existed, an apartment which held so many of his fondest memories about humans. He'd learned how to play Monopoly in the living room that was now gone, and that spot where the kitchen used to be was the first place he'd ever tasted an 'egg in the nest' sandwich.

How could it have all gone so wrong?

Was his second face truly so horrifying that even his partner of four years – a partner who'd put her trust in him countless times – couldn't see past it?

Was Michael right? Could Chloe's punishment be unjust?

Perhaps all of this wreckage truly was the Devil's fault…

Lucifer sat where he was and stared through blurry vision at the remains of the charred and forsaken property God Himself had destroyed until a figure on a bicycle rode up to confront the same empty tract of land he was staring at. The figure was young and female and dark-haired, and Lucifer knew before he'd wiped a hand across his leaking eyes that it was the urchin down there. It was Beatrice, the first human child to hug him and then to keep hugging him every time they met for almost an entire year no matter how often he flinched and tried to back away from her sticky touch. She was motherless now. Just like him. And far, far too young to be abandoned.

All at once, Lucifer knew what he must do.

Thunder began rumbling low overhead despite the clear blue sky above and it kept on rumbling as Lucifer put his hands together and prayed to the siblings who had flown Chloe out of Los Angeles on Zadkiel's orders. When they didn't answer and he couldn't feel their presence anywhere on Earth, he summoned his courage to fly to his old penthouse in the hopes that they would soon show. At that, the thunder rumbled louder.

For Lucifer Morningstar, it didn't register in the slightest.

At the penthouse, Lucifer landed on the farthest corner of the balcony then kept his back to the glass doors, refusing to step one foot inside as he shouted up to Heaven.

"Abigael! Jackiel! Bloody hell, one of you answer me! Plea—!"

"Brother, is there anything I can do?"

Lucifer spun around and stared as Michael flew down from the top floor of his library. Something about that didn't sit right, but Lucifer wasn't interested in figuring out why. He had come here for a reason. He turned back to face the city and scanned the sky above.

"Michael, where are our siblings?" he asked without delay. "They're not answering me and I need to know where exactly they… where they…" Lucifer couldn't bring himself to finish. He worked his jaw and found his frustrated gaze drifting downwards to his hands, which were once again clenching the guard rails, making fresh indentations.

"Where they what?" Michael joined Lucifer outside then observed his pinched and haggard twin with secret delight. If Lucifer was more than half an hour away from a complete mental breakdown this time, Michael would kiss his feet. He considered Lucifer's question then guessed correctly its purpose since there was only one reason he could think why the Devil was even interested. "Where they put Chloe? Is that what you want to know?"

"I need to see her," Lucifer said tightly, the metal beneath his fingers squealing in protest. "I need to bring her back. Her daughter needs her and I … I regret frightening her so."

Yes!

Michael gave himself a second or three to get his smirk under control then said,

"Let me help you, all right? The computers human rely on nowadays don't look so hard to master, so why don't we sit down with one together and use the internet to try and find the detective."

Lucifer hesitated then shook his head. "Perhaps we needn't bother. Maze can—"

"And I say forget your little demon," Michael broke in. "We'll do this together, you and me." The thunder above their heads rumbled louder, but like Lucifer, Michael ignored it. He put an arm around his trembling twin and steered him toward the penthouse interior. "You know, I think tracking Chloe down is a perfect idea, Brother, really perfect. Dad created Chloe for you after all; He can't really have wanted her banished to another continent forever. If anything, I think He's probably forgiven her by now and is just counting on one of us, but most likely you, to bring her home. Assuming, she's still alive, that is."

Multiple bolts of lighting began to flash, but Lucifer didn't register any of them thanks to what Michael had just said to him. He came to a halt and paled.

"Of course, she's still alive. Dad said she had three more years on Ear—"

"Yeah, but He may have changed His mind," Michael said, giving him a comforting squeeze. "You know Him. I mean, remember Gomorrah? Only Sodom was supposed to be destroyed that day but then we all saw what happened after that, didn't we."

Lucifer looked stricken, but Michael pretended not to see it as he tightened his hold, trying to guide his twin faster inside the penthouse without appearing to force him. Lucifer would break for good once he was in the living room and faced with the memory of his last date with Chloe. It was practically a guarantee.

Damn it, why was he walking so slow?!

"So, the computer?" he repeated. "You have one, right?"

"Yes, but mine won't be sufficient." And with that Lucifer stopped moving forward. To Michael's annoyance, he dug in his heels right on the threshold, resisting that final step into the penthouse. Worse, he brushed Michael away then stepped back and released his wings. "We need to use one at the precinct, Brother. It will have access to special programs and links to other law enforcement agencies that mine does not."

"Okay…" Michael thought quickly, determined to get one last dig in as he, too, released his wings. "But, at this hour, Ella will be there, right? Well, don't worry. We'll try and avoid her, so she can't see you again and reject you to your face. Come on."

Michael took flight on the heels of that comment then glanced back and wasn't the least bit surprised to see Lucifer crushed again. On the verge of chuckling, Michael started as hail the size of an orange suddenly struck him from above.

What the hell?

More and more chunks began to strike despite the forecast predicting clear skies all week, and not merely on him, but all over L.A. It also wasn't just hail. Rain began coming down in sheets the moment Lucifer took flight from the balcony as well, topped off by even more thunder and lightning.

Neither twin let the freakish weather deter them.

At the precinct milliseconds later, with Michael's words about Ella at the forefront of his thoughts, a part of Lucifer wanted to lead the way to one of the lab offices in the basement. Down there, they were least likely to be seen and he could save himself the pain of glimpsing a woman who used to be a very dear friend.

Another part of him, though, sought punishment. That part wanted to face Ella and take her abuse, to see her face as she denounced him for the selfish, evil being he was, to have her reject him as he deserved for what he alone had done to Chloe.

That part won.

The second the brothers touched down inside the police station, Lucifer didn't bother brushing the rain from his clothes like Michael was doing behind him. Instead, he raised his chin, squared his shoulders and marched forward, soon striding down the bifurcated stairs with every intention of making a beeline directly into Ella's lab. He did not look around as he was descending the stairs, so he did not notice Ella herself as she was on her way up. They met on the landing.

Ella stopped but said nothing, her breath hitching at the sight of Devil and his archangel twin.

Lucifer froze as well, and in his chest, his heart ceased to beat. It restarted a half-second later when Ella launched herself at him then held on for dear life.

"Lucifer Morningstar, I am so friggin' mad at you! ¿Dónde fuiste? ¿Por qué me llamaste? I can't believe you just took off and didn't once make an effort to—!"

She went on and on, scolding him right there in the middle of the stairs with at least a dozen people passing them by, hugging him to her small frame as though her life depended on their link, and not for a second did Lucifer think to object. The smells of the precinct – burnt coffee, body odor and competing aftershaves – surrounded them as per normal, working in concert with his anxiety to render him nauseated, but Lucifer thrust each sensation aside without hesitation. All he knew was that Michael had been wrong about Ella and her feelings for Old Scratch.

Thank Dad, he had been wrong!

The relief was instantaneous as Lucifer hugged the LAPD's best forensic scientist back just as tightly as she was hugging him, and he didn't care that they were making a mild scene. He definitely didn't care who was watching. Her desperate embrace was like a blessing to his soul, doing much to soothe his jangled nerves. More than one uni passing by did a double-take at the uncombed state of his hair and the heavy bags under his eyes while others inquired flat out if he was all right and in need of help, but Lucifer didn't answer any of them. He kept quiet and devoted all his attention to Ella alone and then, when she'd exhausted herself, he told her exactly what she needed to hear – and what he'd been wanting to say for over a minute.

"Miss Lopez, I apologize most sincerely. Not for my absence, mind you, but for my disappearance. I shall never forget how you helped save my life, and after what you did for me, you didn't deserve my silence. I should have known you would worry these last two weeks and thus I should have reached out at least once, but I didn't and I'm sorry. Truly."

"You mean it?" Ella pouted against his chest.

Lucifer eased back and tilted Ella's chin up so she could see the sincerity in his face. "I never lie, Miss Lopez. That hasn't changed."

Visibly, the remaining tension in Ella's body eased. She smiled in relief and was about to pester him for details on exactly where he'd been, but a glance in Michael's direction stirred one of her worst fears. She tightened her grip on Lucifer and stared up at him anxiously.

"Wait. We'll always be friends, right? You won't ever cut me out of your life for good?"

Lucifer didn't hesitate in his reply. "Yes to your first question and no to the second. I can't imagine any circumstances under which our friendship would die, can you?"

Ella scowled. "No, but your estúpido hermano here said we weren't friends anymore. He said you hated all humans now including me."

Ella's gaze turned frosty as she shifted her attention to Michael slanting in the background, but Michael ignored her completely. It was only Lucifer's frown that concerned him because he wasn't ready for his twin to stop trusting him after putting in all that nauseating work 'reconciling' with the guy.

At least not yet.

As earnestly as he could stomach, Michael strove for damage control.

"Brother, I thought it was true. How was I to know you felt otherwise? Miss Lopez here wasn't the only one affected by your absence, you know. You didn't call me either to fill me in on what was happening with you. Not once and I'm your twin." Before Lucifer could reply, Michael shifted his expression, from one of hurt to one of purpose. "I forgive you, though, because that's what good brothers do. Now are we going to look for Chloe or not? She's still suffering wherever she is and unless you changed your mind about relieving that suffering, we need to bring her back here for the sake of her daughter."

Ella's eyes bulged from their sockets. "What?!"

At least six people above and below halted in their tracks at Ella's cry, prompting Lucifer to take action since the rest of this conversation was definitely not fit for humans who weren't already in the know.

"Come with me, please." With his misery and disquiet back in full force, Lucifer grabbed hold of Ella's arm and speedwalked them down the rest of the stairs into her lab. He shut the door quickly once Michael had joined them. "Now, Miss Lopez, I need—"

A voice from the left cut him off. "Hello, Sammy. It's about time you returned."

"Raphael? What are you–?" Lucifer couldn't bring himself to finish the question. He blinked in surprise at the Angel of Healing seated so casually on a stool inside Ella's office, stunned at the realization that the two had obviously become chummy in his absence. A second later, he shrugged it off. He didn't have time for quizzing his brother on what the devil he thought he was doing invading an LAPD work space. He gripped Ella's thin shoulders and turned her bodily to face him to the exclusion of all others. "Miss Lopez, I really do need your assistance to find the detective."

"You were serious out there?! Lucifer, no, I—!"

In the middle of Ella's refusal, Maze burst into the room from the back door, her demon knives in hand. "I need your help too, Ellen." She nodded imperceptibly at Lucifer, ignored the other celestials completely then fixed her dark eyes on the only human in the room. "So, let's have it. Do your techie magic and get us a fix on the traitor's position." She jerked an impatient thumb between Lucifer and herself. "We'll take it from there."

"Have you two lost your minds?" Raphael's jaw had dropped some seconds ago but now he pushed to his feet and glared from Lucifer to Maze then back to his brother. "You cannot go after that woman!"

"No, you totally can't." Ella wriggled out of Lucifer's grip to circle the room and stand by Raphael, her chin held high. "Uh-uh. Nope. No way. Not after what she did to you, Lucifer. Rapha, I'm totally with you on this."

"Thank you, Ella."

Raphael nodded once, smiling quickly, and when Ella did the same, their cozy concurrence was too much for Lucifer. He slammed a trembling hand on the tabletop in the center of the room to punctuate his fury.

"Brother, this is none of your concern!"

As Michael smirked in a private corner but said nothing, content as always to stand back and watch once chaos erupted, Raphael did the opposite. His brows came together as he advanced on the so-called Prince of Darkness until they were toe to toe.

"Is that truly what you think, Sam?"

"Yes!"

"Then you're unhinged and you don't know me at all anymore. I was right there beside you when Gabriel told us that you were never to see Chloe Decker agai—"

"She never said that!" Lucifer snapped. Amenadiel stepped into the room then and shut the door quietly behind him, but Lucifer paid his arrival scant notice as he faced off against Raphael. "She said the detective was not to seek me out and she hasn't! I'm going to her!"

"No, Sam. You're not."

"Wait. You're what?!" Amenadiel stepped forward and joined Raphael. "Luci, you can't do that!"

"I can and I will!"

"No, you can't and you won't." Raphael shook his head, his nostrils flaring in anger that Lucifer would even consider such a foolhardy act. "Honestly. Look at yourself, Samael—"

"Stop calling me that name!"

"—You're a mess and you've taken absolute leave of your senses, if you think we're going to stand by and let that attempted murderess take another shot at you."

"She's not going to and bloody hell, it's my choice!"

A crack of thunder loud enough to muzzle them all rendered everyone frozen for a moment. Both Amenadiel and Raphael glanced up apprehensively but then stared at each other and didn't speak. In the ensuing silence, Gabriel the Angel of Messages appeared.

"Hey, guys!"

Like his brothers, Amenadiel jumped at the sight of her but recovered quickly. "Sister, what are you doing here?"

"My job." Grinning from ear to ear, Gabriel didn't give Amenadiel a chance to reply. She turned to Raphael and beamed up at him. "Dad says you have three more days and if it wasn't for Miss Lopez here, you wouldn't get any. Don't be late this time." Ella and Raphael shared a startled look but Gabriel had already moved and was now gazing at an extremely harried Lucifer with pity. "Dad wants to see you right away, bud. And before you ask, you're not in trouble. He just … wants to see you." Michael was last and Gabriel's rocked on her heels as she cheered back up and waggled her eyebrows at him. "You too, by the way. Dad definitely wants to see you."

It had been centuries since Michael had been summoned for a formal audience with their father. For Lucifer, it had been literal eons. The twins exchanged a nervous look which both promptly chose to forget ever happened. For several seconds, no one in the lab spoke, and even Maze stopped twirling her knives, until Amenadiel turned to Gabriel.

"Is that it, Sister?"

Gabriel nodded, still grinning as she surveyed Michael. "For now."

"Well?!" Lucifer demanded, replacing fear with a show bravado. "Is Dad coming here or what? I can't bloody well go to Heaven without dying, and He knows it, unless He's trying to kill me in place of the detective!"

"Actually, you can come home," Gabriel corrected proudly. "Dad told me to tell you The Ban has been lifted."

"O.M.G.!" Ella squealed then hurried toward her favorite 'method actor'. "Lucifer, did you hear? That's amaz–!"

Lucifer held up a hand to discourage another impromptu hug. "Don't celebrate just yet, Miss Lopez." He forced himself to stand tall and draw a steadying breath against the tumult raging in his stomach. "I have no intention of going to Heaven. I have a task here on Earth I need to finish."

"But Lucifer—!"

"I think that's a great idea," Michael interrupted. He came over to stand beside his twin, eager to do whatever it took to get Lucifer in trouble once again with the old man. To ignore a summons was an excellent start. "I support you completely, Brother. I'll go up and tell Dad you'll see him later."

This time the booms of thunder in the sky were well and truly deafening, and there was no doubt whatever that the ground beneath everyone's feet was shifting. Maze braced herself again the closest surface while Ella shrieked and clung to Raphael. In the parking lot outside, the alarms on police cruisers and personal vehicles alike were tripped from the mammoth vibrations then kept going off in cacophonous rounds, terrifying everyone in a fifty-mile radius. In the precinct at large, more than one cop cried out in fright, but just as quickly, years of training soon took over. Within seconds, personnel everywhere sprung into action to check the lot, silence the racket and call the weather bureau for details on where the freak storm / earthquake was coming from.

Inside Ella's lab, there was only a shocked silence as the spot where Lucifer and Michael had been standing was now empty.

No wings had spread beforehand. The twins were simply … suddenly … gone.

Gabriel seemed about to speak but then she vanished as well and that was it for Ella. She tightened her grip on Raphael and scanned the room in alarm then turned from him to Amenadiel to Maze before settling on the oldest of the bunch.

"Amenadiel, I am totes freaking out here. What's going on? Where's everyone going? Where's Lucifer?!"

For less than ten seconds, neither of the two remaining siblings in the room could bring themselves to reply, but even that short delay was too long for Maze. She couldn't take the quiet and she hated the burning sensation that was building behind her eyes, the crushing pressure she was starting to feel within her ribcage. She marched over to Amenadiel and smacked him hard in the chest.

"Hey! You gonna answer Ellen or what?! Where'd Lucifer go?"

Amenadiel shared a heavy look with Raphael then braced himself for Maze's wrath and said exactly what he knew she would never be ready to hear.

"I'm sorry but … I think Dad brought him home."