He doesn't really know how long passes. For once, Rae Rae is silent, so very quiet he forgets she's there. Michael's mind keeps running the truth of her revelation over and over in his head. Technically neither Father nor Gabriel as His messenger have told him that he's pregnant, but it makes so much damn sense. It's both because Gabriel loves to lord information over others so sharing the juiciest tidbits so that he can laugh with Remiel tracks. But, more than that, it explains the things he can't quite explain about himself: the glowing that's random but happens at all, at least once a day; the nausea that's kept him from eating much at all this week; and maybe, even, the oddness of his dreams.

He takes in a shuddering, hesitant breath and presses his hand to his abdomen. It's still flat.

Considering how sick he's felt the last week, his stomach is probably flatter than its usual. But it's only been what? Ten weeks? If he's…since he is with child, then that'll change. And soon enough.

Michael looks toward his little sister and wants to scream. She's already teary-eyed as she regards him. They both know what Father will do with the child. He will take the baby. Michael has zero illusions on that. He's nothing more than an incubator for the next about seven months. Once the child is born, Father will take it to the Silver City, and he'll never see it again, especially since he's in exile and wingless.

He doesn't even know if he wants this. Michael is painfully aware he doesn't want in this body at all, and the most female thing it can do…the least like the male angel he was and the Goddess he's becoming…he doesn't want to be pregnant.

But the horror of a child of his being raised and controlled by Father, of a child-which technically none of the Host ever were-trying to survive the cruel, cutthroat world of the Silver City is horrifying. But it's worse than that because he knows intimately how Father fucked him up. Fuck, look at how badly Sam turned out.

How parboiled and fried to nothing.

Father is hardly the parent of the year-furthest thing from.

And Michael's child would…

He knows it would suffer more than either he or Samael ever have, than any of them have. And then he rubs his belly again and remembers through his shock that this is Ella's child too. The thought of it taken from her, from both of them, and being taken to a place she can never go…

He feels his stomach roil and he lurches to the toilet. Michael makes it just in time for the bile to work its way up his throat. He retches a few times, until he's dry heaving. Then, a soft hand is on his back, rubbing small, gentle circles there.

"Mi, it's going to be okay," Azrael offers.

They both know that's not true, but he can't help but nod at her words. She's trying, and she's the only sibling he has who wants to be near him, let alone help him of her own free will. While he and Sam are trying to come to an understand to survive being lashed together as long as Michael's on house arrest, well, Michael has no illusions about that. His twin would toss him out on his ass if Gabriel hadn't relayed Dad's message that it wasn't allowed.

But Azrael is here. She's a real, tangible presence who is trying to keep him safe.

Maybe here to keep him sane.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the soft in and out of her breath as well as the solid feel of her hand against his shoulders.

"What are we going to do?" she asks softly.

While she's eons old like him, she's still one of the last archangels made, just like Remi. She still feels like she was just Created a few hundred years ago. She feels too young for this burden, for helping him.

Hell, he feels too young for whatever fucked up game Father is playing because a child-Ella's child-should no be a part of this. Not for one fucking second.

"We have to talk to Samael," he says. His words shake, but he knows it's true.

He stands, and it takes everything he has to do that. His body is shaking, and the nausea flares up again. Michael knows enough to realize that the nausea is about the scope of what's happened to him and not with, fuck you so much Dad, the ebbs and flows of his hormones. It's not 3 a.m., far from it in fact, and this nausea is all about being pregnant at all and not about the pregnancy working over him.

He finds Azrael soon after snaking up under his weak side and bracing him up as best she can. He appreciates it

Michael limps, and Azrael stays steady with him as they make the way to the elevator. He presses the top floor and to the penthouse. It's not something Sam wanted him to have access to, but considering his problems with containing Creation, he and Samael both came to an uneasy agreement. If Michael needed help, if his Creation flared again, then he could come and find Sam.

This isn't exactly how either of them thought his Creation would run amok, but it has to count…has to make sense for the, damn it how can this be his life, but for the life growing inside his fairly recently formed womb.

The elevator dings, and at first he thinks Sam must be down at the club. It's not that late, maybe a bit past midnight by now because he's sat around in shock a lot longer than he realized. Probably the whole point of shock but…still the penthouse is dark. And Sam's nowhere by the bar or couch.

Then as he and Azrael approach the steps, a moan calls out, and Michael has a moment where he realizes it's quite possible he is in Hell already, and this is some twisted part of his loop: being fucking pregnant of all things while his twin has sex with Decker.

Azrael turns red and yips, while Michael goes to the sofa and slumps down. He tries to block out the exuberant sounds from Chloe and his idiot twin, but they are so loud and Celestial hearing so sensitive…it's a futile hope. Meanwhile, Rae Rae has made her way out to the balcony, closed the door, and done her best to give them privacy.

Screw that.

His condition trumps Sam's need for sex.

He groans to himself and calls out across the expanse of the apartment: "Sam…Lucifer, we need to talk, and no it can't wait."

There are two curses and a thump, and he's not sure which one of them fell out of bed, but one of them definitely did. He's surprised when it's Chloe who comes out first. Maybe she found her robe before Samael but she's at least dressed. Her hair is a mess, and even if they both hadn't been moaning up a storm, it's more than obvious what his twin and the Miracle were doing just moments before. She glares at him with a fury that couldn't be matched by some of his most vicious siblings (or Mazkieen's for that matter).

He shrinks under her gaze because he knows intimately now how badly he hurt her and what it's like to have pawing hands and greedy homunculi grabbing at him. He didn't paw her, but he kissed her without permission, wanted more, and for the longest time he thought trying to rape a miracle was more than enough reason for Dad to strip him of more than just his wings.

But there is no "I'm sorry" for this, so he sighs and looks at the ground.

Michael can't take those piercing blue eyes right now, not with the knowledge of his pregnancy and the ticking down of seven months till Father takes the child. Fuck, what is he even going to tell Lopez?

How will he tell her?

Should he drag her back into Celestial bullshit when she's finally starting a life again, a real one?

He loses control of his breathing, gasping rapidly for air. Leaning forward, he grabs his knees, and in that moment of panic and everything else, his body lights up, the golden glow from that night easing over his face and hands. It happens usually over one or both hands as it wants, but the anxiety has made so much of it erupt forth over him and soon he's like his own floodlight, brilliant and illuminating the corner of Sam's room.

"I'm…where's Lucifer?" he asks, trying to keep something steady in his mind. Anything.

The lights have gotten Rae Rae's attention, and she opens the sliding glass door, hurries past Decker, and kneels down before him. Her eyes are wide, comically so behind her glasses, "Whoa...that's-"

"Like Mom," he replies, trying hard not to think about any of it.

Not really possible, but now he's so much more like the Goddess of All Creation than he was before, and his mother went crazy and tried to flood the world. He never wants that for himself. And he tries to shove away that terror-his own this time which is novel-over if he'll go as nuts as she did. If that's what so much undistilled Creation means.

"I was going to say it's…it's really cool, Mi."

He forces himself not to break down. He's spent half the night in shock in front of his little sister. She should come to him when she's upset or scared, not the other way around. But this isn't cool; this isn't fair, even if this is punishment for all he did in Los Angeles…this is far more than that.

He's…

Michael shivers again and tries not to think about what's happening to him. How violated he's been, and poor, poor Lopez.

They didn't know but of course it was all part of Dad's plans. Why He's so clucky for a Nephilim with actual powers baked up like this, Michael doesn't know. But this is horrifying, and it takes so much not to shut down completely.

It helps that Azrael is hugging him tightly.

"What is going on?" Chloe asks.

"Detective, I am incredibly sorry for this inconvenience," Sam says.

Michael has no idea when his twin came out from his bedroom, and time is moving weirdly right now. Sometimes taking forever, sometimes a blink, and he can't get oriented for the life of him.

He looks up and sees Sam, and his twin's eyes are red with frustration. Tough, Dad decided to yank the rug out from under all of them, and it's not Michael's fault this time. Not completely. His brother and Decker can fuck later.

And they'll probably want condoms just in case. His track record now and Amenadiel with the shrink's…yeah, Sam better wrap it up just to be sure.

"Still Michael, I think we had an accord. You are to stay-"

"In his cell? Lu, that's awful!" Azrael said.

He forces himself to look up from the tile and to face his twin. Chloe is at the bar, pouring herself a stiff drink. Michael knows the feeling. Despite everything, he's on his feet and stalking to the bar. Even if it would take a fuck ton of booze for him to feel anything, Michael is willing to try and guzzle down all the vodka he can get his hands on.

He makes it as far as pouring the drink before Azrael yanks it from his hands. "Nuh-uh, no way in Hell!"

Sam nods and slinks to the bar. The slinky effect is exacerbated by his red silk bathrobe, and who exactly does his twin think he is? Hugh fucking Hefner.

Michael would call him on it, if the rest of his life wasn't falling to shit. Considering his last year and the break up to end all break ups, that's saying a lot.

"Azrael, come on. If anyone has earned so booze, it's me," he points to himself and the golden glow that might make a disco ball look dim to emphasize his point. "What gives?"

"The baby is half human, Mi. You can't, just in case," she says, as she pours the drink out in the sink behind Sam's bar.

His glow dies instantly. Michael was going to tell Sam, hence hurrying up to see him, but he'd wanted to do it on his own terms. Having his baby sister do it while circumventing his need and attempt to dull the pain and in front of the Miracle wasn't part of his plans.

Then again, all his plans for almost a year have been scuttled to Hell, so why not now?

Chloe is the first to recover her senses. "What?"

"Surely he's having a go with you, Azrael. He can't possibly be-" Sam starts.

He sighs and sits on one of the stools. He sets his head in his hands and feels the mother of all migraines coming on. "Rae Rae said she overheard Gabriel telling Remi about it. I believe her. Gabriel always was the biggest Dad-damned snitch. He's the one who gave us Father's orders. It tracks, S…Lucifer…" He figures if he ever wants his twin to just call him Michael and not play games, he has to learn to call him "Lucifer," but it's hard to break billions of years of habits. "I'm apparently knocked up."

He expects Sam to laugh. He really does. After all, when Samael first spied him in the penthouse, he laughed and laughed. Praised Father for His "perfect" punishment, but this time Samael doesn't laugh. He just stares with his jaw open and his eyes wide.

"That's impossible, has to be. We can't."

Michael sighs again. "I'm Creation, Sam. I make lumpy chinchillas and crazy neon squirrels with my blood. It's insane, sure, but as crazy as my body's been going…it's possible."

His sister hugs him once more. "And it's happening, Lu. But Michael's right. We need more proof than just whatever Gabby is gossiping about."

Sam is still as confused as the rest of them, but he finally seems to lean into the sarcasm that Michael's been expecting. "Did you try peeing on a stick. Humans do that, right?"

Michael half wants to kill him and half wants to go back to his bedroom/cell, curl under the covers, and never come out. Maybe he can tune into the Gameshow Network and even catch that no whammies show. Yeah, just huddle up like that for eternity and pretend this fucking mess is not happening.

If only…

Chloe shakes her head. "If this is a trick, Michael-"

He rolls his eyes and can't help being snippy on the reply. "Yeah, because I wanted to have a bun in the oven. I wanted to drag Lopez into Dad's games. Totally part of my master plan, along with wing loss."

Chloe sobers at that. "Wait, this is Ella's child?"

Sam is as concerned now. Great because of course he rates nothing. Michael gets the instinct to be worried for Lopez and her kid, but it would have been nice if anyone besides Azrael cared that his body had been hijacked, that he is the carrying parent in all of this too.

He nods and pushes forward. "Of course. Wait, do you think I'm a slut like Lucifer?"

Azrael holds up her hands and positions herself between him and Samael. "Michael didn't mean it that way."

"I can't deny I love pleasure and have had many amorous adventures," Sam concedes. "I would hardly use the term 'slut,' but assuredly experienced is not untrue for yours truly."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Lucifer, focus."

"Yes, Detective, apologies." He regards Michael, and Michael doesn't look away from his twin. Samael's eyes have gone back to brown, and it should be like looking in a mirror, but Michael knows it's not. "Now, Brother, how do you expect to prove this?"

"Beside the weird glow I keep having and the morning sickness? I thought this week I'd caught e. coli from some shitty Lux appetizers."

"How dare you!" his brother shouts, bringing a hand to his chest with his affront.

Azrael fords the gap between them and squeezes Sam's bicep. "Lu, chill. Please for me?"

His twin nods and looks at Rae Rae with all the love and tenderness that Michael hasn't seen from him since they forged the universe together. It burns, but they haven't really been twins in forever. The change to his form is the least of that.

"Very well, dear Sister, but I confess I'm at a loss. Michael, how could you have…Miss Lopez is also female."

"I hope not to always be in this body," he grumbles. "But it has to be hers. I haven't…fuck Sam, I haven't slept with anyone else since the 1960s. It's either hers or this ca hild is more fucked up than I thought."

Sam blanches and even Rae Rae looks vaguely nauseated. Father couldn't have…this child has to be Lopez's, anything else is worse to contemplate. His mind can't and won't go there.

Chloe voices the next most logical questions. "Are you sure and does she know?"

"Not even sure there's something in here, and that's why I need Linda, right? She's a medical doctor before the shrink stuff. I need an ultrasound."

Azrael moves toward him and wraps her arm around his shoulders. "We can get one. How hard is that to get our hands on, right?"

Sam shrugs. "I'm sure I can procure one if not. How much could it possibly cost?"

"That's a piece of hospital-grade medical equipment, Lucifer," Chloe says.

"And I can procure more than my share of medical grade cocaine quite regularly," he replies.

Michael groans, realizing any allies he might have in this mess include a twin who might be too stupid too live. At the least, Sam is often too high. "Well, we need one of those. Maybe I'm empty and Gabriel loves starting rumors, but I don't…I don't think that's it."

"Why?" his sister asks, and if she weren't here, Michael might have collapsed by now.

"Why what?" he asks.

"Why do you think you're pregnant besides what I said. Why are you so sure it's Ella's?"

"Yes, to be quite blunt, that seems to be a mismatch of plumbing, Brother," Samael replies.

Decker glares at him. "Lucifer, come on."

He wants to make a crack to Decker about if having a second kid besides Trixie is what she really wants, if she's ready to sign up for keeping Samael on track. It's a full-time job and then some (and Michael would know better than any being in the universe on that score). But he doesn't want to get shot or to derail this worse. Maybe he's making progress, maybe Rae Rae has buttered people up enough for that.

Snapping now would just cost him, and Ella's baby deserves more than this.

He or she deserves hope and a life and a place far from his Father's fucking bullshit, and if it's the last thing Michael ever does, he will make sure the baby will. That Ella and the baby will. So, for once, he holds his tongue.

"I…the glow. The first time it happened…" he trails off. "You get the idea when. I want to spare Scrappy her modesty, but that was the first time and it was brighter than you just saw. I felt…different after. I think that's when Dad made sure we could anyway. Probably."

"Scrappy?" Chloe asks.

"Lopez," he corrects. "Nicknames aren't just Sam's purview," he replies.

"I'll call the good doctor in the morning," Sam replies. "If you'll excuse me, we were in the middle of something quite delightful." His brother held out his arm and crooked it a bit for Chloe to take.

It shocks Mike when she doesn't.

"Call Linda now, or I will," Chloe says.

If this is Michael's Hell loop, then he's ready to admit that Hell is freezing the fuck over. "What?" he gapes at her, knowing Chloe hates his guts and for good reason. He hates himself too.

She looks up at him and there is concern there, and it takes a beat for Michael to realize it's for the baby, not him. "God made this happen, if it did. I mean, if Linda gets her hands on an ultrasound and you're pregnant…"

"I think he is. Gabriel was so clucky about sharing," Rae Rae adds.

"Yeah, but…God did this to you if it's really happening. Your dad had to add an extra oomph to make the baby possible." She frowns and her voice breaks on the next few words. "Your and Ella's child is a miracle."

And Michael's eyes go wide, realizing exactly what's going on. Damn if overidentification and projection aren't a hell of a drug combo. "Well, then we should get it here. Then, you and the kiddo can have a support group for people who hate Dad for making them exist."

Figures. He can only go so long before shooting his mouth off. Sam is on him fast, pulling Michael half out of his stool by the collar of his shirt. "Don't."

Michael is about to throw his twin off when Sam is thrown into the wood of his bar. He grins gratefully at Rae Rae, who by now has her wings spread wide and her replacement blade out.

"No one…we're not fighting tonight, and Lu, you can't hurt him. Not even half threaten like that. I know you were trying to get around the rules. You leave Mi alone. He's in a delicate way," Rae Rae says.

"I am going to hate the next seven months; I can tell," Michael huffs.

Chloe hurries back to the bedroom and comes out soon enough with her cell. She says nothing but gives his twin a look that clearly says, We'll talk later, a lot.

The phone's on speaker, and Linda picks up after the second ring. "Did he jailbreak? Is he gonna hurt Charlie?"

Michael feels about two feet tall at that. It's fair to be thought of like that. He's done a shit ton of damage, but it still hurts, especially when Linda's the only doc he knows. The only one who can help him.

Chloe doesn't delay her answer. "No, but something's come up. Something huge. Michael's…we need an ultrasound."

"What? I can't get my hands on that period, let alone at midnight."

Sam leans over Chloe's shoulder. "Doctor, lovely, we believe my twin is in a family way, so we need the sonogram to be sure of it."

"Yeah," Michael says, groaning a bit, "don't want to jump the gun on thinking I have a bun in the oven if not. So, you know, bring it on over."

"I don't just have a spare ultrasound, and I'm not that kind of doctor!"

"Well where do I order one? Is there a store somewhere. I can fly wherever is needed," Samael replies.

There's a groan on the other end too. It's nice to know he's not the only one with a massive headache. "Lucifer, that's not how this works. Medical equipment isn't just something you get off the street. It has to go through the right channels, be logged and accounted for and it's midnight but…"

"Doctor?" Samael asks.

"Yeah, hey doc don't leave a pregnant angel and fuck my life in the lurch."

"Well, I can't get one of those and certainly not on zero notice. You all might be Celestials, but I don't have magic just lying around for things."

"But you have an idea?" Rae Rae prods.

"Yes," Linda says, "A friend from med school, Warren, his son might have a few things and be amenable this time of night so…"

"Great, sure, just call in a spare human and get that stupid gel on me. Why not? Maybe we can start selling tickets," Michael says.

"You want the equipment or not?" she asks, and there's a stern, take-no-shit tone he admires.

At first, he didn't understand Samael's penchant for keeping humans around. But he's grown to like humans now, at least Lopez, and he can see the tough, ball busting nature of Chloe and Linda too. They are at least interesting. Even if so far his like for humans mostly starts and ends with Lopez.

"But of course, Doctor, and you're a life saver."

She sighs on the other end once more. "You really think this is happening?"

"That's what I've heard around heaven," Azrael says.

"Oh, I'm sure it's happening, doc, because only I'm this unlucky," he says, before sidling over to the couch and curling up to wait, all the while, rubbing his stomach and not sure what to tell Lopez.

Or how to even start.