A/N: This story is rated M for referenced/implied child abuse, self-harm, drug use & abuse, and suicidal thoughts/ideation. Please do not read if these topics are triggering for you.
one.
Lucifer rushed through the halls of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, following the signs on the wall for the surgical ward. The waiting room was far too bright, LED lights reflecting off stark, white walls. It gave him an instant headache as he entered the room.
Daniel sat in one of the stiff waiting room chairs lining the wall with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. In the chair beside her father, Trixie glanced up from the book she was reading, her eyes landing on him.
"Lucifer!" she squealed, launching her tiny body out of the chair so that she could wrap her arms around his legs.
Even though Trixie had been a part of his life for all of hers, he was still taken aback when the little urchin showered affection upon him so freely. He had always had such an aversion to children—until Trixie came along. He knew now that his dislike for the tiny creatures probably stemmed from his inability to relate to the innocent way in which they perceived the world. His own childhood had been stolen from him at such a young age and he'd been forced to grow up quickly; he'd never had much of a chance to be a kid himself. While he still didn't care much for children and their uncanny tendency to always be sticky, Trixie had somehow wormed her way into his heart. She was Chloe's and that made her special.
He patted her head, and though it was awkward, it was also affectionate, until she released him to take his hand instead.
"Mommy's hurt," she said solemnly as she gazed up at him through big watery brown eyes.
Lucifer turned his attention from the child to settle on Dan. "How is she?"
"Still in surgery. They said she has a small brain bleed and a concussion."
"What happened?" Lucifer folded his long limbs into the chair beside the other man.
Dan hesitated. "Hey, Monkey? Why don't you go grab that toy and bring it over here?" He pointed to the wooden bead maze on the other side of the waiting room.
Once Trixie had scurried off, Dan replied, "Perp got the upper hand on her. Beat her up pretty bad. She's also got a few bruised ribs, a busted lip, a black eye. The doctors say she should make a full recovery, though. Thank God."
"Where was her partner?" Lucifer spat out.
Dan chewed on his lip. "She's been working solo lately. After what happened with Palmetto, no one wants to work with her."
Lucifer frowned; Chloe hadn't told him that. "The lieutenant lets her work alone? She needs back up! Where were you, Daniel?"
"Hey, man. Don't put this on me." Unsurprisingly, Dan was quick to deflect any blame. "You know she doesn't want to work with me; we're both trying to give each other space with the divorce."
Lucifer didn't reply; Daniel had a point. Chloe was headstrong and independent. She did what she wanted.
Trixie returned, struggling to carry the cumbersome toy in her stubby arms. She set it down at their feet and Dan's attention turned from Lucifer to his daughter. Lucifer watched the pair vacantly, his mind singularly focused on thoughts of Chloe and the lowlife who'd hurt her.
Eventually the neurosurgeon came out to tell them the surgery had gone well and that they were moving Chloe from recovery to her own room. She'd be groggy until the anesthesia wore off, but they could sit in her room with her while she rested.
Lucifer stood frozen in the doorway, barely registering Dan's warning to Trixie about her mother's appearance.
Chloe's face was a swollen mess of purple and blue splotches. It was difficult for him to pinpoint everything he felt as he looked at her; emotions had never been his strong suit. Seeing her beautiful face marred and damaged made him queasy, his stomach churning as though he might retch.
How could someone have done this to her?
The anger was easy to recognize, the emotion hot and familiar, almost comforting in a messed up way—like an old toxic friend. And the worry he recognized, too.
But the way his heart seemed large and heavy in his chest… Was it relief because she'd be okay? Did he feel guilty that he hadn't been there to protect her? As the thought entered his mind, he knew it was ridiculous; he couldn't be with her every minute of every day.
But the fact that he hadn't been there for her felt like he'd broken a promise made long ago.
Underneath all the other emotions that swirled within him, twisting up his insides—there was his love for her, the love he'd always felt but hadn't recognized until it was too late. It was a calming feeling—a constant thrum, always present within him, a subtle dormant thing when they weren't together that swelled into something hefty and impossible to ignore when they were.
It bubbled up within him as he looked at her, so small and helpless and unlike herself in that sterile hospital bed. He clung to it, focusing on its warmth, hoping to bury everything else somewhere deep inside him. She'd always been his lifeline when things were too much to bear.
Dan pulled a chair up to Chloe's bedside and helped Trixie settle onto it. Then, he turned to Lucifer. "You hungry?"
Lucifer shrugged, not ready to tear his eyes from Chloe. Not yet.
"I am!" Trixie chirped.
"I'll run out and get us something."
Lucifer's chin tipped upward in a nod of acknowledgement, and Dan bent to kiss Trixie's forehead.
"I'll be back soon."
After Dan left, Lucifer pulled a second chair next to Trixie's, and the two of them sat quietly, watching Chloe sleep.
"Is she gonna be okay?" Trixie whispered, looking up at him, her wide eyes brimming with unshed tears and childish innocence. In that moment, he saw Chloe staring up at him through brown eyes instead of blue.
"The doctors seem hopeful."
She nuzzled her cheek against his arm. "I'm glad you're here, Lucifer."
He allowed the child to snuggle into his side. He knew Chloe would want him to comfort her offspring; he just wasn't sure exactly how to do so. Thinking back to when he and Chloe were kids themselves, he'd always appreciated the reassuring weight of her arms around his shoulders. He lifted his own arm to rest gently around the child's slight frame.
"You know," he began, his voice soft and reminiscent as Trixie settled against him, "when I first met your mum, we were only just a wee bit older than you are now."
"Really?" Trixie peered up at him curiously. "How old?"
"We were eight." Lucifer's pensive gaze traced the shape of Chloe's face. "She was the first real friend I ever had."
—June 1989—
Lucifer stared despondently out the window of the sedan. The misty drizzle and gray sky were rare for June in LA, but seemed fitting for his dreary mood.
"This is our street," Amy McKee said, her overly cheerful smile stretching her face into a peculiar caricature.
Lucifer ignored her. He'd always been good at reading people and it was easy to identify the falseness in her grin. From his experience, when adults were kind, they usually had ulterior motives. He hadn't figured Amy McKee's out yet. From the corner of his eye, he saw Amy shoot her husband a worried look.
As Jeff McKee swung the car into the blacktopped driveway, Lucifer's attention was drawn to a girl playing in front of the house next door. Her hair was long and blonde and she wore a bright yellow raincoat with matching rain boots. She jumped with ferocity from one puddle to the next, splashing murky water up into the air and onto herself.
He watched her, imagining the sounds of her laughter as her mouth opened into a wide smile. She looked joyful, yes, but there was something else hiding in that grin of hers. Something mischievous. And for the first time in quite a while, Lucifer's own lips curved up into something resembling a smile.
"That's Chloe Decker," Amy said, following his line of sight. "She lives next door. Sweet girl. Perhaps the two of you will become friends?"
Friends. Lucifer had never had a friend before.
Jeff parked in the driveway, and then got out and opened the back door.
Lucifer climbed out of the car, clutching a small duffle bag to his chest. It contained his few belongings: a change of clothing, a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, a polaroid photo of Michael, Azrael, Amenadiel and him with their arms wrapped around one another, and a small figurine of the angel Gabriel that his father had given him for his last birthday.
"Well, this is it." Amy rounded the car to stand beside him. "Welcome to your new home, Sam."
Lucifer cringed at the name. She lifted her hand as if to place it on his shoulder, but seemed to think better of it, letting her hand fall to her side. He was grateful she hadn't touched him; he didn't much like to be touched.
"Let's go inside, hmm? You can meet your foster brother and see your room."
After casting one last lingering glance at the girl next door, Lucifer followed his foster parents into his new home.
—Present Day—
"I used to love jumping into puddles." Chloe's sleep-scratchy voice was no more than a murmur as her swollen eyelids cracked open.
"Mommy!" Trixie exclaimed, a relieved grin lighting up her small face. She sprang out of the chair to stand at her mother's bedside, gently placing her tiny hands on Chloe's arm.
Lucifer watched as Chloe's lips stretched into a slow, dopey grin. Ahh, morphine. Even though he'd been sober for years now, on occasion he'd find himself missing that high—and the numbness that had dulled all of his pain.
"Are you okay?" Trixie's excitement faded, her tone now serious and concerned. The child was so clever and observant; she'd picked up on the difference in her mother's disposition immediately.
"I'm hurt right now, baby, but I'll get better soon," Chloe promised. Her gaze sluggishly shifted from her daughter to him. His heart sped up as her familiar blue irises, peeking out through droopy lids, locked with his. Her smile widened. "Hi, Lucifer."
The way she looked at him made it impossible not to smile back. "How are you feeling?"
"Thirsty," she admitted, looking around for something to drink.
"Right, of course." He should have thought of that. Standing quickly from his chair, he grabbed a plastic cup from the bedside table, filled it with water, and then held it gently to her lips. Her hands came up to join his on the cup, her movements clumsy and slow as if her limbs were ten pounds heavier. She took a few sips.
"Thank you," she sighed, sinking back into the thin hospital mattress, her eyelids closing and then opening again as she fought to stay awake through the drug-induced drowsiness.
"You liked to jump in puddles, Mommy?" Trixie prompted as she climbed back onto her chair.
"Well, your grandma didn't ever let me get dirty. Heaven forbid!" she exclaimed dramatically, and Lucifer smirked at the way the morphine was making her loose-lipped and carefree. "But she was out of town a lot and my dad had to work. I had this babysitter, Julie, who let me do whatever I wanted so long as I didn't bug her. She was always camped out in the corner of the couch closest to the phone, talking to her boyfriend for hours. You remember that?" she asked, rolling her head to the side to look at Lucifer.
He hummed, a soft nostalgic smile pulling at his lips. They'd always gotten up to the most mischief when Julie was babysitting.
Chloe yawned.
"Why don't you get some more rest," Lucifer suggested. "We'll be here when you wake."
She nodded in easy agreement, her eyes immediately closing at his reassurance.
Trixie smiled up at him, her worry alleviated after seeing her mother awake and talking. Bouncing in her seat, she pleaded, "Tell me more, Lucifer!"
—June 1989—
Wicked child! You are the Devil. Repent, Samael! Repent!
Lucifer awoke with a start, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar room, feeling panicked when he didn't recognize his surroundings.
Then he remembered.
He breathed a sigh. He was safe now.
Still, the room was too dark, the tiny window at the top of his basement room barely letting in any light from the moon above. His panic didn't ebb, and even though he kept repeating to himself that he was fine, that he was safe, he could've sworn he saw his Father lurking in the shadows.
Sliding out from underneath the covers, he crept quietly upstairs and out the back door. His rapid breathing calmed as the cool night air caressed the bare skin of his arms and legs. He gulped in deep breaths of it, like he was greedy for it, tipping his head back to find the stars above.
His stars. The stars he had created once—in another lifetime. And he'd create more of them too, just like his Father said, once he became an angel again and his Lightbringer powers returned to him. He just had to fight the evil that was inside of him trying to claw its way out; he just had to be good.
It was easier said than done.
He was a dichotomy. Samael was poison. Lucifer was light. The path he chose would eventually lead him to his destiny—the Devil or the Lightbringer. It was up to him to choose good over evil.
He swallowed, remembering his Father's reprimands. He'd been wicked lately, choosing to walk the path of the Devil. After all, he was the reason he and his siblings had been taken from the Silver City, split up and lost to one another. He was the reason they were all alone now.
As his panic subsided, Lucifer knew he should go back inside. He didn't want to, though. He didn't want to go back to his dark room where he couldn't see his stars.
He looked over at the house next door—Chloe Decker's house. His eyes paused on the treehouse nestled into the large oak in her backyard.
He'd never seen a treehouse before. The desire to check it out overwhelmed him, far too strong to ignore. He crossed the McKees' yard and into the Deckers' and climbed up the precarious wood-slat ladder nailed into the thick trunk.
The inside of the treehouse was one square open room, with windows in two of the four walls. The interior was well-lit from the moon and the lights that lined the neighborhood streets. This was more suited to him than the dark basement room over at the McKees'.
A sleeping bag was propped into the corner opposite the windows, next to a bookshelf overflowing with books. His eyes swept over the vast number of options as delight surged within him. He loved to read, but there weren't many books back home in the Silver City. He'd read their copy of Bible Stories for Children over and over again until the pages had begun to fall out.
An idea began to take shape. He could sneak over here every night after Jeff and Amy went to bed, read a book, and then fall asleep in the sleeping bag. He'd wake with the sunrise and sneak back before anyone even knew he was gone.
"What are you doing up here?" A small accusatory voice sounded behind him, making him jump in surprise. He spun around quickly to see who had caught him.
Chloe Decker's blonde head was all that was visible from the opening in the treehouse floor, her body still perched on the ladder below.
He didn't say anything, not sure how to explain what he was doing in her treehouse as he watched her hoist herself up the last few rungs and into the room with him. Her pajamas were lime green and had little watermelon slices all over them. He couldn't help but notice how fun and colorful they were compared to his navy blue shorts and white t-shirt.
She smiled, and it put him at ease. "You're the McKees' new foster kid, aren't you?"
He nodded, remembering Amy's words from earlier. Perhaps the two of you will become friends.
"My name's Chloe," she introduced, coming to stand beside him at the bookshelf.
"I'm Lucifer."
"Like the Devil?" she asked, but there was no malice or fear in her voice—just curiosity.
Lucifer nodded.
She squinted at him disbelievingly. "I always thought the Devil had leathery red skin and horns and a tail."
"I'm not the Devil yet, but I might be one day," he said with a shrug, attempting to seem unbothered by this fact even though his heart sped up at the thought of what he might become one day. "Father says that if I'm wicked, I'll grow up to be the Devil. But if I'm good, I'll become the Lightbringer."
"What's the Lightbringer?" Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
Lucifer moved over to the window and looked out at the night sky. The stars were harder to see here in the suburbs of LA, their shine dulled. In the Silver City, the sky had always been clear, his view of them unobstructed. "The Lightbringer creates the stars and places them in the sky."
"Wow," Chloe breathed as she joined him at the window, folding her arms to rest on the sill. She sounded impressed, and it made pride swirl within him. "How do you make stars?"
"Father says that if I become the Lightbringer, then I'll just know. But I won't become the Lightbringer until I'm older. My wings need time to grow."
"Wings?" Her brow furrowed skeptically. "People don't just grow wings."
"The Lightbringer is an angel," he clarified. "So, if I become him, I'll be an angel and angels have wings."
Chloe peered at him as she contemplated his words. The loud buzzing of crickets playing their high-pitched tunes filled the silence between them. "Can a girl be a Lightbringer too?"
Lucifer giggled, which made Chloe frown. "Only I can become the Lightbringer. And only if I'm good."
She tilted her head and squinted at him curiously. "You don't think you're good?"
Remembering all the chaos he'd caused with one phone call to DCFS, he shrugged. "I'm not sure. I tried to do good once, but it only made things worse."
"Well…maybe I can help you be good?"
"Really?"
"Sure! My daddy is a police officer—he helps people. And I want to be just like him and help people, too."
He smiled wistfully. "Your father sounds nice."
"Oh, he is. He's the best." Chloe turned to look out the window. "So, you really think you'll create new stars? And that you'll grow wings one day?"
Lucifer nodded.
"Will you show them to me? When they grow?" she asked, her voice laced with excitement as she sat cross-legged on the floor beneath the window.
"Of course. I'll even take you flying if you want! Father says my wings'll be big and white and that they'll shimmer with starlight."
Her eyes widened, the whites catching the light from the moon and twinkling brightly. "Oh Lucifer! They sound beautiful."
Her awe made him feel special, and he smiled proudly. "Father says mine will be the prettiest out of all of my siblings'."
"You have siblings?" Chloe asked. She leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her knees and resting her head in her hands.
Lucifer nodded, sitting across from her. "Lots of them."
"Where are they?"
Tears unexpectedly stung the corners of his eyes; he blinked them away quickly. "I don't know. They split us up when they took us from the Silver City." Guilt washed over him. "I thought we would be able to stay together."
Chloe crawled across the floor and wrapped her tiny arms around Lucifer's trembling shoulders.
He froze. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you a hug," she replied. "Hugs always make me feel better when I'm sad."
It did feel nice; warm and comforting. Her embrace made him feel safe. Tentatively, his own arms circled loosely around her back.
"I'm sorry," she said as she pulled away.
It's okay, he almost replied, but couldn't force the words. It wasn't okay, but it wasn't Chloe's fault, either. It was his.
She yawned, big and loud, and Lucifer couldn't help but chuckle. "It's way past my bedtime," she confessed through a sleepy grin, pushing herself up to stand before him. "We should probably go inside."
Plucking at his cotton shorts, Lucifer debated sharing his plan with Chloe. He'd wanted it to be a secret, but she seemed like someone he could trust. "I was going to sleep here, in the treehouse."
"Do the McKees know you're here?"
He averted his eyes, drawing his finger back and forth along the dip between the wood slats that made up the treehouse floor. "No."
"They'll be worried if they can't find you, you know," she lectured with her hands on her hips.
"I'll go back to my room before they wake up, I promise. They won't even know I was gone." He paused and then admitted sheepishly, "It's too dark in my room. I like it better out here, where I can see the stars and the moon. "
Chloe nodded, surprisingly understanding. "I used to be scared of the dark, too."
"I'm not scared!"
"It's okay if you are."
That kind of easy acceptance was new to him. Amenadiel may have been the oldest, but Lucifer wasn't far behind him. He'd had to be strong for his younger siblings; he'd never been able to show his weaknesses or insecurities.
"Well goodnight, Lucifer." She began to make her way down the ladder.
"Wait. Which book is your favorite?" He nodded toward the bookshelf.
She smiled. "The Boxcar Children."
As Chloe disappeared down the ladder, Lucifer turned to the bookshelf. The Boxcar Children seemed to be a series, so Lucifer decided to start from the beginning. Rolling out the sleeping bag, he settled inside, cracking open the book to read by the light of the moon.
—Present Day—
"Mommy just read The Boxcar Children to me!" Trixie interjected.
"And what did you think of it?" Lucifer asked.
"I loved it."
"I did, too. I read a chapter or two every night before I fell asleep that summer in your mum's treehouse," he recalled fondly.
Dan returned a short time later clutching a fat take-out bag with grease already seeping through the bottom. Lucifer turned his nose up at it, and Dan noticed.
"Hey, man, you weren't exactly helpful when I asked what you wanted."
"Yes, well…" He turned his gaze pointedly back to Chloe. "My mind was elsewhere."
"Do you want the cheeseburger or not?"
"I suppose it will have to do."
Dan lifted a small cardboard box from the bag and set it atop Trixie's lap. "Chicken nuggets for you," he said, as Trixie opened the box. He dumped a handful of fries into the empty lid of the take-out container.
"Thanks, Daddy!" Trixie grabbed a fry and shoved it into her mouth.
Dan then passed a wrapped burger to Lucifer, followed by a carton of fries and a wad of napkins. Lucifer set his lunch on the bedside table next to the pitcher of water.
Crossing the room to the window, Dan placed the takeout bag on the sill and leaned against the wall there. "Any news?" he asked, after swallowing a bite of his own burger.
"She was awake for a few minutes not long ago," Lucifer replied. He placed a fry in his mouth. It was soggy. "She was groggy, but she was talking just fine."
Dan heaved a relieved sigh and nodded. "Good."
They ate in contemplative silence mostly, Trixie breaking it every so often to ask Lucifer questions about what her mom was like a kid.
Chloe groaned and shifted on the bed, her lips smacking together dryly as her eyes fluttered. Lucifer stood and reached for the cup of water, bringing it to her mouth. She drank, and then pushed his hand away.
"Thank you, Lucifer," she said. Her eyelids fluttered and she smiled softly as her fingers reached up to trace the rough scruff of his beard.
His heart thudded spastically in his chest at the tender, intimate touch. Dan cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Of course," Lucifer replied, his voice raspy. Her hand fell away as he set the cup back onto the table.
Chloe's face wrinkled in distaste. "What's that smell? It's making me nauseous."
Lucifer smirked triumphantly in Dan's direction. "Daniel's idea of lunch." Dan just rolled his eyes and took another bite.
"Ugh," Chloe covered her nose with her hand.
"I like it, Daddy!" Trixie exclaimed, shoveling a handful of fries into her mouth.
Dan smiled triumphantly back at Lucifer.
"Well of course she would. The child has no taste."
Chloe snorted.
"Hey!" Trixie protested.
Dan's phone rang. "Thank God," he murmured under his breath. "I'm gonna take this in the hall," he announced as he crossed the room to the door, tossing his trash in the bin on the way out.
He returned just moments later, poking his head around the doorframe. "There's a lead on the perp who did this," he said, nodding toward Chloe, whose eyes had fallen shut again. "You okay to keep an eye on Trix?"
Lucifer's eyes hardened. "Go get him, Daniel."
As Dan rushed out, Trixie turned to look up at Lucifer. "Is Daddy gonna get the bad guy who did this to Mommy?"
"I hope so, child."
—Summer 1989—
That summer, Lucifer and Chloe spent nearly every waking minute together. Nearly, because Chloe's mother was often dragging her—kicking and screaming, no less—off to auditions.
When she wasn't off living the life of a working child actress, Chloe loved to play make-believe—and she was good at it, too. In their games of pretend, she was almost always a detective, wanting to be just like her daddy (even though her daddy wasn't a detective yet). She was constantly telling Lucifer about how her dad was the best cop in LA and would be the best detective someday.
Occasionally she'd let Lucifer be her partner and they'd solve imaginary crimes together, examining evidence in tire marks, or broken twigs in the woods behind the neighbor's yard, or on the worn and broken toys left abandoned around the neighborhood. Those were his favorite games of make-believe.
But more often than not, Chloe wanted him to play the bad guy so that she had someone to interrogate and arrest.
On one particular summer day, they sat across from each other in her driveway, a large rectangle drawn in pink chalk between them, serving as a makeshift table in their make-believe interrogation room. She scribbled on it, pretending to write out her notes as she played at questioning him for his made-up crime.
"So, Lucifer," she said with an air of authority. "Is it true that you stole your foster brother's wheelchair and took it for a joyride?"
"Yes, Detective. I stole the wheelchair," he confessed contritely. For some reason, it was difficult for him to fully disassociate from the character he played, and he always ended up feeling just as guilty as if he had actually committed the crime.
Chloe leaned across the chalkboard table. "Don't confess so fast, remember? I wanna list all the evidence first."
"Oh, right." He never was very good at playing pretend. It was akin to fibbing, which was something he'd always been punished for in the Silver City. "Then, no, Detective," he claimed with a shake of his head. "It wasn't me."
Chloe, on the other hand, was very good at getting into character. She narrowed her eyes at him and her gaze made him squirm. "Well, I have a long list of evidence proving that you did. Your fingerprints were all over the wheelchair. A witness saw a kid with dark curly hair doing wheelies in the stolen wheelchair in the McKees' driveway. And you live with Andy so you know where the wheelchair is kept when he's napping—which was the exact time the wheelchair was stolen!" She smacked her hand onto the chalkboard table. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"You caught me, Detective. I did it."
"Put your hands behind your back," she commanded. Standing, she pulled the handcuffs she'd pilfered from her dad's cruiser from her back pocket.
Lucifer turned his back to her.
"You have the right to remain silent," she recited as she locked the handcuffs around his small wrists. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
Loud, mocking laughter drew their attention as three of the older neighborhood kids skidded to a stop on their bikes in front of Chloe's driveway.
"Looks like Chloe's locking up the Devil again," Jared Philips, the biggest and meanest of the trio, taunted. "Hey, Lucifer, you know there's a reason you're always the criminal, right? It's 'cuz the Devil's evil." He turned his attention back to Chloe. "This time, can't you just send him all the way back to Hell where he belongs?!"
Chloe's grip tightened on Lucifer's wrist as she stiffened behind him.
"No wonder his parents threw him away. I wouldn't want a Satan spawn either," added Tommy Ward, Chloe's neighbor on the other side.
The three of them chuckled at that, chanting "Satan spawn" through their peals of laughter.
Lucifer's eyes filled with tears. His head dropped to his chest, a half-hearted attempt to hide them from the bullies.
They were right though, weren't they?
He wanted desperately to believe he could become the Lightbringer, but he didn't think he could ever be good enough. Their taunts reminded him that he was evil, and that no matter how hard he tried to be good, he would always be rotten at his core. Hell was what he deserved—destined just as they said—even though the thought of it terrified him, because Hell was dark, too far below to see his stars, and filled with demons, and torture, and pain.
"How does your tail fit inside your pants?" The third boy, Austin Rodriguez chimed in, his rhetorical question followed by another burst of cruel laughter.
"Oooh, yeah! Show us your tail, freak!"
—Present Day—
"You were bullied?" Trixie asked, bringing him out of the memory by gently taking his hand.
Lucifer looked down at her tiny fingers wrapped around his and couldn't help but appreciate the supportive gesture. It was something her mother would have done. "I was, yes."
"I get bullied too sometimes. This mean girl at my school made a fake snapchat account and used it to make fun of me." Lucifer gave her little hand a sympathetic squeeze, but Trixie's face broke into a smug grin as she blinked up at him. "So…I kicked her in her no-no-touch-touch square."
No-no-touch-touch square? His brow furrowed. Trixie noticed his confusion and released his hand so that she could point it out for him.
"Oh! Oh, I see. Well played," Lucifer said, quite impressed with the little creature. Trixie sat up proudly at the praise. "Well, you're much stronger than I was. But at least I had your mum to stand up for me."
—Summer 1989—
"You shut up!" Chloe shouted. "Don't say those things about him!"
"We'll say whatever we want. The Devil is evil and deserves to burn in Hell!" Jared declared, pausing to cross his arms over his chest. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Lucifer watched as flames licked to life in Chloe's eyes. She reminded him of a cartoon they'd watched together recently—her face turning an angry red and looking as if steam might come out of her ears at any moment as she fumed.
"Lucifer is not the Devil!"
Jared smiled smugly as Chloe marched over to them. Lucifer watched in awe as she swung her arm back and punched the boy square in the face. He didn't think he'd ever forget the sound her fist made as it collided with tissue and bone.
"You punched me!" Shocked, Jared brought his hand to his broken nose, blood pouring from it and onto his t-shirt. Tears welled up in his eyes. "You better watch your back, devil-worshipper."
Chloe placed her hands on her hips. "Just try and mess with us again. My daddy arrests bullies like you. Come to think of it," she said haughtily, retreating to where Lucifer stood. Tommy and Austin had begun to back away on their bikes, likely not wanting to be the next victim of Chloe's surprisingly strong right hook. She pulled the handcuffs off Lucifer's wrists and held them up. "Make fun of either one of us again, and I'll handcuff you personally and have my dad take you straight to jail."
"You can't do that," Austin challenged, eyeing the cuffs.
"Wanna bet?" Not one of the bullies said a word. "Lucifer is better than all of you. If anyone's going to Hell, it won't be him—not by a long shot." She gave them all pointed looks. "Now leave us alone!"
Surprisingly, they did.
"Come on, Detective Morningstar. We have a case to solve."
"But I thought that I was the criminal?"
Chloe scuffed the toe of her shoe on the driveway, kicking at tiny pebbles as she looked at the ground guiltily. "I'm sorry for always making you be the bad guy, Lucifer," she apologized. "You know that what Jared said isn't true, right? You know I don't think you're bad or evil?"
He averted his eyes and shrugged.
"Well, I don't. It was all just make-believe. And anyway, I'm tired of that case. I want to start solving a new one. As partners this time."
He met her eyes and smiled, his tears forgotten. "Really?"
She nodded enthusiastically and grabbed his hand. Together, they raced into her backyard to start searching for evidence of a new crime.
Chloe never again asked him to be the bad guy when they played make-believe detectives. From that day forward, he was always her partner.
.
Later that evening, Chloe and Lucifer lay on their bellies facing each other, a game of Picture Picture set up between them. It was one of their favorite games to play because they were so equally matched.
"Chloe Jane Decker!" John's loud voice boomed from the top of the stairs. Chloe shot Lucifer a panicked look as she sat up, her father stomping down the stairs.
Lucifer sat up, too, his heart racing. He knew that tone of voice and he prepared himself for punishment. Scooting backward until his back hit the wall, he clutched his legs to his chest and watched with wide, fearful eyes as John came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. John had always been nice, never so much as raising his voice towards them. In that moment, though, he reminded Lucifer of his Father—big and looming and scary.
"I just got a call from Mrs. Philips from a few houses down. Did you punch Jared?"
"He was bullying us and teasing Lucifer!" Chloe was quick to justify her actions.
Her father sighed. "That's no excuse for violence, Monkey; you know that." The calm way John spoke didn't register through Lucifer's panic; instead, his mind flashed with memories of biting reprimands and harsh punishments for wicked behavior. "You come and tell me or your mom or Julie if something like that happens and let an adult take care of it. Mrs. Philips said you also threatened the boys with handcuffs?"
Shamefully, Chloe ducked her head.
"Did you take my handcuffs?"
"It was my idea to take the handcuffs!" Lucifer cut in, finally finding his voice. He couldn't bear the thought of Chloe being punished. Not after the brave way she'd stood up for him. He'd taken the fall for his younger siblings countless times, and he was more than willing to do the same for Chloe.
"Lucifer, why don't you head on home? I need to talk with Chloe."
"But," he started, looking to Chloe for what to do.
Chloe rolled her eyes and nodded her head in the direction of the stairs as if to say, go on.
Only hesitating for another moment, he quickly did as they asked of him, feeling cowardly the whole way back to the McKees' for not staying to defend Chloe the way she'd stood up for him.
.
That night, as Lucifer was settling into the sleeping bag in Chloe's treehouse, his friend's head emerged through the opening in the floor.
"Are you okay?" Lucifer asked, concern dripping from his voice. "Did he hurt you?"
"What? No, of course not. He'd never." Lucifer blushed a little at her quick denial—he'd never have been able to say the same about his own family. It was the first time he'd noticed John's method of discipline was a stark contrast to his Father's. "I'm grounded for the week though, so I won't be able to play."
Lucifer frowned, feeling disheartened. What would he do without her for an entire week?
"I can try to sneak out here after bedtime again, though," she amended with a mischievous grin.
Relieved that they'd at least have some time each night together, he smiled in return. "Thanks for defending me today. I'm sorry you got in trouble for it."
"That's what friends do, Lucifer. They were being bullies and they deserved it. After you left, my dad said he was proud of me for standing up to them. He said I shouldn't have punched Jared—I mean, I know I shouldn't have, but he just made me so mad—but he also said that I shouldn't ever let people walk all over me." The pride was obvious in her smirk. "Thank you for taking the blame for the handcuffs. Daddy's not as forgiving about me swiping his police things."
"Well, I owed you for Jared…and I didn't want to see you get punished for it."
She smiled gratefully as she plopped down near the edge of his sleeping bag. "Well, it got me thinking, and…what if we made a pact? A friendship pact?"
"You want to make a friendship pact with me?"
"Of course," she reassured softly, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt. "You're my best friend."
His heart skipped a beat. It didn't seem real that Chloe would want him as her best friend. "You're my best friend, too."
It felt good to know she reciprocated the sentiment.
Grinning, she said, "So let's make a pact—to stay best friends forever." She plucked her dad's pocket knife from the waistband of her pajama pants.
Lucifer laughed. "You're such a thief. Didn't you learn anything from the handcuffs?"
"I'm gonna put it right back when I go inside; he won't even know it was missing. But for the pact to be binding, we have to seal it with blood."
Chloe scooted across the floor on her knees until she was in the middle of the treehouse. "Come over here."
Lucifer climbed out of the sleeping bag and shoved it aside so that he could mirror Chloe's position as he faced her.
She glanced out the window before beginning the pledge. "With the stars as our witness," and her crystalline blue eyes pierced his with a serious sort of intensity, "repeat after me. I promise…"
"I promise…" he echoed just as solemnly, inching forward, as if they were magnets drawn to each other.
"To be best friends with Lucifer Morningstar—only, you say my name instead."
"To be best friends with Chloe Decker."
"To always stand up for each other…" Chloe continued their pact, and Lucifer repeated every line. "To always share the blame when we get in trouble and to never, ever tattle on each other. To be partners," she reminded him from earlier that day. "Partners 'til the end."
He bit his lip in a poor attempt to hide his smile as he repeated that line back to her.
"Maybe we should put our hands on our hearts for this last part," she suggested. Lucifer followed her lead. He felt his heart thumping speedily underneath his palm; it seemed to know this moment was heavy with importance. "This I solemnly vow."
Goosebumps tickled his flesh. "This I solemnly vow."
She flicked the blade out of the knife and held it to her palm, but just before she cut into her skin, she paused, her forehead wrinkling. "But…what if you become the Lightbringer? Then you'll fly off into the sky to create the stars and leave me behind."
Lucifer frowned. She had a point; if he became the Lightbringer, he would have to leave to perform his duties. "Maybe I could take you with me…? If you wanted?"
Her eyes sparkled as she scooted even closer to him, their knees touching. "All the way to the stars?"
Lucifer nodded excitedly, the prospect appealing. "That way, neither one of us would be alone. Think of how much fun it'd be to live amongst the cosmos. We could slide down Saturn's rings! And drink hot chocolate from the big dipper!"
"And we could race each other on shooting stars!" Chloe added.
"You could help me form new constellations. I'd make one in the shape of a monkey for you."
Chloe's giggles faded. "But I don't have wings, Lucifer. What if I fall back to earth?"
"I'd never let you fall," he promised earnestly. "And there's no gravity in space, so you couldn't fall… You'd just float forever."
Horrified, her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "That's just as bad! I don't want to float around lost in space forever!"
Laughing at her stricken face, he promised, "I won't let you float away either. I swear it."
"Okay then. So we vow to be best friends forever." Chloe glanced out the window to the glitter in the dark sky. "All the way to the stars."
She dug the blade into her palm, hissing as blood beaded up under the tip. Lucifer took the knife from her, cutting into his own palm. He didn't hiss like Chloe did, though—the sting of a sharp blade slicing through flesh was something he was already quite familiar with.
They linked fingers, pressing bloody palm to bloody palm.
"All the way to the stars," Lucifer echoed.
A/N: I hope you liked the first chapter! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it or your constructive criticism (emphasis on constructive, please 😊). If you are reading In Every Lifetime, don't worry, it will be continued! My brain just got taken over by this idea and it won't let me write anything else until this story is finished.
