Ella lay in Jerry's arms, thinking about her life while he snored softly. How far she'd come since Detroit! She was friends with angels! And she had fallen head-over-heels for this wonderful green-eyed man next to her. She felt that her life had been turned upside-down in the past month, but in a good way.

Tonight, they would go to Lucifer's and Chloe's house-warming party, and she'd see her friends. She understood that Amenadiel wouldn't be there, because of his new duties, but she hoped that Linda would make an appearance. She promised herself to visit Linda more often, to give her a break from Charlie.

Normally, Jerry would have had to pull a shift at Lux, but he'd told her that Chloe had offered him a deal—Lux would cover his school bills and give him something extra for rent and food, and he wouldn't have to work any more shifts. In return, when he graduated and passed the bar, he'd come work for her as General Counsel of the holding company she was setting up for Lucifer.

The way Jerry had explained it, Chloe was offering more than simply tuition and a stipend. "She told me that I'd need experience to go with my book learning. Then she told me about a rotation program she'd designed for me: Six months in the DA's office, prosecuting. Six months as a public defender, defending. Six months in a large firm, getting experience with contracts and business law; maybe some employee labor law experience as well. Then, after eighteen months, I come to work for her on a full-time basis." He paused. "She said that they need a generalist who can work through multiple issues; too many attorneys these days are specialists."

He'd accepted the deal, of course. Now he had more time for Ella. That made things easier for both of them. Life was good, and her inner darkness had been banished to a place where she didn't ever dwell on it! She snuggled closer to Jerry and sent a prayer of thanks to the Big Guy, whose name she knew now was Amenadiel.

#

Bishop Hoffman wasn't the same man he had been just a month ago; everybody remarked on his changes. He had always been a bit formal and reserved, but now he laughed a lot and seemed to be trying to make friends with everybody. His Administrative Assistant thought his new friend, Amenadiel, might have had something to do with the drastic personality change.

One day the name had just appeared on Bishop Hoffman's appointment calendar, as if somebody had hacked into her computer. Amenadiel. Just that one name. It had appeared out of nowhere: no phone call, no email, nothing. She was going to delete the appointment, but Bishop Hoffman had asked her to keep it. And then, right on time, a big black man had arrived. Bishop Hoffman had said, "Hello, Amenadiel. I'm happy to see you again," and then they'd disappeared into the office behind a closed door.

When Bishop Hoffman had emerged, an hour later, he was in a daze. He wouldn't or couldn't speak for another hour after that. And he wouldn't explain what had happened, or who that Amenadiel character was. Amenadiel wasn't a member of the diocese, she knew that. But whoever he was, he seemed to have a profound influence on the Bishop. After their third visit together, he'd asked her to call his Priests together to discuss how to better address the social justice issues around them.

"This is to be my legacy," he'd said to her. "We're going to focus on helping those around us."

"But the budget—" she'd protested.

He just smiled at her. "I'm quite confident that God will provide." And it seemed that his confidence had been borne out, because donations came in like water from a firehose. And it wasn't just funding: the parishioners had responded enthusiastically to Bishop Hoffman's challenge them, and now, just a month later, various Church task forces were sweeping the city to see how they could help the homeless, the mentally ill, and those who had no hope left. Bishop Hoffman was already in discussions with the City and County to develop partnerships with local agencies, to better address the needs of these people.

All this effort would have exhausted a normal person, but Bishop Hoffman seemed to be energized by the work. And his mood had changed; now he was laughing and joking with those around him. She should have been concerned, but she was enjoying his new approach to life too much to be worried about the sudden change.

He was also spending more time with his priests. "Grooming them for their next step," he'd said. "After all, I'm not going to be around her forever." Then he'd laughed, as if he knew a joke that nobody else knew.

One day, she'd asked him about his future plans.

"My future plans? My dear child, whatever God has in store for me is just fine with me. Minister to the poor here in LA? His will be done! Send me to a Johannesburg slum? Great! Send me back to South America? Amazing! Make me an Archbishop and prepare me for becoming the Pope? That works, as well!"

She thought that last part was a bit cheeky, but she decided to ignore it. His ebullient mood was infectious.

#

Chloe kissed her husband awake in their new bed, in their new home. He moaned softly and reached for her—only to be stopped by her arm. "Not now, beloved," she said. "We have to make Trixie breakfast before you drive her to school."

Lucifer nodded. "Later, then," he said. "If you wake me up like that, and I'm going to be thinking about you all day. The pressure will build and build and build. I'll need an opportunity to relieve that pressure, sooner rather than later. Otherwise, I could burst. And nobody would want to see that!"

She smiled. "When do I ever deny you?"

"Well, you just did."

"That wasn't a denial. That was a promise—for later."

"Very well. I will hold you to that promise."

All was well.

Chloe reflected on the concerns that had occupied her heart and mind just a few weeks ago.

What am I to Lucifer? She knew the answer to that question now. He'd walked away from the Throne to become her husband, and Trixie's step-father. She supposed that if Trixie ever realized what he'd given up for them, she'd love him even more than she obviously already did.

And when he walked away from the Throne, that had addressed her concerns about how being God was going to impact their lives. The only impacts over the last few weeks had been positive ones. Oh, there'd been some disagreements about furniture placement, but that had been the closest they'd come to any sort of fight. Honestly, who fought over where to put a sofa?

She smiled. Furniture didn't matter. His love did. He'd chosen them. Their love was all that mattered. Everything else could be "sorted." And, together, they would sort what needed to be sorted.

"Hey lazy bones!" Lucifer said. "If you're going to lie there, I'm going to think you're trying to seduce me. And then I won't be able to resist you—and you'll know what will happen then!"

"What will happen, Samael?" she said.

"Then Trixie will be very late for school and you will have to write the excuse. And then Trixie will complain about our sex life—again."

"We don't want that to happen, do we?"

"Well, if you're asking me—"

Chloe laughed and got out of the bed. "I already know your answer, my husband. I already know it."

#

Trixie sat at the desk in the school library, reading her book. She'd decided to tackle Dante's Inferno, which had required her to also read various commentaries about the text, as well. It was hard to understand the nuances of 14th Century Italy without them. She'd smiled when she learned that Beatrice had sent Virgil to guide Dante on his journey. She was reading the English translation, but she wondered whether Lucifer might help her learn Italian. It would be cool to be able to read the original. And after Inferno, she'd try Purgatorio and Paradiso, just to complete the trilogy and follow Dante's journey from Hell to Heaven.

Next to her, Eddie sat reading The Devil in the White City, which he said was a book about the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago. Trixie didn't understand what the title had to do with a World's Fair, but she'd let Eddie explain why the book was called that when he was done reading it.

She reached out and ran her fingers over his arm, getting him to put the book down and smile at her. They'd had four dates in three weeks, and they called each other "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" now. She smiled back at him.

"What's on your mind, PB?" he said. He'd starting calling her that after their first kiss at Lux. Everybody else thought it stood for "Peanut Butter" or something silly like that, but only they knew PB stood for "Princess Beatrice." It was their little secret.

"I'm thinking that you're coming over tonight, to our house-warming party. And that your mom and dad will be coming with you. It should be fun!"

"Right. It sure is funny how our parents just hit it off so well, you know? I mean, my mom loves to talk fashion and shopping with Lucifer, and my dad loves talking about the criminal stuff with your mom. It's like they just clicked, or something. Who would have thought?"

"I know, right? But it's cool, because when they get together, we can get together, too."

Eddie smiled. "And maybe find some private time for us."

"Eddie, you know my mom is watching us like a hawk. She's okay with the kissing, but—"

"Right. If we go any further, she's going to come down on us like a ton of bricks. Her words. And I believe her."

"And don't forget Lucifer. He always seems to know when we're looking to be alone, and then he checks in on us like every five minutes, just to make sure that we're 'behaving'." Trixie rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know. And your Auntie Maze. That's one scary lady, let me tell you! She explained what would happen to me if I ever hurt you." He shivered with the memory of her description.

"You should start practicing with us, you know. Learn how to use a knife."

"Uh, now you're scaring me!"

Trixie lifted his hand and brought it to her lips. "You know I'd never hurt you, Eddie."

"I know, BP, I know." He reached for her, but the Librarian rapped her ruler on the desk.

"No PDAs in the Library!" she said sharply.

They both laughed quietly, and then went back to reading. After all, they still had tonight …

#

Amenadiel and Michael looked at each other across the table.

"Denny's, brother?" Amenadiel said. "Really?"

"I have to watch my funds these days, as you already know, brother."

"Right. About that—"

"What? Are you going to gloat? 'How far Michael has fallen! He can't even afford a decent brunch!' Well, it's true."

"No, brother. I'm not here to gloat."

"What are you here for, then?"

"I'm here to offer you a chance at redemption."

"Me? Really? I doubt it."

"Michael, I know your plan now. And it worked! You should be proud of your ability to manipulate Lucifer, even though you weren't in direct contact with him. And even so, there is no hatred towards you. Distrust, perhaps. But no hatred. Even if Lucifer understood how he'd been manipulated, he still would not hate you."

"My plan did work, didn't it?" Michael smiled, somewhat bitterly. "But now I have to deal with you."

Amenadiel nodded. "I know now that everything you said and did was to drive Lucifer to give up the Throne, to put somebody else on it instead of him."

"Yes. If I couldn't have it, I wanted to deny it to him. I knew that the closer he got to his human family, the less he would want his celestial one. So I pushed them together, to the point of marriage. And he did exactly as I predicted he would! He chose them, a couple of ephemeral humans, instead of eternal omniscience and Godly power." He paused. "He's always reached for the shiny object that's close at hand, ignoring the treasure in the distance. You know that, brother."

"Indeed. You know him well. I would have expected nothing less of you."

"Now what? You want me to cower? To beg? What?"

"I want you to listen to me, brother," Amenadiel said. "I want you to walk this earth and reflect on how you ended up where you are. Nobody has fallen further than you, Michael. Nobody. Even Lucifer ended up as Ruler of Hell. You're the ruler of nothing. An angel with no wings."

Michael nodded. "True. All true, brother. And you want me to reflect on my many mistakes?"

"Maybe they weren't mistakes. Maybe every decision you made, ever action you took, was part of our Father's plan. You ever wonder if he manipulated us all?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm still here. As you say, wingless and almost penniless."

"Right. Perhaps it doesn't matter, in the long run. Anyway, I'm here to offer you a bargain. One I think you'll accept."

"Go on."

"Here's my bargain: You will wander on Earth for one hundred years. Years as humans measure them. You will refrain from manipulation and other schemes. In one hundred years, we'll speak again. If you're ready, I'll restore your wings and your celestial powers."

"Without manipulation, I'll starve long before then, brother."

"I'll see to it that you don't."

"Very well. One hundred years of exile. And you promise me a fair hearing at the end of my time?"

Amenadiel nodded. "I promise." He paused. "One more thing. During your exile, you must leave Los Angeles. You must leave LA and you must promise to leave Lucifer's family and friends alone. If you break that ban, then I'll know you're not ready. Do you understand?"

"Where will I go?"

"There are hundreds of places for you to go, Michael. Hundreds. San Francisco, San Diego, Chicago, Chattanooga. London, Naples, Athens. It doesn't matter. Only—only pick a place that's quiet, where you can hear yourself think. And then reflect. What might you have done differently? What might you do differently, when you have your wings back? In a hundred years, we'll talk. I'll be interested in what you have to say."

"And leave Lucifer's family alone in the meantime."

"And his friends. All of them."

"It seems I have little choice. I accept."

"I rather thought you would." Amenadiel handed him a wallet. "Inside you'll find identification and an ATM card that accesses sufficient funds to keep you in food, clothing, and shelter. The rest is up to you."

"An ATM card, huh? How … mundane." Michael paused. "What's my PIN?"

Amenadiel smiled. "I thought of 666 but that seemed too obvious. Then I thought of 777, but that also seemed too obvious. So I went with 2015, the year that Lucifer left Hell for Los Angeles."

"You want me to think of Lucifer every time I need cash, is that right?"

"Exactly, brother. In the meantime, here's a token of my belief in you." Amenadiel reached out and traced the ugly scar that crossed Michael's face. As the scar was touched, it disappeared.

Michael touched his face, where the scar used to be, and felt only fair skin. He smiled. "Thank you, brother, for that. I mean it."

"I know you do, Michael. Now, the rest is up to you."