It was nothing out of the ordinary, to have her mom pick her up from school. What was unusual though, was to see her mom's car parked right out in front when she ran out of the school gates, where no car was ever allowed to be. The carpool line was sacred above all things around here; you got in, you got out, and you definitely didn't jump the queue.

Mom might face down dangerous criminals on a daily basis, but even she wasn't willing to risk the wrath of the other parents in the carpool.

As Trixie drew closer though, she realised exactly why Mom's car was there. Because Mom wasn't in it.

So that's one thing that hasn't changed, she thought as she approached, not-Lucifer's familiar figure silhouetted in the driver's seat. One of her teachers was talking to him through the open car window, but to her surprise, when she got to the car, she found Miss Mariam wasn't talking at all.

She was yelling.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn't the first time Lucifer had broken the rules. Her Lucifer, that is. He found the idea of waiting in a carpool line abhorrent; or at least that was how he had described it to Mom, after she received a catalogue of complaints during parent's evening. No, both he and the Corvette deserved to be displayed up front and centre, and if her mom "insisted on him retrieving the urchin from prison" then he would continue to park where he liked, thank you very much.

Not that Trixie had any complaints. Jumping into a convertible at the end of the school day, alongside the owner of the hottest nightclub in the city, didn't exactly do any harm to her street cred.

The yelling though? That was new. Normally, her teacher would have been putty in his hands by now. Instead, Miss Mariam was lecturing him on everything from proper pick up procedure through to his 'unacceptable attitude' regarding his behaviour. Not that it made a blind bit of difference, considering the man sat behind the wheel ignored her the entire time.

"Trixie Espinoza!" Miss Mariam said sharply, and Trixie winced at the sound of her normal sedate teacher so irate. Whatever charm Lucifer held over her in the past had definitely worn off during his absence. "Will you please inform your mother's partner that he cannot park here."

'Mother's partner'. As always, she had to hold back a giggle at that. After being mistaken for Trixie's step-father—or much to his horror, her actual father—one too many times, Lucifer had somehow managed to strike a deal with the school board that meant every member of staff was to be informed of his status in her life. Of course, everyone automatically assumed 'partner' meant 'boyfriend', but it hadn't escaped her attention that not once did Lucifer correct anyone on that.

"Yes, Miss Mariam," she replied meekly, all the while thinking, he won't listen. To be fair, the actual Lucifer wouldn't have either. He just wouldn't be getting in trouble for it.

Scurrying around to the passenger seat, she opened the door and jumped inside. It was only then that her chauffeur for the trip home came to life, winding up the window without even acknowledging that the woman standing on the other side had ever been there at all.

"Finally," he said gruffly, starting the engine and pulling away from the gates before Trixie even had a chance to get her seatbelt buckled in. Ten seconds later and he'd switched on the sirens, red and blue flashing lights flashing through the car windows as he maneuvered his way through traffic.

"You're not supposed to do that," she said, thinking of all the times Mom had refused to point blank, even when they were running really, really late for something. Lucifer had his own set of lights for the Corvette—because of course he did—but even he saved them for 'emergencies'. She had it on good authority though from Maze, that emergencies only ever occurred when Mom needed him for something.

The man masquerading as her friend didn't even look at her, focusing on the road as he swerved between two cars, nearly knocking over a motorcyclist in the process. "Well, I'm not supposed to waste my time being a taxi driver either," he said snarkily, "and yet here we are."

A horn blared from behind them, causing her to jump in her seat. "You could hurt someone, driving like that," she scolded. "Mom wouldn't like it."

"Forgive me if I fail to trust your mother's judgement on what she does and does not like," he snapped back, slamming on the brakes as traffic ground to a halt in front of them. Bit by bit, cars did their best to make room for the cruiser to get through, but a jam was a jam, and they ended up going nowhere fast. She could almost feel his glare on her face as he turned his head towards her sharply. "After all, she appears to like you."

Trixie didn't react, telling herself that she knew this wasn't Lucifer now, and that meant it shouldn't hurt. That it didn't hurt. She concentrated on the fact that Lucifer liked her just fine, even if he would probably never willingly admit it. And while he didn't always obey the traffic laws the way Mom wanted him to, he certainly did while she was in the car.

Unless you counted the driving lessons, that is. Driving lessons the man next to her could definitely do with. He could barely drive an automatic; she hated to think what he'd be like driving stick.

And speaking of driving stick… "Why don't you use the Corvette anymore?" she asked curiously, only just having noted its absence. "Is it because it's a manual?"

His fingers tightened upon the steering wheel. "I believe your mother has informed you of my condition?" he said, not particularly sounding like he cared if she actually had.

Trixie nodded. "You can't remember stuff."

"Well, it appears you already know the answer then. Rather a pointless question in that case, wasn't it?"

Traffic shifted forward a bit, and they moved accordingly, until there was just enough of a gap to squeeze through. The engine roared to life again as they took off towards home.

It wasn't a pointless question though. In fact, it was exactly the right one to make her think. The answer to what she needed to do to make Mom believe her—outside of just showing her the case file, that is—might have been simple, but actually making it happen, was not.

Trixie wasn't daft. All kinds of things could be explained away if you said you couldn't remember them. Especially if you had a good reason for not remembering them. Mom said Lucifer had been away for a long time, but Trixie knew that 'a long time' could mean thousands and thousands of years. Sometimes, Dad couldn't remember where he'd put his keys the night before; forgetting a few things after spending so much time in Hell made sense.

Well, it made sense if you didn't notice all the other things wrong with him, that is.

So if every time he didn't act like Lucifer, or didn't know something Lucifer would know, he could blame it on Hell, how was she supposed to combat that? Every time he lied, Mom believed him. It was hard to think of a way to make her see the lie, when she wasn't even looking for it.

But… what if how to combat it was the question that was wrong? What if it wasn't the lies about what he couldn't remember that was important, but the lies about what he could. What if he lied about something that never even happened?

By the time they pulled into the apartment complex, Trixie was smiling. It didn't matter what this stranger said to her, not anymore. It didn't matter that he thought he was winning. She had her answer, and now, she had a plan.

She didn't have to convince Mum that his truths were lies.

She had to make him believe her lies were truth.

...

Sometime later, after polishing off what little homework she had that day, and scrawling 'Can't drive stick' onto a post-it note to remind her to add into the case file once its subject had left for the night, she flopped down onto the sofa next to said subject, her usual pre-dinner snack in hand. Usual didn't mean it was allowed, but she managed to sneak it anyway.

"So," she said, not phased in the slightest by the way he deliberately ignored her, bringing the book he was reading a little closer to his face, as if he thought he could hide within its pages. "What do you remember?"

While she waited for him to reply, the sound of crunching filled the otherwise silent room. Over six months had passed since Lucifer left, yet she was still working her way through his secret stash of cool ranch puffs she'd found on the top shelf of one of the kitchen cupboards. It was funny, how both Lucifer and Mom seemed to be under the impression she couldn't get up there. You'd think the fact that their snacks went missing would clue them in, but no, everyone still thought she was shorter than she actually was.

Well, either that or they were just blaming it on Maze.

She continued to stuff her mouth full, more than willing to ask the question again if she needed to. And to continue to ask it, until she got an answer.

After another full minute of chewing as loudly as she possibly could, he put the book down with an exasperated sigh. "I remember a lot of things," he said, looking at her as though she were stupid. "Did you mean to refer to something in particular?"

Oh, she did, but she wasn't ready to give that game away quite yet. "Disneyland?" she asked brightly, remembering with fondness the look on Lucifer—and Maze's—face when they dragged them there for her birthday.

He shook his head.

"The beach? The aquarium? The pier? What about my school musical?"

She rattled off as many questions as she could think of at him in quick succession. Most he said no to, but some received nods. She expected that; a day at the beach was, well, a day at the beach. It was pretty easy to pretend you remembered going.

But this was the big one, the one question her entire plan hinged on. She looked pointedly towards the side table, at the collection of photo frames there. "What about Rome?" she asked, being careful to keep her tone exactly as it was before. She couldn't afford to give anything anyway, not now. "You remember Rome don't you? It was where you told Mom you loved her for the first time!"

He followed her gaze, until his eyes landed straight on the largest photo, the one a passing stranger had taken of her and Mom outside of the Colosseum. You could have taken that, she thought to herself, It could have easily been you. His silence continued, and she had to fight the urge to stop breathing, to keep appearing as normal as possible.

Eventually, he picked up his book again. "Of course I remember," he said bitterly, "I'm hardly likely to forget that, am I? Now, don't you have anything better to do?"

She did indeed. Without another word, she retreated back to her room again, a triumphant smile on her face. The trap was set. All she had to do now, was hope he fell into it.

And if he didn't, well, she would just have to find a way to give him a not-so-gentle shove.

…

Not long after that Mom got home, full of apologies for getting stuck at the precinct, and then even more stuck when her Uber hit rush hour. Not that Trixie minded; it might have been days before she could set her plan into motion otherwise. Dinner was mostly spent in silence, the man at the head of the table clearly having used up his conversation quota for the day when it came to her. Sensing that he was about to leave at the nearest opportunity, Trixie decided to give him another out instead. An out that might also finally get him out of their lives, if everything went well.

"Why don't you and Mom go for a walk on the beach?" she said, trying to pose the question as a throwaway suggestion while she tidied up the dishes. "I can clean up."

"Oh, I don't know—" Mom started, but she was quickly cut off by her future walking partner.

"What an excellent idea!" he said, springing from his seat almost instantly, his previous lethargy disappearing entirely. If she didn't know any better, she might have thought he was actually praising her. Instead, she knew full well it was nothing more than the prospect of escape that had him so eager. "Come along, my dear," he said, waggling his fingers at Mom, before going to fetch his shoes.

Mom looked at her, a frown creasing her brow. "You're sure?" she asked, seemingly reluctant to leave. Trixie nodded enthusiastically.

"You should have a proper date, Mom. Lucifer's been back nearly three weeks, and all you've done is work!" She turned away to start loading the dishwasher, before casually adding, "Maybe you should plan a holiday or something?"

And maybe, just maybe, you'll talk about Rome.

"Okay then," Mom said, and when Trixie looked back, she was smiling up at the man now standing beside her. She looked so happy, and for a second, Trixie felt guilty. But she needed to make Mom see the truth, even if it did break her heart.

With a cheery wave, she watched them leave through the patio doors, hand in hand as they made their way toward the shortcut down to the beach. After throwing the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher at random—including the ones that weren't actually really supposed to go in there—she quickly wiped down the counters and table, before looking around the kitchen and congratulating herself on a job well done.

And now, she could move on to more important things.

With no guarantee that the imposter in their lives would be revealed tonight, she decided it was best to continue with her investigation. After all, it wouldn't be long until she could show what she'd found to her mom, and really open her eyes. Excitement filled her at the thought of what Mom might do, what she might say. Mom got to save people all the time, how would she feel when this time it was Trixie who got to save her?

Over by the front door, Lucifer's jacket remained on the coat hook, forgotten in his keenness to leave the apartment. She'd spotted it the moment they left, an idea instantly forming in her mind. With the exception of that monstrosity from the other day, she had never really seen any of Lucifer's passion for his suits in his replacement. Now, she figured, was the ideal time to test that theory.

Retrieving a knife from the drawer, she balanced it in her hand, testing the weight. Just as she was about to throw it though, she had a better idea, tossing it back inside and returning to the dishwasher. Less than 30 seconds later, and the dirtiest knife she could find was buried in the sleeve of Lucifer's jacket, pinning it to the wall.

Best to ruin it in as many ways as possible, she figured. Already sorting through several possible 'apologies' in her mind, she attached a hastily drawn target to the wall above the jacket, hoping to pass it off as training gone wrong. Unfortunately, Maze was still out of touch, something her mom was more than aware of, otherwise she would have gone for the tried and tested 'Maze told me to do it' excuse.

Thankfully, unlike Lucifer, Maze never minded being blamed for anything. Especially if it involved knives.

Thinking of Maze made her sad. She wished she would call. The last few days, Trixie had sent her text after text; mainly questions and theories about what was going on. But she never received a reply. Canada was stupid, she decided. Stupid, and it had too many mountains.

Once she was satisfied with the destruction of the jacket, she glanced up at the clock on the wall, debating how much time she had left alone. Her eyes darted to the television, then to the door, and back to the television again. Figuring it was worth the risk, she switched off all the lights, throwing herself over the back of the sofa, where she promptly landed on the pile of blankets they had yet to put away from the weekend. After successfully finding the remotes, she switched on Netflix.

After all, the last hour of the Shining couldn't be that bad, could it?

…

It was that bad. It was really bad.

But not as bad as what happened next.

The credits had just started to roll when Mom walked back in, the door shutting behind her with a loud click. Through the glass, Trixie could just about see a Lucifer-shaped silhouette outside, highlighted by the glow of a cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the wall of the apartment. She quickly looked away. It wasn't that she thought he would hurt her, he was mean, but he wasn't violent, not as far as she knew. But one creepy man was enough for the evening, especially considering that creepy man had spent most of the movie trying to kill his kid.

Yeah, watching the Shining had definitely been a bad idea.

Mom switched on the lights, and Trixie squinted her eyes against the brightness. Scrabbling for the remote, she tried to turn the television off before Mom saw, but all she succeeded in doing was hitting pause, bringing the title of the movie right up there on the screen. She waited for her mom to say something, for the lecture about how she was only going to give herself nightmares, but she said nothing, walking silently to the entrance and hanging up her coat.

Trixie braced herself; there was no way Mom was going to miss the mess she'd made of Lucifer's jacket, not with an actual target sign hanging there. But there was no explosion, no brandishing of the material that was probably worth more than her entire allowance for the past decade. Instead, her mom merely sighed, pulling out the knife and laying it on the kitchen counter, before running her fingers over the hole left behind.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, but Trixie had no clue what it was. She wondered if they'd spoken about Rome. Did Mom know he'd lied to her? Is that why she was upset, and he was still outside?

No, if he had lied, then she would know he wasn't Lucifer, and there's no way her mom would have brought him back here. So it had to be something else.

"Trixie?" Mom's voice was quiet, but serious. "Can you go into your room, please?"

Cautiously, Trixie got up from the sofa, still clinging to the blanket that, ten minutes ago, she was using to shield herself from the television. Part of her wanting to hide right back under it again. "Why?" she asked, not moving from the spot where she stood.

"I want to talk to you. Please, into your room. I won't ask again."

Her bottom lip trembled as she nodded, shuffling across the floor and dragging the blanket with her. In that moment, it felt like her only life raft in a sea of dread. She knew that look. She knew that tone of voice. It meant she'd done something bad, something so bad that Mom wanted to 'talk' to her about it, rather than just tell her off.

Had she found the case file? Was she upset she'd been spying on them both?

But no, that couldn't be it. Mom was fine before they went to the beach, and nobody had gone near her room after that. She even kept her window locked these days, just in case of intruders.

As she crossed the threshold to her bedroom, she heard a door open, followed by a low murmur of voices from the kitchen. Not low enough, however, as she couldn't tell what they were saying.

"I'm going to talk to her now," Mom said sadly. "I'm so sorry about this. You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Chloe. You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing, do you hear me?"

She peeked back out into the living area just in time to see Mom nod, her face pressed tightly against the chest of the man holding her. It made her heart hurt, to know it should be Lucifer doing this, not him, whoever he was. It wasn't fair.

By the time Mom joined her, Trixie was sitting on her bed, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her knees pulled up and arms tucked around them. Just behind sat some of her last remaining stuffed toys, including Miss Alien, a little worse for wear now after several trips through the washing machine, but still a great comfort when she needed it. Like now. It wasn't a coincidence that the toy was positioned within reach, should she feel the need to hold it.

Mom slid the door closed, but she didn't move any further into the room after that. Nor did she turn the main light on, instead leaving Trixie's bedside lamp as the only source of light in the room. It wasn't as comforting as Trixie normally found it, during those times she used it to chase away bad dreams. Now, it just cast an eerie glow, painting her mom's face half in shadow.

"I want to know why you did it, Trixie." Mom shook her head, closing her eyes and leaning back against the door. "No, I want you to help me understand why you did it."

"Did what, Mommy?" Trixie hated how small her voice sounded, but she was scared. This entire conversation was scaring her, and she didn't like it. Especially not with him outside.

Her mom sighed, stepping forward until Trixie could see her in full, see the way her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She knelt down by the side of the bed, her face nearly level with Trixie's now. "Lucifer told me. About Rome."

Suddenly, all that fear melted away, replaced by anticipation. Her hands dropped from her knees, falling to the bed as she shuffled herself forward, her smiling growing wide. "He did? So you know he lied, right? That he's been lying?"

It was Mom's look of bewilderment that threw her. And then, it sank in. Of course that wasn't what happened. She was the one in trouble, not Lucifer. The question was, why?

It wasn't long until she got her answer. "He didn't lie, Trixie. You did."

She shook her head violently. "No, no. He's the one who's lying, Mom. He said he came with us to Rome, didn't he? But he didn't. He lied to you. He's been lying to you."

Mom took her hand. "He didn't lie. Lucifer never lies. He—he thought he was telling the truth. Can't you see? Because it was a truth you told him. And what I don't understand is… why?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. There were so many things she could have done. Dug out her case file, stormed out there and confronted him, begged Mom to listen to her. But she did none of those things. Instead, she remained silent, speechless.

The first teardrop rolled down Mom's cheek, and it made something uncomfortable tighten within her chest. She hadn't meant for this. She hadn't meant to be the one to hurt her.

"He couldn't even remember Rome… why we went. What I did. I had to tell him… God, I had to break his heart all over again."

Mom didn't even really look like she was talking to her anymore, her attention focused somewhere else. Trixie didn't understand what she meant, not fully anyway. Of course, she knew why they'd gone to Rome, that much was obvious from Lucifer's continued absence from their lives afterwards. And she knew something else had happened to cause that, but not what, and even Maze refused to tell her.

"Why, Trixie?" her mom repeated.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced the words past it anyway. It was time, she couldn't keep this a secret any longer.

"Because he's not Lucifer," she whispered. It felt like a weight had lifted, to finally be able to say it out loud.

Mom slowly raised her head, disbelief written all over her face. Trixie tried not to let that discourage her. Mom would believe her, she had to.

"He's not Lucifer, Mom," she said, pushing forward, gathering pace with every word. "I don't know who he is, but—"

"Stop it."

Trixie halted immediately, before trying again. "But—"

"Trixie, just stop it. Stop."

For what felt like the longest time, neither of them said anything more. Then Mom got to her feet, and Trixie could almost feel the way she couldn't bring herself to look at her, as though her eyes were a touch she could sense the absence of.

"I'm so sorry, Monkey."

Trixie looked up in shock; those words were the last thing she expected to hear from Mom's lips right now. Did that mean… could that mean she believed her?

"I knew you were finding this hard, but I didn't realise just how much. Look… I'm not mad, okay? I promise. And, well, we won't talk about this anymore tonight. But when you get back from your Dad's this weekend..."

She paused for breath, but before Trixie could interrupt her properly to protest, she carried on.

"And you are going this time, no matter what happens. Dad can look after you just as well as I can if you feel ill again. It's been three weeks since your last visit, and he misses you." Hesitantly, she reached out to stroke Trixie's hair, still not quite looking her in the eye. "But when you get home, we'll talk. Just the two of us. You can tell me everything that's bothering you, and we'll sort it out. Together."

Her hand fell back to her side, and she took a step towards the door. "But, Monkey?" she said, turning and meeting her eyes this time. "You really upset Lucifer tonight. You know how important the truth is to him." She held up a hand, sensing Trixie was about to try and argue with her again. "I think you owe him an apology, don't you?"

Just for a second, Trixie wavered. Just for a second, she wondered if her Mom was right, and she was the one who got it wrong all along. What if this was Lucifer? A hurt, amnesia stricken Lucifer, who she'd tricked into breaking one of his most solemn vows?

And in that second of doubt, she nodded.

But she shouldn't have doubted at all.

The moment Mom opened the door to let him in, she could see it. That look in his eyes… that calculating darkness… that wasn't Lucifer. It could never be Lucifer.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a syrupy sweetness to his voice that covered the venom beneath. Mom nodded, and he moved to stand by her side, an arm wrapped around her waist as he stared at Trixie, his eyes never wavering for a second.

"Trixie has something she wants to say to you," Mom said, looking at Trixie in a way that made it clear: I'm expecting you to do this. She may not be angry, but Trixie could see the disappointment there, and that hurt worst of all.

"Alright," he replied amiably. "Why don't you go and pour us some wine, my dear? I picked up a new bottle of that shiraz you like earlier; pretty sure I left it in the car though."

Mom gave a slight hum in agreement. When she moved to step away though, never-Lucifer tightened his grip. "Oh, and Chloe?"

With that, he bent down low, kissing her mom in a way Trixie had only ever seen in movies. And certainly not in a way she'd ever seen him kiss Mom before. She averted her eyes, but when she dared to look back again, what she saw made her feel sick to her stomach.

He was still staring at her. A stare that said, I won.

Mom pulled away with a gasp, her eyes flickering to Trixie, the look on her face deeply uncomfortable. She swallowed heavily, before slipping out of his embrace and backing through the doorway, closing it behind her. Seconds later, she heard the slam of the front door as Mom headed for the car.

Trixie didn't move, glaring up at the invader in her bedroom. If he thought she was saying sorry, he had another thing coming.

But... that wasn't what he wanted at all.

"It was a nice try," he said, and Trixie froze. The rest of the world fell away, the sound of her racing heartbeat the only thing echoing in her ears.

Because that wasn't Lucifer's voice. It didn't sound like Lucifer at all.

He tilted his head to the side, examining her in a way that made her skin crawl. "You're quite the devious little thing, aren't you? I can see why he likes you."

Those piercing eyes continued to fix her in place. When he took a step towards her though, she scrambled backwards, her back hitting the wall, hand automatically searching for Miss Alien. Or rather, the knife hidden inside her.

"Not that Samael aligning himself with a liar is all that surprising, of course," he said, sneering. Then, his expression became thoughtful, that sneer turning into the most disturbing smile imaginable. "I wonder what secrets your mother has to hide. I wonder how I'll make her tell me."

Her response was immediate, instinctual. "You leave her alone!" she shouted, leaping to her feet, knife brandished before her as she fell into one of the many fighting stances Maze had drilled into her over the years.

And all he did was laugh.

"Devious, but not clever, I see. Do you honestly believe your tiny human weapon can hurt me, little girl? I, who defeated the great evil and banished him to the pit for eternity?"

She didn't falter, trying to ignore what he was saying. Maze's words rang in her ears. Words are weapons of weakness. A blade digs deeper, Trixie. Always remember that.

"Who are you?" she demanded, another lesson come to fruition. Know your enemy.

But she never got an answer, his head snapping towards the window suddenly. "Your mother has returned. I'd put that away, if I were you. Haven't you hurt 'poor Lucifer' enough for one evening?" He raised one hand to his chest, the other running a finger down his cheek, imitating a tear as he pouted.

The door to the apartment opened, and Mom shouted inside. "Lucifer? There wasn't any wine in the car, are you sure you didn't bring it in with you?"

He grinned, amusement dancing in his eyes as he noticed the knife in Trixie's hand tremble. "Oh, I must have put it away already!" he called back, "Silly me. I'm so forgetful these days." His grin morphed into a smirk at that last part, and he reached for the door handle. "Good talk," he said, with a wink, of all things, before he pulled at the door, revealing Mom standing on the other side.

Quickly, Trixie hid the knife behind her back. "Everything alright, you two?" Mom asked, a small glimmer of hope in her eyes as she looked between them both.

"Just fine," definitely-not-Lucifer said, dropping a kiss to her forehead, before slinging an arm around her shoulders. "I'm afraid Trixie isn't quite ready to apologise yet, but I forgive her nonetheless." He moved his mouth closer to her ear. "Perhaps we should ask Linda to speak to her after all," he murmured, pitching his voice as though he were attempting to be quiet, but taking care to remain loud enough so that Trixie could hear him.

Mom's expression turned vacant as she stood there, lost in thought. Then she blinked, coming back to life, but the sadness that enveloped her then was so much worse.

"We'll talk about that later," she muttered back, before turning to Trixie. "It's time for bed," she said tersely, leaving no room for argument, despite the fact there was at least an hour to go before she would usually go to sleep. "Don't forget to pack for going to your Dad's tomorrow."

And that was that. They left her there, knife still clutched behind her back, tears threatening to fall the moment they both looked away. Her vision blurred as she picked up her backpack, shoving clothes into it at random, not caring what they were. When she left to go to the bathroom, Mom was now alone, standing in the kitchen with a still full wine glass in her hand, as she stared despondently out the window.

Trixie ignored her, concentrating on her mission of simply brushing her teeth and going to bed. She didn't want to be awake anymore, didn't want to deal with the hurt. When she was done, she withdrew to her room without saying goodnight. She looked forlornly at her dresser, before kneeling on the floor and removing the bottom drawer. Reaching blindly inside, she located her scrapbook, pulling it free.

Tear stinging her eyes, she thumbed through the pages, before crawling into bed, clutching it tightly against her chest. Finally, she allowed herself to cry. She'd failed. Nobody would believe her now. And it wasn't just Mom she'd let down, it was Lucifer, too.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, to nobody at all.

She had never felt more alone.

…

Breakfast was a quiet affair the next morning, Mom busy making sure she had everything for the weekend—she didn't, having completely forgotten most of it last night—and Trixie, well, she just didn't know what to say, really. She could tell Mom was still… not cross with her exactly, but definitely not fine, either.

Despite that though, when the doorbell rang, Mom still knelt down to give her a hug, as she always did before she went away for the weekend. When she let her go, she reached up to gently tuck a piece of hair behind Trixie's ear. "Remember, Monkey, I'm not angry with you. We'll get all this sorted out next week, okay?"

The doorbell rang again, and Mom gave her a gentle push. "Now, go have fun with your Dad." Trixie slung her bag over her shoulder, heading over to where her dad was waiting. "And have a good day at school!" Mom called out after her. She turned, forcing herself to smile and wave. As soon as she was outside, she let the smile disappear again.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Dad said concernedly.

She nodded. "I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

Dad put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. "How about we have a quiet night tonight, hmm? Just you and me. I'll even let you pick the movie this time. Deal? We can always go out for burgers tomorrow instead."

Trixie smiled, and this time, it was genuine. "That sounds good," she agreed, wondering if she could convince him to let her watch Kick Ass again. Not that he knew she'd seen it the first time, but Hit Girl was her favourite, and she could do with something to distract her right now.

He gave her another squeeze. "Come on, let's get you to school."

...

One good thing about not sleeping was, it had given her time to think. She couldn't give up, that much was clear. She refused to let this man—this monster, whatever he was—take over Lucifer's life. She had to find a way to stop him, before he hurt someone. Before he hurt her mom.

And so, she'd come up with a new plan. Mom wouldn't listen, so it was time to make her see, instead. That morning, she didn't hide her case file again, but rather, left it right on the top of her art chest. Once she was on the way to school, she sent Mom a message, explaining that she'd left behind a school project that she needed to work on over the weekend, and asking if she could bring it to work to pass on to Dad.

It should work. It had to work. She only wished she could be there when Mom saw the file for the first time. Would she believe her, with proof sitting right there in her hands? Or would it not be enough?

She honestly didn't know. But she'd done her best, and she couldn't do any more than that.

Concentrating in class that day was all but impossible. She kept wondering what Mom was doing, and whether she'd even looked at the scrapbook at all. Whenever her teacher wasn't looking she would sneakily manage to check her phone, but other than the first message from Mom saying she would get it, there were no further replies.

On top of that, every time she let her mind drift, her eyes started to close. What she said earlier wasn't a lie. She had hardly slept last night, waking up several times thanks to nightmares filled with frozen landscapes and gushing blood, and, of course, Lucifer. Or at least the thing that looked like him, chasing her through an endless maze.

And to think that at one time, she'd found the twins creepiest of all.

In that moment, time seemed to freeze.

Twins.

Twins.

Did… did Lucifer have a twin? A brother that looked just like him?

A sudden vibration against her thigh made her jump. Careful not to look down just yet, her hand still scribbling what was now nothing more than doodles across the page as she pretended to focus on the lesson, she slipped the phone out from her pocket, fully expecting to see her Mom's name when she glanced down. But it wasn't.

It was better.

[11:55] QueenOfHell: On my way back. Call you at lunchtime?

The relief at seeing Maze's name was overwhelming. Trixie thrust her hand up in the air straight away, pleading that she needed the bathroom and asking for a hall pass. The urgency must have shown on her face, because despite there not being long until lunch, Miss Mariam relented. Trixie dashed from the room, and, upon seeing a lack of hall monitors, ran until she reached the restrooms, already dialling Maze's number before she even got through the door.

"Trix? You okay?"

Trixie went to speak, but she found herself holding back a sob instead. Maze was here. Maze was coming home. She wouldn't be alone anymore!

"Look, I've been going through your texts, and if you're still worried Lucifer's possessed, trust me, he's not. Demons can't possess angels. And anyway, if Lucifer's being weird, then it's definitely Lucifer."

"It's not," Trixie finally managed to say, her voice small and low, so as not to attract the attention of any passing teachers.

"What?" Maze shouted as the reception crackled a bit, no such concerns about keeping quiet on her end.

"It's not Lucifer, Maze."

For one heart stopping moment, she thought the line had dropped. And then, finally, she heard Maze say, "How do you know?"

She could have explained. She could have spent the next ten minutes listing everything she had found, by which time Miss Mariam would have sent someone looking for her. But she didn't. Because she trusted her friend.

"I just do. Do you believe me?"

Maze didn't even hesitate. "Of course."

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief, but she had no time to wallow in it, forcing herself to get back to the task at hand. "Maze… does Lucifer have a brother?"

"He has a ton of—Oh..."

Maze trailed off into a string of Lilim so fast, it was indecipherable. Trixie waited impatiently for her to finish, trying to pick out of the words she understood, and filing some away to ask what they were another time.

And then, at long last, she was done. "Trixie, you need to stay away from him. Tell your Mom to do the same. I'm coming home as fast as I can. If he goes anywhere near either of you, you slap your hands together and pray to Amenadiel to come get you, do you hear me?"

Maze was frightening her. "Maze... " she said, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. "Who is he?"

"He's Lucifer's twin, Trix. He's the bliksem that kicked him out of Heaven."

She paused, and the world stopped spinning right along with her.

"His name is Michael."