She could be confronting Michael right now, and it would all be her fault.
With shaking hands, she pulled up Mom's contact information and hit dial.
Pick up… come on, pick up… please pick up… please…
There was no answer. The line clicked on to voicemail, her mom's voice floating through the airwaves. In a situation such as this, with fear flooding through her veins and panic dominating her every thought, she should have probably found the sound comforting. Instead, a small part of her wondered if she would ever hear her voice again.
But she couldn't afford to think like that. Drawing in a deep breath, before she hit redial. Mom would pick up this time, she knew it. Sometimes, she didn't always answer the first call, not if she was in something like an interview, or on a stakeout. But she always, always answered the second call. That was how she knew it was an emergency.
Hi, this is Detective Chloe Decker. I'm unable to answer the phone right now, so please leave your name and number after the beep, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
The memory of the time Lucifer had changed Mom's answerphone to say she was busy 'detectiving' flashed into her mind. She wished he was here. He would save Mom. He always saved Mom. It was one of the reasons she couldn't understand why people like her dad hated him so much.
Dad.
She left the toilet cubicle, her phone held firmly between her ear and shoulder, making a show of washing her hands, in case Miss Mariam sent someone to check on her. Thankfully, the phone only rang three times before Dad picked up, and she closed her eyes in relief as she turned off the tap and went to get some paper towel.
"Monkey? Is everything okay? Shouldn't you be in class right now?"
Play it cool, she told herself. You can't put Dad at risk too.
"Everything's fine, Dad. Is Mom there?"
"What am I, her P.A.?" he replied with a chuckle. The sounds of the precinct filtered through the call, and she strained her ears, hoping to hear Mom's voice in amongst them. "She's not. I saw her earlier, but she took off with Lucifer as soon as he rolled in about an hour ago. They must be working on a case I don't know about."
They weren't. But Mom was. Her case, she was sure of it. Mom had seen the file, and started her own investigation, just like Trixie hoped she would. Just like she now desperately wished she hadn't.
"Is this about your project?" Dad asked, "Because Mom said she forgot to bring it in. Hey, perhaps that's where she went, back to the apartment to grab it. If not, we'll swing by after school…"
Trixie let Dad's voice fade into the background, her mind concentrating on more important things. Mainly, locating Mom. No matter what Maze said, she couldn't leave her alone. There was no way she was letting her face Michael by herself. Maybe Dad was right, and they'd gone back to the apartment. But what if they were at the penthouse, or worse, some other place in the city she didn't even know about? How was she supposed to find them then?
"Trixie? You still there?"
Keep breathing. Focus.
"Yes, Dad, I'm still here. I gotta get back to class. See you later!"
"Trixie, wait, what—"
She hung up. Poking her head into the corridor, she checked for any sign of teachers or hall monitors skulking about. Seeing nothing, she slipped out from the restroom, making her way down the hall as quietly as she could, ducking down under the classroom windows to avoid being spotted.
Her only goal now was to get out of here, and find Mom as quickly as possible. That meant escaping the school grounds, which was difficult enough at the best of times. No amount of lies about feeling ill or family emergencies would result in her just being allowed to walk out the door, not without being collected by someone on her approved pick up list. Yet again, she cursed Lucifer—and Maze—for not being here. They would have busted her out in a shot.
The entrance to the school was out for obvious reasons, as were all of the fire escapes; they were alarmed, and there was no way she would be able to get off the property in time if she set one off.
But there was a door from the cafeteria that led out onto the playground, and that could be just what she needed for her first step to freedom. She just had to get there. Unfortunately, it was so close to lunchtime now that she knew the room would be bustling with staff preparing for the rush. She glanced at her phone again. Five minutes. Five minutes until this place would be swarming with students. Great for cover, but it increased the odds of her being seen as she left the playground exponentially.
She hovered by the cafeteria door, opening it up just enough as she could see the kitchen beyond the serving area. The instant everyone's backs were turned, she took her chance, dashing across the room and skidding to a halt behind a table. If anyone really looked, they'd spot her, but the lunchtime rush was so close to starting that it proved enough of a distraction. She made her way across the hall like this in fits and starts, and in under two minutes, she was outside.
Adopting the same technique of crouching down every time she approached a window, she quickly reached the corner of the playground, where she knew the older kids would jump the wall to go smoke cigarettes around the back of the building. But she also knew that smoking wasn't the only thing that went on here, and that if you wanted to hang out with the popular kids and you were brave enough, you might be invited to drink beer in the trees that lined the edges of the football pitch.
She wasn't interested in that. What she was interested in, however, was the hole in the fence there that the 'cool' kids used to sneak through.
The lunch bell rang noisily into the air, and she took off immediately, all those gymnastics lessons finally paying off as she cleared the wall with ease. It didn't take long until she was at the perimeter, and a couple of out-of-breath glances back at the building gave her the firm impression that she hadn't been seen. It was only now that her fellow students were pouring out into the playground, and so far, there wasn't a teacher in sight.
Tucking her phone under her ear again, she called LUX, before starting to peel back the wire mesh that covered the hole in the fence. She figured it was best to eliminate as many possibilities as she could, so she didn't waste any time searching in the wrong places.
"Hello! You've reached LUX, LA's official den of sin and iniquity. Patrick speaking, how can I help you?"
"...Patrick?"
Trixie was lost for words for a second, struck dumb by the bartender's overly polite and unusual greeting. Unusual for LUX, anyway.
"Oh, hey little demon! Sorry about all that... new boss, you know? The main man hasn't quite taken back control of his kingdom yet."
Ah, it was Amenadiel's work. She should have known.
Speaking of the 'main man' though… "Is Lucifer there?" she asked hurriedly, ducking under the wire and wincing as part of the fence she hadn't quite pulled back far enough snagged against her back.
"'Fraid not, kid. I haven't seen him since he left to go to work this morning. Spends a lot of time 'at work' these days, doesn't he?" he said teasingly, but she didn't have time for any of that. Besides, everyone knew Mom and Lucifer were dating now anyway, didn't they?
Not that she was really dating Lucifer at all, of course…
She shook herself out of it. There was no point wallowing in heartache; that could come later. No doubt Mom would feel the same way, if she could save her. No, when she saved her.
"Thanks, Patrick!" she said, as cheerily as she could, before skidding and sliding down the bank on the other side of the fence, until she reached the road. Swiping away the call, she loaded up Uber, now with only one destination in mind.
She just hoped it was the right one.
…
The journey back home only took around 30 minutes, and yet to her, it felt like forever. After convincing the driver that, yes, she did have permission to use the Uber account of someone calling himself the Devil, and no, that person was not the person waiting for her on the other side, they took off at pace. She spent the majority of the drive with her hands pressed together tightly, eyes closed as she directed her thoughts not Heaven-ward, but as far down into the Earth below as she could imagine.
Lucifer, can you hear me? Lucifer, Mom needs help. Lucifer?
After what must have been her fifth attempt, she stared down uselessly at her hands. Was she not doing it right? Or was she wrong to expect a response in the first place? Maze hadn't exactly been clear. Maybe it was like a one-way thing. Maybe she would get home, and Lucifer would already be there. Even better, maybe Mom would already be safe!
One thing was for certain though, and that was that she wasn't praying to Amenadiel. He would only take her away, and she couldn't let that happen. What if Maze didn't get home in time? What if Lucifer never came at all? Someone needed to be there to protect Mom.
The apartment complex came into view, and, as she planned, she directed the driver to pull up in the road behind the back of the building. As soon as the car door unlocked she jumped out, yelling her thanks and promising to leave him five stars. Once she was done kicking the ass of an angel, that is.
Even if it was one of her friends who did the actual kicking. It still counted, right?
It wasn't long until the side door of the apartment came into view, with no Lucifer in sight. But that probably made sense; if he were here, he would already be inside, wouldn't he?
She reached the window in no time at all, careful to stay hidden beneath it, rising up only enough as she could look through, hoping desperately that Mom was there.
And she was.
But so was Michael.
She could tell him apart from Lucifer on sight now, making her wonder why it hadn't been so obvious before. Today, it didn't even look like he was trying, the turtleneck underneath his jacket obviously not something that would have ever been allowed in Lucifer's wardrobe.
Mom was talking to him in the kitchen, standing next to the breakfast bar. Lying on the counter by her side was a book with a distinctive red cover that filled Trixie's heart with dread. It was her scrapbook, it had to be. She would recognise it anywhere.
If only she could hear what was going on inside. Had Mom confronted him yet? Or was he already filling her head with lies again? Either way, she couldn't just burst in there, could she? Mom's hand twitched towards the case file, and the breath caught in her lungs. She needed help, and she needed it now.
One more time, she thought, praying, quite literally, that this time it would actually work. Just one more time.
She fell to her knees, the irregular surface of the path below biting through her jeans. It wasn't something Maze said she had to do, but that was what they did in church, wasn't it?
Lucifer, Mom's in trouble. Please come back, she needs you!
There was nothing. No answer, no noise of wings whooshing through the air, no sign that he'd heard her at all.
"It was a nice try."
Michael's voice echoed in her head, taunting her in her failure.
"I can see why he likes you."
He did like her, didn't he? Just like he liked, no, loved her Mom. He wouldn't abandon them. Wouldn't leave them to face his brother alone. His brother, who she knew, deep down in her heart, she and her mom had no chance of defeating, not without help.
"I, who defeated the great evil and banished him to the pit for eternity?"
Lucifer wasn't evil though. If anyone was evil, it was Michael. Who would banish their own brother like that? Who would call them evil? Who would call them—
"Samael."
He didn't call him Lucifer, she realised with a gasp. What if… what if Lucifer was just a nickname, like Trixie was for her? Last year, she wasn't allowed to put her nickname on her passport; Mom said it wouldn't work in the machines if they did. What if prayer worked the same way? What if the prayer wasn't wrong, but she was just praying to the wrong person?
A shout from inside snapped her out of her thoughts, and she scrambled back to her feet to peer through the window again. Mom looked upset, brandishing the red scrapbook as she paced back and forth. And Michael… he just stood there, watching, until an amused smile appeared on his face. He said something, too quiet for Trixie to hear, and Mom froze, the case file in her hand falling to the floor.
There was a pause, and almost like she was watching it slow motion, she saw Mom reach for her gun. The sound of her voice exploded through the apartment, out into the back alley where Trixie stood.
"WHO ARE YOU?"
It was now or never. She knelt again, letting only one thought consume her mind.
"Samael, Samael, please we need you, help me, help us, please…"
Her eyes were screwed up so tightly, it was as though she thought she could summon the Devil by sheer force of will alone. She could feel the way her nails were cutting into the skin of her own hands, her fingers shaking from the pressure of her holding them together.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, a fierce gust of wind swept across her face, accompanied by a swooshing noise in the air. For a second, she didn't move, too scared to look, in case it was her imagination. But then, she heard a voice. And this time, it was his voice.
It was real.
It was Lucifer.
"Who the bloody hell—" he started, and she opened her eyes.
Only to be met with a monster straight out of her nightmares. A red, twisted creature stood facing away from her, two giant bat wings emerging from its back that were as wide as it was tall, the skin there scarred and jagged, just like the rest of its ravaged body. She scrambled backwards away from it, but the sound of her trainer scuffing on the gravel below gave her away, and it whirled towards her.
She looked it in the eyes.
And she saw.
"Lucifer!" she cried, pushing herself off the ground and throwing her arms around him. Well, around him as best she could; she was taller now, and his upper body wasn't quite so skinny as his legs. His skin was rough against her face, and it was weird, but not as weird as the sight of the Devil—who currently looked like something straight out of the movies—wearing tailored pants.
As always, he became rigid in her embrace, and it made her want to cry with relief. As did the feel of his clawed hand, which nervously reached out to carefully pat her on the head. "Spawn?" he said softly, if you could really describe the gravely tones of his voice in this form as 'soft'. "Is everything alright? Where is your mother?"
Terror took hold again.
"She's in there," she said, pointing inside, "and she needs help!" Lucifer took towards the door immediately, but she grabbed his hand, ignoring the way his fire filled eyes widened at her touch. After that, she started to explain at speed, but as soon as she mentioned Michael, his expression changed, that fire becoming an inferno as rage engulfed him.
He crouched down, and this being of nightmares took her by the shoulders and looked her deep in the eyes, filling her vision with the reality of what was waiting for those cast down to Hell, just like he was. But she wasn't scared. How could she be, when all she could see was her friend?
"I'll handle this," he said, his voice somehow impossibly lower, practically a growl at this point. "You need to leave, urchin, it's too dangerous for you here. The Detective would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."
She shook her head ferociously. "No! I can help!"
"You can't," Lucifer replied, his head hanging low, fists clenching by his sides. "Please... Beatrice, I need to assist your mother, and I can't do that with you here. Please, promise me you'll get to safety."
He said her name. Her name. In a daze, she nodded, before giving him a little push. "Go save her," she demanded, despite his obvious intentions to do that anyway. He rose to his feet, towering above her. Michael has no chance, she thought to herself, smiling smugly as he turned towards the door. Before he reached it though, he looked back pointedly, and she realised he was waiting for her to leave. So she did, her feet pounding against the asphalt as she tore back towards the road.
"MICHAEL!"
She could feel Lucifer's roar as he smashed open the door in her bones. It made her shudder, almost distracting her from her path when it was time to turn, veering from her projected course and back into the complex. Not away from the apartment, but towards it. She wasn't breaking her promise, she was getting to safety, just like he said. After all, where could be safer than somewhere you were protected by the Devil?
Racing past the doors to the other apartments, she circled around until she reached the back gate. Getting it open was easy, her small hand easily able to fit between the metal bars and open the lock on the other side. As luck would have it, when she reached the patio doors into the apartment, one was already open, the door softly swaying in the light breeze. She stuffed the hair clip she'd been about to pick the lock with back in her pocket—a skill she would swear under pain of death that Auntie Ella never taught her—and edged the door open a little more, until she could look inside.
From here, she could only see part of Lucifer as he stood by the wall of her drawings, shielded as he was by the huge black wings that now extended from Michael's back, crowding the space in between the breakfast bar and the stairs. At first, she couldn't spot Mom at all, until she caught a flash of brown-blonde hair over Michael's shoulder. That explained why Lucifer wasn't attacking.
Michael had her.
Silently, she crept inside, pulling the door closed behind her, but taking care not to shut it completely. Hidden behind the island as she was now, she couldn't see anything, but she could hear the conversation. She tried to ignore it, to concentrate on what she planned to do. But it was impossible, knowing what was happening to her mom, knowing this wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for her. What if she couldn't save Mom? What if she lost her, just like Dad lost Charlotte?
"Unhand her, Michael," Lucifer snarled, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Her breathing sped up, and for a moment, she panicked even more, thinking someone might hear her. Fear rose, unyielding and blinding. Not fear of Lucifer, but fear of the situation, fear for Mom, fear for herself. She bit her lip, forcing herself to contain the whimper that wanted to escape her throat.
Almost without thought, her hands came together again. She didn't pray, not this time, but she repeated the same motion as before, her fingers knitting together, the tips turning white as they pressed into her hands. The pain grounded her, making the world come into focus again. And more importantly, it allowed her to spot the polka dot covered box she'd come here for on the shelving unit opposite.
Bingo.
"Oh, I don't think so, Sammy. This one is quite precious to you, is it not? Your human… or is it your Queen now? I know I've certainly been treating her like a queen these past few weeks."
The walls shook slightly at the growl that left Lucifer's throat, the rumbling drone reminding her of an earthquake. It was a growl that only grew louder when her mom tried to say Lucifer's name, only to be cut off by whatever Michael was doing to her, her voice trailing off with a gasp.
"You'd think it would be more grateful," he spat. "It did get to bed the better brother, after all."
Mom tried to speak again, but her voice was muffled, indecipherable. And then, Trixie couldn't hear her at all.
Not over the sound of uncontrollable laughter.
"Decker? Seriously? Even Satan here couldn't get in her pants, and you're expecting us to believe that you, patron saint of blushing school boys and fumbling virgins, got the deed done in 3 weeks?!"
Maze cracked up again, and just from hearing that, Trixie felt her breathing and heart rate finally even out, a grin spreading over her face. Maze was back!
And she wasn't done, either. "You wouldn't know the right end of a human from the wrong one if it slapped you in the face. Which I recommend, by the way."
The sound of wings could be heard once more, and then the deep voice of Amenadiel joined the others. "What are you doing, brother?"
"What does it bloody look like he's doing, Amenadiel? He's…"
Trixie tuned out the sound of Lucifer's voice, of all their voices, the return of her friends filling her with a new found confidence. Michael still had Mom; the danger wasn't over yet. But she knew exactly how she could help.
Everyone was so busy yelling at each other that nobody noticed when she darted across the room, grabbing the box from the shelving unit she'd spied earlier, and falling to her hands and knees behind the dining room table. She was more exposed here, but it didn't matter. Nobody was focused on anything going on outside of the five people standing in the middle of the room.
Opening up the box, she emptied its contents one by one onto the floor at speed. Certificates, ribbons… this was the place they stored mementoes of all her achievements. And right there, at the bottom, was her biggest achievement of all.
One of Maze's demon blades.
"For emergencies," she said, the day she handed it to Trixie, a little over six months ago now. "You've earned it. Lucifer isn't here to protect your mom anymore, so we have to, okay?"
That was the day she made a vow she wasn't about to break. The weight of the karambit felt familiar in her fingers; she had her own version that she practised with, but that was made here on Earth, a present from Lucifer for her birthday, designed to fit her smaller hands. This though, this was different. Hell forged steel, deadly to humans and angels alike.
"Do you honestly believe your tiny human weapon can hurt me, little girl?"
Michael was right. Her 'tiny human weapon' couldn't have hurt him.
But this would.
Weapon held tightly in one fist, she allowed herself a moment to take in the scene. Lifting her eyes just above the table, she catalogued the room. Maze was leaning against the sofa, her knives in hand, what remained of the side door scattered to the floor beside her feet. Amenadiel stood guard at the front, his wings tucked tightly behind him in the narrow entrance way, uncomfortably wedged between the kitchen cabinets and the wall, leaving only the back open for Michael's escape. Not that he appeared to be going anywhere fast.
Her view of Lucifer was mainly still blocked by wings that were black as night, the complete opposite to Lucifer's old wings, but from what little she could see of his face, he was completely focused on her mom, his eyes never leaving her for a second. She wondered if Michael could see the same fear there that she could, hidden behind the fire and anger, fear that he had come back to Mom only to lose her again.
Trixie wasn't going to let that happen. It was Michael she focused her attention on while the celestials continued to argue; the conversation veering wildly between Lucifer demanding that Michael let Mom go, to Maze threatening him with what would happen if he didn't. The only person reasoning with her mom's captor was Amenadiel, and even Trixie knew that wasn't going to work.
She examined the angel in front of her carefully. There was a decision to make here, one of the outcomes of which, she wasn't sure she was ready for. Always go for the kill. It was one of the first lessons Maze taught her. But slicing up mannequins was a whole different ball game to actually killing someone. Besides, just because she knew the location of every vital organ in the human body, it didn't mean that angels were the same. The second part of that lesson though? That, she could do.
And if you can't kill them, go for the weak spots.
Michael's weak spot was obvious. It was there in the way he leaned slightly while standing, something Maze had noticed just from a photograph, but with his wings out, it was even clearer. His right wing… there was something wrong with it. The top looked all funny, almost as if it had been broken once but never fixed right. There was a spot, just underneath the bone, where she could see tendons twitched futilely, straining to hold up a wing far heavier than the withered muscles there could manage. It left him hunched over to one side, the arch of his wing twisted beyond repair.
She wondered if he could fly properly, with his wing damaged like that.
She decided she didn't care.
That was a weak spot she could work with.
The sound of Lucifer's voice rose, a clear sign that he was growing impatient. Ducking down back underneath the table, she saw him take a step forward, and from here, she could see Mom's feet too, struggling fruitlessly against the man holding her in his arms.
"Ah, ah, ah, Sammy, I wouldn't come any closer if I were you. If I've learned one thing about humans during my visit, it's that their necks are oh-so fragile. You wouldn't want there to be an accident now, would you?"
Trixie steeled herself. If she was going to do something, it had to be now. Michael was getting closer to the edge; she couldn't risk waiting any longer. She closed her eyes, taking several long, deep breaths, centering herself as Maze had taught her, until the only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat in his ears. Despite its size, the blade felt right in her hand, her fingers curling around the handle, adjusting for balance. One last look over the table was all it took to fix the angel's position in her mind.
She could do this. She had trained for this. She was born for this.
She stood.
In one fluid movement the knife left her hand, spinning through the air as it flew towards its target. She could have turned away then, already knowing she had succeeded, no doubt in her mind whatsoever that the blade would find its mark. The way Lucifer's mouth dropped open at the sight of her barely registered; nor did Maze's shout of her name. It was inconsequential; all that mattered was the path of her knife, the sight of her weapon sinking into the flesh of the man trying to hurt her family.
And when it struck, it struck deep.
And he screamed.
It all happened so fast, after that. She heard, rather than saw Mom fall to the ground, Lucifer's face falling from view as he dived to catch her. Michael whirled around, looking nothing at all like Lucifer now, as he stared at her with savage eyes, full of unbridled fury.
"YOU!" he bellowed, one wing arching high above him, while the other spasmed uselessly against the floor, unable to match its twin.
"You dare attack me from behind?" he spat, covering the space between them in three long strides, throwing the dining table across the room like it was nothing. "What kind of creature are you? Have you no honour?!"
She tried to be brave, tried to stare him down as she had done before, but she couldn't help the way her eyes widened with fear, instinctively backing away from him until she had nowhere to go. There were no more weapons, no possible chance of escape, and in that moment, it felt like the only thing that existed was the terrifying monster in front of her.
But in her terror, she had forgotten.
She wasn't alone. She would never be alone.
There was a flash of movement from her right, so fast it was nothing but a blur. In an instant, Maze was there, one hand taking hold of the blade handle as she leapt onto his back, driving it even further into his wing, the other holding another knife against the curve of his neck.
"Demons don't need honour," she snarled into his ear. She looked at Trixie proudly. "And this kid's a demon."
She twisted the knife again, her eyes still fixed on Trixie, and that was where she went wrong. Michael roared, and the look on his face was no longer calculating, no longer painted with dark intelligence.
No, it was feral.
Uncaring about the blade pressed against his skin, he reached behind him with one hand, taking hold of one of the many leather straps that covered Maze's body and throwing her over his shoulder. Her body smashed through the window behind where Trixie stood, and she dived to the floor, hands covering her head as she shielded herself from the glass that rained down.
"Maze!" she cried out, but there was nothing she could do.
Unseating Maze had ripped out the knife from his wing in the process, a wing Michael now clutched with one hand as he advanced again. Blood dripped from his neck where the demon blade had cut him, but not enough. Not enough.
"MICHAEL!" Lucifer's voice thundered through the apartment, but his twin didn't falter, didn't turn to face him. Trixie wasn't even sure he had heard him, enraged as he was. But even as she whimpered, even as her body shook uncontrollably and she pressed herself into the corner of the wall as far as she could go, shards of glass cutting into her hands, she knew. She knew the Devil would save her.
Except, that wasn't what happened.
Instead, it was even better.
"Get the HELL away from my daughter!"
It was more of a scream than a shout, but the sound of her mom's voice filled her with the kind of hope that nothing else ever could. Six shots rang out, Michael's body jerking with each one, a look of complete and utter confusion crossing his face as he fell forward, crashing into what remained of the dining set.
Trixie stared at him, trying to remember how to breathe. Dimly, she heard Lucifer say, "Well done, Detective!", and then Mom was calling her name. She barely registered her rushing towards her, gathering her up in her arms.
"Trixie? Oh my god, Trixie, are you okay?" As quickly as the hug had come, it was gone, mom letting her go as she frantically checked her over for injuries. She sobbed when she saw Trixie's hands, pulling her to her once more. "Monkey, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Brother, quickly."
Trixie's head perked up at Lucifer's words, and she watched over her mom's shoulder as Amenadiel hooked arms under Michael's, dragging him across the floor to the kitchen. He hauled him up to his feet, nodding to Lucifer. "Ready?"
Lucifer gave him a single nod in return.
And then, to Trixie's horror, Michael woke up.
He came back to life gasping and desperate, but the moment he gained awareness, he began to struggle, his wings thrashing against Amenadiel's grip. Lucifer grinned, a frightful sight given his current appearance, before punching his twin, punching what was essentially his own face, with such force that Trixie could have sworn she heard his jaw break.
It was the wrong thing to do. The blow struck so fiercely that Amenadiel stumbled back from it as well, and it was just enough to allow Michael to tear himself free. Lucifer instantly attacked, driving Michael backwards, a devastating kick blasting him through the patio doors, smashing into the wall beyond. Amenadiel righted himself, and the pair advanced on their brother, together, as a team.
"Sweetheart?" Mom tucked a finger under her chin, bringing her face up to meet her eyes. "Are you alright?" The fight continued in the background, and every bone in her body wanted to go and help. But she was done, she could feel it. Her body ached, but her Mom was safe, and that was all that mattered.
So instead, she nodded. "Are you?" she asked, before inhaling sharply. "And what about Maze?"
A moan came from behind them, along with a rather sarcastic grumble about how it was, "Nice to be remembered." A hand grabbed onto the window frame, paying no mind to the jagged glass edge that still remained there. Moments later, Maze half climbed, half rolled through the window, landing roughly on the floor beside them.
"Yep, that'll do your injuries some good," she heard Mom mutter under her breath.
With the exception of one hand that remained intertwined with Mom's, Trixie pulled away, moving closer to Maze and gingerly touching what looked to be a dislocated shoulder. "Hey, kid," Maze said, lifting one eye open to look at her. "You did good out there."
"I did, didn't I?" Trixie replied, an excited smile slowly growing on her face as she looked at her friend. Then, she frowned, thinking back over their conversation just over an hour ago. "Hey, how'd you get here so fast?"
"Your Mom sent Amenadiel to come get me," Maze replied, both eyes open now as she eyed her ruined outfit with disgust.
Trixie felt Mom poke her in the side. "What, you think I'm stupid enough to go without backup?" she teased, and Trixie giggled, shaking her head. It was a moment of peace in the madness, and, for a few precious moments, it felt like the danger had passed.
And then the moment was broken. A loud shout from outside made her jump, and she looked fearfully towards the remaining windows, expecting someone, or something, to break through at any second.
"I have to get you both out of here," Mom said, looking first at Trixie, and then to Maze, as if trying to weigh up if she could walk.
The demon pulled herself up a little against the wall, bringing her blades to rest on her lap, one still clutched in each hand. "You go," she said, "I'll stay. These idiots might need help."
Mom shook her head. "You're in no state to—"
But it was too late. Amenadiel came crashing back into the kitchen, his body ramming into the kitchen island, which half collapsed to the floor underneath him, sending pots and pans flying everywhere. He groaned, dragging himself to his feet again, his grey wings flapping a little to counterbalance. Seconds later, Michael staggered in backwards after him, dodging blow after blow from Lucifer, or at least trying to, and failing miserably. Both were tired, Trixie could tell, but Michael was the weaker of the two, injured as he was.
Which is why, when Amenadiel grabbed his wings, this time Michael couldn't break free. Lucifer stalked towards him, the grin he sported wicked and victorious. He grabbed his brother by the chin, forcing him to stare into the inferno that was his eyes.
"You tried to take my life," he said through gritted teeth, his clawed fingers digging into Michael's skin. "You touched the Detective. My Detective." He drew back, watching as his twin struggled against Amenadiel's embrace once more.
"And for that, brother," he snapped, "you can go to hell."
He lunged forward, headbutting Michael viciously in the face. The resounding crack echoed into the room, making Mom flinch and gasp. As his brother's head lolled forward, Lucifer turned towards the sound. He caught Mom's eye, and there was such shame there on his face. Shame... and sorrow.
"Chloe."
Her mom's name fell from his lips with such longing, even at the same time as he spread his wings wide. Mom let go of her hand, stumbling to her feet.
"No, Lucifer, wait—" she stuttered, but Lucifer's wings were already beating down, enveloping Michael completely.
And then... they were gone.