Predictably, Hanna lives in a middle-class neighborhood, in an apartment located right above a boarded-up convenience store. Joy can just glimpse Hanna's bedroom curtains from where they are parked down the street, their car hidden among the many that are parked alongside the curb, making them near-invisible.

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Fretting won't make the murderer show up any faster." Sam's voice murmurs from the back seat. He lost the argument with his father for the passenger side, so instead he's sprawled in the back, body angled so that his head is resting right behind his father's.

"What if we're wrong?" She looks at him in the rearview. He's not even looking out the window, she thinks irritably, but instead is using the opportunity to snoop through her car. "What if the killer doesn't show up?"

"Hanna's safe at the hotel, remember? If they don't show up, then all we lose is time." Sam replies as he rifles through the seat pockets.

"Would you stop going through my stuff?"

"There isn't any stuff to go through. It's obscenely clean back here." He retorts.

She reaches around to swat his hand away. "I like to keep my care free of junk."

"It's weird. Nobody's car is this tidy." He sniffs. "Dad, check the glove box."

Lucifer, who has been uncharacteristically quiet these past few minutes, clicks the compartment open.

"There's nothing in-" Joy starts, but is interrupted by Lucifer's squawk of outrage. She glances over and sees him holding a Divine Justice paperback, a book series he loathes.

"That wasn't in there earlier." She says defensively when Lucifer stares at her in utter betrayal.

Sam clicks his tongue, and his father spins to glare at him. "Guess you would have been better off sitting in the back." He says wickedly.

She won't laugh, Joy thinks, even as she fights to keep a straight face. The only reason they are here is to catch a murderer, so she will. Not. Laugh.

With another glare for his son, Lucifer opens the window and chucks the book out of the car.

"When you're ready to take this seriously," Joy keeps her voice stern, "then be on the lookout for anyone approaching the side door. They can't get in through the old convenience store-Gabby said it's all closed up-so they'll probably head there." She nods to the right-hand side of the building, where a steel door leads to apartments on the upper floors.

"Are we sure that's the only way in?" Sam frowns at the building. "Seems like that would be against some sort of fire code."

"What, do you think there's a secret entrance somewhere in the frozen foods section?" Lucifer scoffs.

"There could be a fire escape." Joy murmurs. She's annoyed with herself for not thinking of it in the first place. "You think our guy knows about it?"

"It's a possibility." Sam cranes his neck. "I don't have a good view of the back of the building from here. One of us should-" There's a loud buzzing sound. Sam hisses out an oath and pulls out his phone, grimacing. "I'll go out and poke around. I have to take this anyway. I'll let you know if I find anything."

He scrambles out of the car before Joy can argue, the phone already up to his ear. Joy watches her partner trot down the sidewalk, her heart sinking in dismay.

Now what is she supposed to do?

Sam tries not to think of the murderer who may or may not be right behind him as he walks down the dimly-lit street.

"Hello, Auntie." Not wanting to alarm his Aunt Linda, he keeps his voice light, pleasant. "Sorry I haven't called you back, I've been a little busy."

"I know, Charlie told me you were on a case." His Aunt Linda says. In the background, he hears the familiar sounds of his aunt tidying up her office before she leaves for the day. "I won't keep you, but-"

"But you just wanted to know if Dad returning to Heaven is for real." Sam answers for her. "That he wasn't just deflecting as a way to avoid talking about Mom." Even after a year, his father still had trouble when it came to talking about Sam's mother. Sam had hoped being back in therapy would help with that, but things were rarely that simple when it came to his father.

"It's perfectly normal. Everybody grieves differently, Sam." His aunt reminds him gently. "Just the fact that your father chose to return to therapy is an enormous first step." She sighs. "But yes, I wanted to check if it's true."

His Aunt Linda was one of the first people his father revealed his true self to. Up until that point she had thought it was all a metaphor, that all the demon-angel-devil stuff was just in his father's head. It makes sense that she would want to double check her information this time around.

Sam briefly scans the inside of the convenience store through the cracked front window. Nothing except a bunch of empty, battered shelves and about a year's worth of dirt, he notes. "Well, let me alleviate your fears by telling you it's all true. After eons of banishment, Dad is finally being allowed back into Heaven. Just part of a little deal I made with Grandfather."

His smile fades when he veers around the far corner of the building and is greeted by a dark, forbidding alley.

Figures.

"You made a deal...with God?" His aunt squeaks in his ear.

"Mm-hm." He slowly creeps down the alley, his free hand drifting towards the inner lining of his jacket, where he keeps a knife. No need to be careless. "Dad spends the next fifty years or so being a productive member of society, and at the end of it, he'll be allowed back into Heaven. Though whether he chooses to go is still up in the air, if you'll forgive the turn of phrase."

He keeps close to the wall of the building, poking his head around the corner. At least the back of the building isn't so dark, even if the only source of light is an ancient, flickering security lamp.

His eyes fall on the iron bars of the fire escape that zigzags up the wall of the building.

"Called it." He whispers with a grin.

"Called what?"

"Nothing." He says quickly. He retreats into the shadows of the alley. Once he's reassured his aunt, he'll let Joy and his father know about the fire escape, he promises himself. "So, how much did Dad tell you? No, never mind," he cuts himself off with a wave of his hand. "Forget I asked. I know you'd never violate the sanctity of your therapy session. Besides, the less I know about what goes on in Dad's head, the better."

He hears Linda chuckle. "Sometimes you sound just like your mom."

Sam's throat closes up at the mention of his mother, but he shoves the pain aside. He can't allow himself to be distracted. "Well, anyway, that's the gist of it. Dad consults with us at the L.A.P.D, helps us catch and punish murderers like old times, and gets back into Heaven for his trouble." He leans against the wall of the alley.

"Lucifer in Heaven. I can't even picture it." His aunt murmurs. "Will he still be the Devil, I wonder?"

"I believe that would be a question for his therapist. And he'll definitely need one once he's up there, so I suggest that you behave yourself, young lady."

He can hear laughter in his aunt's voice. "I'll do my best. But wait," she asks suddenly, "will this mean Hell is just going to exist without a ruler? Or does your grandfather have someone else in mind?"

This is his opening. He should tell her, now that she's asked the question on her own. Explain that Grandfather did have someone else in mind to rule Hell, regardless of whether or not his father chose to return to Heaven.

But try as he might, Sam cannot force the words out.

"Sam?" His aunt asks, concerned.

But before he can answer, there's a shuffling noise, followed by the sounds of someone trying to pull down the ladder of the fire escape.

"Sorry, Auntie. I'm going to have to call you back."

Joy squirms uncomfortably in her seat. There has been an unnatural quiet in the car since Sam left, though she can feel Lucifer's eyes constantly sliding in her direction. She finds herself hoping someone-anyone- suspicious wanders by just so she doesn't have to be tormented by this oppressive silence any longer.

It's not as if she hasn't been alone with Lucifer before. She was alone with him in the penthouse only a few weeks ago, when he invited her over to use his piano. Since her parents died, Joy has only ever played alone, so she had been a little surprised at how much fun it was, to play in tandem with someone else.

Perhaps that was her mistake.

"You haven't been by to visit recently."

She's been so wrapped up in her thoughts, Lucifer's voice makes her jump. "Um, no, sorry. I've been busy."

She turns to see him peering at her with narrowed eyes. "You seem to be quite busy for someone with no discernable social life."

She bristles. "I do so have a social life. Just because I'm not spending all my time with you doesn't mean I don't have one, Lucifer."

"Really?" He says, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Well, by all means, regale me with some of your exploits. Don't spare any of the more sordid details. In fact, only mention the sordid details."

"I-"

But Lucifer's on a roll. "What is it, a weekly poker game? Weekly strip poker game?" His eyes light up. "Oh, I know. You moonlight as an exotic dancer."

She doesn't have time to think of a decent lie. "I...do...laundry."

He leers at her. "Is that a euphemism for a sort of sex party?"

"What? No!"

"So you were lying?"

"Yes, all right?" She finally snaps. "I was lying. I haven't actually been busy." She collapses back in her seat.

There's a terrible silence on the other side of the car.

"Miss Roberts," Lucifer says at length, his tone conciliatory, "If I did or said anything to upset you the last time you came over-"

"What?" She had expected anger-Lucifer has made it quite clear on how he feels about people who lie to him-but this is so much worse. "Oh, Lucifer, no." She lays a hand on his arm. "It wasn't anything you did."

Truthfully, after seeing the way Lucifer behaved with the beauty contestants, she finds herself appreciating just how courteous he had been. Sure, he had been mildly flirtatious, but no more so than usual. Even all the Devil remarks had been minimal.

"What is it, then? I mean, I can understand why you might not want anyone to know you're doing something as frightfully boring as laundry," Lucifer huffs. "But what I don't understand is why pretend to be busy when you clearly aren't?"

"I was being polite!" She retorts, warmth creeping up her neck. "I didn't want you to feel obligated to-"

"I'm going to stop you right there." He says sharply. "Not only are you insulting yourself, but you are also insulting me, and that's even worse. I have never in my life done anything out of obligation-that goes against everything I stand for." His tone softens. "I didn't give you an open invitation to the penthouse because I felt obligated, Miss Roberts, I did it because I like you. The last time you came over was the first time in...well, too long that I actually enjoyed myself."

Even as she gapes at him, Sam's words echo in the back of Joy's mind;

My father does not make friends easily.

Before she can respond, Lucifer's eyes flash with temper. "And if you are going to sit here and lie to me, at least have the decency to be better at it."

She studies him. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was...hurt, that she hasn't been back to visit him.

She takes a deep breath. "Ok. You're right. I've just been making up excuses because it's easier than telling the truth." She sighs. "I know that you value honesty, Lucifer, but the truth can be difficult. The fact is, sometimes it's just simpler to tell a lie. A small one." She smiles a little. "I mean, it's not like I'm hiding the fact that I'm a serial killer or something. I'm not." She emphasizes when his stare turns faintly accusatory.

"What exactly is the truth, Miss Roberts?" he demands.

Unknowingly, Joy taps out the first few bars of Swan Lake on the steering wheel-a nervous habit. "I used to be an undercover cop, remember? The job's not exactly conducive to normal relationships. I could be undercover for weeks, or months at a time." She shrugs. "Even when I did manage to make a connection with somebody, by the time I got back from an assignment, that person had usually moved on." She sighs. "And then, so would I. After a while, I just stopped trying." She avoids his gaze, choosing to stare out the windshield at the deserted street. "I've been on my own for a long time, Lucifer. I'm not used to having people invite me over. I'm not used to having friends. Changing now, after living that way for so long…"

"It scares you." She can see him studying her out of the corner of her eye.

"Terrifies me, actually." She admits, turning towards him. "Because in spite of how incredibly weird you are, I do like you, Lucifer. I like spending time with you-and not just because you're the only person I know with not one, but two pianos." She adds dryly.

"Three." Lucifer informs her a tad smugly. "Unless Sam has gotten rid of the one at the house."

"Of course, you'd have a third piano." Joy mutters under her breath. But she gives him a tiny half-smile. "I'm sorry that I lied to you. This is all new territory for me. I thought it would be better for everyone if I kept my distance," She snorts quietly, "since it's just a matter of time before I screw it all up."

To her relief, he returns her smile. "You are not going to screw it up. I assure you, Miss Roberts, that it would take quite a lot to make anyone want to pass up the opportunity to spend time with you." Even as she blushes, pleased, he adds, "But I don't want to force you to do anything you don't wish to do. Just know that my invitation was one of complete sincerity-if you don't want to take me up on it, then you don't have to. I even promise not to air your dirty laundry to anyone else." His eyes twinkle at the joke.

She smiles at him. "I appreciate that. Thank you." She tilts her head. "You said there's a piano at your house-does Sam play?" She couldn't imagine her partner not learning how, not when he had Lucifer as a father.

He re-settles himself in his seat. "He does. Not nearly as good as the two of us, of course." She bites back a chuckle at his airy tone. "But he can play, when he wants to." A frown appears between Lucifer's brows. "Now that I think about it, he hasn't done so in a while. Not since…" Pain flashes over Lucifer's face. "His mother."

Joy is pretty sure that his mother's death wasn't the only reason Sam hadn't felt like playing.

"I didn't play for a long time after my parents died." She tells Lucifer quietly.

Lucifer's eyes jump to her hands, which for once remain still in her lap. "Don't you play whenever you're upset?"

She shakes her head. "Yeah, but that didn't start until much later. No, at first, I refused to think or talk about my parents at all. I wouldn't even talk about them in therapy. It's kind of mandatory," she answers Lucifer's startled expression, "to be sent to a therapist after your parents have died. Everyone said it would be good for me, but the truth was that it was just too painful to talk about them-about what...what happened to them." Lucifer's one of the few people who knew that her parents had not just died, but had been murdered, so she doesn't bother to say it.

Lucifer is staring at her. "Did it ever stop? The pain, I mean." He asks hoarsely.

She can tell that the answer is important to him, that this conversation is no longer about Sam.

She chooses her words carefully. "I wouldn't say the pain just stopped but it...eased a bit." She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "It didn't happen all at once. It took a while-a long while. But when I finally did open up...it still hurt, but it also helped, you know?"

Lucifer doesn't look entirely convinced.

"Listen, Lucifer, if you ever want to—" she starts, but he's not paying attention to her anymore. He's frowning at the corner his son had ducked behind.

"Something's wrong." He mutters. "He should have been back by now."

Joy's prudently reminded that they are in the middle of a stakeout, and that they should have been keeping watch for a killer.

"He said he'd text us if he found something." She points out, but it doesn't help her own feelings of unease. It has been a while since Sam left the car.

"It's been too long." Lucifer insists. "I don't know what, but something has happened."

Joy stares him for a long moment, knowing instinctively this is a moment of truth for both her and Lucifer. That it is ultimately her decision whether or not to trust him.

"You're right." She finally says, unsnapping her seatbelt. "Let's go."

Sam slowly approaches the figure at the bottom of the fire escape, one hand sliding towards the gun at his hip. They are dressed head to toe in black, with a black bandana covering the bottom half of their face. It's hard to tell the gender underneath the bulky clothes, but Sam thinks it might be a woman.

"Going up?" He asks the intruder pleasantly.

By the time she whirls around, he has his gun aimed right at her.

"Steady. I don't want to hurt you." He warns. "I just want to talk." He motions to the bandana. "Might be easier without that stupid thing covering up your face."

Sam is only mildly surprised when the bandana is pulled down to reveal the scowl of Erica Greenwood, the pageant coordinator.

"Ms. Greenwood." He nods cordially, as if they simply bumped into each other at the mall. "I suppose this explains why you wanted Hanna to stay home instead of going to the police."

"I wasn't going to hurt her." Erica is quick to admit. "I just wanted to scare her enough so she wouldn't show up at the pageant tomorrow night."

"Why is it so important that she not show up for the pageant?" he asks, though he has a good idea why not.

"Because she insists on finding out who is bribing the judges." Erica snaps. "Even though I told her to drop it, that it was only a few rumors…"

"Ah, but it wasn't just rumors, was it?" Sam says. "You were the one bribing the judges."

He had suspected it back when they had interviewed Hanna and Jaqueline. There was only one other person involved in all the pageants for the past five years, only one who might have something to gain from all of this.

"Yes, I was bribing them." Erica twists the bandana in her hands. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I just-when I first started as pageant coordinator, I made a deal with one of the contestants. I would sway the judges' decision her way, and in return, she would give me ten percent of the prize. It didn't seem like that much money, and she was getting more out of the deal than I was."

Sam tilts his head. "And what was she getting?"

Erica's beautiful face turns ugly. "A crown. Her name in the papers, in the news. Thousands of dollars' worth of jewelry, clothes…"

"Goodies you didn't get to have because you lost your crown to another, back in the day." He had Gabby look it up before he left. "Isn't that right?"

Her hands clench. "I was cheated," She hisses at him. "I should have won. Instead, it went to-"

"Caitlyn Summers." Sam answers for her. "That's why you jabbed her with one of her tiaras instead of just, you know, beating her with one of your shoes."

"She acted like she was so much better than me, because she won the crown and I was just a runner-up." She sneers. "But that sure didn't stop her from taking money from me at last year's pageant."

"The one Ben Gray was looking into."

"I made a mistake on that one." Erica admits in a rush. "I took too much money, made it too obvious. Ben found out when he went looking through our financials. I tried to talk to him, to pay him off…"

"But being religious, Ben wasn't too interested in bribes." Sam wonders absently how Ben felt when he got to the Silver City and discovered it wasn't full of harp-playing angels as he originally believed. "And when Caitlyn found out about the death of her fellow judge, she threatened to expose you."

"She went on and on about how I had turned the pageant into a sham, how I was a murderer and a con artist." Erica wails. "She wouldn't stop."

Sam can't quite hide his disgust for the woman in front of him. Two people were dead, and over what? Money and a stupid rhinestone crown. It was all so pointless.

Sam shakes his head. "Oh, Erica, I'm sorry to say that Caitlyn had it right. I mean, look at where you are." He gestures to the dim alley they were standing in. "Look at who you've become. You can't tell me that this is what you wanted?"

Erica makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat. "No. No, it's not." Her hand drifts towards her pocket.

"Erica," Sam warns, steeling himself. "Don't even think about it."

He curses inwardly as Erica continues to reach into her pocket and pulls out a small revolver. A frantic expression flashes across her face. Sam can almost read her mind; shoot the cop and use the distraction to get away.

Shit.

Sam doesn't like to shoot women as a general rule, though he's not above arresting them. But Erica may not give him much of a choice. He trains his gun on her shoulder, hoping to hit her before she can do anything she'll regret.

Before she can do so much as twitch, there's a loud rattling sound. The ladder of the fire escape plummets downward, knocking Erica to the side, distracting her long enough for Joy to jump down and rip the gun out of the woman's hand.

"You're under arrest." Joy commands as she yanks the woman's hands behind her. "For the murder of Benjamin Gray and Caitlyn Summers."

Sam grins and tucks his gun back in his holster. "Nicely done, partner."

"What happened to letting us know about the second entrance?" Joy shoots back, her exasperation apparent even in the dim light of the alley.

"Not necessary, it seems."

"This thing is not up to code." Sam hears his father, and looks up just in time to see him leap to the ground with his typical immortal grace.

Sam's smile turns wicked. "Getting in some practice descending from the Heavens, Dad?"

His father shoots him a dirty look, brushing off his jacket.

"How did you get up there, anyway?" Sam asks his partner curiously.

"It seems you aren't the only one who knows how to pick locks." His father replies, glancing at Joy with some admiration.

His partner grins at him. "I might have read a few Nancy Drew novels growing up. I got us into Hanna's apartment and we snuck out through the kitchen window." She jerks her head at their murderer. "I took the liberty of calling for back-up. A squad car should be here any minute."

"You take her up front, then. We'll catch up." He turns to his father, who has come up beside him. "Well, I guess I ought to thank Grandfather that nobody got shot this time."

"More like thank me." His father chides. "I was the one who realized you were taking too long."

Sam is fairly certain that, given half a chance, Joy probably would have figured it out on her own. For someone who worked alone most of her career, his partner has become quite adept at working as part of a team.

Nevertheless, he dutifully replies, "Thanks, Dad. It's good to know that I can trust both you and Joy to have my back." He angles his head at his father. "What do you say to celebratory drinks at Lux?"

"I say it wouldn't be much of an arrest, otherwise." His father agrees. They make their way to the front of the building.

Spotting his partner shoving their killer into the back of a squad car, Sam asks his father in an undertone, "Do you think we should invite Joy?"

"No." To Sam's surprise, his father shakes his head. "Leave her be. She'll come back when she's ready." His father's expression as he watches Joy is almost compassionate. "After living a certain way for so long, change-even if it's for the better-can be terrifying. For humans." He adds hastily, piquing Sam's curiosity on just what his father and Joy talked about once he left the car.

"I don't think it's just humans who feel that way." Sam says, studying his father from the corner of his eye.

His father is the only person besides Charlie who knows that Sam will be taking over rulership of Hell. Sam told his father a few weeks ago, the same night he told his father that his banishment from Heaven was being lifted. His father, unsurprisingly, hasn't brought it up since.

Sam desperately wants to tell his father about his apprehensions regarding Hell, but he can't bring himself to do it. His father is clearly still having trouble wrapping his head around returning to Heaven.

One thing at a time.

Instead, he says, "We all have to face change sooner or later. Besides, think of how boring life would be without it."

His father eyes him. "So no Scotch, Tequila tonight?"

"Yes, Dad." Sam sighs, though a smile tugs at his mouth. "That's exactly what I meant."

A few days later, Joy finds herself in the paneled elevator of Lux once again. She squeezes her eyes shut when the elevator doors open up into the penthouse, but is pleasantly surprised when she opens them to see the place free of unconscious revelers.

There also isn't any sign of the penthouse's occupant.

Not sure how to announce herself-it's not like there's a doorbell to ring-Joy improvises and gives the bar three quick raps.

"Lucifer?"

She starts when Lucifer strides out of the bedroom, adjusting his tie.

"Miss Roberts." He greets her warmly. "What, we have another case so soon?"

"No, no case that I know of."

He grabs a glass from the counter and pours himself a drink. "Well, you just missed Sam. Maze is off hunting some depraved fugitive, leaving Eve home alone, so he went to check up on her. Or so he claims." He frowns as he pours a second glass for her.

"That was nice of him." Joy says as she takes the glass, though she doesn't drink it.

"Nice has nothing to do with it." He grumbles. "Eve's always spoiled him. He went over there knowing full well he'd be fawned over."

Amused by the tone of fatherly disapproval, she puts a hand over her heart in mock despair. "The demon!"

"No, actually, Maze is the demon." Lucifer replies, taking a sip of his drink.

She decides it's better if she just ignores that. "Are you busy?" She looks around the empty room.

Lucifer's eyes narrow. "Not particularly."

She shifts nervously. "No reason, just...does that invitation to come over and play piano still stand?"

For a moment he just stares at her, as if he isn't quite sure he heard correctly.

"Yes, of course it does." He finally says with a slow, delighted smile. "Please, help yourself." He motions to the piano.

Eagerly, she arranges herself on the bench and runs her fingers over the keys. Just to see his reaction, she plays the opening bars to "Take Me to Church".

"Yes, yes, you're very funny." Lucifer says wryly, joining her. He picks up the tempo and leads them into an upbeat, Muddy Waters number.

She follows along with enthusiasm. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but she had missed this. She missed the way the music steadied her, missed the easy camaraderie of playing alongside someone who enjoyed it as much as she did.

She waits until they move into a slower piece, before asking him, "Did your wife know how to play?"

She doesn't look straight at him, pretending to be intent on her finger placement, but she watches him stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

"No, not really." He lets out a sad, quiet laugh. "Well, she could, but she only knew one song."

Abruptly, he plays a few bars of "Heart and Soul."

Joy smiles. "That's better than my dad. Mom used to say he was the only person in the world who could butcher 'Chopsticks'."

"Got all your musical talent from her, did you?"

"Yeah, that's what she liked to tell me." She changes the key and starts to play a classical piece. "Based on what I've seen, I'm guessing Sam got his knack for detective work from his mom."

Lucifer stumbles a bit over the notes, but Joy pretends not to notice. She continues to play as if she has all the time in the world, giving Lucifer time to decide if he wants to accept her gentle invitation to talk more about his late wife or not.

After a long pause, he finally replies, "Yes, I suppose he did." Lucifer's gaze slides over to her. "Did Sam happen to tell you how I first met her?"

Joy tilts her head. "He said that she shot you.".

Lucifer snorts. His fingers have gone still, resting atop the piano keys "He would tell you that part. But that actually happened much later. You see, there was this singer that I knew…"

She places her hands in her lap, giving him her full attention as he goes on to tell her about the singer who was shot in front of him, and the clever detective intent on finding her murderer.

And smiles.