"How is he doing?"

Sam and Trixie have clustered themselves in a corner of the precinct where they were unlikely to be heard, but still had the conference room in view. Now his older sister crosses her arms over her chest, worry tightening her features.

Sam doesn't need to ask who "he" is.

"A little better as the day goes on." Sam rubs the back of his neck. "He's not quite as vehement about today being his last day as he was this morning, so there's progress."

Trixie lets out a relieved sigh. "That's good." She leans against the desk behind her and peers at him. "And how are you doing? You know you can always talk to me, if you need to."

Sam smiles. Sometimes Trix reminds him so much of their mother.

They were half-siblings, but that had never made a difference to either of them, nor did the twelve-year difference in their ages. It wasn't always easy for him growing up, his father being who he was, but he knew he could always count on Trix to have his back.

"All right, for the most part." His gaze flicks back to the conference room. "I thought I'd have to rein in my father all on my own, but it looks like I got a new partner to help pick up some of the slack."

Trixie's concerned expression relaxes into genuine amusement. "Yes, Charlie told me that he found you a partner." Her smile widens. "She's pretty."

"Don't you start." He warns, making her chuckle. "Is this all you wanted to talk about? If it is, I should really get back-"

"No, no." Trixie twists her fingers together anxiously. "Actually, I wanted to ask…" She glances back at the conference room again. "I just wondered if you've gone back up there, recently." She says in a low voice.

Up there. Meaning Heaven. "No. I honestly haven't, not since the last time. Between all the paperwork that needed to be done for Dad to come back and consult, not to mention my regular workload, there hasn't been much time for day trips." As Trix's face falls in disappointment, he silently curses the fact that he's the only member of his family who can visit Heaven whenever he wants.

His father's banishment from Heaven was restricted to only him, but while Sam is allowed to visit Heaven, he's only done so a handful of times since he got his wings as an adolescent. Partially because, as his father often liked to say, he found Heaven rather boring. But it had just never seemed fair to Sam that he was the only one in his family that could go. His mother and Trixie were human, and therefore were not allowed to see the Silver City until, as when his mother died, their souls were escorted there by the Angel of Death.

If he were to be honest with himself, another reason he rarely went to Heaven was because he never quite felt like he belonged there.

His cousin had it easy. Charlie was the son of Amenadiel, the Firstborn and one of God's most loyal soldiers. Amenadiel was a respected figure, admired by many of their celestial relatives, so of course his only son was always welcome in the Silver City.

Then there was Sam, the son of Lucifer. Even now, his father's rebellion is still a touchy subject among the residents of Heaven. While there was no doubt his father's brothers and sisters still care for him—most of them in a "you're my brother so I have to" sort of way-his infamy tended to make Sam's presence in Heaven awkward for everyone.

Sometimes being the son of the Devil sucked.

"Yeah, right, of course." Trix stammers now. She's trying for casual, but she's hugging herself in a way Sam recognizes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She says quickly. "It's just...I miss her." Her eyes fill with tears. "It's been a year, but it's still hard."

Sam puts a gentle hand on his older sister's shoulder. "I know." He smiles. "I also know that she misses you like crazy."

Trix sniffles. "Really?"

"Of course. She didn't shut up about you and Bella the entire time I was up there." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Then I got a lecture about why I shouldn't be calling my only niece a monster. Which she is." He grumbles. Truthfully, he adores Bella, but he'd never say as much out loud.

Trixie chuckles wetly. "Hey, I've called her that a time or two, myself." She wipes her eyes on her sleeve. "Do you think…" She shakes her head. "No, never mind. It's dumb."

"Probably." Sam's dry agreement makes her smile a little.

"I was wondering if, the next time you go, you could take a letter." She keeps her voice low. "I wrote one to her, a while back, and I thought that maybe you could…" She trails off, watching him hopefully.

Sam shifts from foot to foot, torn. Delivering a letter to their mother up in Heaven seems like a simple task, but it set a dangerous precedent. Communication between the living and the dead wasn't prohibited, that he knew of, but there was still a tiny chance that his paternal relatives might object.

He sighs. Well, he's gotten in trouble for worse. "I'm not making another visit for a few more weeks, but if you want to bring the letter over-" He breaks off when he sees her pull an envelope out of her pocket. "Or you can just give it to me now."

Trixie beams at him. "No rush. Thank you so much, Sammy." She gives him a hug, which he returns.

He leans back, preparing to give her grief for using that particular nickname- he had only allowed their mother to call him "Sammy" -when Trixie's letter is pulled from his grip.

"What's this all about?" To Sam's horror, his father is right behind him, scrutinizing the envelope with interest.

Trixie makes a noise that could either be a protest or a whimper. Sam himself is frozen in place as his father opens the envelope and pulls out the letter. His brow furrows as he starts to read.

Damn, damn, damn.

His father's face grows paler by the minute as he reads Trixie's letter to his late wife, and Sam is suddenly quite aware of how many humans surround them in the precinct.

"What is this?" His father's voice has deepened-not quite his Devil voice, but ominously close.

"It's just a letter for grief counseling." Trixie's voice is high and breathless. "I was just showing Sam-"

"It's a letter Trix wants me to deliver to Mom up in Heaven." Sam interrupts. Despite his internal panic, he manages to keep his voice steady. The time for lies has passed. "I was up there a few months ago, and I plan on taking a trip back to visit her in a few weeks."

He watches his father's mouth open and close as he fights to control his temper. "You...you went-"

"We should take this somewhere else." Sam looks pointedly over at all the people who have stopped in their tracks to watch this little drama.

"Sam, you don't have-"

Sam holds up a hand to stop his sister's protest. "It's fine, Trix." He turns back to stare hard at his father. "Interview room?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just brushes by. He can feel his father's furious gaze on that back of his neck as he stalks right behind him. Sam navigates through the precinct to the interview room farthest away from the main area. The one that is the most isolated, where they are less likely to be disturbed.

The door is barely closed when Sam is slammed into the wall, his father's hands clenched in his jacket.

"You went up to Heaven without telling me?" His father's voice has turned guttural, and glowing red eyes are inches from his own. Sam recognizes that he is no longer talking to his father, but the Devil. The King of Hell.

"And when was I supposed to tell you? It's not exactly like you were around." Sam's heart is pounding hard in his chest. A few years ago, he would never have entertained the thought of his father actually doing him physical harm. His father has an awful temper, but he would never hurt his own son.

But losing Sam's mother has changed a lot of things.

"You dare to lie to me?" His father presses him harder against the wall. "You of all people know what I do to liars."

"Throw me in Hell, then." Sam snaps back. He doesn't have a mirror, but he knows instinctively that his eyes are glowing red just like his father's. "After all, that's what Grandfather did to you when you pissed him off. Why not continue the tradition?"

His father reacts as if Sam has just plunged a knife into his chest. He releases his hold and stumbles back.

It kills Sam to see the gutted expression on his father's face-but he feels the tiniest bit of relief that his words have hit their mark. Sam's father has always maintained that he would never subject his son to the same punishment that had been inflicted upon him, no matter how much Sam ticked him off.

Sam only hopes that this reaction means his father has not backslid as much as he originally thought.

"I didn't lie to you, Dad." Sam says after a short pause. "I may not have told you about going to Heaven and visiting Mom, but I never lied to you."

His father doesn't appear to have heard him.

"When?" He demands. "When did you go and see…" He takes a shuddering breath. "When did you go to see her?"

"About a month after you disappeared." When his father's eyes glow red once again, Sam reminds him sharply, "I don't need your permission to see my mother. I would have told you sooner, but this reaction is exactly what we were trying to avoid."

"We?"

Sam eyes his father warily. "Me and Mom." He takes a deep breath and reluctantly adds, "It was Mom's idea for you to come back to work for the L.A.P.D."

His father's eyes are back to normal, but he's gripping one of the chairs hard enough to bend the metal. "You manipulated me. You tricked me into-"

"It wasn't manipulation, Dad!" Sam throws up his hands, exasperated. "I didn't tell you that this was Mom's idea because I knew it would upset you."

"Upset" is a bit of an understatement. The utter despair on his father's face rakes at Sam's heart. This was exactly why he had procrastinated in telling his father about his trip to Heaven.

His father had lost his first love, the first person to have given his life any meaning since he had been cast out. Now she was gone, and because of his immortality, his father was facing an eternity that was worse than any punishment he could have come up with in Hell.

"Why?" Sam can see his father trembling from where he stands. "Why did she want me to come back here?"

Sam considers taking a step closer to his father, but decides against it. "Because of what happened after she died. I told her how I spent two full days listening to you rant and rage against Grandfather. Two days listening to you curse him out for something he had no control over."

"No control?" The noise his father makes is a cross between a cry and a snarl. "He took her from me."

"She was sick, Dad. There was nothing any of us could have done."

"That's not true." His father's eyes have turned red again, but Sam doesn't think it is rage that has changed them this time. "He has the power to heal, He could have cured her."

"Even if He had healed her, how much longer would she have had? The average human lifespan is about eighty years, and Mom was only a few years short of that when she died."

"He could have made her immortal. He did it to Cain-"
"As a punishment." Sam reminds his father harshly. "You know better than anyone how awful an existence like that is. Did you really want to spend the rest of your life watching her suffer as all the people she loved left her, one by one? Or worse, watch her turn into someone like Cain-so desperate to die that she abandons everything she ever stood for and becomes a killer herself?" he shakes his head. "I know you love her too much to put her through that."

Sam keeps his face impassive as his father takes the chair he's been crushing and throws it into the opposite wall. "You can't keep blaming Grandfather for Mom's death."

"He was the one who put her in my path to begin with. He put all of this in motion." His father's voice breaks. "But even then, He couldn't let me have more than a few decades of actual happiness before he took away the one piece of Heaven I was allowed to have." His father stares at the wall, his breathing ragged. "So yes, I can-and will-blame him."

"That's what Mom was worried about. And after you disappeared, I started to worry, too." Sam's gaze drops to the floor. "We were afraid that you were so furious with Grandfather that you might try to wage another war against Him-only this time, Grandfather would do something worse than just send you back to Hell."

After a long moment, long enough to make him sweat, his father says scornfully. "Well, you were worried for nothing. I have no intention of challenging my father again."

The tiny knot of dread that has been rooted in the back of Sam's mind for the past year finally loosens. His father had been so tormented by grief and bitterness when he left, Sam hadn't quite been able to shake the fear that he would do something reckless.

"That's good to hear." Sam acknowledges.

His father huffs, indignant. "Believe me, I have no desire to be blasted from existence...or whatever form of punishment my father likes to use nowadays." He crosses his arms over his chest. "So, what, this whole consulting job was a ploy to distract me?"

"Not exactly. Mom thought consulting would be a good first step."

His father glares at him. "A good first step towards what?"

"Towards getting you back to the person you were before Mom died."

"I haven't changed-"

"Yes, you have." Sam fights back a surge of anger. "You can keep pretending that you haven't, that everything is exactly the same, but it's not, Dad."

"Well, maybe not exactly the same," his father tries to reason, "but what's-"

"You haven't left the penthouse for half a year." Sam ticks off on his fingers. "You stopped caring about Lux. You no longer go to therapy. You barely talk to anyone in the family-Uncle, Aunt Linda, Maze, me. You've given up, Dad." Sam's voice breaks. "You've never given up on anything. But now that Mom's gone, it's like you just don't care."

"That's ridiculous." His father scoffs at him. "Just because I haven't been interested in socializing much lately hardly means I've given up. Whatever put that idea in your head?"

All the hurt, fear and anger Sam felt over the past year pours out of him in a gush.

"You left me!" He shouts. His father steps back, startled, but Sam can't stop, now. "You disappeared, Dad. My mother had just died and two days later you just took off without so much as a note. Do you have any idea how that felt? For six months I had no idea where you were. Six months-not a letter, a phone call, or an email. Six months of imagining the worst." Realizing that he's almost shouting, he takes care to lower his voice. "And then you come back and act as if nothing is wrong, after you had just cast me aside like I didn't matter."

Sam blinks hard, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, his chest heaving.

For all of his life, Sam has had to put up with his father's incessant meddling. His father just loved prying into all the aspects of Sam's life; his romantic partners, his job, what he did in his spare time. It had both exasperated and frustrated Sam that no matter how many times he tried to set boundaries, his father just bullied his way past them. It had felt like no matter what he did, his father would always be there to pester him.

But then his father had run off without so much as a goodbye.

Sam had never really taken into account just how much he relied on his father's constant interference in his life. He had felt cut adrift, and for the first time, terribly alone.

Resentment bubbles up as he stares at his father, who has the gall to stand there looking utterly bewildered. Sam wonders if his father thought about him at all when he left-or if his mother had been the only person his father ever truly cared about.

Still caught in the memory of being abandoned, Sam says quietly, "I always used to think that there was nobody was past saving. Even the people I arrested, I thought if you could change, become a better person, then there was a chance they could too." He clenches his fists. "I guess I was wrong."

He regrets the words as soon as they're spoken. His father's face drains of color, and without another word, he strides past Sam to the door.

"Dad, wait-Dad!" Sam tries to call out. He nearly runs into Roberts as he flees the room, trying to catch up to him. To apologize, to argue, he has no idea.

It's too late. His father is gone.

Joy leaps back as her new partner nearly bowls her over coming out of the interview room where he and his father had been talking. Shouting, actually. She couldn't hear the words but she recognized the tone. And Lucifer had come barreling past her, an awful expression on his face. She didn't need a sign to tell her some harsh words have been exchanged between father and son.

Now Decker is standing in front of her, his eyes too bright as he peers past her down the hall.

Joy puts a gentle hand on his arm. He looks so lost. "Are you all right?"

For a moment he just stares, and she wonders if he even heard her.

Eventually, he shakes his head. "Fine. I'm fine." He tries to sound casual, but his voice is rough.

"Where's your dad going?"

He shrugs. "Who knows?" he responds gruffly. "Probably back to the penthouse."

"He's not consulting with us on the case anymore?"

Decker presses his mouth into a thin line. "No, I don't think so." He gives her a wan smile. "Remember what I said about family drama? This is just a small piece of it."

She puts as much confidence in her voice as she can. "I'm sure he'll come around." When he doesn't look convinced, she decides a change of subject is in order. "And I can't leave yet. We just got a break in the case."

That piques his interest. "One of Clive's associates has it in for him?"

"Better." She shows him the name on the file in her hand. His eyes widen.

"Clive has a son?"

"And he wants to talk to us." She tells him. "Alone."

Decker rolls his shoulders. "All right. Let's go talk to him." Without waiting for her, he hurries down the hall to the interview room where Clive's son is waiting.

Joy eyes her partner with some worry-he's clearly longing for a distraction from his father problems, but she doesn't think it will be that easy for him. She just hopes this interview doesn't make things worse between him and Lucifer.

Clive's son is a kid barely older than twenty. He doesn't resemble Clive in the looks department, with his fair hair and hazel eyes, but Joy is reminded of the ex-thief as the boy hunches over nervously in his seat, his eyes constantly darting over to the door as if eager to escape.

Decker sits across from him, leaving her the chair at the far end of the table.

"Hello...Todd." Decker glances quickly at the file she gave him. "You're Clive Fleming's son? Funny, he didn't mention you."

The boy's mouth turns down sullenly. "Yeah, he wouldn't mention me. He's never been much of a father. I was six when he was put in jail the first time. He probably feels ashamed of the way he treated me." The kid's tone makes it clear that he believes his father should feel ashamed.

Like with Clive, Joy lets her sympathy show. "That must have been rough for you. Growing up without a dad."

To her consternation, this approach seems to just irritate the kid. "Growing up without him was better than growing up with him." Todd snaps at her. "Every time he came home, he promised that he'd change, but he never did. He'd always get himself thrown in jail again, and miss another couple of years of my life. He's nothing but a two-faced liar." His voice shakes with anger.

Decker tilts his head. "So why come in, Todd? I'm guessing you didn't come in to prove his innocence." His cool, detached tone seems to work better on Clive's son than Joy's attempts to connect with him. Todd narrows his focus on Decker.

"No, I'm coming in to tell you it was him. My dad was the one who killed Haley."

"Haley was your cousin." Decker clarifies, watching the boy closely.

"Yeah, my cousin." The boy shrugs carelessly. "We didn't really talk much-our dads didn't get along, so we almost never saw each other."

"It must have been upsetting for you when she offered to take your father in, and helped him get a job." Joy mentions. The kid's answers bother her-he doesn't seem to care at all that Haley is dead. She glances over at her partner, but it's hard to tell from his indifferent expression what he's thinking.

"Yeah, it was. Because she doesn't know him like I do." Todd adds hurriedly. "I knew he was going to go back to his old ways, just like he always does."

"You don't think your father can change?" Decker's voice is strained. "You don't believe he can be a better person?"

Joy looks at Decker in concern, but his attention is all for the young man sitting across from them.

"No, and I tried to tell Haley that! I told her he'll just screw up, like he always does." Todd leans towards them, imploring. "She didn't believe me, but you have to. I know he killed her."

"How do you know that, Todd?" Joy asks when Decker just stares at the kid. "Did he tell you something to make you suspect him?"

Todd lets out a strangled laugh. "Are you kidding? He hasn't talked to me once since he got out. No, but it's pretty obvious it was him. I mean, his fingerprints were on the weapon, right?"

Warning bells go off in Joy's head. She exchanges a look with Decker. "How do you know his prints were on the murder weapon?"

Todd blinks at them. "You took him into custody, so I just thought...it has to be him. He obviously heard about my talk with Haley."

"So he killed her?" Decker raises his brows. "Why?"

"I don't know, maybe she was starting to doubt him after all and he got pissed. Why does that matter?" Todd demands. "Look, I'm telling you it was him."

"We need more evidence than that, Todd." Decker explains. "Your father is claiming that he's innocent, and with only the knife...it's circumstantial at best. We need more."

Todd studies them for a long time. "Do you need a confession?"

"That would certainly help." Decker leans back in his chair. "Between the confession and the knife, we might be able to get an arrest to stick." He sighs gustily. "But I'm afraid we just released your father a while ago. No telling where he's gone."

Joy gives her partner a sharp look. She's pretty sure she knows what he's trying to do, but it's a risky move.

Todd licks his lips anxiously. "Yeah, you're right. He could be anywhere by now." His eyes slide to the door. "Um, well, I just came in to tell you about my talk with Haley, and to let you know what I thought."

Decker gives the boy a cool smile. "We appreciate it."

"Ok. Well, I'll be going now."

Joy chimes in before the boy can scamper off, "Why don't we find someone to take you home? I'm sure we can-"

"No, no." Todd seems positively terrified by the suggestion. "I'll be fine. Thanks anyway." He practically runs out the door.

Joy waits a few beats before turning to her partner. "Was I the only one who thought it was odd that he knew so much about the case?"

Decker's smile is more authentic now that Clive's son has left. "Nope. He sounded pretty bitter about all that stuff with his dad, too." Emotion flickers across Decker's face before he quickly hides it from her. "I think we might know who really killed Haley."

"You want him to go after Clive." She states as they exit the room.

"Yes. He wasn't ever going to confess, and we don't have the evidence to arrest him. We need him to think his father's off the hook, enough that he'll want to confront him." Decker leads her back to Gabby's lab. "He'll try and force Clive to come in and confess to killing Haley."

She frowns. "Is that a good idea? What if he kills Clive?"

Decker shakes his head. "Killing his father would be too quick. He wants his father to suffer. What better way than to send the man to prison for a crime that he committed?"

"You think that he wants to send his own father back to prison?" Joy asks. She's rather taken aback that the kid would hate his father that much.

"As far as he's concerned, Clive has never done anything for him." Decker answers brusquely. Decker turns to Gabby. "Hey, did you ever find out who talked to Haley before she went out into the alley?"

Gabby looks up from her computer. "Yeah, and you'll never guess who it-"

"Todd Fleming." Joy and Decker answer in unison.

"Oh...you guessed."

Decker turns to her. "So, Todd goes in to try and convince Haley that his father's no good…"

"And she doesn't believe him." Joy continues the scenario. "Todd convinces her to go out into the alley-I don't know, maybe he tells her they shouldn't be arguing in the middle of the diner. He stabs her with a knife-"

"Maybe he took the first knife as some sort of trophy." Decker eyes the murder weapon they have on the table.

"Or he was too enraged to think about his own finger prints on the knife until after she was dead." Joy taps the table in thought. "He knew his father worked at the diner, knew at least one of the knives would have his prints on them. He takes the one he used with him, and leaves the other knife for us to find."

"He would have had to have worn gloves. That's a lot of work if he was in a rage when he killed her." Gabby points out, brow furrowed.

Decker frowns thoughtfully. "I think we got our theories mixed up. Todd didn't kill Haley because he was angry with her-he wanted to kill her so he could frame his dad for it." His eyes are distant as he says. "Punishment for a father who let him down."

Disquiet ripples down Joy's spine. She and Gabby exchange troubled expressions before the forensic scientist turns back to her computer.

"Fleming was released on his own recognizance a few hours ago." She says, her voice is just a little too breezy to be genuine. "I can track him using his phone's GPS, but it might take a while."

To Joy's immense relief, Decker has managed to shake off his unsettling behavior. "Let us know as soon as you find him, Gabby." He turns to Joy. "Todd desperately wants his dad to know just how messed up his life has been all because of Clive. In his mind, his father was the one who made him a killer." Something dangerous flashes in Decker's eyes. "Once he tracks Clive down, all that resentment and rage is going to need an outlet."

"Which means he'll want to brag to Clive about how he killed Haley." Joy agrees. Her fingers tap out a few notes on her thigh. "Can you text me when you find him?" She asks her partner. "There's something I want to do really quick." She hopes he doesn't ask her why, because she doesn't have an explanation prepared.

Thankfully, Decker just shrugs. "Sure. Go on. I'll text you when we have the details."

Joy flashes him a grateful smile and hurries out of the room. She just hopes that Decker is right, and Lucifer really has returned to the penthouse.

She finds Lux more crowded than it had been a few hours ago. Joy glances at her phone and realizes that it's because the day is half over. They only have a few more hours of daylight left to track down Clive and Todd.

The place isn't quite bustling yet, but Joy still has to maneuver her way through a throng of people to get to the bar. She had hoped to ask whoever was tending it if they had seen Lucifer, but is surprised when she spots him seated in the far corner, rolling a glass of whiskey between his hands. He doesn't seem to care about or notice the group of attractive women clustered close by, gossiping among themselves while simultaneously shooting him covert, admiring glances.

He does, however, notice Joy when she sidles up next to him.

"Miss Roberts. Am I to assume you being here means that you have found your killer, and are here to celebrate with a drink?" He drawls, summoning over the bartender.

Joy notes with some amusement that even the men Lucifer hires to run his bar are unnaturally good-looking. She waves the man away as she sits down on Lucifer's right. "Not yet. We're pretty sure it's Clive's son who murdered Haley, but we haven't got enough evidence to charge him."

Lucifer's expression freezes. "You think his son is the murderer?"

Joy is watching Lucifer's reactions closely. "Actually, we think the kid murdered his own cousin so he could pin it on Clive. As a way to punish him for letting him down for most of his life."

She finds it interesting that Lucifer winces as if she had come out and accused him of the same crime.

Lucifer tries to mask his discomfort by taking a sip from his glass. "Well," he says after a moment. "It sounds as if the two of you have everything in hand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll return to my retirement."

She doesn't let him off the hook that easily. "Actually, we might still need your help. Because of all the evidence pointing towards Clive, we're going to need a confession if we're going to arrest his son for the murder. Which means we're probably going to need your...erm...interrogation techniques." She frowns at him. "How exactly did you get Clive to spill the way he did?"

Lucifer smiles a little. "Humans always feel the need to tell me their deepest, darkest desires. Sometimes I don't even need to ask." He looks at her pointedly, and she remembers the strange, inexplicable urge that she had felt earlier in the day. "The only one it didn't work on was my wife. But...she was special." Sorrow etches in the lines of Lucifer's face, and he stares bleakly into his glass.

Joy doesn't give him long to wallow.

"Yeah, I think I got firsthand experience this morning when I played your piano without asking." She gives him a self-conscious smile.

To her surprise, he returns it. "You do play very well." He admits. She has a feeling that from him this is a major compliment. "Not as good as me, of course."

She bites back a chuckle. "Of course." She tilts her head. "Though it's weird. There's a piano right over there," she motions to it, "and I don't have any sudden urge to play."

Lucifer grabs a nearby bottle and pours himself another drink. "I promised my son I wouldn't use my talents on you." He says, not looking at her. "I am a devil of my word."

She sighs in resignation. The whole Devil persona is getting old, but it seems to be Lucifer's defense mechanism. She doesn't want to make things worse for either him or Decker by dousing him with a cold bucket of reality.

But Lucifer doesn't let it go. "You don't believe me."

She looks at him, and decides he's stable enough to hear the truth. "No, I don't. I'm not saying you're lying, because it's clear that you believe you are the Devil. But aside from some odd behavior, you haven't given me any proof." She folds her arms on the bar top.

"Oh, I have proof." Lucifer tells her dismissively.

She blinks at him. That wasn't the answer she had been expecting. "You do?"

"Of course. My Devil face."

She frowns. "Isn't that it?" She gestures to his normal, albeit handsome, face.

Lucifer snorts in exasperation. "No, my Devil face. The face I wore while I ruled Hell. The face that terrified even the vilest of humanity's sinners." His gaze narrows in on her hands, and his voice warms with amusement. "Nervous, are we?"

She glances down and sees her hands are tapping out a song on the bar. With a sigh, she tucks them in her lap. "Ok, fine. Prove it." She challenges. "Show me your Devil face."

He studies her for a long moment. "No. I don't believe I will." He says slowly.

"Why not?"

Lucifer finishes off his drink. "I've shown my real face to only a few humans. I've learned that it can take some time to process, and can take even longer to fully accept." He angles his head towards her. "Sam likes you."

Joy blinks at the non-sequitur. "I like him too." She's a little surprised to find that she means it.

Lucifer nods, as if he hadn't expected otherwise. "I don't care what people think of me. There was only one person whose acceptance ever mattered. It took some time, but she gave me everything I needed and more. More than I probably deserved." He adds with a soft smile. "But before that, I had to go through a great deal of torment. I thought myself a monster, and that kind of suffering..." His expression darkens. "I don't want my son to ever have to go through that."

She suppresses an exultant smile. She had been worried after Lucifer stormed out of the precinct that the troubles between the two men would be too big to fix. But she needn't have worried-it's clear that Lucifer still cares deeply about his son.

"You're worried that if you show me your...Devil face," she wrinkles her nose to let him see just how weird she thinks this all is, "then I won't want to be his partner anymore. That I'll be too afraid of you to work with him. And that will hurt him."

Lucifer doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. She taps her fingers thoughtfully on the bar.

"I don't want to hurt my partner either." She tells him. "So I won't make you show me your Devil face, or have you...hypnotize me, or whatever it is you do." She leans towards him. "But I am going to tell you what it is I desire."

Lucifer straightens up in his seat. She's got his full attention, now.

She leans closer, like she's about to reveal a huge secret. And she is, sort of.

"I want what your son has."

Lucifer stares at her, nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"

She licks her lips nervously. "My mom was a concert pianist." She starts. "She's the one who taught me how to play the piano. My dad worked at the local bank. Two good, regular people living in a normal suburban neighborhood. Nothing special. Except that they died when I was twelve." Before she can embarrass herself again, she curls her hands in her lap. "They were killed in a home invasion gone bad. I survived because I was at a friend's house that night. When I got home the next morning…" She takes a shaky breath. She almost never talks about this. It is in her personnel file, but she hadn't even told her old team in Narcotics about this part of her past.

"My parents were only children, and both sets of grandparents had passed away a long time ago, so I was put in the foster care system until I aged out at eighteen. I had about nine different homes during that time. Most of them were fine. But each time I moved, I had to get used to a different home, different rules, new foster parents, siblings. Change became my new normal, so even when I was old enough to be on my own, I kept moving around. I trained at the police academy in Ohio, but left after a year and moved to Chicago. Then Kansas City. Eventually, I made it all the way here to L.A." She smiles at him sadly. "I've lived in L.A for about two years, the longest I've lived anywhere since my parents died."

Since it looks like Lucifer has been rendered speechless, she plows on.

"I've never had what he has... what you have. Being surrounded by people who care about you. You both have this huge, extended family to watch your back, and even though I think that family is incredibly strange and more than a bit dysfunctional, I kind of wish that I could have the same. I even wish-on some level-that I had a father like you. Well, maybe not exactly like you." She admits as an afterthought. Lucifer's mouth twitches as he fights back a smile. "But it's pretty obvious that, in spite of all your weirdness, Sam really loves you. You're his hero, Lucifer."

Lucifer's gaze falls to his drink. "Yes, well, I don't think he would agree with you at the moment."

She watches him take a sip from his glass. "I'm far from an expert. But I'm pretty sure fathers and sons fight."

He shoots her a meaningful look. "Oh, they do. And I know firsthand how damaging those fights can be." Bitterness washes over his features. "Sometimes to the point where it becomes too broken to fix."

She stares at him. "If I could, I would take a dozen fights with my father over not having one at all." She tells him tartly. "Whatever problems you and Sam have can be fixed, Lucifer. You both just need to start looking past your own hurt to see it."

She shoves away from the bar, intending to storm out, but Lucifer's voice stops her.

"What happened to them?"

She spins around. "To who?"

"The vile creatures who killed your parents." His voice is dangerously calm, and she gets an unexpected shiver over the nape of her neck under his intense gaze.

"They were caught and arrested." She had watched the news coverage of the trial after her foster parents had gone to bed. Even now, decades later, she can remember the faces of her parents' killers with chilling clarity. "One died in a prison riot. The other died peacefully," she snarls the word. "In his cell two years ago."

"They're dead?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She frowns, puzzled by the note of satisfaction in his voice. Before she can figure out why he would care about the deaths of two men he had never met, her phone pings in her jacket pocket. She pulls it out to see a text message from Decker.

Got him.

She looks up at Lucifer. "I have to go. We just found Haley's killer."

She doesn't wait for his reply, but she can feel his eyes boring into her back as she rushes out of the club.