Gabriel's breaths came in pants. He was standing on a walkway on one of the sandy beaches of Los Angeles. He could barely keep it together. He gripped the iron railing so hard his knuckles turned white. He desperately eyed the concrete below his feet.

'Breathe properly, dammit!' He scolded himself. He couldn't believe how easily his equanimity deteriorated back there…

But he couldn't.

The sandy wind was tearing at his cheeks and he could've sworn his heart was going to explode in his chest. He was sweaty as well as freezing.

He couldn't breathe.

And that wasn't the worst of it all.

It felt like as if he was reliving that moment: over and over again. The sense of shock and betrayal. Those he could've lived with. But the worst was the fear. The sheer fear that overwhelmed him. The fear for his existence. The fear of death itself.

His feet buckled beneath him and he fell down on the sandy concrete and buried his head in his palms.

He slammed his eyes shut and did the only thing he could think of when he was in this kind of a pickle: he prayed.

But this time it was different. He wasn't praying just to keep in touch or just for the sake of conversation. He was pleading. He was desperate. And to the on-looking outsiders, he might have even seemed pitiful: a man on the ground on the brink of tears.

'GOD! Dear God! Father in heaven, I – I beg of you! Please make it stop! Make it stop Father! Please! I CAN'T! I CAN'T! Not after what he did – I can't breathe! DAD I'M-'

"Scared," he breathed. "I'm so scared. Father, please, please make it stop... Make it-"

Just then, Gabe felt a rush of relief.

All was calm.

He exhaled.

And then he inhaled.

Then before he knew it, his breaths became more rhythmic and automated.

His hand wandered to his hammering heart: it was slowing down and continued to beat at a nice and steady pace.

He let out another breath of relief and leant against the metal railing with his feet stretched out in front of him.

The ex-angel then felt the sudden urge to regard the heavens. He smiled incredulously and held up his index finger as if he was about to give a lecture but instead, he allowed a soft little laugh.

"You. See you," He began, "Just remind me that I owe you one, old man. I owe you one."

And with that, he got back on his feet and listened to the sound of the lapping waves for a second before he made his way back to St. Morgan's. Only to find police swarming at the front doors.

Our favourite chestnut haired, sweet-toothed caretaker was furiously tapping his foot near the confessional box with his phone held tightly to his left ear.

Ring-ring.

There was no answer.

Ring-ring.

Still no answer.

Ring-ring.

He is going develop wrinkles from the nerves.

Ring-ring.

Why wasn't he-

"Hello?"

"Finally! I could've sworn you put me off for this long just to decrease my lifespan! Where the hell are you Father? There are police and detectives everywhere and then let me get started on the latest trend in church door frames: just sprinkle a little bit of lead in the woodwork and it will do wonders for the aesthetics!"

"Gabriel, please calm down."

He huffed in relief and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever, now spill!"

"It's kind of a lengthy story…"

"Summarise for me."

"Okay, okay. But first thing's first, since I can hear that you're freaking out you must know I am unharmed. So you can calm down now. I am currently with Detective Decker and Mr Morningstar…"

Gabe swallowed. But otherwise remained unaffected.

"…And they are going to keep my here at Lux-"

"What's Lux?"

"It's Lucifer's nightclub on …"

Typical. Whoever this guy was he definitely got his brother's ego alright.

"Okay, okay. But why were they shooting at you? Was it-"

He quickly glanced around just to make sure no one was in earshot.

"Did it have something to do with that voice message you got yesterday?"

Father Frank remained silent for a second, presumably because he did not realise Gabe even knew anything about this.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just-"

"It's alright Gabe. And yes, you could say that. But please don't worry about me I'm in good hands."

"Yeah yeah, easier said than done, pal. Are you sure you're gonna be alright? I mean do you need an extra set of rosary beads or the good book to keep ya entertained?" He joked.

He heard the Father chuckle mightily at that and it made him involuntarily smile too.

"No, no I think I will be alright and I wouldn't have time to say the rosary at the moment anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Well, first of all, I'll have to give Mr Morningstar a few piano lessons. He's a crappy pianist."

"I beg your pardon that is a round, fat lie!" He heard over the phone.

Now it as Gabe's turn to laugh. The Devil, the Morningstar, playing the piano.

'When you think, you've seen it all…'

"Okay, Frank as long as you're alright. Meanwhile, I have a doorframe to fix. The last time I checked believers weren't fans of bullet holes in the front doors.

"Yes, please do that for me. Will you?"

"Of course. See you later."

"By-Bye."

Gabe flipped shut his flip-up-phone. He didn't want to complain but with his current salary, there was no way that he would've been able to afford a smartphone. Or use one even for that matter. But this one served its purpose just fine.

He then walked outside to assess the damage. The police were gone and the only proof of their visit was the POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS banners that quarantined the entrance from the rest of the street.

"Okay, I guess I should get to work…"

Little did he know that these bullets wouldn't be the last ones he'll see today.

A stabbing pain.

Fire. That was the closest thing he could compare it to.

A jolt of fire every millisecond.

The bullet wound on his arm.

That's what it felt like.

When the two guys with pistols came in he knew they were gonna be a pain in the ass but not this much pain - and not in the arm.Thankfully the big blob of the guy that shot him didn't give him much thought after he shot Gabe since he sorts of lost his balance and nicely head-butted a column, knocking himself unconscious.

'Really smooth there.' He couldn't help thinking in hindsight as he was coming to his senses.

The younger kid, whom Father Frank seemed to be well acquainted with, he suspected to be Connor.

'Well nice to meet you too. I forgot my shotgun around the back…'

Gabe tried to focus on the world around him again. He needed to help Father Frank, and what's more, he needed to get out of here alive. He didn't survive the apocalypse only to get killed by the incredible bulk.

'Okay, that was lame.' He thought. The pain was making it hard to cast jokes in his head…

He tried to face the altar. He was lying on his back. The cold tiles sending a chill down his back. He heard commotion; shouting from the altar.

He turned left, with an excruciating effort.

He saw Father Frank, Connor and the bulk. The bulk seemed to get angrier and angrier, shouting at the kid.

He then realised. The guy… he wanted Connor to shoot Frank.

He glared at him.

That son of a bitch. How dare he! To use Connor! To - He's still practically a kid! To ruin someone's innocence like that! And to use the person that Father Frank cares the most about to shoot him!

He made an effort to get up. He hissed in pain as arm screamed in protest. He examined the wound. He was bleeding badly. Not good. What was it that the Winchesters always did when they got hurt? Apply pressure to the wound? Well, he hoped that's what it was cos otherwise he was gonna recreate what felt like the red sea.

"God gave you a second chance right here…"

He looked up at the priest.

Gabriel focused on the father. He was so calm and gentle with Connor. He wasn't angry, or scared or disappointed. He… he had faith in the kid.

Gabe's heart did that thing when he was overwhelmed with sadness or pity and it felt like as if his heart was going to break.

"Enough with the sermon preacher," retorted the guy who wounded his arm, "Just shoot the son of a bitch already."

Connor, who was visibly struggling with his demons, held the gun towards him, his hand shaking as he did so. His eyes were bleary and red from the withheld tears.

"Don't do it…you idiot." Breathed Gabe. It was all he could manage from the floor.

"Just follow your heart son… I have faith in you."

Just then, movement caught his eye. He couldn't believe it.

It was the Detective and the Morningstar.

He squirmed. His wound was making his presence known again.

The Detective had her gun ready while Lucifer followed her closely behind. Glaring at the scene before him with a combination of hatred, anger and- was it? Could it be? Fear?

It then occurred to him that Lucifer might actually be scared of losing the Father? But why?

He scowled. Why would the Devil be interested in a priest? After knowing him for less than two days?
Did he, care for another human being? If he did then-

The sound of a gun clattering on the floor resonated in the building.

"I can't do it, I'm sorry." Blurted out Connor.

"I'm sorry too kid," Was all he said, "I can't allow weakness. Not when I have just taken control."

Gabriel didn't even have a chance to comprehend what followed in the next few seconds. It happened so suddenly.

The guy tried to shoot Connor and Father Frank somehow got in front of him in a flash and the next thing was the thundering sound of a bullet as it hit Father Frank.

"No!" Gabe cried.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't end like this for him. He deserved better. That old geezer with the good taste for Mexican food and a great sense of humour. That old, actually likeable priest who took him in, without a second thought. The first person whom he could call a friend… He was shot. He was going to die. Just like that. In a blink of an eye. He will be gone forever. And away from his reach.

Gabe's eye's stung so much he thought they were going to shoot fire. Instead, they leaked tears. Giant, salty tears burned his cheeks.

He was so shocked he didn't even realise that Lucifer rushed to Father's side while the Detective shot the big guy and he fell pathetically to the floor.

"Hands up get down on the ground. Now!" She ordered. Connor did as he was told.

"No! No! No! You idiot!" Reprimanded a British voice.

"Gabriel! You're shot! Are you alright!" She said as she finally realised he was there.

"Frank! You must get him help! Please!" He asked, his voiced croaked.

Chloe nodded ferociously.

While the Detective called for an ambulance Gabriel, who now managed to sit up and use a pew for support, directed his attention to the scene before him.

It was heartbreaking. It hurt him. In his chest.

But what he didn't actually expect was the fact that this Lucifer guy seemed as equally distressed as he was.

"You know at first I didn't know why your God set you in my path and then…then it hit me," Explained Father Frank, "Maybe, he didn't set you in my path but he set me in yours."

"No I don't think so…he has given up on me a long time ago."

"Just remember that…" His voice was failing on him now, "that your Father has a… a plan."

For some reason, though he knew those words were not meant for him, he had a feeling that perhaps his Father really did have a plan sending him here… If only he knew what it was. And if only he could have received the message some other way…

Three days. Three days have passed since the death of the comic priest. Gabriel was surrounded by figured clothed in black. In all variations. Black hats, coats, gloves, trousers, skirts and shoes.

It made him sick.

They reminded him of Death. No, it's more like they wouldn't let him forget. Though he figured the worst thing about dying was being forgotten eventually.

All of a sudden he felt his chest tighten.

It was raining. Rapidly. There were black umbrellas too. The priest who was not Father Frank recited the same well-rehearsed speech that was appropriate according to most humans. It wasn't anywhere adequate. Not for a guy like him. They should've grieved him all around the world.

Gabriel frowned and his head dropped sadly.

But they won't. Simply because he is not famous or of royal blood.

Then he wondered, how many remarkable people lived so heroically yet they weren't honoured for it.

But as he wondered about these things. He couldn't help but to remember Lucifer. The way he acted when the Father died.

The rage he felt radiating off him. The way he pinned the guy to the wall. And his blazing red eyes. The way they flashed. The way they seemed so familiar.

He shook his head.

The funeral was nearing the end, but he couldn't wait that long. He didn't want to pay his respects among a handful of strangers anyway. He swiftly turned on his heels and headed off to find one of those confining contraptions that people call a cab.

The aforementioned vehicle, draped in a gaudy yellow paint came to a slow stop beside the footpath that bordered the infamous night club, Lux.

Several seconds later a man, with a cast on his left arm got out and slammed the cab door shut with a thud. It sped away within the next second. He looked up at the dazzling lights that shone on the side of the building.

LUX

He scowled. He beheld the piece of paper in his right arm. This had to be it. Right? Thankfully the panicky feeling that overwhelmed him before at the slightest mention of Lucifer completely evaded him. Yet there was this sense of uneasiness that kept creeping up on him.

Could he trust this guy? Would he help him at all? Who was he really? Was he really the real deal?

He then remembered the red eyes.

Maybe.

He frowned.

Or maybe not.

It didn't matter. He was going to find out tonight. This guy had to have the answers. Or at least some of them. At whether he liked it or not, this Lucifer guy was the closest thing he had to relatives. So it was worth a shot.

He scrunched up the paper and willed his feet to take him inside. He tried the door: unlocked.

He guessed the real devil didn't need to fear any burglars of the sort. The door opened smoothly and inaudibly. As soon as he stepped inside, the sound of piano keys hit his ears, though they were quite faint.

'That must be Lucifer.' He thought.

He continued to find the source of the melody. He did. And there he was. Dressed in a black waistcoat and black trousers which contrasted beautifully with the crisp white shirt he wore underneath. He was deeply endorsed in his art. Or at least he appeared to be as he never acknowledged Gabriel until he was at the bottom of the stairs.

Gabriel only stared at him with relentlessly thoughtful expression. He took in all his features, his movements. They seemed so distant, so unfamiliar. But that was until he looked up.

Then that silky voice of his lashed out at him, ineffectively of course. After all, Gabe wasn't born yesterday…

"Ah, if it is not the Church caretaker with a flair for Enochian. IRGIL G-CHIS-GE OL?" He inquired cheerfully.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." Gabe snapped back.

"Well, we've become quite touchy all of a sudden? What happened to your flamboyant side?" He questioned regretfully.

"It's on a holiday." He said.

Lucifer scoffed and finished playing; lifting his finger off the piano with perfection.

"I do believe you wish to speak with me?" He asked casually.

"I've come to ask you something."

"Well, I'm always up for granting a favour."

"Tell me this big shot," He stopped for a second, afraid he might not be ready for the answer, "Are you really the Devil?"

Lucifer smiled coyly. "Why yes, that would be me."

"Show me."

"You wouldn't want that."

"Try me, sweetheart."

Lucifer's smile vanished. Then he frowned in disapproval.

"Fine, but you asked for it." He said after a moment's hesitation.

He then stood up and walked closer to Gabe so they were standing only a metres away. He bowed his head and he allowed his eyes to flare red. He held Gabriel's gaze for much longer than he would have for any other human being.

After a few seconds, Gabriel perked an eyebrow.

"Is that it?"

"What?" Said Lucifer reverting back to his human form.

"Is that all you got for a demo? I mean seriously no offence but that was weak. I mean I was, at last, expecting some lights to flicker. What makes you any different from some crazy sorcerer or Wiccan?"

He proclaimed with a huff.

Lucifer simply stood there with his mouth agape in total shock. Not to mention that his expression conveyed how offended he felt upon hearing.

"I beg your pardon! I am no crazy magician! If I were to show you my true self, you would soil yourself!"

"Pfft. Please. Do your worst." He provoked.

"Alright, then I will!"

He then stood straighter and allowed his complete faced to peel off and there it was: the real Devil. The terror which haunted mankind's nightmares for centuries. The embodiment of true horror. The single most terrify-

"Ew."

Lucifer deadpanned.

"Excuse me?!"

"Okay, that's it. I'm not gonna waste my time here."

"How are you not terrified of me?!" He demanded, "Is there a problem with your eyesight?"

"I friggin wish, I mean Christ! Cover your face already would ya? You look like an armpit with a sunburn!"

Lucifer looking mortified did as he was told. He immediately straightened himself.

"Now I would have to say I never received that reaction with my true form before…"

"Wait that was your true form…You have got to be kidding…" He said in disbelief.

His heart kinda went out for him, though. He must have really pissed of his father if that's how he turned out like…

"Only those who have seen Hell are immune to me – explain yourself."

Gabe scoffed again. He then noticed a bottle of whisky a few spare glasses on the counter. He indicated towards them. Lucifer impatiently nodded as he was eager to find out this man's origins.

"Seen Hell? Please, Daddy Dearest used to take us there for family trips. Like we were there when he made it! I gave him advice on how to make it more horrifying!" He explained as he poured himself a drink with one hand.

The liquid poured obediently.

"What are you saying? Who are you?"

"Me?"

Gabe smiled.

"They call me The Trickster," he replied, sending a cocky grin towards him, "And it's about time we had a chat."

A/N:

You reviewers. Yes. And all you who favourite-d and followed. Yes you. You all know who you are.

You are adorable little munchkins and I can't thank you enough for the positive feedback 3

I can only hope that this story progresses to your liking. Thank you so much! If there is anything you feel that I could improve on, any ideas or just thoughts on the story please don't hesitate to let me know!

Enochian:
IRGIL G-CHIS-GE OL? - How are you?

Source: Enochian translator

Until next time!

[Upload Date: 11/12/2016]