A/N: That's right—another Lucifer update from me today! Send happy thoughts my way that this momentum doesn't drop off.

Real quick: It's already becoming apparent, especially this chapter, but this story is one that's largely geared towards character development. So if you're looking for a driving plotline, you might find yourself a bit underwhelmed. I certainly don't want to discourage anyone reading, but I also don't want to mislead anyone either.

Anyway, back to your regularly scheduled programming….

Chapter 3: Black Sheep and Hopeless Cases

They started, predictably, with The Eternal Question.

The detective leaned forward, her level gaze ensnaring him from across the bar. "What are you doing here, Lucifer?"

"I'm assuming the intent is less philosophical and more, shall we say, geographic?" In that same vein, he decided he didn't like the space between them and made to join her on the patron side of the bar. "Right. Well, skipping over the Sunday School overtures…. Had a spat with Dad, got sent to the basement for a time out, did an impressively long stint as His master disciplinarian, finally decided to cut that cord—and here I am. In the 'City of Angels.' On vacation. Fighting crime, righting wrongs, raising a little hell, that sort of thing."

"How… biblical." Again with the skepticism.

Lucifer slid onto the seat beside her, wasting no time in claiming the drink she'd previously abandoned. She didn't look thrilled by the sudden proximity, but she didn't move away, either. "Yes, well, don't believe everything you read, Detective. Like I told you, the world's full of misleading propaganda. Don't be another sheep in the flock." The glass froze halfway to his lips as the realization hit him. "Though I suppose if you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I have to say, you're taking all of this rather well." Post-meltdown, anyway.

To his surprise, she laughed. "The liquor helped."

He toasted to that. "Always my motto."

"So after millennia—" she stumbled over the word; Lucifer nodded encouragement, pleased that she was finally on board with the immortal concept "—reigning over hell, the king abdicates his throne? Just like that? To open a nightclub?"

"Hell's not quite the party it sounds," he told her, truthfully. "Besides, can you think of a better place to spend your sabbatical than at the center of Hedonism's capital?"

"But why?" she pushed the original inquiry.

Lucifer shrugged. "Call it an existential crisis. An overdue rebellion of sorts. Got tired of playing my role as black sheep of the family."

"And they just let you?"

"No one lets the devil do anything, Detective." He twirled an empty glass between idle fingers. "But I take your meaning. Certainly the road from hell is much more difficult than the road to it. Had to take out quite a number of my Father's prized fighters in the process, but hey. No use crying over spilled blood, I always say." He glanced over, her astonished silence drawing his attention like a lure. "Oh, believe me, that's just the tip of iceberg. The family squabbles I've endured over the ages would make Jerry Springer's head spin for decades. Much like yours surely is right now."

Indeed, staring blankly somewhere past his face, the detective appeared caught in the ongoing struggle to piece together all the evidence laid before her. Patiently Lucifer waited for her to speak her poor, scattered mind.

He was rewarded at length when she pointed out, "You still punish people." He sensed the unspoken question.

"True, but it's on my terms. Much more satisfying, see?"

It was clear that she did, though she hardly agreed with him. "So all of this is just a giant 'screw you' to your family?"

"That," he confided, "is a just a fringe benefit. This is about me, what I want."

"Which is what, exactly?"

The question caught him off guard him for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he couldn't recall ever being asked it before. By someone other than a therapist.

He also had no idea how to begin to answer.

And he didn't have to. "By my count, that's at least three questions I've answered already." Lucifer leaned forward, canines flashing as his smile morphed from languid to feral. "Quid pro quo, Detective."

Her eyebrows pinched but she otherwise remained unfazed. "If the aim of this game is reassurance, you might want to lay off the Hannibal Lecter references. Just a tip."

"Ah, but none of this is about sparing your fragile human feelings. It's about being honest."

Something like grudging respect solidified in the detective's eyes. When she gestured for him to proceed, Lucifer thought it over for only a moment before deciding that he, too, would start with the basics.

"Why aren't you and that ex of yours still together? Not that I blame you," he was quick to add. "You wouldn't have to search long to find a better candidate."

Yet again, Lucifer bore witness to a delightful slew of emotions dancing across her features until, ultimately, incredulity won out. "Seriously? That's what you want to talk about? My love life?"

"Why not? We already put my family under the microscope, and turnabout's fair play. Besides, there's much to be learned from romantic entanglements, especially the unsuccessful ones." Her expression did not improve. "What? Sore subject?"

Her affirmation was predictably acidic. "A bit."

"So what was it?" he plowed on, heedless. "Money troubles? Infidelity? Lame in the sack? Little D not rise to the occasion? Or perhaps a lack of ingenuity? He seems like the sort of uptight, vanilla, missionary type—"

The detective's eyes fell shut on a sigh, her face the picture of exasperation. "God."

"Had nothing to do with it, I assure you," finished Lucifer. "Come on, then. Tell me all about how you kicked your ex to the curb, and don't leave out the juicy bits."

"I'd be happy to," she said with faux sweetness, "if I was the one who broke it off."

"No." He gaped at her, and his surprise was entirely genuine. "He ended it? He left you?"

"Yeah, sounds much better when you say it," she muttered.

"And he thinks he can do better, is that it?"

"We weren't a good fit."

"And?" he pushed.

"And I guess there's a reason why it's taboo, mixing business with pleasure."

"Perhaps it was less the taboo at fault than it was your taste in partners, which, I must say, has vastly improved as of late. Come on, Detective," he overrode the perfunctory protest. "Dig a little deeper."

"Not much to tell." This time her tone was less clipped, her answer carrying more candor than petulance. "Dan and I… we'd been on the rocks for a while before we actually separated. Disagreed more often than not, especially when it was work-related. Remember what I told you about the Palmetto case?"

"The one that made you the pariah of your department? Yes, I vaguely recall."

"Well, that was hardly the first time we'd been divided on the job. Dan, he… likes an open-and-shut case." She said it as though it explained everything.

Which, actually, it did. "And you like a bit of mystery," he surmised, but she shook her head.

"I wouldn't say I like them so much as I feel compelled to solve them. However deep I have to dig."

An ambition with which Lucifer could wholly sympathize.

"Your ex is an open-and-shut case, Detective. No mystery there whatsoever. I can only assume you stuck it out for your offspring, then?"

"Trixie," she insisted. "I wanted to do the right thing for her, yes."

"Despite your unhappiness living with a complete prick?"

"I didn't say I was unhappy." She met his gaze squarely, and at last it occurred to him that it wasn't her ex she was defending; it was her choice. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. "I guess I don't like giving up on things."

"Even the hopeless cases?"

Her smile was all irony. "Especially those."

Fascinating.

"Now are we done dissecting my failed marriage?" The detective's tone jumped past irritable to accusatory, and idly he wondered if she finally caught on to the number of follow-up questions he'd snuck in. "Or would you like to rub more salt in the wound?"

Lucifer buried a frown. Though on the surface it seemed an innocuous choice of words, for some reason he found that the notion of her ex being an open wound versus a healed one didn't sit well with him. It suggested an ongoing level of attachment that was far beneath her.

And one beneath him, as well. At least, it used to be.

"Don't hate the player, darling," he volleyed back. "Hate the game you wittingly agreed to. Though I suppose you raise a fair point. Yes, I believe we've given Detective Douche more than enough attention today."

"Good," she sidestepped the jab, "because I've got my next question ready."

"By all means. Fire away." A dangerous command, given tonight's history.

"So you already confirmed that super speed's not part of your bag of tricks, but you do have some sort of invulnerability along with your weird, non-Jedi mind mojo—"

"And devilish good looks," he chimed in. "Yes, I'm quite the triple threat."

She ignored that. "What else?"

"Aside from steering wayward detectives in the right direction?" he quipped. "Why don't you move on to your real question?"

"Fine. I still want to know what you did to Jimmy."

Lucifer could have face-palmed. That topic was Boring with a capital B.

But if the detective wanted to waste a turn on surface-level excavation, he wasn't about to dissuade her. "I'm sorry, but is that your actual question? A technicality won't earn you anymore freebies." Only when she answered in the affirmative did he expand. "It's nothing half as horrific as the slideshow of slasher flick scenes flashing through that overactive imagination of yours. Or was it?" he reconsidered, gauging her reaction. "No telling what sorts of dark, depraved manner of ideas lie behind those closed doors."

"Lucifer," she intervened. "Focus."

"Right. Well, if it's your conscience that's got you looking like a sour lemon, you can rest easy, Detective. I did nothing, unfortunately, that would cause permanent, irreparable damage. Didn't get the pleasure. The pathetic, drooling condition you found him in? A coping method of his own creation. A side effect of a weak mind, I'm afraid."

"And the cause?" she probed.

Leaning back on the barstool, Lucifer rested his interlaced fingers upon crossed knees. "Oh, I merely held up the mirror and showed him his future; what deservedly deplorable fate awaits him in hell. A bluff," he admitted, "seeing as I'm topside and not at liberty to dispatch fiery damnation and whatnot myself. Turned out alright in the end, though. Why send the party downstairs when the maggot's doing a bang-up job conjuring his own hell right here on earth?"

"What did you show him, Lucifer?"

"Oh? Haven't I said?" His pause was all theatrics. "I showed him my true form, of course."

"You—what?"

"Don't let this fine packaging fool you, Detective. Beneath the surface lies a face unlike any you've ever known before." Unwittingly, it came out less a boast than a warning.

Which prompted an equally ill-fitting response. "Show me."

"Pardon?"

"Show me," urged the detective. "Like you showed Jimmy."

"My, my. Eager for me to bare all, aren't you?" Lucifer aimed for flippant, but his mouth pinched. "You know, you could at least offer me a biscuit or something if you're going to treat me like some sort of performing monkey."

He felt strangely torn, unsure where this sudden reticence originated. He was no prude; quite the opposite, in fact, and the exhibitionist in him had absolutely no qualms about complying with the request.

And yet there was some other, unknowable factor trapping him in limbo. Something far more complex than his inclination to tease his audience by drawing out the suspense.

Unable to explain the hesitation, Lucifer could only push through it. "Are you sure, Detective? We're already down the rabbit hole, yes, but there's still opportunity to climb out before you hit bottom. There aren't many who behold the true face of the devil and smile about it after."

He didn't know why he bothered asking. He knew exactly how she would respond.

"I'm not most people."

"No," Lucifer agreed easily, already sitting up. "You most certainly are not."

When he felt his eyes burn red as hellfire, he wasn't sure which of them got the bigger thrill.

A/N: So we are officially past the halfway point, since I am about 90% sure that there will be five chapters total. That being said, I'm warning you guys now that the next update will take a little longer. I'd like to write the remaining chapters in conjunction so that when I do post the next one, hopefully I can post the final one shortly after. I think the pacing will work out better that way, too. Thanks to everyone for your continued support and patience—and special thanks to Wench359 for the helpful grammar tip. See you guys at the finish line!