Author's Note: Holy crap. Wow, you guys. I wasn't expecting such an overwhelming response to this story in such a short period. 27 reviews in 36 hours? You guys are FANTASTIC. Which is part of the reason why this was up so quickly. I thrive on feedback, because you guys tends to give me some really good ideas and then they just take off from there, so please read and review! (I still love the long ones, but let's face it...I love them all). I tried to reconcile the Sammael/Lucifer storyline in this chapter, while still working off of what Chloe thought she'd figured out in the last one. I think I did ok...definitely think I did better with Lucifer this time around though.
Chloe didn't mean to change her behavior towards Lucifer. She really didn't. She wasn't even aware that she was doing it until Dan called her out on it at a crime scene when Lucifer was out of earshot.
"Chloe, what's going on with you and him?" Dan asked, frowning worriedly.
She bristled. "For the last time, Dan, nothing is going on between us."
He rolled his eyes, and carefully steered her further away from the chalk outline, putting even more distance between them and the night club owner.
"Jesus, Chloe, that's not what I mean. I mean, did you guys like, fight or something?" he asked.
Chloe frowned, shaking her head. "No."
"Then why is he acting like you killed his dog? Or his favorite hooker, or whatever the hell the Devil would care about?" Dan asked. "He's been moping around for the past couple of days and it's beginning to get weird. Even for him."
Chloe glanced back at Lucifer who was absently talking to one of the female crime scene investigators. She could see from the way the woman gestured animatedly she was more than thrilled to be the object of even half his attention, but instead of soaking up the admiration, Lucifer simply nodded and smiled politely at the right moments. He seemed to sense her looking over at him, and he turned, catching her eyes momentarily before she quickly looked away, glancing back down at her feet.
"Wait, have you been doing that to him this whole time?" Dan asked, suddenly pointing an accusing finger at her.
Chloe crossed her arms defensively across her chest. "What?"
"That," Dan said, pointing at her face. "That look is the look you always get when you start feeling bad for something."
"I do not!" Chloe protested.
"Remember when we had to put Trixie's old dog down, and every time you looked at her for a week she would burst into tears?" Dan said. "It was because of that look."
"I do not have a look, Dan!"
Dan threw his hands up in exasperation. "This is because of what you think you figured out last week, isn't it? Instead of thinking of him as the obnoxious, arrogant ass that he is, every time you look at him you think of him as Sally Sobstory."
Chloe could feel her ears turn pink at the tips, but she steadfastly refused to give in. "I'm not thinking of him as anything other than what he is."
Dan nodded, putting his hands on his hips, cocking one leg to the side. "Uh huh. Sure. And, uh, what exactly would that be?"
Now Dan had hit the problem she'd run in to. She didn't know what he was. Maybe he was just a delusional narcissist. He pretended to be the Devil because it got him attention in every way, shape or form that he craved. But something in her, something in her gut told her there was something true to his story. Even if it was only his claim that he wouldn't lie to her, and claiming to be a dethroned archangel was a pretty damn big, obvious lie – so some part of him had to believe it was true.
Maybe he was a kid whose father told him repeatedly that he was the Devil. That he was evil. Maybe he grew up in one of those religious nut job communes and he didn't drink the Kool Aide. Maybe he was in an accident, and he just blocked out the traumatic memory. She couldn't help herself – there was just something tragic about him, and she couldn't put her finger on what or why.
"If that's the look you keep giving him, no wonder he's pouting. I feel like crying and I don't even like the guy," Dan said, bringing her out of her thoughts.
She sighed, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. "I know, I know, I just...I can't help it, okay? Now that I know-"
Dan cut her off, putting his hand up to stop her. "No, Chloe, you don't know. You think you know. You have a theory, an admittedly pretty solid one, but you don't know. He could be a guy who's into scarification. They could be a birth defect. They could be make up, for Chrissakes, and he's just that committed to the act."
Chloe didn't protest, because unfortunately he was right. She didn't know, she could only guess.
"Look, Chloe, I'm not saying that he doesn't have some sort of tragic family history of Biblical proportions. He probably does. But you don't think he knows that? He didn't pick a tragic figure out of any religion to make himself into, he picked the Devil. Someone so completely against the archetypal victim that until you started trying to puzzle him out, worked brilliantly. If someone goes through all that to convince you he's not a victim, or some sort of tragic, misunderstood hero, don't you think he might need to convince himself of that too?"
Chloe felt guilt pulling at her gut like a lead weight. God, when Dan pointed it out like that, she felt like she'd just managed to make everything worse. "Have I really been that bad?"
Dan stared at her. "Oh yeah. Trust me. If I noticed, the he noticed." He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Look, I know you mean well. Really, I do. I know how you get, all right? But he's not a kid anymore, so stop treating him like one."
Chloe had more than a soft spot of childhood trauma victims. In police work, it didn't matter what department you wound up in, you all started at the bottom as a patrolman. That meant you were a first responder to the 911 calls instead of the back up once the dust had settled. Seeing anyone hurt pulled at her heart strings, but she was never an effective investigator when it came to violent crimes against children. Her emotions ran hot and definitely Old Testament and she knew it carried over to the kids. She'd gotten better at it, hiding her instinctive reactions, mostly after she had Trixie, but she moved to homicide for a reason.
"Crap," she muttered, and risked another glance back at Lucifer who was now chatting happily with another detective. "I didn't think it would be possible to look at him as anything other than a pain in my ass."
"Yeah, well, the terrible burden of knowledge and all that," Dan agreed. "I keep doing it too."
That raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You found sympathy for the Devil?"
"Hardy har har," Dan said. "I don't have to make it up to him. I already used Trixie as an excuse – I said she made me promise to be nicer to her future babysitter and he looked downright horrified and has been avoiding me ever since."
"Perfect. Then what do I do? I still have to work with him, and I can't get my mind off what his background could possibly be to explain his...quirks." She made air quotes around the word 'quirks'.
"The guy's a club owner. Buy him off with booze," Dan suggested. "The good stuff. Not like Blue Ribbon. And if you really can't get it out of your head...ask him."
"Ask him what? Why he chose the Devil as an identity crisis?" Chloe protested. "That's going to go over real well."
Dan shrugged. "Well, he already knows you don't believe him, so he's going to do one of two things – give you the Biblical retelling of his history, or he'll give you the truth. If he goes with the Bible, then you lost nothing. If he tells you the truth..." He shrugged again. "You got nothing to lose by asking." he clapped her on the shoulder, before going off to talk with the CSI bent over the body with their camera.
"What was that all about?"
And suddenly Lucifer was at her elbow, grinning like an idiot. His insane ability to pop in and out of places was unnerving. He reminded her of a cat – hiding on top of furniture, waiting to pounce as someone walked by.
"Nothing," she said. "We were just talking about you."
"Marvelous! Anything I should know about? Sweet nothings you want to whisper in my ear?" he asked, leaning forwards invitingly.
Chloe paused, considering Dan's suggestion that she simply ask about Lucifer about himself. He always seemed more than willing to talk to her, but never in any form of seriousness. Not even when he was trying to explain he was bulletproof (which she couldn't believe she fell for).
She must've gotten the face Dan accused her of, because Lucifer's smile dimmed, and he took a step back.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" he asked. "Like I'm some sort of...wilting flower, or something equally fragile?" He paused. "Like I'm weak."
"I don't think you're fragile, it's just-"
"I'm the prince of lies, Detective. Just because my other charms seem to have no effect on you doesn't mean I can't tell when you're lying."
Chloe rubbed her forehead, massaging away the building headache. "Fine, fine. Look, can I talk to you later tonight?"
Lucifer gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "What's wrong with right now?"
"Because I could use a drink for it," she said honestly.
She watched as he brow furrowed, first in doubt and then in confusion. "Sure, Detective. Lux will be closed to the public after midnight tonight. It's inventory night."
"Fine. That'll be fine. Dan has Trixie tonight anyway." She took a deep, even breath, mentally shook herself, and actively tried to treat Lucifer the way she always had. "Did you find out anything useful?"
Late nights at the club hadn't been her thing since her acting days, but even when she did go to them, they were never ones like Lux.
On the other hand, nothing was quite like Lux. Slick, shiny black surfaces that seemed to absorb the light and reflect shadows, and an air of something she couldn't quite define except as temptation. There was never a trace of anyone left behind when it closed – no empty solo cups (because Lux would never serve its $100 bottle liquor in a cheap plastic beer pong receptacle), no left behind glasses, and for a club that advocated carnal sin, no one ever left anything behind. Even fingerprints, on those shiny blackened surfaces.
True to his word, Lucifer had closed Lux to the public, and she found him sitting at the bar, two glasses and a bottle in front of him. One glass was empty, and the other half full.
"So what is it that you wanted to discuss so privately, Detective?" Lucifer asked, pouring her a drink.
She took a sip before she answered. Holy hell, that was top shelf.
"You, actually," she said. Lucifer had always been honest with her – he deserved the same respect. "More specifically…I wanted to know about you before you opened Lux."
Lucifer frowned. "I told you, I wasn't here before Lux. I was still in Hell. You have my whole history on Earth already."
Dammit. Not the best start.
"No, Lucifer. I mean…before that. I mean, you weren't really in Hell, because you're not the Devil, no matter what you claim. You said you were immortal, but you bleed just the same as I do."
Lucifer smirked. "Yes, the mortality thing is a rather new development, actually. I'm still not sure that I'm happy about it, but it does make life…interesting." He sipped at his whiskey. "But I don't know how many times you want me to repeat myself – I'm the Devil. Lucifer of Olde. Fallen one. Abbadon, Beelzebub and however many other names you people have come up with since last I checked."
Chloe sighed. She didn't really expect him to suddenly break his character if she asked him, but she'd at least hoped.
"Okay, fine. Say you're the Devil. The actual Devil. If that's the case- "
"It is."
She pretended not to hear him. "If that's the case…what are you doing here? Why LA? Why the nightclub? Why any of it?"
"I was bored," Lucifer said, a trace of his old smile back. "Being king of Hell is better than being a resident, but it's still Hell. I needed a vacation."
"And you picked LA because…?"
Lucifer smirked. "I like irony." He sipped at his whiskey. "And the weather is similar to what I'm used to. Contrary to Red Sox fans circa 2004, Hell has yet to freeze over."
"The club?"
"I provide a certain service to people, Detective. I allow…opportunities here that they wouldn't otherwise have available." He was smiling broadly now, the Old Lucifer once more as they bickered back and forth. She knew he lived for it – Lucifer liked a challenge, and from what she had observed from everyone else around him, he didn't run into them often. Everyone tripped over themselves for him. But still, the thought of those scars…they were anything but the intangible daydreams of a possibly deluded man. Those were real, and so was his reaction to them.
And if he wasn't going to give her the real story, then she was going with Dan's plan – decipher his Biblical retelling of his history…assuming she could get him to even talk about it in that context.
"What can you tell me about this name?" she asked, pulling the crumpled and worn post it from her pocket. She smoothed the edges, making it lie flat against the black counter top.
Lucifer, still grinning from ear to ear, glanced down at the neat penmanship. And froze.
His smiled vanished, and his already pale complexion paled even further, making him look gaunt and hollow in the minimal lighting of Lux.
"Where did you get that name?" he asked, voice tight with barely controlled anger.
No, not anger. He was way passed anger. That was hardly restrained rage just beneath the surface.
"So it means something?" Chloe asked. She hadn't found a whole lot on the name when she looked it up. Various completely conflicting stories in various conflicting religions, but the only thing they all agreed on was it was a very old name.
Lucifer was quiet for a long time. He tentatively reached out for the tiny piece of bright yellow paper, and she could see the minute shaking in his hand as he traced the letters with his finger.
"It used to mean something," Lucifer said quietly. And he crushed the paper in his hand. "Where did you hear it?"
"I found it when I was trying to figure out who you were before Lucifer Morningstar of Lux. Who's Samael?"
There was another long pause as he down the remainder of his whiskey, staring at the crumbled piece of paper in his fist. She didn't think he was going to answer, and was beginning to regret ever bringing it up.
"Samael is the name I had when I carried out temptation and death in the name of my Father." Lucifer spun the glass in his hand on the counter, letting it spin wildly on its edge like a dradle. "Before he threw me out and left me alone."
"You killed people for your father?" Chloe asked.
"Millions have killed in the name of my Father," Lucifer corrected. He watched the glass spin on its axis. "For thousands of years. Samael was the angel of death. He doled out punishment for the wicked when they were still on Earth because there wasn't a Hell. He waged war, not to punish indiscriminately, but to punish on behalf of God, with His permission, and for the good of all."
Chloe waited patiently to see if Lucifer would continue on his own.
Impossibly, the glass spun on.
"So how did Lucifer come about?" Chloe said quietly. "What made you rebel?"
"My Father decided that humans didn't deserve to be punished on Earth. He thought they deserved their entire lives to get a chance to redeem themselves. No longer was the Man punished, but the Soul. And if the Man didn't redeem himself, then the wicked Souls had to have a place to go. Thus Hell was created – except this new kingdom needed a king. Who better than the angel who carried out the punishment of God on Earth?"
"And you didn't want to?"
Lucifer chuckled humorlessly. "Angels are supposed to be the will of God. A rebellious angel, never mind a rebellious archangel, was unthought of. My Father tried to tell me it wasn't a punishment – even renamed me Lucifer to try and appease me. From 'God's Poison' to 'Light Bearer'. I didn't care. As Samael at least I'd been able to go to Heaven. I could walk the Earth. As Lucifer the Fallen One, I had to stay in Hell. Thousands of years, millions of Souls screaming out in pain and suffering and fear. And did they blame my Father for what they went through? Did they curse His name? No. It was mine. Did they blame themselves for their choices? No. They blamed me."
"What happened to your wings? Why did you have Maze...cut them off?" Chloe asked. She fought the urge to put her hand on his arm, or take his hand in hers. She was so used to physical contact being a comfort it was second nature, but Lucifer had already made it abundantly clear – unless it was sex, physical displays of affection were unwanted. She clasped her hands tighter around her glass to keep them from straying.
The glass tipped, falling from its graceful dance across the counter to the floor, shattering on impact.
Lucifer watched it go, and made no move to clean it up.
"Angels have wings. Angels are God's children, just as humans are, and my Father had made it abundantly clear I was no child of His." He reached across the bar counter, fishing around behind the table for a moment before pulling up a brand new bottle of very expensive whiskey. He didn't bother to get a new glass though, and simply pulled directly from the bottle.
"Maybe you should go a little easy on that," Chloe cautioned, but he ignored her, and continued to drink like he was a man dying of thirst in the desert. "Or not..."
Lucifer finally put the bottle down, licking the remnants from his lips before finally turning to look at her for the first time he started talking about his father. "If He didn't want me as a son, then I didn't want Him for a Father. Lucifer, the Fallen Angel King of Hell, is no more." He stood, shoving away from the bar. He didn't even sway, even though he'd just downed enough hard liquor to cause alcohol poisoning in an elephant.
He was the owner, though, and she doubted this was his first time drinking that much.
"Let's see you rationalize that into theory, Detective," he snarled. "The only thing worse than not being believed in is being patronized, and I have had millennia of it from my brothers to recognize it in a mere mortal. I assume you can find your way to the door."
With that, he gave her a mocking bow, and disappeared up the stairs to his loft, leaving the broken glass lying shattered on the ground.
Just like her heart.
"My job is to protect Lucifer," a woman said. It was so close Chloe jumped in her seat, hand half way to her gun before she realized it was Maze.
"Where the hell did you just come from?" Chloe demanded, willing her heart to go back to its normal pace. Maze continued as if she hadn't spoken. Or like she hadn't just popped out of thin air. Unless she'd been sitting behind the bar so low even the top of her head wasn't visible. While strange, it wouldn't be the strangest thing she'd seen in this nightclub.
"My purpose is to protect him. Protect him from his brothers. Protect him from himself. And protect him from you," Maze hissed, her eyes narrowing as she leaned across the bar counter. She let her eyes drift the length of Chloe's body, and she fought the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.
"By any means necessary," Maze said. There was a flicker of something in her eyes. Something almost feline. And when she curled her lip as Chloe finished her drink and left the empty glass on the table (because she was not going to let Lucifer's bar tender-slash-ninja intimidate her), she could swear she saw a flash of something rotting and twisted, just underneath the surface of that beautiful, flawless mask.
"Good night, Detective," Maze called after her.
The farewell had an edge of malice to it sharper than any knife, and Chloe waited until the door closed behind her before she allowed the shiver to run down her spine.
So I asked a Catholic friend of mine if she had even heard of Samael, even in relation to Lucifer, and she hadn't. Apparently, it's really old Judaic lore, but Lucifer and Sammael/Samael were never the same angel. I tried to reconcile that as being two different identities, while trying to stay as close to the Christian lore of Lucifer/The Devil as I could and still make it sound decent.
So, did I succeed? Fail miserably? I may...MAY have an extended story line for this, but Chloe was really very hard to write in this chapter, compared to the first one where she just sort of...flowed. So next time, back to old Chloe and Old Lucifer, and I may or may not have a story line involving a deluded cult that I can work into it. If it sounds like something you would read, let me know!
