Author's Note: This had now been rewritten three times - and then I had to make myself stop tweaking it because it was getting RIDICULOUSLY long. So, hopefully it's not too long, and this time I was nice and didn't leave a horrible cliffhanger.

Also - I am making up my own lore in this story. I don't know where they're going with the series but I know how the books turn out, so I'm sort of aiming to stay away from it. No, I don't plan on crossing over with Damien, because that's a level of complicated I don't think I could do justice to in addition to the storyline I have planned. Also - I am not the one who made Lucifer mortal/vulnerable. That's canon established in the series. Personally, I would like to keep him immortal, because he was a lot more fun like that.


"I always knew you were the talented one, big brother," a familiar voice said. "But this pretty much takes the cake."

Lucifer blinked his eyes open, squinting against the overhead light and the abominable headache he had. That's new...and decidedly unwelcome. He brought a hand up, fumbling for the light above his head, wincing at the stiffness and soreness that suddenly seemed to ignite everywhere.

"Yeah, you went full stigmata for a second there," the voice continued, and there was a shuffle of movement and the light was gone. "I'm sure there's something sacrilegious in that."

Lucifer breathed a sigh of relief as his headache abated slightly with the absence of light. "What are you doing here? Don't you have some virgins to deliver pregnancy announcements to?" He could still taste copper in his mouth, though thankfully it didn't feel like he was about to start hacking up a lung…or two…again.

Gabriel laughed, and settled deeper into his chair opposite Lucifer's bed. "Nah, that was sort of a one-time thing. I mostly just run around setting fire to shrubbery on church lawns to give people a sense of purpose now."

Gabriel was Lucifer's decidedly less irritating brother. All of his years amongst humans had given him a rather wicked jokester streak – one which his other siblings couldn't quite grasp but Lucifer always enjoyed. Out of all his brothers, Gabriel was probably the only one who actually enjoyed human company, which was good since he was often the one their Father chose to communicate through. Unlike Amenadiel, who Lucifer swore showed up in all his feathery-bird boy glory to mock him, Gabriel looked just as human as Lucifer did. No wings, no halo, no heavenly choirs or ridiculous displays of power like slowing time. Instead, he was in a LA Angels t-shirt and jeans and looking like he'd just come off the beach.

Lucifer snorted and immediately winced. "Why does my entire face hurt?" He touched his hand to his lips, and was relieved when they came away clean. "Did I get into another fight with Michael?"

Gabriel's grin faded slightly. "Uh, no…Michael doesn't even know I'm here. No one knows I'm here. Well, except our Father, because well…omniscient and all that."

Lucifer let his eyes drift closed. Everything hurt, not just his face, like he was one big bruise. And this bed was not helping. "Where are we?"

"The hospital," Gabriel said cheerfully. "Your humans brought you here when they thought you were dying. I think the popular theory right now is a localized biological attack, but I haven't been listening in on their interrogation."

Lucifer sighed, and moved to sit up, wincing as he did so. It was like being shot, all at once, all over his body – the novelty of pain was officially over. He'd take his immortality status back now… "How do people live like this? No wonder they're so miserable."

Gabriel shrugged. "Well, for one thing, they normally don't test it out quite like you did. Secondly, they don't go from ten million years of feeling no pain at all to suddenly having someone try and rip them from their bodies."

Lucifer frowned. "Someone tried to exorcise me?"

Gabriel nodded. "Apparently."

No wonder he hurt so bad. It was the equivalent of trying to tear someone apart from the inside out. Angels and demons, despite popular opinion in the recent portrayal in pop culture, did not possess people. They were creatures of Creation – older than time itself. They could alter their own shapes and forms and appear just as a human as their distant cousins, but it was ridiculous to believe that something God created could only show up on Earth by invitation only. Lesser demons and ghosts and poltergeists could do it, but it wasn't necessary – they just liked to cause havoc by parading around in borrowed meat suits.

Not that angels in their true forms weren't terrifying. There's a reason why every time one showed up, usually Gabriel himself, their first words to the humans were 'fear not'.

"I hate people," Lucifer grumbled, and slid back down the bed so he was lying flat once more. If he ever got his hands on that woman…she'd whispered something in his ear, but the music had been so loud and he hadn't been paying all that much attention in the first place. He just knew that one moment she'd been very, very affectionate, and then she'd dug her nails into his wrists and whispered something he couldn't hear and the next moment he felt like something was trying to pull him inside out.

"Just remember who decided to come and live with them," Gabriel admonished gently. "Apparently permanently, from what I hear. Did you really cut off your wings?"

Lucifer declined to answer, hunching his shoulders. One side benefit, he supposed, was that after having someone try and throw him out of his own body, he didn't notice the absence of his wings as much.

"Brother, that's like cutting off your nose to spite your face," Gabriel said.

"I'm aware of the consequences, little brother," Lucifer growled. "And I'll take a metaphorical missing nose over Hell for eternity all over a couple angry words."

"It's not that bad," Gabriel said, though Lucifer could hear the lie in his voice.

"Then you do it," Lucifer snapped back. "I'm sure Amenadiel would be willing to trade – king of Hell for messenger boy."

Gabriel didn't answer, carefully avoiding the suggestion. "Father is worried about you, you know."

Lucifer burst out laughing and immediately regretted it when his entire ribcage protested the movement. "Don't make me laugh…" he gasped, but couldn't keep the incredulous smirk off his face.

"Why do you think He let me come down here?" Gabriel asked. "I'm the messenger boy, remember? I deliver messages."

"He could've sent Michael."

Gabriel scoffed. "Yeah. He sends Michael when He wants to make a statement, not to check up on things. But you seem to be in over your head recently, and while True Believers are few and far between, you seem to have stumbled upon some that actually seem to know what they're doing. There's a reason why Father wasn't overjoyed with the idea of any of us kicking around on Earth for any great length of time. You included."

"Father doesn't care about me, and He certainly isn't worried," Lucifer grumbled. "If He was, He would say something. Or do something. And He hasn't for years."

Gabriel sighed. "Look, I know the more someone tries to get you to do something, the less likely you're to do it out of sheer spite. I'm not telling you to go back to Hell, or anything else. I'm just pointing out a few things. Like how you seem unfortunately mortal."

"Am I?" Lucifer asked mildly. "Hadn't noticed."

"Ever wonder what that might mean, brother?" Gabriel asked. "Not just for you, but for the rest of us? What happens if you die?"

"I imagine I'll go up or down, depending on how Father feels at the time," Lucifer said dismissively.

Gabriel was suddenly mere inches from Lucifer's face. "I'm less concerned about where you go, Samael, then I am about what happens if Father's favorite son is murdered. I sincerely doubt that rainbow bullshit promise He made to Noah is going to keep Him from getting creative with some very Old Testament punishment."

"Father isn't-"

"Brother, I love you, but if you say He doesn't care about what happens to you, I will smack the taste out of your mouth," Gabriel threatened. "I don't care what issues the two of you have, but you cannot honestly believe that if an archangel, fallen or not, is killed there won't be some sort of fallout of the Biblical proportion for humanity. Stay here and play cops and robbers for all I care – be judge, jury and executioner if it helps. But do try and understand it's not only you that's affected by your choices, and I, for one, have had enough bloodshed in our Father's name for even our lifetimes."

Lucifer glared at his brother. "Get out."

And Gabriel vanished.

There was a cautious knocking on his door, and Lucifer grabbed his pathetic hospital pillow and fought the urge to scream into it. Instead he yelled, though slightly muffled, "I don't want any more visitors!"

The door cracked open anyway and he picked up the pillow with every intention of throwing it at the intruder until he saw it was Chloe.

"Oh," he managed, smiling sheepishly. "You."

Chloe raised an eyebrow, glancing around the darkened room. "You were expecting someone else?"

Lucifer stuffed the pillow back under his head, readjusting the headboard until he was sitting upright and he didn't look quite so weak. "My brother was just here. I was hoping he hadn't decided to bring anyone else."

Chloe's eyebrows shot almost through her hairline. "Your brother was here? I didn't even think they were letting visitors in yet."

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, well, my family doesn't have to obey visiting hours."

"I didn't even know you had family," Chloe said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.

"One older brother, and too many to count younger ones," Lucifer clarified. "You just missed Gabriel."

Chloe sighed, stepping into the room and taking Gabriel's recently abandoned post. "Of course your brother is named Gabriel."

Lucifer smirked. Her continued disbelief in his story would be borderline amusing, if it wasn't so irritating. "Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, and of course Michael. Those are the important ones, anyway. I have one particularly obnoxious younger one named Amenadiel who is quite adamant that I get back to work so he can stop doing my job for me. He's beginning to understand that a gift isn't a gift when you have to accept it."

Chloe didn't answer, but she did turn back on the overhead light and he flinched at the sudden brightness.

"Little warning, Detective?" he said, slowly blinking his eyes to adjust them.

"You'll be happy to know that they can't find anything permanently wrong with you," Chloe said, and Lucifer noted the irritability in her tone. "No signs of poison, pathogens, or other forms of biological warfare. Other than some bruised ribs from prolonged, violent coughing, you're fine as far as the doctor is concerned. One thought you might have a pulmonary embolism, except that didn't account for the bleeding from everywhere, and the second suggestion was that you have a bizarre form of hemophilia that the woman set off with an aerosolized irritant. But nothing conclusive, and they say you're cleared to go."

"You seem rather upset by that," he said.

The look she shot him was positively murderous and Lucifer found himself less worried about Gabriel's visit than Detective Decker's.

"Upset?" she repeated. "Upset? I'm upset when the line takes forever at the coffee house. I'm upset when the Angels lose the pennant. You, coughing up more blood than I have ever seen in my lifetime, in my arms from some unknown reason in the middle of your club? I don't think there's even a word for what I feel right now."

"Sorry?" Lucifer apologized, though not entirely sure why he was apologizing or even what for. It just seemed like he should offer something and that was what most women seemed to prefer – apologies, even if he didn't mean them.

Wrong choice of words, apparently, because Chloe practically exploded.

"Sorry? Sorry for what, Lucifer? Sorry because you almost died? Sorry because you refuse to tell me the truth about who you are and where you come from even though now it's threatening your life? Sorry because someone is now very obviously targeting you based on your delusion?"

Lucifer shrank back further into the unforgiving pillow. "If it'll keep you from murdering me, yes. All of it."

And just as quickly, Chloe's anger was gone, and she pressed her hand to her face.

Lucifer edged toward the other side of the bed. Perhaps she was possessed. That would explain a lot, actually…maybe he could just – slip out the door when she wasn't looking.

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, dropping her hand to her lap. She sniffed, and for the first time Lucifer noticed that her eyes were suspiciously red.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, frowning.

She didn't answer, but looked deliberately away from him.

"What for?"

Finally she gave a response he recognized – that half head tilt to the side, mouth partially open like she wanted to say something so much more sarcastic than what actually came out, eyes narrowed in disbelief. The one she always gave him when she was torn between slapping him and questioning his sanity.

"Seriously?" she said.

Lucifer shrugged. "I always thought I was more of a bother than a delight to you, Detective. I apologize for causing undue duress with my untimely almost demise."

Chloe continued to stare at him for a moment before she shook her head. "I thought you were dying, Lucifer. I don't care how irritating someone is, watching them cough up more blood than I've ever seen and practically choking to death on it is a little distressing, okay?"

Lucifer grinned. "But I'm fine now. See?" He went to move his arms and immediately winced.

Chloe shook her head. "Those would be the bruised ribs. You should consider yourself lucky. It could've been worse. And no one seems to know what the hell happened."

"According to Gabriel, she tried to exorcise me," Lucifer said helpfully.

"I thought that was for demonic possession," Chloe said, frowning. "Like in the movie."

Lucifer relaxed slightly, knowing he'd thoroughly distracted her from her worry about him. "It is. That's the only way it really works, at any rate. It kicks creatures out of bodies that aren't their own, like a supernatural eviction notice."

"So why would she try it on you?" Chloe asked, crossing her arms. "Supposedly you're the Devil, not a demon."

Lucifer gave a half shrug, trying to avoid pulling at bruised muscles. "Because thanks to pop culture, people seem to believe we need to inhabit someone else's body in order to walk the Earth, which is complete nonsense. Gabriel used to deliver messages all the time in his own form. It's even in that stupid book they keep quoting."

"Okay…so why would she want to exorcise you in the first place?"

Lucifer shrugged again. "Hell if I know. The one to ask would be Señorita Psychopath, if she was still alive."

"Maze caught her on the way out of the club," Chloe said.

"I'm sure that was a mess to clean up."

"The woman is currently in holding down at the precinct. Dan's keeping an eye on her," Chloe said.

Lucifer felt his jaw drop in shock. "Maze left her alive?"

"There were two cops less than six feet away from her. What did you think she was going to do?"

"Not that," Lucifer said, still trying to process the idea that Maze had left a would be assassin alive.

"Well, she and Dan are currently down at the station with her," Chloe said, and dropped a pile of clothes on the end of his bed. "I'm supposed to take you home before checking in with them."

"Several things wrong there that I need to point out," Lucifer said, holding up a finger. "One, why is Maze with Detective Douche at the station; two, why would I be going back to Lux instead of to the station with you; and three, what in my Father's name are those?" He pointed to the clothes, which looked like the reject pile from the local homeless shelter.

"One, Maze is with Dan because you yourself recommended that we use her instead of you as our new occult specialist because you suddenly decided you were no longer interested in the case. Two, because you're being released from the hospital but that doesn't mean you're up for doing anything more strenuous than going to bed, and three, these are what we found that will fit you until you get home," Chloe explained. She nudged the pile with her foot. "That'll teach you to be almost a foot taller than everyone I know."

"Where are my clothes?" Lucifer protested, eyeing the sweatshirt.

"The same place mine are," Chloe said, and for the first time Lucifer realized she was wearing gym clothes instead of her shirt and jacket as usual. "Evidence."

Lucifer gingerly picked up the overly large hoodie. "I wasn't aware you were friends with a Sasquatch, Detective. Are you wearing this with me?"

"It's what Dan grabbed from the precinct, okay? I'm going to go sign you out into police custody, so get changed so we can leave when I get back. And no, walking out of here naked is not an option."

Getting dressed was more painful than he would've liked, but the more he moved, the less it hurt. One of the women he'd slept with had shown him all sorts of interesting stretches meant for relieving muscle stiffness, which they'd proceeded to misappropriate in the worst of ways. Who would've thought they actually worked the way they were intended…

When Chloe came back to get him, she promptly burst out laughing, and as much as he would've liked to, he couldn't blame her.

"I look ridiculous," he grumbled, spreading his arms as far as he could without it hurting. The sweatshirt had to be a XXXL, and he was by no means a small man, but he was practically swimming in it. The hood, if pulled over his head, hung almost to his chin, and if he didn't push the sleeves up to his elbows, he couldn't use his hands. In stark contrast, the gym pants she'd grabbed were absurdly short and came almost above his ankle, and the pull on dock shoes were probably from the dollar bin at a thrift store. He'd punished Souls cleaner than these shoes, and he shuddered, vowing a thorough scrubbing when he got back to his loft. "What'd you do, raid the Short and Wide instead of Big and Tall?"

"I'm pretty sure the nurse just called you adorable," Chloe pointed out, trying and failing miserably not to laugh.

"She has a homeless fetish?" Lucifer remarked snidely. "Well, judge not and all that, but I am the Devil. I don't do adorable." Just to spite him, his hood fell back down over his face and he shoved it back angrily.

"Well, apparently today you do," Chloe admonished lightly, before steering him towards the exit.

*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*

"This isn't Lux," Lucifer accused.

Chloe sighed, parking the car underneath the car port. "No, Lucifer, it's not." She hadn't heart or the energy to tell him back at the hospital that she couldn't return him to the club. For one, it was still under lockdown until they were positive that whatever the woman hit Lucifer with wasn't spreading or contagious. Of course, since the hospital was at a loss as to what would cause something that looked like something out of the chemical warfare version of stigmata, the CDC probably wouldn't find anything either. Secondly, Lucifer had officially been placed in police custody, and given his unfortunate habit of never doing anything that he was told, she'd figured she would wait until she'd gotten him back to her house before she told him that the home she'd mentioned returning him to was hers, and not his.

"So I can't go to the precinct, and I can't go back to my own home, but I'm healthy enough for a sleepover?" he protested. "How in the world does that make sense?"

Chloe sighed, pressing her forehead against the front door for a moment before she unlocked it. The lights were still on, and the baby sitter was up with Trixie watching cartoons.

"Hey, Miz D," Stephanie said around a mouthful of popcorn. "I swear, there's some education to be had here."

"Mom!" Trixie cried, leaping off the couch, popcorn bowl forgotten as she wrapped herself around her mom's legs. "Did you bring Lucifer home?"

"And she's here?" Lucifer grumbled from the threshold. "I thought we just established that I was the victim of bio terrorism. Why do I have to be in the proximity of a child? Isn't that an ethics violation?"

"Lucifer!" Trixie let go long enough to launch herself at her new favorite toy, but Chloe caught her mid jump. From the way Lucifer had flinched away from the airborne assault, one would think he found the idea of a second 'exorcism' a better alternative to a hug from a child.

One day, she would have to ask why he disliked children so much.

"Honey, Mr. Morningstar is only here for a little while, while we clean up his house, okay? And he's not feeling very well, so be extra quiet, and extranice, right?" Chloe said, swinging Trixie up onto her hip.

Trixie glanced at Lucifer, lower lip jutting out in a pout. "Is he sick?"

"No, sweetie. Just not feeling well. He's supposed to get plenty of rest, so I want you to play in your room as much as you can, okay?"

Trixie looked torn, and she kept glancing back and forth between the two of them before heaving a dramatic sigh. "Okay…"

"Good girl. I'll be in in a minute, okay?"

As Trixie ran off to her room, Lucifer skirted around Chloe and the baby sitter, sleeves pulled down over his hands like makeshift mittens, hood almost covering his face and face planted on the vacated couch, looking all the world like a petulant teenager home from college.

Stephanie leaned over to whisper, "New boyfriend, Miz D?"

Chloe crinkled her nose. "No. God, no."

"I heard that," Lucifer protested from the couch. He was tall enough that his now bare feet hung over one side of the sofa, and that was pretty much all she could see.

Stephanie smiled, and waved off Chloe as she pulled out her wallet. "Nah, don't worry about it. Little monster and I had fun, and you look like you could use a break. I'll catch you next time."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Stephanie, Chloe made for the couch and moved Lucifer's feet so she could sit on the other end.

"My couch," Lucifer protested, half-heartedly pushing at her, until he seemed to realize that she was a lot warmer than he was and shoved his ice cold feet behind her back. "Never mind, you can stay."

Chloe tried not laugh, but wound up shaking her head. "This isn't my first choice of arrangements either, Lucifer. But the LAPD doesn't have a hell of a lot of safe houses or areas that they can stick someone on a whim, and especially not as well-known as you. You're not contagious according to the CDC and the hospital, so you don't pose a risk to civilians, which is why they released you in the first place. However, I can't take you directly back to Lux because the CDC and CSI division are still going over it, and I can't let you occupy an active crime scene."

"I couldn't go to a hotel?" Lucifer complained, shoving back the hood of the sweatshirt.

"Hospital rules – I couldn't sign you out unless you were going to have supervision just in case the hemophilia case was the right one, they didn't want you bleeding out by yourself. And the department doesn't really want to risk the life of a fairly useful consultant by leaving you by yourself just in case your attacker had friends. And no, I was not going to wait with you for potentially hours at a seedy hotel."

Lucifer made a 'hmph' noise, but stopped asking questions and let his eyes drift shut, though she wasn't sure if it was because he'd given up or because he was just too tired to continue arguing.

He looked ill – for being a resident of LA for at least five years, Lucifer was always on the pale side, which she'd attributed to the fact that he was British. Though his color was beginning to return, his skin still had a deathly pallor to it making him appear almost black and white. His personality wasn't dimmed, so she took that as a sign he was eventually going to be okay. He did lose a lot of blood, and she remembered how long it took before she felt normal after getting shot on their first case together. Swamped in borrowed clothes that were pennies on the dollar compared to what she normally saw him in (unless it was when he wore nothing at all), Lucifer looked more human than ever. And he was freezing cold to the touch, which was probably why the objections to the hoodie were minimal – another symptom of the massive, inexplicable blood loss.

She grabbed the blanket from off the back of the couch, draping it over the almost asleep Lucifer who made some sort of grumbling noise she assumed was the half-asleep Devil version of 'thanks'. She doubted he was up for anything more ambitious than sleeping for the next several hours, and she still needed a shower – she could still taste the coppery flavor of blood, real or imagined, and she could swear she still felt it on her skin where it seeped through her jacket.

She dimmed the table lamp, but left the cartoons on just for background noise, made sure the blanket was settled over Lucifer's surprisingly foldable long frame and headed for the bathroom.

*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(

Something was right next to his face. Lucifer was aware of another presence before he as even fully awake, pulling back further into the couch, jolting suddenly awake.

A tiny human stared back at him, unblinking as she crunched on another kernel of microwave popcorn.

Hooker, he thought blearily, before realizing that was wrong. Hooker name – Tramp. No. Trixie.

"Hi Lucifer," she whispered loudly, like only children could.

"You," he groaned, and buried himself further under the blankets. He didn't remember getting a blanket, but the extra warmth was welcome. He didn't remember Chloe living in an icebox, but it sure as hell felt like one now. "What do you want? Didn't your mother tell you to go away?"

Trixie ignored him, offering him a handful of popcorn. "Want some?"

"No," Lucifer said testily. "Shoo. Or whatever command it is to get you to go away."

Trixie smiled, a large gap in front where her teeth were growing in. Lucifer always found it disturbing how human children shed their tiny, pincer like teeth for new ones every few years. Sharks shed teeth, and he was pretty sure the similarities didn't end there.

"Mom says you weren't feeling good," Trixie said solemnly.

"She's correct," Lucifer said.

When Trixie suddenly leaned forwards, Lucifer had a brief flash of those sharp, tiny shark teeth sinking into his skin and he jolted backwards, surprising her and she looked…hurt.

"Was someone mean to you?" Trixie asked.

Lucifer sighed, wondering what exactly he'd done to deserve occupying space with children and if he could apologize for just that bit so he wouldn't have to suffer through it anymore. "Yes. Very mean. They tried to throw me out of my own body."

"Did it hurt?"

"Very much," he said honestly. If this was a conversation Chloe didn't want him to have with her spawn, she should've made sure the door was locked to its room.

"I was going to kiss and make it better," Trixie offered, touching a small finger to his forehead. "That's what mom does to make me feel better when I don't feel good."

Lucifer chuckled grimly. "I appreciate the sentiment, but no thank you."

The lower lip jutted out, and Lucifer braced himself for tears, but she just seemed annoyed that he spurned her offer for help. "Why not?"

Lucifer sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Being mortal had officially lost its novelty. As soon as he felt better, he was going to make a concentrated effort to fix whatever the hell it was…except he needed his wings to do that, and he still had no idea where they were.

"If I tell you, will you go away?" he asked.

Trixie crossed her arms in a way that looked so much like her mother it was unnerving. That was the other part that was creepy about children – their incessant need to mimic others. "Well?"

"You believe me when I say I'm the Devil?" he asked, and she nodded. Score one for the little monster – at least she had unquestioning belief in who he was. "I reigned in Hell for ten million years, creating a place for humans to torture themselves. How many children do you think wound up there?"

"None," she said confidently.

"Wrong. Not many, but some. Now just imagine what you know of Hell, and the people who go there."

He watched her as she scrunched her face up in concentration, picturing what he was sure was probably the fiery pit and the cartoonish devil with goat legs and a pitchfork laughing maniacally in the background.

"Now try and imagine how bad those few children had to be to wind up there before they were ten."

Trixie cracked an eye open, disbelief clearly evident. "You're afraid of kids?"

Lucifer scowled. "You shouldn't tease people about what they're afraid of. And you would be scared of children, too, if the only ones you ever knew were those children."

Trixie pondered that for a moment, face still scrunched up in concentration. She huffed. "Well, I'm not scary, and you shouldn't be afraid of me." Before he could answer, she leaned forwards again and he was out of couch to shrink back into. Her lips brushed against his forehead in a butterfly kiss, and she made an exaggerated smacking sound. "You're not scary either, even if you are the Devil."

Lucifer was too stunned to respond as she picked up her bag of popcorn and headed back to her room. He heard the bathroom door open as Trixie opened hers, and Chloe asked what she'd been doing.

"Were you bothering Mr. Morningstar?"

"Nope. I kissed him and made him better."

"Trixie, honey, that's very nice of you, but I said he wasn't feeling well."

"You do it to me when I'm sick."

"That's different, honey – that's to show love."

There was a pause, and Lucifer could hear the stage whisper from Trixie's answer. "I think he needed love too."


So, no lie, I'm actually really creeped out by children. Like, anything under 15. I was never around them until I was much older, and the joys of kids escape me. So that's where Lucifer's musings come from. And I do plan on having a scene with Dan and Maze interrogating Senorita Psycho in the next chapter, which I wanted to be in this one but like I said - 5000+ words for this chapter already. Seemed like it would be too much. So, Lucifer gets a stay of execution. Until next time...