Author's Note: WHAT'S THIS?! ANOTHER CHAPTER IN A DAY?! Yeah...don't think that's going to be a habit. This is actually split from the previous chapter because it was getting too damn long. So, last cliff hanger? Probably not what you thought it was. Sorry. (Not really, I liked watching everyone freak out). Anyway, I warn you all now: because of how the story is turning, Lucifer's personality is going to change - not enough that I would call it OOC, but we never really saw him legitimately worried in the show. Everything to him was a sort of novelty that he seemed to enjoy at least a little bit. Just an FYI.


Lucifer, in ten million years, had never been at a loss for words before. It was a new feeling.

It had even less novelty than suddenly feeling pain.

As soon as the man, whoever the hell he was, stepped forwards, Lucifer immediately stepped back, putting Chloe between them.

"No," he said, seething and trying to keep his temper under control. "It is not."

There was a part of him that really, really wanted to show these pathetic fools who he really was. Not some wayward, errant human child but Lucifer – Fallen Angel and Lord of Hell.

And if Chloe and Dan hadn't been in the same room, he would've in a heartbeat. But he hadn't been lying about his true form inspiring madness, and he liked Chloe…and was tolerant of Dan. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to see him.

The man, Anwar, stopped short, brought up by Chloe's hand. "Samael?"

"Lucifer," he spat, hating that awful name. "My name is Lucifer. I am not your son, I am not anyone's son." He half expected a lightning bolt for that last one, but it seemed he and his Father actually agreed for once. Or at the very least, He didn't seem willing to smite a bunch of mortals just to teach him a lesson.

"Sir, one moment," Chloe said, her voice no nonsense and professional. "I think there might be some confusion here. This is Lucifer Morningstar – he's a consultant for the LAPD, and he's helping us with a current investigation that might involve someone from your church. Could we speak to you for a minute?"

Anwar had yet to look away from Lucifer and he found it most disconcerting. There was a sort of desperation in the man's eyes that Lucifer, for being able to bring out anyone's desire, didn't quite understand.

"Sir?" Chloe asked again, and Lucifer could hear the edge in her voice.

At the very least, it seemed Mr. Anwar unnerved more than just him.

Anwar finally shook himself out of his stupor, forcing himself to look over at Chloe. "I'm sorry, did you say detective?"

"LAPD," Chloe repeated, clarifying. "Can we speak?"

Anwar glanced between Chloe and Lucifer, and he had to fight the urge to let his eyes change. On the one hand, it would certainly convince the man they were not related, but on the other hand, if this man was possibly involved with the murders – Lucifer had no burning desire to prove to him that he was exactly who he thought he was.

At least, not at this very moment.

Anwar took a deep breath, composing himself, before offering a wan smile at the detective. "I'm sorry. Julian here said Sam had come back, and I just…forgive me, I was being rude."

"You think Lucifer is your son?" Chloe asked. "Why?"

Anwar didn't immediately answer, instead fishing into his pocket. He withdrew a faded and worn wallet, and from there pulled an equally faded and worn photograph. "This is my son, Samael," he said finally, holding the picture out to Chloe. "He left home…about five years ago now. We had a falling out, and I haven't heard anything from him since. When Julian…when Julian came and told me he was back, I didn't question it. I apologize."

Curiosity got the better of him, and Lucifer craned his neck over Chloe's shoulder to see the picture.

"Bloody hell," he muttered before he could stop himself. He could see why Anwar thought he was the same person.

Samael Anwar could've been a twin. Perhaps fraternal, but a twin nonetheless. He had the same dark eyes, the same facial construction, the same dark hair. But the more he looked at it, the more the differences, subtle as they were, started to show. There was a scar across the bottom of Samael's chin, barely visible in the picture and faded from age – something he would've gotten as a child. His hair wasn't quite as thick and obviously wasn't as curly. His ears were the same shape and size, but unlike Lucifer's, the lobes were attached at the bottom – a genetic issue he shared with his father, it would seem.

He knew what Chloe had originally suspected – that at long last, she'd found out the truth about his origins, and they were exactly as she believed: a prodigal son, run away from home and a rational reason why he clung to his supposed delusion of being the Devil. But even she could see the picture was of someone else, even if they looked eerily similar. The fact that this was actually really rather convenient to fit into her perceived view of him made him wonder if it was chance they found this place, or…

He glanced skyward, glaring not at the ceiling, but through it. Father, if this is you – not funny.

"You can see where Julian made the mistake," Anwar said apologetically. "Even when I first saw him, I was sure your friend…Lucifer, is it? Had to be my Sam." The man offered an apologetic shrug. "The heart sees what it wants to, am I right?"

That quiet desperation Lucifer saw in the man's eyes suddenly made sense. The longer he looked at Lucifer, the more he saw, the more obvious it became that he was not the son he so desperately wanted to see. The desire to reunited with a long lost child was something Lucifer didn't have much experience with – he was much more familiar with carnal and forbidden desire than that of hope.

"They do look similar," Chloe agreed, and Lucifer could tell without seeing her face that she was doing that thing again. That look that was somehow both caring and concerned, and still professional enough that she left no doubt that she was still in charge. "But your son isn't actually why we're here. We're investigating a case – one that might involve past members of your congregation?"

Dan held up his phone again, allowing the minister to see the pictures of both St. John and Kincaide as well as the yet unidentified first two victims. "Do any of these people look familiar to you?"

Anwar carefully took the phone from the detective, studying the photos. They were all of the victims in the mortuary, very obviously dead. The doctor showing no outward reaction to being shown the deceased wasn't unexpected. She was a doctor, presumably at some point she dealt with death – even if simply through cadavers at school. The minister, on the other hand…his complete lack of response wasn't what Lucifer would expect.

"The girl doesn't look familiar, but I've seen the last boy before," Anwar confirmed, handing the phone back to Dan. "He was here for a few weeks, maybe a month. Disappeared maybe a week ago?"

"You didn't think to report it?" Chloe asked.

Anwar shrugged, spreading his hands. "There was no evidence to suggest foul play – he was a legal adult, and I'm not his parent. I have no say in where or when people go. If I reported every person who left without warning, I would have a concierge service with the police department."

"Anything about him strike you as odd?" Chloe pressed. "Sudden changes in behavior, friends, activities?"

"Any hint that he'd suddenly found God and planned to sacrifice himself?" Lucifer interjected, smirking.

Chloe elbowed him, hard, without looking backwards at him to do it.

Anwar raised an eyebrow. "Beg pardon?"

Ignoring both Dan and Chloe's warning glares, Lucifer pressed on. "He was found not a week ago, as a human sacrifice in an alleyway in the city. Had the symbols for Lucifer and Samael scrolled in blood, his blood, at his feet and head. Tell me, Mr. Anwar…or do you prefer Father Anwar? What kind of religion do you peddle here?"

"Michael was…sacrificed?" Anwar echoed, looking green around the edges. He sat down, hard, on the edge of the desk.

Chloe shot Lucifer a murderous scowl that promised retribution later, but Lucifer didn't care. He was tired of being in the dark about what the bloody hell was going on. If this was an accident that they stumbled upon a cult where the director's missing son bore an uncanny resemblance to him, and had his old name, then it was the pièce de résistance in an elaborate cosmic joke. Either the man before them was guilty, or someone was playing them all for fools.

"Yes, sacrificed," Lucifer said, smiling brilliantly and without humor. "All of them were. The first one was almost decapitated from someone severing his throat, the second one pinioned on a cross and the third one," Lucifer pointed to the picture of Michael, "looked like he was simply put to sleep after being drained of all his blood. So I ask again – what kind of religion do you practice here?"

"Lucifer!" Chloe snapped at the same time as Anwar answered "none."

Of all the answers possible – that was the last one he was expecting. Hell, he would've accepted Builders of Adytum before none.

He wasn't the only one who was stunned speechless. Chloe and Dan's jaws dropped and almost immediately clacked shut in unison.

"What do you mean, 'none'?" Lucifer demanded. "You're advertised as a community church, you still dress like one of those awful televangelists…"

Anwar suddenly looked very tired. He scrubbed a hand over his face, fingers lingering on his chin before he spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I used to practice. Unitarian Universalism. I was the minister here, and it was a community, just as it was a church. But after my son…after Sam and I had our falling out, and he left…I just couldn't. I'd already lost his mother, and when he left, I just couldn't find the solace I once did in my mission."

Lucifer felt his heart lurch at the man's admission. He wasn't lying. It explained why the community looked more like an abandoned summer camp allowed to go to pot instead of a thriving church. It even explained why there wasn't anything on their website that Chloe had discovered before they came out – there wasn't anything left to advertise. Anyone who came here would've likely found it by word of mouth through other drifters and the like that had once been here.

"He's not the perpetrator," he realized. "He's another victim."

Chloe caught on before Dan, which was expected, but not by much. "I'm sorry Mr. Anwar, I think we've made a mistake-"

Lucifer didn't stay to hear the rest of her apology, storming out of the small cottage and letting the door slam behind him.

"Gabriel," he snapped, looking skyward as he walked, putting as much distance between himself and the cottage as he could. "Get your feathery ass down here, now."

There was a faint puff of wind, and Lucifer could smell the sea, and he knew before he even turned around Gabriel was there.

"Aren't you full of surprises?" Gabriel said, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sending salt water flying. "I think this is the most we've spoken in centuries."

His younger brother looked like he'd been swimming off the Great Barrier Reef this time instead of just dipping his toes in the sand, and he was still dripping wet, clad in tropical themed board shorts and rashguard shirt.

Contrary to popular belief, angels, even archangels, had hobbies and they liked to indulge in them whenever they didn't have anything more pressing to engage in.

"No one was trying to kill me in those years," Lucifer said irritably. "You still keep a list of the dead?"

Gabriel cocked his head to one side, frowning. "Of course I do. What name are you looking for?"

"Samael," Lucifer said. "Samael Anwar."

"Seriously? Someone named their kid after you?" Gabriel said incredulously, eyebrows shooting almost into his hairline. "Did they even know what it meant?"

Lucifer gritted his teeth. "Humans name their children after snacks and satellites. Samael is hardly the worst they could do, whether they knew the meaning or not. Is he on the list or not?"

"One second – it's a long list," Gabriel said, waving him off. He held his finger up, as if scrolling down an invisible sheet of paper, which Lucifer supposed he was. Being the scribe as well as the messenger of God meant he had a lot of papers floating around and a lot of information to keep track of. Gabriel had once described it as a mind palace rolodex.

After a moment, Gabriel smiled. "Right here. Died four years ago. Does that help?"

"Shit," Lucifer swore, running a hand through his hair. "You're sure?"

Gabriel's smile faltered. "Yeah, dude. I'm sure. Why? Not the answer you were looking for?" Gabriel glanced around, as if suddenly realizing where they were standing. "Aw, come on, bro – what did I tell you? I said stay out of it and you're still investigating!"

Lucifer scoffed bitterly. "And you thought I would listen to you because…why, exactly? Following orders isn't exactly in my nature, Little brother. Not anymore. And yes, I am still investigating because I'm no longer sure it's about me or my past. Are there any other Samaels on the list, around the same time?"

Gabriel's eyes got that faraway look again as he mentally went over the list. "Huh," he said after a moment. "I didn't think it was that common a name, but…yeah. There's two more, couple years apart. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Lucifer said honestly. "The first Samael I had you check…we could've been twins in another life." He took a shuddering breath, trying to keep any semblance of control he possibly had to cling to and failing miserably. "I thought this was all something…new. Something because of my wings going missing, something Amenadiel did, something I did…but what if it's not? What if it's been going on longer than that?"

It felt like he couldn't breathe, like he couldn't get enough air even though he was gasping. Was this another attack?

No. No, this wasn't like at Lux, or even at the last crime scene. This wasn't someone attacking him, this was his own body attacking itself.

The words 'panic attack' flashed briefly in his memory. Who knew being human was such constant misery? No wonder they killed each other.

"Hey, whoa," Gabriel said worriedly, dropping any pretense of being cool and distant. He put a gentle hand on Lucifer's arm. "Calm down, okay?"

"Did Father do this?" Lucifer demanded, realization dawning with growing horror. "Is this just some elaborate ploy to get me to go back where He thinks I belong? Is He punishing me again? He already cast me out, He took my name -"

"No, no, of course not!" Gabriel interrupted, face scrunched in disbelief. "This is not Father's doing, Lucifer. I keep trying to tell you, He's not mad at you, He's worried. How could you think He would do this to make a point?"

"Job. Abraham and Isaac. Noah. Moses. Adam. Eve. The entire cities of Sodom and Gomorrah."

Gabriel winced. "I walked right into that one, didn't I. But no, brother, Father isn't trying to punish you. He's wants you to go back where you're safe."

"I am not going back to Hell," Lucifer growled. "No matter how nicely or how cruelly He commands."

His brother sighed in exasperation. "That's not what I meant. I honestly don't think He even cares anymore where you decide to go as long as you don't wind up dead. Benefits of being the favorite child, I guess. But seriously…what is going on here?"

Lucifer didn't answer for a moment, glancing back at the door of the cottage. It was still closed, and he could still hear Chloe talking with the minister and the doctor.

"I thought whoever was behind these killings, these…sacrifices, was trying to get to me, to somehow come after me, in this weakened form," Lucifer said quietly, waving his hand absently to indicate the now regrettably mortal body.

Gabriel managed a grin, even though it was forced. "Well, they were doing a pretty bang up job so far."

"But what if that's not the case? What if they're not trying kill me?" Lucifer asked. "I thought this started with my wings vanishing…but what if it started as soon as I crawled my way up?"

Gabriel tilted his head to one side, considering carefully before answering. "Well, you weren't exactly subtle with your arrival, dear brother. I mean, you didn't announce it on television that you were the recently arrived Devil, but something like you, something like us…it causes ripples. People may not even be aware of it, and if they are, they don't always know what it means. It's why people are still afraid of us, even in our human forms. We can hide all we want – but things like us?" Gabriel shook his head. "People will always know there's something not quite human about us."

"The others I asked about – the ones with my old name…what if they weren't killed on purpose? What if they were accidents?" Lucifer asked.

His younger brother frowned, running a hand through his already ruffled hair and making it stick up in every direction possible. Lucifer fought the urge to pat it back down to something less resembling the 'I just stuck my finger in an electrical socket' look – old habits die hard.

"You mean because someone thought they were you?" Gabriel asked. "I mean…I guess it's possible, but Samael was kind of written out of history. And what little remains has you as a separate entity all together. How many people would be able to that out?"

"Anyone who studied apocryphal lore," he said. "Or anyone Amenadiel felt like telling, apparently, because that's how Detective Decker found out, and same with Dr. Linda. I wouldn't put it past him to tell anyone willing to listen in hopes that Father will actually make me return to Hell – and if He wouldn't, someone else would."

"He wouldn't dare kill you," Gabriel said, and the vehemence in that one sentence was almost tangible. "He knows what Father would do to him. To anyone who would try. He may not like you very much, but Amenadiel isn't suicidally stupid."

"If he does it indirectly enough, Father can't punish him. If a mortal does his dirty work for him, he can't be held responsible," Lucifer pointed out.

"Subtlety like that isn't in Amenadiel's repertoire," Gabriel countered. "He's more brawn than brains, and you know it. If it wasn't you who was suffering, you would be my first suspect."

Lucifer glared at him, but Gabriel smirked unapologetically.

"You were always the smart one," Gabriel said. "And as much as you like to call our Father a manipulator, you definitely share His affinity for it, at least on a personal level."

Lucifer stiffened, hands clenching into fists before he could stop himself. "I am nothing like Him."

"All of us are like Him, in one way or another. Rapahel has His mercy, I have His humanity, Michael has His will, and you…" Gabriel faltered, realizing what he'd done. "Sorry."

"Have His temper?" Lucifer supplied. "His ability to deceive? You and Michael keep insisting that I have a favored position – if that's true, does that mean He values His wrath over His kindness? His mercy? No, I wasn't cast into Hell because of anything I did, He did it because He was ashamed. Worse than casting me out, He stole my name and made it sound like Lucifer destroyed Samael –" He stopped abruptly.

No. That couldn't be it.

The binding sigils, the Devil's Trap, the exorcism…they would all make sense. They were actually trying to split him apart, like he as Lucifer was only a temporary phase – a costume to be shed, a demon to be cast out.

The other Samaels, they were just unfortunate victims – accidental deaths in the pursuit of their ultimate goal. They had the poor luck to share a name with the only archangel to be unmade – God's only mistake that He'd tried to correct. Likely, they died in the tests to prove their divinity. Memories of witch trials across history flickered dimly in his mind.

Stumbling onto this compound, with Anwar and his missing – dead – son, this wasn't an accident. This was His Father's hand, in His not so subtle way of trying to get through to him. God had no more say in what Lucifer did as He did in what all of humanity did, and He hadn't spoken directly to any of them outside of Gabriel in millennia.

This was as close as he was going to get to a warning from his Father.

"What?" Gabriel asked, brow furrowing in concern.

"They're trying to bring back Samael," Lucifer said. He felt his heart clench at the thought of it and he sat down, hard, on the trunk of the car. "That's what this stupid nonsense is about, they think he's still here, still me…"

Gabriel's jaw dropped in horrified realization. "They think Samael is a victim. They think you're what, possessing him? But you're not different people! That's not a vessel and…" Gabriel floundered for words, something the messenger of God wasn't used to. He sat down next to Lucifer, hands on his knees as he tried to come up with anything that would help. "Don't they know what that will do?"

Lucifer chuckled darkly, covering his face with his hands and trying not to laugh outright at the cruel irony of it all.

Apparently, he was to be the villain in his own story.

"I somehow doubt they care."

Bringing back Samael was more than just the death of Lucifer. It meant that something worse would take his place. When he'd explained his story to Chloe so many weeks ago at Lux, he downplayed the worst of it. It wasn't a simple refusal to do as he was told that started everything, as much as he liked to pretend.

It was a war.

If Samael returned, it was the beginning of The End.


Yay, apocalypse! So. Still no "whodunnit" answers, but hopefully I made the motivation clear? Maybe? Like I said before, I wonder some times about whether or not I muddle or clarify things that I know about but forget that the readers don't, so response (as always) very welcome.

Oh. And it is summer, I have work (like real work. Not homework) to contend with once I'm not dying from city plague, so it may be some time between updates, but rest assured: I like this story and the fandom too much to abandon it.

Read and review!