Author's Note: What. The. Hell. Brain? I have no idea why I got so stuck on this chapter, and I think part of it is that this really is an explanation chapter and I have HAD IT with it. I will never be a mystery writer. Ever. So, for anyone wondering why and how Chloe catches on so quickly, it's because your's truly didn't feel like writing any more "but wait, what?" chapters (and I sincerely doubted you wanted to read anymore).

And without further ado...ONWARD WITH THE FIC!


Chloe stared in disbelief at the two men before her, one hand over her mouth.

Wings. Freaking wings. Wings the width and breath of the bullpen that were attached to the back of an otherwise normal looking human being.

Goddamn – God bless?angel wings.

On angels.

Not even like lower tiered angels, like, oh – Muriel, the angel of June – and God only knew why she knew that one.

Nope.

Freaking Michael. And freaking Gabriel.

Freaking archangels.

Could she even swear about angels? Could they hear her thoughts? Is that why she was editing them? Because wings the size of small aircraft magically sprouting off of two otherwise normal looking men warranted something more severe than 'gosh darnit.' She thought of all the times she took the Lord's name in vain and wondered how bad she looked on paper to Saint Peter.

"Uh, Chloe?" Dan asked hesitantly.

Without turning away from Michael and Gabriel, she risked a glance over at him.

He didn't even look concerned. He didn't look even remotely shocked about the fact that bird people of Jesus Land were standing not six feet away from them. His earlier nervousness around Michael seemed to have gone, or at least tempered itself, and he looked calmer than he had before they even showed up.

Which meant that little shit knew.

"When?" she demanded, and Dan at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"Since right before the third victim showed up," he said wearily. "Lucifer didn't show me anything about himself – just Maze. Who, by the way, totally a demon, which admittedly, didn't shock me as much as it should've…"

She looked back at Michael, who folded his wings back to wherever it was that he hid them because they were not fitting underneath the contoured leather jacket and pants without some seriously questionable bulging.

"So you're telling me…everything Lucifer told me was true? Down to the last detail? No creative euphemisms or metaphors – he really was cast out of Heaven and made to rule Hell?" she asked quietly.

"Well, yeah-" Gabriel said reluctantly, looking mildly remorseful.

"All of it?" she pressed testily. "All of the stories he told me?"

"Presumably," Michael answered. "Lucifer makes it a point of honor never to lie."

"Oh," Chloe said calmly, nodding. "Okay."

A true testament to how well Dan knew her was the split second when he realized what she was about to do and launched himself backwards, out of arm's reach as she grabbed the closest thing she could get her hands on - which just so happened to be an umbrella – and solidly thrashed both angels upside the head.

"You two are asshats," she shouted, and took another swing at Michael. He at least had the sense to duck the second time around. "You mean to tell me that this entire time – when he was getting death threats, when people were coming after him and trying to kill him, you just what – sat on your damncloud and watched?"

Michael easily plucked the umbrella from her hands before she could hit either him or Gabriel again.

"I do not know what you think you know of our laws, or our abilities, but I assure you – we did not ignore our brother's plight," Michael growled, holding the umbrella out of her reach. "Without Lucifer's direct request, or our Father's permission, we could not interfere."

"Is that what you meant?" Dan asked Gabriel abruptly. "That day we met, when Lucifer asked for help?"

Gabriel frowned. "No. That's exactly the point. Lucifer didn't ask for help. All I said was we couldn't kill anyone – I didn't see we couldn't do anything. The only time Lucifer asked me to do anything was to check the Ledger for the names of Samael, and the second he did – I did exactly what he asked for."

Chloe wanted her umbrella back. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists, took a deep breath, and counted backwards from ten in her head. In German.

"Full disclosure. Now."

"We cannot interfere with Lucifer without express permission from him. Or, in the event he can no longer ask of his own accord, our Father can…" Michael snapped his fingers, struggling with the words and looked to Gabriel for help.

"Dad can override," Gabriel explained. "If Lucifer is unable to give permission for us to help him if he really needs it."

Chloe felt her eye twitch. "Lucifer is the least likely person on the planet to ask for help, point blank, in those words. You're trying to tell me that with all those cosmic powers, you can't help your brother when he needs it? No wonder he hated home."

Michael's face darkened, and she felt the temperature drop so fast it raised goosebumps across her arms. There was an electric tang to the air as if at any moment, a lightning storm was going to break out in the bullpen.

"Do. Not. Presume," he snarled, the ugly red scar pulling at his lips. "Lucifer has free will. A gift he demanded of our Father. It means we cannot interfere with him and whatever path he chooses, whether it be for ill or for good. Tell me, human, when you see someone make a poor decision, even having been cautioned against it, do you presume to hold them back? Physically stop them from going through their chosen course of action?"

Chloe bit her tongue at her immediate sarcastic retort because as much as she wanted to argue with Michael, he had a point. No, she wasn't going to physically stop someone from making bad choices. She didn't even do that with Trixie, even if she badly wanted to. She could only give advice and hope to hell she would listen to her.

While maybe it was unfair to tell Michael and Gabriel to do otherwise for Lucifer, she couldn't help it. Lucifer wouldn't ask for help because he had no reason to think he would get it. Trixie knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that if she asked either of her parents for help, she would have it in a heartbeat, and that made all the difference.

"So you know what's going on right now? You know where your brother is?" Chloe demanded. "What do you mean, unable? You mean he's dead? I thought people couldn't harm angels."

"Normally, you're right," Gabriel said darkly. "And trust me, you would know if he was dead. But Lucifer hasn't been acting like an angel lately. He's been acting like a human. He's been on Earth too long. He's hacked off his own wings – his last source of true divinity. He did it to spite our Father, to prove that he didn't need anything from Him, but he also knows damn well how much it weakens us. An angel without wings…" he trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air.

Suddenly, a lot more of the past weeks with Lucifer made sense.

"That's what those rituals were for," Chloe breathed. "All of it – they were trying to weaken him even further. Even cast out, without his main source of power, he was still too strong. Why? Why would they want him weaker? This isn't like some cannibalistic ritual where people believe you get the power of those consumed, is it? They told him it was all for him – that it was a welcome home thing. He kept saying it has something to do with his other name…Samael. When I asked him about it, before any of this even started, he said Samael was the name he had before he was Lucifer." She stopped abruptly.

"What?" Dan asked.

"Was he actually someone else?" she asked Michael.

Gabriel answered again for his brother. "No. Not the way you're thinking of it. The only difference between Lucifer and Samael is the name."

"So why does he hate it so much? Why does he act like Lucifer and Samael are two different people?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know why my brother makes the choices he does. But they're still his choices to make."

"It's his way of distancing himself," Dan said quietly, interrupting Chloe before she could speak again.

She turned to look at him, waiting for him to go on, and he suddenly flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," he apologized. "I was just thinking out loud. When I was with him at the hospital, after the second attack, he said Samael is like a dormant personality. Maybe he thinks of it like that because it's his way of trying to separate himself from what he did when he went by a different name…and it just sort of became in his own head, they were two different people. Like former criminals or WITSEC that pick up and leave their old lives behind, change their names and basically become someone else."

Chloe's head spun with the possibilities – but one thing still stuck out in her mind over everything else. "Is the only difference between Samael and Lucifer choice?"

Michael nodded. "Samael was jealous of humanity. They were allowed to make their own choices, right or wrong. And he was no longer allowed to punish them for their trespasses. He thought our Father loved them more than us because that was more than we were ever allowed. Samael was very good at convincing others to see things the way he did…turning our brothers against one another in fits of jealousy. He started a rebellion…he started a war he knew he could not win." Michael's lip pulled back in a sneer. "When he Fell, it wasn't just him. It was Azazel and Sariel and Gadreel and almost two hundred others. All over a petty jealousy of the talking monkeys' right to choose."

That sounded like the Biblical story of Lucifer's Fall, but it didn't sound like the one she knew. He didn't dislike people, that much was obvious. Otherwise he wouldn't have a place like Lux. It was pretty much the exact opposite from what Michael just described. He reveled in their company. He liked helping them – people like Delilah, the murdered singer he helped get started in music. People like Ty Huntley, and hell – even people like her and Dan. There was nothing sinister in his continued help in cases, even if he was still a pain in the ass sometimes when she had to remind him it wasn't a game.

Perhaps, to an immortal, that's exactly what it was, but he seemed to make an effort to be more serious at the crime scenes.

"No," she said, shaking her head before Michael even finished speaking. "It's not jealousy. Not the way you're thinking. Lucifer doesn't get angry over people making choices, even bad ones. He gets mad over being blamed for what they do wrong. He -" and she had to stop mid-sentence as realization hit her.

Oh, Lucifer…she thought. That's what he'd been getting at. Not that he was being blamed for what others did, but because they would deny something that he was prepared to go against his Father for. When Lucifer did something wrong, he almost immediately apologized…once he'd figured out what it exactly it was. Maybe she was sort of a phenomenon in that area – having the Devil apologize to her – but she doubted it. Lucifer was just someone who'd basically been left to figure out his own sense of right and wrong without other people around for hints. He wasn't a bad guy he was just badly behaved. But he took serious, almost over the top offense to people blaming others for what they did because it meant they were denying free will. They were denying responsibility for their own choices and that is what he was angry about.

"I know why he started a war he couldn't win," she breathed. "He's just like a little kid who has nothing and sees someone with everything throw away something he would've given anything for."

But that explained then. Which was quite literally thousands of years ago. Now Lucifer seemed just as happy to stay in LA in his club having fun with people. He admittedly hadn't been like that when they'd first met – in fact, Lucifer was a little scary. He'd pitted two people against one another in a deranged version of Battle Royale justice between the two paparazzi.

"Is there any reason why someone would want…Samael instead of Lucifer?" she asked cautiously, because seriously…the whole 'Lucifer is actually proof of a higher power and he may or may not be dead right now' was still a little mind boggling.

"What do you mean?" Michael asked, frowning.

"I mean, what's the difference? All of this keeps bringing up Samael, and you already said they're the same person. So why would you want Samael instead of Lucifer? If they just wanted any angel then it wouldn't matter, would it?" she asked, gesturing wildly with her hands. "And you said you would only be able to interfere if Lucifer couldn't otherwise tell you to screw off, so I ask again – what's so special about Samael?"

"Samael can kill people," Dan said. "Samael was the original Angel of Death. That's what he was famous for. Not being the Tempter of Men, he was known for being the Collector of Souls." When she gave him a curious look, he shrugged. "We had a conversation. It was weird."

"But Lucifer can't kill people?" she clarified.

"Not can't," Gabriel said reluctantly. "But he won't."

"So physically, he's capable of it," Chloe said, trying not to tear her hair out with these half answers and partial truths. It was like pulling teeth. She was so used to Lucifer and his oversharing that it was taking all of her willpower not to pick up the umbrella again and beat the whole story out of his brothers.

"Correct."

"So…these people, they knew this, right? Why would someone want a super powerful, supernatural being who can kill people? I mean, fine, they've been slowly breaking him down over weeks, but still. It's Lucifer. He's an archangel, assuming the Bible stories are right. They had to know that they wouldn't be able to – to imprison or contain him, right?"

She suddenly thought back to the night Lucifer called her about the second victim. She thought he was screwing around at the time, but maybe there really was something that could keep him caged? Which meant that these people would know that, and all they would have to do is draw some circle on the ground, and Lucifer would be effectively jailed.

"Why would you want to catch Death if he wasn't actually killing people?" Chloe mused out loud. "I mean, this is like that Twilight Zone episode where they catch the Devil and lock him in a castle dungeon. It would make sense to want to imprison Lucifer if he was going around still as Samael. But he wasn't. He was basically being a normal human being with a poor grasp on socially acceptable behavior."

"If you wanted him to start again," Gabriel groaned, face palming hard enough he left a mark on his own face. "Oh, for the love of…Lucifer and I were talking about why anyone would want the Samael half of him out and about again. It hadn't really occurred to either of us that they wanted Samael as the Angel of Death. He thought someone had just misinterpreted the writings – like they thought Samael was his better half, or just didn't want the Devil around anymore. That maybe they didn't realize what starting the Apocalypse really meant."

This was getting too fantastic. Too unbelievable. Too…supernatural. But in some ways, this was more plausible than being an escaped cult member, because, well…there wasn't that much of a difference, was there? An all-powerful, all-knowing Father that demanded obedience and blind faith, with a multitude of followers that worshipped him.

But hey. The Apocalypse sounded like fun.

"So it's a pretty good guess that these people are those overzealous zealots that think that the world has gone to shit, and they need to clean it up?" Dan said warily. "Because that's about the only thing that would make sense. Lucifer said he didn't kill indiscriminately. He punished the wicked. What would you do if you had God's personal assassin within your reach? I mean…think about it."

Chloe felt her stomach clench. If everything was true…then Dan was right. It was the only thing that fit everything. Samael – or Lucifer – would be the perfect way to rid the world of the 'bad'. Nothing like a war, or a plague, or genetically engineered science fiction whatever – he would be pinpoint accuracy on killing only those who deserve it.

"Why wouldn't Lucifer kill anyone?" Chloe wondered. "You didn't say he can't, you specifically said he wouldn't. Which means that Samael would. Why would one and not the other? What's the difference?" Because there had to be. Something they were all missing, and she felt like it had to be something painfully obvious.

"Choice?" Dan suggested, gesturing with one hand. "Isn't that the difference between Lucifer and everyone else in Heaven?"

"But what's that even mean?" Chloe snapped. "Why would removing choice from the equation make Lucifer into some sort of killing monster? How would you even presume to do such a thing? From what you two idiots are saying, not even God can interfere with free will! No one can make someone do something that they don't want to do, which means they would've had to come up with something to fundamentally change who Lucifer is to make him want to kill people!"

And just like that, they weren't in the bullpen.

In less than the span of time it took Chloe to blink, the four of them went from standing in the LAPD's bullpen to the middle of the dance floor of Lux.

And it was freezing. So ungodly cold she felt the hair rise on the back of her neck as her breath formed in icy puffs.

"What the hell," Chloe cursed, and before Dan could even open his mouth she jabbed her finger in his face. "Not. One. Word."

The building was empty. And it was dead silent. Not just quiet, because it often was when she came her after hours to talk to Lucifer, but muffled, as if the entire place was covered in snow. You wouldn't even hear a pin drop.

The complete absence of sound was unnerving enough, but what was by far more disturbing was Lucifer standing on the other side of the room. Simply standing, one hand behind his back and the other holding a glass.

He looked…fine, actually. He looked better than he had in weeks. He didn't look tired anymore, and the pinched, worried look that never seemed to leave was gone. He even stood straighter, and Chloe was briefly reminded of his more militant brother. There was something taut about his entire frame, a forced relaxedness that made him look anything but. Like he was physically trying to hold himself back, but Chloe couldn't even begin to imagine from what.

"Hello, brothers," he said, his voice sounding odd and not quite like his old self. It sounded slightly deeper, which may have something to do with the strange muffled atmosphere, but probably more to do with the fact that he was gritting his teeth so painfully tight Chloe rubbed her own jaw in sympathy.

And suddenly he smiled, inhumanly wide, and his eyes flashed a glittering black.

"Did you miss me?"


Author's Note: Yep. Totally referenced Moriarty there. Because I love that man (specifically Andrew Scott's version). And it's kind of setting up how I envision Samael. Also - couldn't help the umbrella thing. I really, really wanted Chloe to hit him with an umbrella.

Also, totally a heads up - God is not the bad guy in this. Sorry, but...can't do it. I guess you COULD look at it that way, but it's not how I'm spinning it. And, for those wondering about Chloe's status in the show and how it plays out here - it actually really conveniently is freakishly close to what I'm going to do with her. Annnnd..I think that's all I needed to say. Good? Bad? Looking forward to the next chapter which is basically one massive fight scene between brothers? Drop me a line, let me know!