Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Lucifer the TV show; I'm just borrowing them for a while.

A/N: Our story begins at the very last scene of the season one finale of Lucifer episode 13 Take Me Back to Hell. Lucifer returns to his penthouse after some of the worst few days of his existence on earth.

Emerging battered and bruised from their epic fight, the angelic brothers had completely wrecked Lucifer's home. He'd been pursued as a fugitive for murder by Chloe and the LAPD. While hunting down Malcolm, he was unexpectedly mortally wounded by the recently resurrected from hell, dirty cop: Malcom. Then, he died, went to hell and came back to life after coming upon his mother's empty cell.

Certain that he will be the object of Mum's legendary temper for having locked her away in hell for over 2500 years, Lucifer fears that she's coming to kill him and that he hasn't the powers to resist her. Amenadiel tries to convince him otherwise. Lucifer comes to regret burning his wings.

Chapter 7: Mum…

Mea Culpa

"I'll be the son you've always wanted me to be, go where you want me to go, do what you want me to do."

Yes, He was listening, and yes, He answered my prayer—eagerly—a bit too eagerly…

"His guilt over allowing Asherah to ravish me at the old temple in Babylon, had eaten away at the Old Man over the millennia. The day He'd turned His back on me. My prayers unanswered; He ignored my cries and pleas—I begged Him to make her stop. The comfort I received? —Silence.

"No mea culpa issued to assuage His wayward son. Of course not, He's God. He's never sorry.

"At The moment of my death, which He'd known for time immemorial, the opportunity presented itself for Father to answer my pathetic little prayer.

"Even in death; timing is everything.

"How convenient that my demise and consequent return to hell came about to coincide with Asherah's escape from a virtually impenetrable cell. There's something a little bit too neat about this package. I don't believe that Mum escaped on her own. No, there's more at play here: my gut tells me that she was sprung—by someone not of hell.

"I was going to examine the locks of her cell to see if they had been broken from the inside, or if someone had unlocked them from the outside. Were the chains I'd found already broken? Had they rusted out over time, or had they been cut—intentionally. If Father really wanted me to track her down, why didn't he give me some more time to investigate for clues before yanking me back to earth and to the world of the living once again.

"Hmm, look at me going all Sherlock here. Perhaps all of this sleuthing with the detective is bloody well starting to rub off on me."

The elevator door slides open onto the surreal scene of what was once his home and inner sanctum. Bloodied, exhausted and utterly terrified, Lucifer picks his way out onto the carpet of broken glass and through the maze of wrecked furniture, smashed windows, piles of shattered bottles and dripping booze.

Desperately in need of a drink, he gleans through a pile of broken bottles to find one that is still half full. Grabbing what's left of the bottle, he looks up at the ruins of what had been his own private bar. Once stocked with all of his very favorite, very rare and very expensive, collections of whiskies and scotches; the prized bottles nearly all smashed to smithereens—slowly seeped onto the floor. The elegantly lit back bar was in complete shambles. He hadn't meant to smash all of the bottles of his beloved booze by hurtling Amenadiel like a projectile directly at them. He should have aimed him at some other area, but his rage was such, that after they'd crashed through the glass windows together, he picked his brother up like a rag doll and threw him across the room—not caring where he landed.

Surveying the damage to the wall of windows, he could see that they were all broken out into piles of ragged shards of twinkling glass. Peering deeper into the dimly lit space, he spied Amenadiel sprawled out on the couch.

Grabbing what's left of the bottle, he pours the remaining contents into two glasses and heads over to the injured angel.

"Oh, sleeping on the job" Lucifer teases his brother, "hmm, it seems you have made a complete recovery from that gaping hole Malcolm stabbed into you with one of Maze's demon daggers from hell."

Still groggy from the deep sleep from which he'd just emerged, Amenadiel's voice stammers into a croak, "Luci, we still have to find Malcolm."

"Malcolm, yes that's been dealt with, it's old news really; the bastard is dead and back in hell where he belongs."

Amenadiel, whose face has scrunched into a puzzled expression, is checking out his completely healed mortal stab wound from earlier in the day. "Have you seen Maze?"

"Perhaps your snoring has driven her away," the devil chides as he hands his brother a glass of unidentified amber liquor.

Laughing quietly, Amenadiel abruptly changes his demeanor when he gets a look at the huge bloodied bullet hole stain on his brother's shirt and on his blood stained suit jacket. Knitting his brow, the dark angel narrows his eyes into a concerned gaze zeroing on the bloody stain over Lucifer's gut.

Deflecting from the seriousness of the wound he'd literally died from yesterday, Lucifer looks down at his bloody clothes and sighs, "Yes, it is a tragedy, another one of my Armani suits sacrificed in the line of duty. I had no idea that this occupation would be so hard on my wardrobe."

Matter-of-factly, Lucifer announces, "I spoke to Dad…"

Wincing, Amenadiel stares at Lucifer in disbelief, "excuse me?"

"I offered him my services…in exchange for…well, that doesn't really matter…he accepted." He said nonchalantly, as he plopped his wiry body down on the chair across from his brother.

"He replied to you," the slightly envious angel asked sheepishly.

"Hmmm, well, not in words, but his message was clear."

"And what does Father want?"

"Someone's escaped from hell…must have seen a window of opportunity whilst you were incapacitated. I think he wants me to bring our jailbird back."

"That's it?" Amenadiel says smiling slyly. "Well it shouldn't be too hard to track down a single errant soul." Taking a swig of liquor from the glass.

A curt "Yeah" escapes his tight-lipped mouth; Lucifer downs his entire glass in a single gulp—his face fixed in an expression that is usually foreign to the devil.

Amenadiel's smile now wiped off of his face, looks at his brother with concern, "you're afraid."

Lucifer, staring blankly down at the floor, "damn right I am."

"Right, but you are never afraid—who could possibly scare you brother?"

Looking away off into the distance, eyes wide with fear, Lucifer whispers, "Now she's here and she'll be searching for me."

Amenadiel presses him, "Lucifer, what are you mumbling about? Tell me, who escaped hell?"

Too terrorized to move a muscle, Lucifer shifts his eyes in Amenadiel's direction— "Mum."

The word hung in the air between the two brothers. Their eyes locked in a mutual frozen expression of fear. The earlier levity and banter between the two had evaporated, all that remained now was a heavy sense of dread. It may have been several thousands of years ago since her title was last uttered, but there it was—like a slap in the face.

Amenadiel had been there on the day Asherah was forcefully dragged down to hell. He'd been part of the melee that had defeated his mother and he was ashamed to have taken part in it. It still distresses him even now to recall the event. His Father had left him no choice he hadn't simply asked; he had ordered him to the task.

With his eyes cast down to the broken glass carpeted floor, the angel still clearly smarting from the memory, whispers hoarsely, "Father ruined her. I know He had to do what He had to do, but she had never been anything but His loyal and loving wife. She was our mother for heaven's sake. What He did to her was flat out—cold. He should have handled it differently. But who am I to question His infinite wisdom."

Surprised that his angelic brother would dare to criticize their Father, Lucifer gave him a look-over. Taunting him with a smirk, "I hadn't taken you for a mama's boy."

Color rises into the dark angel's face, his cheeks flush red with anger, "Oh, I—am a mama's boy?" Amenadiel jeers back, "if there was anyone who was and still is a mama's boy, it would be you—brother."

Shoving a finger into the devil's shoulder for emphasis, Amenadiel continues to drive his point. "You are the one that took advantage of her. Have you no shame? You seduced your own mother, and as if committing incest wasn't enough; you made her your consort and co-deity in that asinine cult that you started."

Looking down at the angel's finger digging naggingly into his shoulder, Lucifer feels the heat of anger rising within him, "Stop touching me, you feathered twit," the devil warns…his eyes now flashing red.

Unfazed that the devil's piercing eyes are boring into him like flaming arrows, Amenadiel continues with his tirade, "what was it again…? Oh yeah, I remember, it had a catchy name: 'The Cult of the Great Whore of Babylon,' that was it. For 500 years the two of you played house at Father's displeasure. Maybe he was feeling guilty about how things had gone down with their divorce, but when you and mom became the poster children for divine beings behaving badly: that was the last straw!"

Hah! Lucifer had to laugh at that last taunt, "divine beings behaving badly…hmm, I rather like that one," he quipped, "Too bad there was no TV back in the days of the bible. It would have made one hell of a reality show!"

"Typical!" Amenadiel cuts him off, "there you go, turning everything into a joke. Did you find our mother's descent into madness—amusing? When her soul became malignant with all of that hate and lust for revenge that it consumed her…was that—funny?" Now Amenadiel was standing over Lucifer, glowering at him. He wanted nothing more than to knock the wind out his older brother's sails.

Springing up from his chair, Lucifer gets into Amenadiel's face and yells, "Oh, so I'm the one who's to blame for destroying our mother?" Forming a fist, he's about to boil over; all he wants is to whale on his arrogant angelic brother once again.

Now inches away from Lucifer's face, Amenadiel sneers, "no, but you sure as hell contributed to it."

"Yes, I did, and I had my reasons!" Lucifer's voice choked with emotion on that last word. He felt the floodgates of his long-buried anguish spilling out of old wounds, dredging up the shame he'd suffered through. Lucifer thought that he'd succeeded in successfully repressing what had really happened between him and his mother, unfortunately, he hadn't. Now he was struggling to keep the memory out—he did not want to remember.

Long considered the subject of speculation, only three beings knew the real truth about Lucifer's rape: him, his mother and his father. According to the bible, it had been him as Ba'al that had seduced his own mother. For thousands of years Lucifer had lived with the humiliation that he had been the one who had been the aggressor; the one who had initiated the depraved dalliance with Asherah, and He was the one who had been responsible for the glorification of human sacrifices, and the especially horrific, sacrifices of children. Yet, it was all a twisted lie: he was innocent. It was Asherah who had heartlessly used him in her plot of vengeance.

Letting out a drawn out sigh through his clenched jaw, Lucifer looks away from his brother and pulls his fist back. Feeling wounded now, like some wild animal, all he wants to do is to lash back by smashing his pompous brother's face in for rubbing his nose into something that he did not do. But for now, he decides to let it go. No matter, he thinks to himself, I'll tell him the whole story—someday.

Amenadiel winces in anticipation of the punch to his face, but when the blow is not issued, he is startled, "Huh?"

Lucifer had been seconds away from walloping him, but instead, he withdrew. Slumping back down into his chair, he lets out a long low sigh, allowing his anger to dissipate. Lucifer's eyes seem to lose focus as he turns inward he looks despondent.

"Luci?" Amenadiel calls letting his voice trail off. "What's wrong?" Lucifer doesn't answer, he seems preoccupied as he continues to stare out into the room blankly

The devil's sudden dejection troubles Amenadiel, so he attempts to defuse the tension between them by offering a pep talk of sorts. "Luci, we were able to subdue her once before and you had no trouble putting her in her place then. You'll see, we'll surely be able to do it again. It won't be as bad as you think."

Seemingly lost in another world, the devil exhales exasperatedly, "thanks for the words of encouragement little brother, but you don't know what you're talking about, since you weren't there—no one was."

Truce be damned! Exploding into anger, Amenadiel grabs a fistful of Lucifer's shirt collar, pulling him out of the chair and up to his face, "what are you saying?" he hisses, "are you accusing me of not having participated in bringing our mother down?"

"Tut-tut my obnoxious angelic brother," Lucifer chokes out, "before you get your wings twisted up into a snit, hear me out."

"Once mother had been 'delivered' to the gates of hell by hundreds of you, who had fought hard to bring her down; the entire free-for-all was placed in my lap. Little old me was left holding the bag to finish Father's dirty work."

Pushing his brother back down into the chair, the agitated angel sneers, "and your point is?"

After rubbing his neck where his brother had nearly strangled him through his shirt, Lucifer lights a fresh cigarette. Allowing the sweet tobacco fumes to fill his chest; he regains his composure, releasing the smoke in a long slow breath before continuing…

"A couple of days before the intervention, Gabriel had dropped by with a message from the Old Man. Mind you, I hadn't heard a single word from the 'family' for about 500 years, but when Dad needs something done, He has no qualms about coming calling at my door. So He commanded me; you will lock her up in the depths of hell where she will never be seen or heard from again. Make it so she can never escape the confines of hell for all eternity—do not fail me, son."

Naturally, I was pissed, and I sounded off to Him. I called Him a "coward" for not dealing with His wife. But in the end, I accepted His order. Just like you and all of the others—we don't want to piss off Dad—do we?"

Sucking in the last puff from the cigarette, Lucifer lights another in quick succession; drawing some comfort from the nicotine filling his lungs. Still staring blankly out into the room, he looked pained at having to retrace the details of Asherah's imprisonment.

Fine wisps of cigarette smoke floated from his nostrils, as the devil continued on, "Amenadiel, that day will forever be etched into me. For just like you, I had mixed feelings about fulfilling Father's orders and just like you, I knew I had no choice but to do as I was told. But if you think my part in all of this was easy, then you are surely mistaken. Father left the most difficult part of his 'intervention' up to me to complete. Would you like to know what I had to do in order to finish the task?"

Waving the smoke away from his face, the warrior angel found that he was becoming curious about Lucifer's and his mother's relationship. There was obviously something between them that was not being expressed. Squinting his deep brown eyes, Amenadiel casts a suspicious glare at Lucifer, "go on…I'm listening." He scowls.

Nodding his head, Lucifer dips back into that disturbing day, "She wasn't going to go down without some kind of confrontation. She attacked me when I least suspected it; slithering her way into my mind like a snake, she tried to rip out my deepest darkest secrets. Unfortunately, there wasn't much there to entertain her, so she burned me as she retreated. It felt like someone had just stabbed into my ears with a flaming hot poker. But, I ignored the pain, and steeled myself to complete the task. I warned her, 'Now, I must do as Father has asked me.'

"Without giving her a single second to react, I grabbed her and held her tightly, wrapping my wings around us both; and then I leapt from the heights down into the abyss of hell. I wasn't flying brother, I was free-falling. I can't expect you to know what that's like since you've never fallen as I have, but I was terrified."

Listening intently to the devil's story, Amenadiel can't imagine what his life would be like without his wings, "You're right Luci, I've always had my wings to catch me…"

"I still had my wings too, but they were being used as restraints around mother. Imagine what it would be like to jump off of a mountainside—without your wings."

Closing his eyes for a minute, the devil takes in a ragged breath before continuing. Another cigarette animates his hands, tracing lines of smoke as he speaks.

"The wind stung my face while I hurtled down to the pit. It was like I was falling from heaven all over again. But this time, I had a passenger with me, she was captive—enfolded in my wings. I clutched her so very tightly, but I could still feel her power fighting me every step of the way. It took every ounce of my being to hold on for dear life and thwart her attempts to break free of me."

"I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer."

"Her screams pierced my ears, and her crying and trembling ate at my heart. She clawed deep bloody scratches into me in sheer terror—as we fell down, spinning in the whirlwind."

"Even though the fall had lasted only for seconds it seemed like an eternity and it had sucked my life's energy out of me. By the time we reached the bottom, I was spent."

"Stopping just short of the cell, I opened my wings and pushed her still spinning body from me; drilling her down the deepest and darkest of all hellholes.I locked up the cell and threw away the key."

"I walked away and never looked back."

Plainly in anguish, his opaque black eyes moist with tears held back, Lucifer swallows hard before countering sarcastically, "so as you can see, 'putting her in her place,' as you say it; wasn't easy—not easy at all."

Sighing, Amenadiel's expression turns troubled, Luci, are you saying you can't fight mother?

Looking down at the moonlight dancing on the glinting glass carpet, Lucifer's expression was pretty grave, "I'm saying that, uh… I don't know how I'm going to fight her—and win. You've never been on the receiving end of her powers. You have no idea of what she's capable of. Truth be told brother; I don't think I'm going to survive this conflict—especially without my wings.

Up In Smoke

A sickening feeling wells up in Lucifer's gut when he slowly realizes that if it hadn't been for the might of his wings, he would never have been able to subdue his mother long enough to lock her up: he would not have that advantage this time.

As usual, Lucifer had acted impulsively, he'd been cock sure that wasting his wings was the right thing to do. Especially since he was so certain that he was never going to return to hell or to heaven. To him, the wings were relics and a constant reminder of what he could never again attain, which was the divine love of his Father.

He thought it fitting that with a flick of a match, his only vestige of true divinity went up in smoke. He could still smell the stench of the burning wings and hear the strange moaning sound they made as they burned; it was as if they were being burned alive. He had come to think of his wings as inanimate objects, because they were no longer attached to his back. He had forgotten that the feathers from his wings were made up of singular entities of divinity and that they were very much a living breathing essential part of himself.

For the first time since he'd immolated his wings, Lucifer realizes the monumental enormity of what he'd done and the full weight of his reckless actions come crashing down on him. Staring out of the broken windows, catching a glimpse of the moon lowering in the sky, the fallen angel's black eyes rim with tears. Filled with remorse for what he'd done, Lucifer whispers almost inaudibly; "I never should have destroyed them…"

Sensing the seriousness of the moment, Amenadiel looking into Lucifer's teary eyes, with heartfelt concern, he asks,

"Destroyed what Luci?"

Sighing heavily, the devil whispers, "my wings, brother."

Not believing his ears, an astonished look comes over his brother's face, "You're actually admitting that?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for you!" Lucifer growls. Swallowing hard, he feels the heat from his eyes flashing again at Amenadiel, "You plotted and planned against me, you stole from me and you betrayed me—all under the guise of returning me back to hell. Brother you pushed me to my very last nerve!" Lucifer screams in a rage.

Not able to return his angry brother's glare, Amenadiel looks down in shame, "you no longer wanted them, I got that, but I would have brought them back to the heavens where they belong. if not on your back at least for safekeeping. I was shocked and saddened at how flippantly you would destroy such an icon of divinity. Luci, your wings were unique in all of Heaven. Father never made any ones like them ever again.

I know that they were a symbol of the divinity you'd lost and would never get back. But after I saw them rendered into a pile of ashes on the beach it made me sick. I know you think I'm an old stick in the mud—that I'm sentimental… And yes, I confess, I can be. I told you yesterday back on the roof, how sorry I was for what I had done to you for my own selfish reasons and I really did mean it when I promised to make it up to you."

"Pretty words bro," offers Lucifer flashing a smile, "if we can just keep from trying to kill each other first…"

They both share a good laugh at that…

Still feeling contrite about torching his wings, Lucifer stops laughing abruptly, "you know that without my wings, I will be even more limited in my powers against mother. That will be a disadvantage for us"

"Not really," Amenadiel reassures, "what I know is that a battle is not won through raw power alone; the elements of guile and cunning are at least as important to victory, and Luci: you have both in spades. And, don't forget we have an entire family who will be there to help out if we need them. Yeah, I'd say we've got some pretty big guns on our side too."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, dear little brother, it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside…" Lucifer chuckles.

"I hate to disappoint you, Amenadiel, but I have serious doubts that I'll be able to bring mum back to hell. It's not a matter of show of strength. Asherah wields her goddess powers which are second only to Father's. I can't compete with that. I already know, first hand, that she is the mistress of mind games and that she likes to play dirty. But what really has me scared shitless, is her atrociously deadly—temper."

The cumulative effects of the evening have hit Lucifer like a ton of bricks, suddenly he's reached his limit—he's has had enough. Standing up, he lets out a loud yawn and stretches his tall frame toward the ceiling. The scars on his back are beginning to hurt, as they often do, ever since Maze had cut off his wings all those years ago.

Yawning again and shaking his head to stay awake, Lucifer has reached the final straw of the night—he's done. "Since we seem to have finished our kumbaya moment for the evening, perhaps we can continue this conversation later, or tomorrow. I have a splitting headache, and right now, I really need a drink!" Pouring himself a double shot, Lucifer downs it in one long gulp.

Smog filtered daylight was already sticking to the penthouse windows, early morning had come to L.A. and the brothers had not hatched out a plan to return their mother to hell.

Amenadiel was antsy to find Maze and Lucifer felt like his head was about to explode. They both needed some space, so they parted ways.

Amenadiel disappeared into the elevator, and Lucifer finally gets out of the bloodied clothes he's been wearing since the day before, when he'd been shot by Malcolm.

Yesterday, I Died…

Standing beneath the jets of steamy water in the shower, Lucifer washes the dried blood off of his skin. "Well, that great bloody hole Malcom shot through me has completely disappeared, like nothing ever happened.

"That's a relief, so why am I still so disturbed by it all—it's over and done with. I'm back to my good old immortal self. I suppose the event of my death will fade from me in time, but right now, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that I won't soon forget.

The heat of the steam in the shower made the pain in his wing scars go away, and he'd cleaned up his bloodied self quite nicely. Lucifer feels like his chipper old self again.

"What a difference a good long shower makes! I'm feeling quite revived. Let's see which suit I'm going to sacrifice in the line of duty today."

Lucifer quickly dons a black suit and a plum shirt; fidgeting with his cuff links, he straightens out his sleeves and slips into his suit jacket. A confidant smile brightens his face as he catches a glimpse of his handsome likeness in the mirror.

"Let's have a bit of liquid courage before I go, I think I'm going to need it today."

Pouring himself a stiff glassful, the big gulp he takes goes down the wrong pipe, causing him to suffer a coughing and choking fit that turns his face beet red. A look of consternation wipes across his even features; as the tendrils of fear begin to spread in his mind.

"Maybe Asherah's already been here and has spiked some of these bottles with poison of some kind. I…I'm not feeling right. Perhaps she's cast a spell upon me. On second thought…maybe she hasn't.

"OK, deep breaths…

"This is ridiculous—I must pull myself together here. She could be anywhere right now; watching me at this very moment.

Or, she's on a well-deserved vacation taking in the sights, perhaps—Disneyland?"

Author's comments: Whew! That was a long chapter that bridged the prequel to the main story. I have been toying with the idea of separating out the prequel as a stand-alone to be read if anyone wants to get the full scope of all the background to this story. (any opinions about whether I should or shouldn't would be greatly appreciated) I probably won't separate it until the whole story is finished though.

In the next couple of chapters, Lucifer will receive a very special gift from his Father and some serious ass whipping from his mother the goddess. A certain L.A. concierge doctor treats the devil himself, and an angel comes to Lucifer's rescue.

I began writing this story with this chapter back in May when I was in the throes of Monday night Lucifer withdrawal syndrome. If I couldn't get any more fixes until September, I would just have to create my own. Never having written anything before, I just started writing and researching. The story evolved.

I've already written the tale out to its end so that I won't be influenced with how the TV show writers decide to treat the whole "Mum" aspect. That being said, I'm anxiously awaiting tonight's Season 2 premier. I'm sure you are too.

Additional Notes: 9/26/2016 I've substantially edited and rewrote large sections of this chapter, so I'm going to delete the one that's currently up and replace it with this one. This is my first story and I'm finding that the chapters I wrote back in May and June need substantial editing. The story is unchanged though. Since this was the first chapter I wrote back then, I decided to yank it and rewrite it. All of the subsequent chapters will be rewritten before I post them. I'm learning… let me know what you think of this re-written chapter—your thoughts and comments would be greatly appreciated.