After her little monologue at Dr. Linda's, Sabrina fully expected that she would spend the rest of the day curled up in her stain-ridden bed back at the motel, half-relieved at finally venting out her frustrations, and half-worried at sharing maybe a bit too much. (For someone raised to hide her magic in secrecy, it was troubling just how easily she could talk about it to a stranger, a mortal one, no less. Still, the doctor was calm and kind and impossibly understanding. Sabrina didn't think she spent her spare time – if she even had any, between juggling the devil and the antichrist – hunting down covens).

Instead, the afternoon brought both her and Maze to a table at Jean Claude's, the classy French café that's overtaken her mind since breakfast (she didn't realize how classy it was until both her and her pair of demons arrived to a busy lunch crowd and the bounty hunter had to flash Lucifer's black card just so they could be seated). Despite the steady hum of lively chatter around them, the moment carried with it a surprising peace as Sabrina sipped quietly at her pumpkin soup (rich and creamy, yet short of love and a few enchanted herbs to ever compare to Hilda's) and Mazikeen sliced aggressively at her ribeye steak, Salem pawing playfully all the while at the soft sunlight filtering in through the windows (his mistress tried slipping him a few breadsticks under the table, but the fussy cat would only ever have his favorite canned tuna or nothing at all).

It might have seemed like the peace would have carried on forever (not that Sabrina was particularly averse to it. She would have sat on that vintage French dining chair and listened to the gentle violin notes that flitted through the air for hours upon hours if she could), but Maze was the first to break the silence with a lazy wave of her fork.

"So," the demon began, tipping back a gulp of champagne to wash down whatever food was left in her mouth. "What did you think about that first therapy session?"

Sabrina wasn't sure if the woman was actually interested or just trying to fill a desperate need for small talk (their earlier car ride definitely pulled her in favor of the latter), but she decided to humor her all the same. She couldn't help it; she was in a good mood. Maybe an emotional breakdown was all she needed to release some tightly-wound tension. Her next words came out surprisingly easy as she stirred absentmindedly at her food. "I didn't think I could ever admit it out loud, but I actually liked it. I feel…lighter somehow. Like a weight's been lifted off me."

"And that's a good thing?" Maze frowned back. (She always thought humans loved things that weighed them down. Like spouses and children and big houses with mortgages that still overtook their minds even as they were being tortured in hell).

The girl nodded her head with arched brows before bringing another spoonful to her lips. "It's about as good as it gets when you've been lugging around the world as long as I have."

"Sixteen years doesn't seem that long."

Sabrina scrunched her nose thoughtfully. "One would think so, wouldn't they?"

Mazikeen must have been content with her answer, since she mulled over the words with no more than a shrug of her shoulders and left the conversation at that. Sabrina was silently grateful for it. The doctor's appointment might have put her at the slightest ease, but she wasn't ready for anyone to start prodding into her monsters again too soon.

As the demon's focus shifted back to murdering the little meat cutlets on her plate a second time around, Sabrina had her empty soup bowl taken away and asked for a serving of vegetable pie. (It would still probably fall short of Hilda's, but she would take every chance she could to taste the Spellman kitchen again. It was ironic, in a way. She was starting to grow homesick for a home that she was apparently already sick of).

Before the witch's thoughts could wander back to traitorous places that honestly would have put all her recent emotional progress to waste, the bounty hunter stepped in with another mouth-half-full attempt at conversation that tore Sabrina's attention away from memories of the Spellman house (its sprawling green gardens, its cozy, time-worn furniture, its dated safety wards that did little to keep out murderous angels no matter how tightly she bound the door) and towards the demon across from her who was already gesturing to the waitstaff for another bottle of alcohol.

"How long are you in L.A. for, anyway?" She asked, trying to sound like it was an offhand question, though Sabrina had a feeling Lucifer set her up to it. She had half a mind not to answer (just purely out of spite), but in the end, she supposed there was no harm in being honest. Her father and his right-hand demon could have her whole travel itinerary if they wanted and they still couldn't stop her from boarding a plane back to Greendale at the end of the week.

"Another six days, then it's back home for me." The girl replied with a cheery smile, every inch the excited teenager on her first trip alone. Her tone, however, held something else. A hidden edge that the demon almost missed, had the witchling not said it with a pointed look and slightly bared teeth. ("Home and only home," it seemed to add. "You can't keep me here any longer than that.")

Maze stabbed another piece of meat with her fork and chewed on it slowly, narrowing her eyes at the little girl who was still evidently trying to figure out how to push her over the edge. (She wasn't mad. She respected it, somehow. Anyone who could look a demon in the eye and threaten them without a second thought was pretty alright in her book).

"Let me guess. Finally grew out of that small town?"

"No." Sabrina picked up her knife and started slicing into the pie the moment it was set down in front of her. "Greendale grew even bigger, if you can believe it. I used to think I knew the place so well that it couldn't surprise me anymore. Now I'm not so sure."

The demon scoffed. "And you think New England can surprise you, but Los Angeles won't?"

Sabrina unscrewed Maze's new champagne bottle and poured herself a glass (she was almost convinced that the bounty hunter would stop her, but the other woman only raised a brow and said nothing more). She smirked wickedly before taking a generous first sip. "Not to be smug, but I think I'm the one who's gonna be doing all the surprising around here."

Mazikeen couldn't help the smile that crept up on her face. (The young witch was so sure of herself that she was all but preening as she sat across from the demon, posture confident and chest slightly puffed out in pride. She was so convinced of her hell-raising abilities that Maze was almost inclined to believe her. Still, it did nothing to change the fact that the bounty hunter thought she looked like an adorably haughty little bird).

"You know when you talk like that, you sound a lot like someone I know."

Sabrina rolled her eyes as she swirled the champagne flute in her hand. "You're gonna say Lucifer again, aren't you?"

Maze sighed out loud. (This whole back-and-forth between the devil and his daughter was getting tiring to watch, and she was only pulled into their little reunion loop this morning, come to think of it. If a few hours already drove her to the brink of insanity, she couldn't imagine what the rest of the week had in store).

"You're both stubborn forces of hell who like their whiskey neat and won't take 'no' for an answer. Who else am I supposed to say?" She nudged her chin out towards the girl who was now picking at the bell peppers on her plate with a conflicted look. "You're more alike than you think. You know, you might actually like him if you just gave him a chance."

"Linda thinks so, too," the witch mumbled back, chewing on her bottom lip. (She knew that the doctor was friends with her father. Of course she was going to vouch for him. Personal ties aside, though, she made the girl feel safe and validated and heard. Linda said she could feel like that every day of her life if only she learned to let the right people in. Now, Lucifer was a far cry from the right person, but then again, she didn't really know that for sure, did she?)

The demon smacked her lips together. "Look, you're probably gonna say no, and you're allowed to, but at least try to hear me out." She topped up her drink and downed half of it in one gulp (for courage, Maze liked to think, but she knew she was just kidding herself. Spending millennia in hell was reason enough to drink every damn day). "Your dad wants you to move into the penthouse while you're here in California."

"Oh."

It all boiled down to this, didn't it? The hellfire-burning question of whether or not she was willing to give Lucifer the chance he's been hoping for. At the back of her mind, Sabrina knew her father was expecting too much. If he wanted to prove himself, it made more sense if he asked for an afternoon together, or maybe tried for another joint therapy session with Linda. But to essentially ask her to live with someone she's only known for a day? Even more, in an apartment that she was pretty sure she already left in shambles the previous night?

It was ridiculous.

(Maybe so much that she had no other choice but to say yes).

She nodded her head slowly as she swallowed the last bite of vegetable pie. "Okay." (Even as she was agreeing to it, she couldn't wrap her mind around the sheer impulsiveness of her answer. Satan, maybe Ambrose was right. She had a bad habit of rushing into things). "I'll do it."

"You will?" Maze asked, confused. (She hadn't even made her case yet. Granted, her argument mostly involved copious amounts of alcohol from the penthouse's open bar and the endless nightly parties at Lux, but what else were angel-witch kids into, anyway?)

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, why not? What better way to experience L.A. than at the heart of its nightlife? Besides, I said I wanted a change from the slow pace in Greendale. Living on top of a nightclub should do the trick."

(No offense to the antichrist, but she didn't seem the type to go traipsing off into some spontaneous hedonism just for the hell of it. Maze saw how those witch sisters raised her. She was used to home-cooked meals and warm, fluffy sweaters hand-knitted by the chubby one. The bounty hunter was pretty sure Sabrina was in no rush to change any of it, at all). The demon narrowed her eyes even further. "And you're sure that's it? No other reason than some healthy teenage rebellion?"

"Well," the girl leaned back against her seat and nursed the half-filled flute in her hands. "That and the fact that I want to give Lucifer the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, this might turn out better than either of us expected. If not, at least I can say I've tried. Maybe by then, everyone will stop bugging me to give the devil a chance."

Maze mulled it over with pursed lips. (Lucifer told her to accept Sabrina's answer only if she wanted it. Free will was still a touchy subject with the Morningstars, after all. Now, she wasn't entirely sure if 'I'm agreeing to this just to get people off my back' was technically the same thing as 'wanting it,' but it was good enough, she guessed).

"Not quite the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but sure." She clinked her glass against Sabrina's and gave her another well-meant (yet still borderline menacing) smile. "I'll take it."

Sabrina expected she'd spend the rest of the afternoon curled up in her stain-ridden bed back at the motel, half-relieved at finally venting out her frustrations, and half-worried at sharing maybe a bit too much. Somehow, she wound up at an upscale restaurant, instead, with one demon batting away breadsticks under the table, and another trying to get free cake even though she could afford the whole menu ten times over with the Amex card Lucifer lent her. (While she was off in the bathroom, Maze managed to convince the waiters to sing her a surprise happy birthday, though the witch quickly shut them down before they could even get to the first verse. She wasn't too keen on birthdays anymore, not after her disastrous sixteenth).

When the afternoon reached its end, the antichrist went home (to a motel room that she soon packed up and stripped bare of all glamour spells) with a take-out box of not-really-birthday cake and new living arrangements that she still couldn't believe she agreed to. If Mazikeen's next attempt at car conversations on the way to Lux didn't bother her as much anymore, or if she started singing along a bit too brightly when Magic Eyes came on the radio, she just chalked it up to one too many glasses of champagne.

(Or maybe, just maybe, some unexpected plans were exactly what she needed).

It may have taken some time smuggling a fussy cat and a beat-up looking suitcase through Lux's early evening crowd, but Maze got the job done. Not long after leaning lazily against the elevator railings as the beginning hints of exhaustion crept up on her (Babysitting the witchling was no joke. If she thought getting her to speak was tiring, then getting her to shut up once she started babbling about horror movies was an entirely new level of torture), the doors slid open to a quiet, empty penthouse. Instantly, she was put on the slightest edge.

"Lucifer?" The demon called out tentatively, stepping out with her butterfly knife clutched loosely in hand. (His corvette was parked out front, and there was no trace of him at the club. It didn't make sense for him to be anywhere else). She did a brisk sweep of the apartment before shifting her gaze back to Sabrina who was still standing timidly by the entrance. "There's no one here."

The teenager frowned back. "Well, where do you think he is?" (She wasn't expecting a welcome party by any stretch of the imagination, but he could have at least had the decency to actually be there when she arrived). She put down her bag with an echoing thud, and Salem swiftly jumped out of her arms as she crossed them against her chest.

"I think I might have an idea." Maze pocketed the knife with a sigh and began walking back to the elevator. Between the basement and the top floor, this building had an excessive number of rooms, all of which Lucifer could have easily run off to. "In the meantime, stay here till I get back and try not to destroy anything. Those Sumerian walls you broke were a bitch to replace."

Sabrina scanned the place with a curious look (by some miracle, it looked brand new, as if she never stepped foot in it at all). "What am I even supposed to do around here?"

"Get settled in. Put up protective wards. Burn some incense. I don't know." Maze said just before the doors drew to a close. "For Hell's sake, just don't make a mess."

Her descent to the bottom floor was relatively quick, and by the time her eyes adjusted to the dingy fluorescent lights, she could already see Lucifer's suited figure hunched over a dusty table. Unlike the rest of the rooms that were regularly visited by cleaning crews in the building, the bottom floor was closed off for reasons only known to the demon and the devil. Everything they brought with them from hell, they kept here, from Maze's flame-forged weapons to Lucifer's towering pile of Pentecostal coins. If it meant the place was slowly falling into a decaying state of cobwebs and broken bulbs, neither of them paid it much thought. They never had too many reasons to go down here, anyway.

"Maze." Lucifer, suddenly disturbed, looked up and saw her hovering by the door. "What are you doing here?"

The demon hummed as she walked over, hands on her hips as she looked through the torture devices he had laid out in front of him. She took note of the medieval thumbscrews and choke pears with an arched brow (they haven't used those in a few good centuries).

"The princess smells like sulphur." She mused, running a finger over the ornate blades and pointed metal. "The first time I got near enough, I could think of nothing but hell. Figured you'd thought the same."

Lucifer sighed as he haphazardly stuffed the weapons inside a discreet black duffel bag. "Well, she did admit to opening the gates and taking a peek inside. The scent must have rubbed off. Which reminds me, she should really have a potion brewed for that."

(Maze didn't know why he picked now, of all times, to busy himself for whatever reason at the storage room, and frankly, she didn't have the energy to guess. All she knew was that she left a very volatile teenager with an annoyingly frisky cat inside a freshly-renovated apartment, and if she had to contact a team of underground interior designers and contractors again at four in the morning, she was going to be very pissed).

"She's waiting for you upstairs. I don't know what on earth you're still doing down here."

That caught his attention. Lucifer's hands stilled halfway and his packing was all but forgotten as his eyes drifted to Maze in disbelief. "You didn't tie her up and drag her here against her will, did you?"

"Didn't have to. She said 'yes' alarmingly fast."

Lucifer furrowed his brows in deep thought. "Now, that's unexpected." His focus shifted back to the items on the table, and as if remembering the very reason he was down here (whatever the fuck it was), started zipping up the luggage in a more determined pace. "Not that I'm complaining. I think it's splendid that she's back."

Mazikeen tapped her foot impatiently against the floor as she crossed her arms at him with a sour expression. "Doesn't seem like it. You're sure taking your sweet time getting your ass out of here." She gestured harshly at the instruments on the table. "What's with that bag, anyway? Don't tell me you're choosing now to take a trip to hell, because this room is chock-full of demonic blades and I am not afraid to use any of them on you."

(If packing up his things and flying back down to the pit was his knee-jerk response to facing fatherhood, then he had another thing coming. The bounty hunter heard that the witchling had an affinity for hellfire. At the back of her mind, she wondered if the girl would be open to the idea of using it on her dad).

The devil scoffed. "Don't be absurd. I'm not going anywhere." He hauled the weapon-filled duffel off the table and dropped it into her arms, dusting off his hands once she had it in her grip. He gave her a pointed glance. "Can't say the same for you, though."

Maze shifted the weight of the load onto one shoulder and gave him an exasperated look. "Where are you shipping me off to now? You wouldn't even let me catch a break after picking up after your daughter and her stupid cat all day."

Lucifer raised a brow at her as he straightened his jacket and began walking back to the elevator. "You've been complaining lately about your bounties, haven't you? Saying that they're no fun and you're not even allowed to hurt them that much?"

She hummed back in agreement, matching his pace with long strides. "They just see my knives and immediately start begging for their lives. For hell's sake, the last thing I bruised was a fucking apple at the supermarket."

"Well, what if I told you that you'll be hunting down a man that you can bruise and scratch and flay all you want? What's more, he'll probably even fight back. Been a while since you've had a fighter, haven't you?"

The demon turned to him with flinty eyes, pondering the thought. (Screamers and criers, she'd had by the dozen. Fighters, though? They were a rare breed she wouldn't mind tearing apart just yet). She nudged her chin out at him. "What's so special about this one?"

Lucifer's eyes darkened and he hardened his jaw as he stared straight ahead. Maze didn't miss the way his nails dug ever so slightly into his palm as he curled a fist at his side. "This one?" His lips pulled back into a snarl that held more malice than anything she's seen in a while. "This one hurt my Sabrina."

The elevator doors slid open at the penthouse and he stepped out with a chilling heaviness to his step and a determined thirst for revenge that his right-hand demon knew all too well. She trailed after him in growing anticipation, just waiting for the final whip, the final crack, that would give her a glimpse of the glorious punisher he used to be. (How she missed him, the one that wasn't softened and sanded by the humans in Los Angeles).

He looked back at her with barely-held venom in his gaze. "And as you already know, Mazikeen, there will be hell to pay."

(Maze could almost feel it. The scarred skin, the blood dripping down her fingers. It's been a while since she was reminded of home). She smirked in delight.

"So there will."