"Sabrina."

Lucifer never meant for it to sound a little shaky, a little breathless, but after hearing everything the doctor had to say about the living nightmare his daughter endured at the hands of that abhorrent high priest, the sight of her curled up in a chair with a book in her hands, mundane as it seemed, was all it took to remind him that she was safe, she was strong, she was here. And at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

(She looked so young, too, with her knees tucked under her as she sat, and lips pursed in concentration as her eyes scanned fervently over the pages. If it weren't for the demonic symbols on the leather-bound cover or the burn marks on the edges of her sleeves, he could almost pretend that time hadn't passed them by; that the only horror his child had ever seen came from TV screens, that she grew up playing with dolls instead of fire, that he was actually there to see all of it happen.

Pretending was too close to lying, though, and he refused to take the chance. As long as she was okay – whatever that word actually meant – almost was good enough for him.)

Sabrina looked up at the sound of his voice and shut the book to a close. "Lucifer," she smiled tightly, voice a bit too clipped and warmth a bit too hollow. (She said she would give him a chance, not outright forgive him, after all). Salem jumped from her lap when she stood from the chair, ancient grimoire still clutched tightly in hand. "I went through your library. I hope you don't mind. You've got a better collection than the Academy does."

(Lucifer tried not to think about how she still called him by name instead of "Dad". He supposed it was still a far way off, but maybe one day, they'd get to it. At least she was talking to him again). "Nonsense. Read as much as you want. A little knowledge never hurt anyone." He grinned back at her. "Take it from the serpent of Eden."

The girl scrunched her brows. "Not really the best example considering humanity fell right after that whole apple thing, but okay."

Maze stifled a laugh from where she stood behind her boss and walked over to the sofa, black duffel bag still weighing heavy on the crook of her elbow. She felt the hard gaze of both father and daughter on her (partly because they forgot she was there, partly because she purposely kept herself hidden) as she sank down on the leather settee. "Don't mind me," she said, diverted, crossing her legs carelessly on top of the coffee table. "I've waited sixteen years for this trademark Morningstar banter. Might as well enjoy it with front row seats."

The devil scoffed before swatting her boots away from the glass (Really, he just had the bulk of his furniture replaced. She could have at least waited a few days before leaving scuff marks on every visible surface). "Well, sorry to ruin the show, but don't you have somewhere else to be, Mazikeen?"

If "somewhere" meant chasing after a power-tripping Satanic priest who made the stupid decision of going against the antichrist, then sure, the bounty hunter was probably better off packing her suitcase instead of lounging lazily at the penthouse. As much as she was excited to tear the scumbag apart limb from limb, though, she wasn't all too eager to abandon the two not-so-angelic angels without seeing some of that head-biting snark that was sure to drive both of them crazy before the week ended. Unfortunately, where the devil was involved, unless she was straddling the fine line between bloodthirsty torturer and glorified babysitter, she apparently had better things to do.

She rolled her eyes before getting to her feet (she almost stuck out her tongue, too, but that would've been a bit much, even for her). "Fine, whatever." She hitched the duffel bag onto her shoulder (a little goodie bag from hell, she liked to think. If Sabrina had spent her birthdays with them at the pit, this was probably the sort of thing the demon would've given away together with balloons and cake) and pushed past Lucifer back to the doors.

The teenager frowned at the bounty hunter's retreating figure and caught up just as she was pressing annoyedly at the buttons. "Wait, you're leaving already?" She frowned, lower lip pouting out just slightly in a move that probably worked all too well on her aunts and cousin back home, but only made the demon raise a brow in amusement.

"Yeah, I just need to straighten some things out with my day job," Maze replied smoothly, though her eyes wandered pointedly at Lucifer who was watching the whole exchange from the comfort of his bar stool. He raised a glass to her and the woman only scowled. She snapped her gaze back to Sabrina with a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but only came out looking more pinched than usual. "But don't worry too much, princess, I'll try to get back before you leave."

Sabrina wasn't too keen on letting her father know (the last thing she needed was for him to get all smug, seeing as he introduced the two in the first place), but she was actually starting to enjoy the bounty hunter's company. Yes, there was a slight reservation considering that Maze was working for Lucifer (as all demons do, though the bond, dare she say the "friendship", between them both seemed to extend beyond typical infernal servitude), but she could easily look past that; the woman's earnest concern, poorly masked behind a veil of irritation, reminded her a lot of Harvey, Roz, and Theo who still begrudgingly looked out for her despite her seemingly endless list of shortcomings. After all the stuff that's happened lately, it wasn't the sort of thing she took for granted.

(And weirdly enough, something about Maze reminded her of Lilith, too, though she tried not to think of it as a bad thing; granted, the new queen of hell was cunning, underhanded, and manipulative, but she did give Sabrina back her powers, which, she supposed, was a point in her favor).

The witch blew out a breath. "Well, who am I supposed to hang out with while you're gone? I don't exactly know anyone else here in L.A."

"Hmm. I must be chopped liver then," Lucifer muttered a bit too loudly into his cup before taking a long sip. "Wonderful."

Sabrina rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please. You know what I meant."

Maze watched the pair of them in growing interest, eyes narrowed in thought (It was weird, seeing the devil meet his match in a sixteen-year-old girl. It was also kind of funny, too, but she'd sooner gnaw her own arm off before saying that to Lucifer's face. Believe it or not, the guy deserved a break. She knew it must've already taken him every ounce of self-control to just sit there drinking his whiskey instead of going on a cross-country rampage to hunt for this Blackwood guy, himself).

She nodded her head towards Sabrina before stepping into the elevator. "You know what, princess, I don't think you'll be needing me all that much." She sent a smirk Lucifer's way (smiles, she never seemed to get right, but smirks she perfected long before they left hell). "I'm sure the two of you should get along just fine."

And just like that, as swiftly as she appeared, the demon was gone.

"It seems you've taken quite a shine to Maze, haven't you?" Lucifer chimed in, a self-satisfied look plastered on his face (the exact one that his daughter's been trying to avoid all evening). Sabrina didn't indulge him with an answer, and instead turned on her heel to stalk back to the comfy armchair she was just beginning to enjoy before her father arrived. "Come on, you can admit it. You had a good time today."

"Don't flatter yourself," the young girl intoned, flipping open her book and focusing her attention on the pages just so she could keep herself from looking at him (nevermind that she kept reading through the same line over and over, not a word of it piercing her thoughts). "Yes, my second day here was slightly better than the first, but that's just because nothing could ever top the awfulness that was last night."

(Ah. There it was. Lucifer always knew the evening would circle back to the things left unsaid, but he still held out the slightest hope that maybe it wouldn't; that maybe he could spend one nice, quiet night with his daughter, and everything that could ever hurt them both, they'd deal with in the morning).

The devil sighed, long and deep. He set his glass back down on the counter once he found that the sudden dryness in his mouth wasn't the type to be washed away by liquor. "So, we've come back to this."

Sabrina realized that the conversation was one that needed to be had, that couldn't be avoided any longer lest it grow into an elephant bigger than the room itself and trample them both in their sleep. She followed his lead and put the grimoire down. "No," she shook her head. "No, we're not coming back, because we never really shut the door on any of it. We just…we just left things hanging in the air. And I know it sounds stupid and pointless and tiring, but we're gonna have to work this out, one way or another."

"I know." Lucifer answered, a somber tone to his voice as he stared at her face, all furrowed brows and biting wit and no trace of her mother (She was far too much like him that it was almost frightening. At some point, he had to wonder if the same paths that led him astray were also waiting for her down the road). "I know, darling. It's just…must we do this so soon? I just got you back-"

"You never had me." She snapped. "Let's get that straight. And just so we're clear, the fact that you left, I can accept. Big deal. Parents walk away everyday. It's what you left me with that I don't think I can ever forgive."

"Sabrina-"

"No. You sit there and listen to everything I have to say, because I will not say it again. I don't care if it hurts you or if it wounds your precious pride. You need to know what you did. You need to understand that this is so much more than just leaving a child behind."

(Slow to reason and quick to anger. Lucifer never quite understood what Amenadiel had once told him about Sabrina until now. It was almost as if a switch had been flicked and she was now raising her voice at him from across the room). Slowly, he nodded his head for her to continue. He was the same way when his Father never listened, and look where they were now. He wouldn't make the same mistake with Sabrina.

The witch expected to be yelled at, like Zelda did when she got out of hand. Or perhaps calmed down with gentle words like Hilda when her tone got too harsh and her temper too far. She never had anyone look at her, really look at her, and decide that they wanted to hear what she had to say. When Lucifer did just that, she didn't know what to make of it.

"There's a darkness inside of me," she whispered, voice shaky but softer than when she began. "It's raw and potent and powerful, and I can just feel it eating away at my soul. For so long, I've wanted it gone, but all anyone's ever told me is to embrace it. Take it. Let it define who I am. And no matter how much I don't want to, it seems like I don't have any other choice. I'm like this because it's in my blood. I'm like this…because of you."

Her eyes flickered to him, shiny with unshed tears, and Lucifer felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "You know, for someone who talks such a big game about free will, you sure didn't think to leave me with much of it." She smiled bitterly. "Now everyone expects me to save the day just because I'm stronger than the rest of them, but no one ever thought to ask if I even wanted to be the hero."

Lucifer felt his grip around his glass tighten. (How dare they? From what the doctor had told him, no one except for the Spellmans batted an eye when Sabrina was stripped naked in church, chased bloody through the woods, or led to hang by the neck on an old tree. She owed them absolutely nothing, yet those gaggle of ungrateful swine still wanted everything. He ought to send the detective and the douche on their trail, after all; take away their magic and see how fast those shriveled-up feet can run from their crimes).

"It's not your job to be anyone's savior."

She looked at him, all chinked armor and strangled words. "But as a father, it was your job to be mine. Once, just once, you could've been there, you know, and it would've been enough."

(And she meant it. She didn't even care about the small moments. First words and missed birthdays were the last thing on her mind. The big moments, though, the ones that felt even bigger than herself and fell right out of her hands before she could even get a hold on them; she could've done with some help then. Because maybe she wouldn't have died if he had gotten to those angels in time. Maybe Nick wouldn't be in hell if he had gone up against the false dark lord. A lot of things would've turned out so much better if he had popped in at one of those times and asked his insufferable "What do you need, darling?" Maybe, back then, she would've actually indulged him with an answer).

Lucifer opened his mouth, but couldn't find the right words. What was there even left to say at that point? (All along, he'd thought that staying away would make him a good father. Turns out, all it ever did was make him a worse one. And perhaps even more horrifying, he'd spent millennia hating God for abandoning him, when in fact, though how much he convinced himself otherwise, he ended up doing the exact same thing to his daughter).

"I-I didn't know," he sighed, a weariness to him. He closed his eyes, shook his head, steadied himself. When he opened them again, he looked right at her, and Sabrina had never felt quite so seen. "I should've known."

"Yeah." She nodded in agreement. A single tear managed to slide down her cheek, and the sight of it was a knife straight through his heart. It took everything in Lucifer not to reach out and wipe it away. "Yeah, you should've."

"You didn't deserve any of that, Sabrina. None at all. I'm…I'm so sorry."

(There. He'd found it. The only thing left to say).

She frowned back at him. "At some point, you're gonna have to stop saying it and actually start meaning it."

(It seems he didn't say it quite right, though).

He got up from the bar stool and walked over to her, all measured steps and hands in his pockets. Sabrina flinched away just the slightest bit when he took the seat next to hers.

"Darling, I mean it. Truly. And I know I wasn't there for the longest time, but I'm here now." Outside the window, the wind began to pick up and he had to wonder if her trembling fingers had anything to do with it. In a move that surprised even himself, he took one of her hands in his and gave it a little squeeze (gentle and reassuring, like the detective did, just to show that he was there with her). No more than a second later, the wind stopped howling. "I'd like to make things right."

Sabrina looked down sharply at their clasped hands, brows furrowed, and Lucifer fully expected that she'd pull away. Instead, she only closed her eyes, almost as if in thought, and let out a shaky breath. "If you really want to apologize…you'll help me fix everything."

"Of course, whatever you need-"

"I need to go to hell," she blurted out before he could even finish.

Lucifer stared at her for a long time, trying to understand. What was it about the pit that drew her in so much? Was it the screaming, the agony, the towering pillars of fire? (He wouldn't actually be surprised if it was the last one. Her fixation with hellfire was rather difficult to ignore). Still, whatever she thought she saw when she peeked inside, it couldn't have been enough to warrant such an unhealthy obsession. She had mentioned something before about getting revenge, and that he could understand, but even then, the idea was preposterous. Wasn't hell punishment enough? No, it had to be something more, something deeper…

He pushed the rest of his thoughts away (Whatever her reason was, he would not give in to it. As long as he lived and breathed, his daughter would never step foot in that wretched place). "You already know my answer to that, Sabrina. It hasn't changed."

Almost instantly, her gaze hardened back to steel and she dropped his hand so quickly as if she had been burnt. "Well then," she said, clipped and distant and cold. She was still sitting right next to him, but Lucifer felt as though a wall had suddenly gone up between them. "It seems you've already made up your mind. No use arguing about it any further."

"Now, just wait a minute-"

"It's been a long day. I think I'll just go finish this in my room," she smiled tightly, grabbing the grimoire off the table and getting up to leave. Salem instantly curled up around her ankles and she bent down to pick him up, a sigh on the edge of her lips. She turned back to him with a curt nod, something polite but not quite so warm (no doubt the handiwork of one Zelda Spellman). "Good night, Lucifer."

Before he could even think to answer, her heels were already clicking down the hall, and he had to sit back and wonder if he would ever get used to the sound. He shook his head (everyone always said teenagers were difficult, but bloody hell, he didn't expect them to be so right) and got to his feet, himself, walking back to the bar to down the rest of his unfinished drink. By the time the last sip left a stinging trail down his throat, and the shadows began to dance eerily around the empty living room, he was too exhausted to think of anything but rest.

He took one last look at the skyline out the balcony before turning off the lights.

"Good night, Sabrina."

She was back inside the desecrated church. Vines, twisted and tangled over years of untamed growth, sealed off the windows, crawled over the walls, and would have overrun the floors had enchantments not been placed to keep the wooden boards exceptionally clean (after a while, scrubbing off the blood after every black mass proved to be quite tedious). Under the faint glow of the candles, though, those very same vines seemed to come alive and trail closely behind her footsteps as she inched closer to the unholy altar.

The pews were empty and the only sound that reached her ears was her own ragged breathing. Something was wrong. She shouldn't have been there. And yet her feet were dead set on making their journey to the head of the room.

Just as she was about to ascend the dark marble steps, she felt something sharp and cold pierce through her shoulder. Then her ribcage. Then her stomach. She looked down and saw three arrows stabbed at her flesh and pooling thick, crimson blood on the carpet. The confusion came first, and the pain came later. When it did, though, it arrived in waves, the heavy, crashing kind that sent her down on her knees and had her fingers clutching blindly at the sacrifice table just so she wouldn't collapse completely.

Suddenly, a hand, strong and sure, grasped hers and she was pulled back onto her feet. She hadn't expected any help, thinking she was alone, but she was grateful, all the same. She clutched at their shoulders to steady herself, and just when she turned her head to look at the face of her savior…

"Jerathmiel."

She would know those murderous eyes anywhere.

"Ready to repent now, witch?"

Her vision was starting to get blurry and she could feel her knees buckling underneath her. From behind, she sensed a second presence lingering about. Their name was already on the tip of her tongue, but then it was practically ripped out of her mouth when she felt the crown of thorns being forced violently into her head. "Mehitable…"

Jerathmiel pried her hands away from his body and sent her falling to the ground, though if it was painful, she couldn't really say; she had lost all feeling. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The two angels looked at her smugly, towering over her, shining with divine light that she wasn't so sure they deserved. They joined their hands together, whispered a prayer, and suddenly, the church was overcome with the scent of burning flesh.

Hers.

And before she could do anything more to stop it, there was nothing left but darkness.

Lucifer woke up to the sound of screaming.

It was faint and distant (the soundproof walls were to blame for that), but it was the same voice that yelled at him from across the room just a few hours earlier, and he could recognize it in a heartbeat. Dread settled in quickly at the pit of his stomach, and he was rushing out of bed and down the hall before he could even fully make sense of what was going on. (All he knew was that Sabrina was hurt, or-or in danger, and fucking hell, he's barely had her for a day and he already managed to put her in jeopardy).

He was just about to knock down her door when he realized that she left it unlocked (though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. Given her guarded and untrusting nature, she seemed exactly the type to seal her room shut with layers upon layers of protective magic), and warily pushed it open with a suspicious edge to him (unless she did leave it locked but someone broke in. If so, he'd never killed a human with his bare hands before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything).

"Sabrina," he called out uneasily. The room was pitch black and his eyes couldn't quite adjust to the dark, but his fingers shortly found the switch on the wall and soon enough, light was spilling into every nook and cranny of the open space. Salem hissed at him for the sudden intrusion.

"Oh, bugger off, you little cretin." He hissed back. (He meant it when he said that cats were detestable, contemptuous creatures. The only reason he even decided to shape his daughter's familiar into one was because Amenadiel had once given a passing comment about how a young Sabrina got into a row with her aunts for refusing to buy her a kitten). "You had one job, you know, and that was to keep her-"

A soft whimper sounded out from underneath the covers, and his eyes were drawn to Sabrina, dressed in cotton pajamas, clutching a pillow to her chest as she slept with brows furrowed. Her demeanor was the farthest thing from peaceful (the sweat on her forehead and the tears on her cheeks could very well attest to that), but at least she wasn't bleeding or hurt or dead. That alone felt like a tremendous success.

"-safe." Lucifer sighed in relief.

He pulled over a chair to her bedside and sat down, steepling his fingers underneath his chin as he watched her toss and turn in her sleep. She used to have severe night terrors, he could remember, back in her terrible-twos. They got so bad that Maze began grating on the other demons, so sure that one of them was responsible for invading her dreams and terrorizing her while she rested. Of course, none of them ever admitted to it. They didn't even know who Sabrina Spellman was.

After the first few weeks, it was Hilda who came up with the rather ingenious solution of sneaking calming draughts into warm glasses of milk before bedtime. Naturally, it was not without its flaws. Some nights, the girl was still haunted by a bad dream or two, but nothing the sisters couldn't manage. Before they knew it, the little witch was three and had long grown out of her nightmares.

Far be it from him to have read Dr. Spock in his free time, but he was quite certain that teenagers weren't supposed to be haunted by long-forgotten toddler-year monsters. But if they were, he could still probably remember Hilda's potion that Amenadiel once described to him in great detail (his hellish visits did last excruciatingly long for a reason), though he wasn't so sure where he'd find valerian sprigs and wormwood in L.A. at 2 in the bloody morning. He barely had any milk in the refrigerator.

"N-no, please don't," Sabrina murmured, cutting off the rest of his thoughts. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes were screwed shut, yet a few tears still managed to slide out and hit her pillowcase. "I'll repent. Just-just don't hurt me anymore."

Lucifer wrinkled his brows. "Repent?" (The word bothered him more than he would care to admit, particularly because it was a favorite in the Silver City. Left and right, it was practically the only thought on his siblings' minds as they ran around trying to convert humanity. Nevermind that it meant reacceptance or forgiveness – he was never offered either of those things. It was a word often spoken in his Father's house, and he never thought he would hear it in his).

Salem leaped down from his perch at the edge of the bed and nudged his head at Lucifer's feet, meowing incessantly against the tense silence. The devil scowled at him and moved his legs out of reach. "Yes, I'm well aware that she's having a nightmare. You're not the only one with eyes around here."

The cat sneered at him.

"Well, of course I'm going to do something about it," he shot back. (Bloody demanding little demon. He was lucky the witchling had a fondness for him, else her father would have already turned him into a writhing, pitiful worm).

Lucifer sighed and brushed a hand against Sabrina's forehead, gently smoothing back her platinum curls. She was still scrunching her eyes almost to a painful extent, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on inside her head. (Was it the monsters again? Was it Blackwood? Or was it something else entirely, something that all his years away kept him from finding out for himself?)

He shut his eyes and whispered a string of unintelligible words under his breath; whether they were said in a language long gone or one that humanity was simply yet to discover, Salem wasn't sure. Still, it didn't keep him from craning his neck and watching the whole exchange in silent curiosity. Almost instantly, all the harsh lines of his mistress softened, and she visibly relaxed as if the bad thoughts had been wiped clean from her mind.

When Lucifer fluttered his eyes back open, Sabrina was sleeping peacefully under his touch. He smiled softly at the lack of distress on her face and pulled his hand away. "Sweet dreams, darling."

Salem returned to his place at the foot of the bed and looked on in quiet wonder as the devil – the same scarred angel who punished sinners mercilessly and forged him into existence at the deepest bowels of hell – leaned down to pull the covers into place over the sleeping princess. The demon almost expected him to give the girl a kiss on her fair hair, but he must've thought better of it (they weren't quite there yet), and crossed back to the other side of the room.

This time, before Lucifer shut the door behind him, he made sure to leave the lights on.