He heard the pounding of boots before he'd even opened his eyes. Could feel the way the manor quaked as whoever was trespassing stomped their way through the hallways. It stirred Lucifer, waking him with a throbbing in his temple and the overwhelming sense of 'outsider'. The darkness abated as presence flooded the space. It took him moments to pull himself from the spiderwebs of dreams he'd been caught in. A night on earth, a coven of witches, and a young woman beaten, asking for help. He wasn't sure where it came from, and as he woke, Lucifer was desperate to sink into it again, to relive those moments again, because with his waking, came the dim light of a Hell's predawn. With waking, came the terrible knowledge that he was still here, in the place where he was bound to do nothing right and betray everyone he loved. At least in his dreams, he was wanted…Neededeven.

Was this his comeuppance?

The thundering of the intruder came closer, dragging Lucifer, kicking and spitting from the darkness. Was it Wyr? In the same breath, he both wanted that and feared it. Was she coming back to get back at him? Had she decided to argue with him again and demand answers for his crimes? But no…He knew her, and when she'd left, anger hadn't followed in her wake. Betrayal had. He'd let her down. Had let Charlie down, and Lilith. Maybe the person making their way towards him would finally, gladly, put him out of his misery. Hadn't he proved it over and over again?
He would never be enough. Wyr knew that now. Knew he wasn't, and would never be, enough.
He heard yelling, and the walls rattled as a bellow of rage echoed through the halls.

"LUCIFER!"

The voice wasn't Wyr's, and he closed his eyes, ignoring the way his body sagged deeper into his chair. It had been idiotic to hope…Even for a second that she would return. He'd said his piece, had destroyed her image of him so totally, that she'd never return. She probably regretted their deal now. All Lucifer ever did, was disappoint those he cared about. Force them to regret letting him into their lives. Was Charlie thinking that now? Probably. She'd let him back in, and now he was turning his back on her.

He could feel the presence of the note, sitting in his drawer, burning a hole through the desk and into him. The black ink had been scrawled in an untidy hand, and he knew exactly who'd sent it. The words were seared into his mind, reminding him of his choices, reminding him that there was only one thing keeping Charlie safe. As long as he didn't get involved, Charlie would be safe. The others…the Sinners, would have to protect themselves. Wyr would have to protect herself. He had made his choice.

The door to his office slammed open hard enough that it rattled on its hinges. His head pounded with the bang, and he squinted, his sight still fuzzy, pushing himself up from the desk on weak arms. No, it definitely wasn't Wyr, or the Radio Demon she boasted was her friend. Instead, standing in his doorway was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with two, thick braids hanging down her back, white scars criss-crossing red skin, a long, thin tail that lashed back and forth, and horns that tightly coiled around her head. Her gaze landed on him like mountains.

"There you are, you fuck." She all but growled at him, and the voice was familiar. He couldn't place where he'd heard her voice before, but surely it was just another soul out to tell him how he'd let them down.

Had there ever been anyone he hadn't been useless to?

He could remember one. The little witch from his dreams maybe?

"Whadyyouwan?" Lucifer licked his lips, feeling sick at the taste of sour alcohol on his tongue. His face felt sticky, no doubt from the spilled bottle of rum across his desk. Despair sluggish and thick made its way through him, as belatedly he realised Wyr's precious papers had been caught in his drunken mess.
The Sinner didn't seem to care as he picked up the sticky, ruined papers and tried to move them into a pile. It was no use, the ink so painstakingly written by Wyr, for each and every death had smeared. Lucifer had ruined something else. Had destroyed another thing. He'd thought if they couldn't be friends since he'd ruined that with his kiss, he could at least be helpful with her work. But no. Did the world need more proof he was incapable?

The Sinner, uncaring of his internal struggle stomped towards his desk. From the doorway, he spotted the servants all cowering behind the frame, watching the interaction between him and the woman…Like they weren't sure who would come out on top.
A hard fist smacked the desktop, and the wood groaned in protest at the brutal force. He winced and craned his neck to meet the woman's eyes. She was seething, so much he could almost imagine smoke pouring out her mouth.

"Get your arse up and apologise." Her voice was guttural and deep, sneering down at him. He pushed back from the desk and leaned back in his chair.
"Who are you?" His mouth felt filled with cotton balls, but he joined his hands and sat them on his lap, knowing his picture of relaxation would only infuriate the woman further. It did. She pulled a knife from her hip and stabbed it into the tabletop, narrowly avoiding Wyr's papers. He narrowed his eyes at her, letting some of his being fill the air between them. The Sinner didn't move.
"A friend of Wyr's. Now. Get. Up." Lucifer stiffened, blinking up at the Sinner. A friend of Wyr's? His mind felt sluggish as he tore through his memories, trying to remember if Wyr had talked about other friends. He'd never met any of them, bar Alastor, so where…Oh…

"You're the one who set up our dinner." He raked his brains for a name "O'Malley" The woman snorted, shaking her head like she couldn't believe he'd know her name.
"I should never have encouraged this." She yanked her knife from the table and gestured at Lucifer angrily with it. "I knew better than to let her get carried away with you." Her spitting, deprecating tone was less than he deserved, but it still soured his stomach further. Wyr had gotten carried away with him? Hadn't he been the one getting carried away by her? He'd kissed her. And then told her she was nothing, that she didn't deserve to be saved, and that she wasn't worth redemption.

The Sinner, O'Malley, put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down.
"So? Get up. You're going to apologise to Wyr, right now. And then you're going to fight for your daughter and her people." Lucifer looked at the clock on his desk. It wasn't even dawn yet, in only a few hours the angels would come. He looked back at O'Malley.
"I can't." It came out in a hoarse whisper, an alien feeling he couldn't name pulling at the centre of his chest until swallowing felt like he was holding back a sob.
The woman laughed, sharp and barking.
"You can't? Or won't?" Her tone was accusatory and he wanted to sink further into his chair. Silence reigned between them save for O'Malley's sawing breath and the thunder of Lucifer's heart. He tried to calm himself, to settle his features into cool detachment. Would it be better to look detached over destroyed? He couldn't know, but the note was burning in the drawer beside him. She looked him up and down, calculating, and answered for him.

She shook her head and he sunk lower.
"Wyr would always swear by you, you know? Any time I said anything that cast doubt on your intentions, she would arc up, she'd take a brick to my face. So I stopped saying anything." O'Malley's gaze drifted over him, a calculating look crossing her face. "Do you know how I won her loyalty? I had her back since the day she picked me up off the street. I helped her with her work, I became one of the top ten most powerful Sinners because that's what it would take to protect her and the things she cared about."

His mask felt as though it cracked along the lines of his heart. What did Wyr think about him, to be so supportive of a useless king? How could she have believed in him for so long?

"What did you do though" O'Malley continued "to inspire so much loyalty in her? Did you manage any of Hell under your jurisdiction? Did you fight for imp rights in a city of Sinners? Did you do anything to improve life for your people? What did you do, Your Majesty, beyond hide behind your wife's skirt and bind us all in a treaty to keep Hell weak and manageable?"

With every unanswered question thrown at him, Lucifer sunk lower in his chair as O'Malley leaned over him, hurling her accusations like weaponry, aiming for the soft insides she knew were there. She was right, she was obviously, so completely right. He had done nothing, and yet Wyr had trusted him. She'd asked him to help, to fight, and he'd broken that trust. How had he even procured it at the start?

"I don't know." He whispered, feeling small and insignificant under the Sinner's glare.
"I can see that." Her tone brokered no argument.
The power O'Malley exuded thickened the air between them. It was nothing to his own, but he felt it, shoving him back into his chair, forcing him to confront everything he avoided. It was seconds, maybe a minute later when O'Malley stepped back from the desk and cracked her neck. She looked down at him and shook her head again, her disappointment palpable.
"Dawn's coming, and unlike you, I plan on defending the people who need me." She turned and took a few steps towards the door before turning, her voice soft but full of venom.
"Wyr will give her life before harm comes to Charlie, all for you…I hope you change your mind before that moment comes."

O'Malley left, not bothering to slam the door behind her, like it was beneath her. It probably was. She was the force of a storm, wrapped up in the package of a fierce woman. For one, insane moment, he thought about Lilith. Those two would probably get on. Even if the rest of Hell would cower in fear.
Lucifer melted into his chair when he finally felt the pirate's menace leave the property. He could hear the servants beyond the doorway but didn't look up from his folded hands. Did he care what the imps were thinking? They already knew how useless their master was. There was no point in hiding.

The weight of phantom words fell heavy upon his head, pushing him down and holding him under the darkness. Words spun into stories, stories spun into truths and truths hung heavy around his neck like a witch's collar. The iron band was tight around his throat, threatening to choke him as the chain on the end connected to a ball of darkness. Looking into its depth he saw the faces of the people he cared about, the way their disappointed faces turned away from him.
He was balancing the weight of his daughter's life against the lives of every Sinner in Pentagram City. He was tossing aside Wyr, to protect his daughter. There was no other choice he could make. If he could have shown Wyr, if he could have explained, would she have understood?
I take care of my people

He'd said that once hadn't he? In a midnight clearing, to a young woman whose radiance was blinding. He couldn't picture her face now, the dream smearing the image like wet paint. Lucifer had meant it back then. He'd take care of that witch, and he wanted to care for the people who lived under him. It had been the promise he'd made to Lilith when they'd landed in Hell. They'd made that promise together when they'd discovered what their new world would be.

Lucifer turned to the window, watching with a weighted heart as the darkness abated and morning broke upon them. How many legions would Adam bring? How long would Wyr hold out against them? What was she planning with Charlie?

Fear, sticky and cold spread through his limbs at the image of Wyr, dead at his feet. Blood pooled around a broken body that stared up at him with lifeless eyes. Charlie's cries as the other Sinners she'd taken in were felled under angelic steel.
She would never forgive him for this.
Light grew and grew, and in the deafening quiet, the thunderous beat of his heart tricked him into hearing explosions from the city.
Protect your people!

You need to step in.

They're her people.

They were his people too, once upon a time. Lucifer swallowed back the sour taste filling his mouth.

I knew better than to let her get carried away with you.

The memory of Wyr's soft lips against his opened a hole underneath Lucifer. O'Malley had said Wyr had been carried away with him, but it was him who had been carried away. He was the one who'd been unable to stop himself. He'd been taken in by her wise words, her strength and confidence. The way she mourned the dead and treated every being with an easy kindness and thoughtfulness. He'd been undone by her.
And he was about to let her get herself killed for his daughter. He was letting her fall upon her sword because he wouldn't stop this from happening.

It wasn't right.

You offered freedom

The words trickled through his mind, like cold water on fevered skin. It wasn't a world-altering shift of thought, but he remembered. In the beginning, it was about freedom. He'd believed in offering freedom. The sinners he was condemning had believed in that promise. Hadn't his goal been all along to offer that? His daughter was the one teaching them how to use that freedom for good…Where he had fallen to punishment, she had risen above. She had listened to him, had believed in him, and now his little girl, she wanted to be better than him.

He was better than this. He used to be a better man than this. Wyr had been right. He needed to be a better man.
And that started with protecting his daughter…And their people. Notes and reminders be damned.
Treatise be damned.

At every turn, he had made mistake after mistake, but Wyr had believed in him…Wyr believed in second chances.

There was still a chance.

Fire blazed, smoke billowing black and noxious from the ruins. Puddles of red and gold, bodies of angels and sinners littered the ground and one could taste the blood and ash on their tongue. Those that lived were grateful for the taste, those that lived were grateful for the sight.
Lucifer wanted to be grateful. He wanted to be happy that his daughter was safe, that her friends had mostly made it through unscathed. But there were dead angels, and dead Sinners, and all he could think about was what Wyr would do with the bodies.

If he could just find her.

He hadn't seen her on the roof, and when he'd asked Charlie, she'd teared up and said she'd been with Alastor, who was also missing... After fighting Adam. Lucifer tried not to let the fear take him over. The image of Wyr's cold body under the rubble rent him through, but Charlie was here, and she needed her father. Like Wyr had said. Exactly like Wyr had said.

"Dad? I-I don't know what to do now."

Her voice sounded so small.

He turned from the remains of the hotel to Charlie, her arms wrapped around herself, holding herself together amidst the damage. Sinners gathered around them, eyes glazed and most in shock. They had beaten back Heaven. Adam was dead. The exterminators had run, and now they were left to puzzle out what to do next. It was the first time he'd seen a united front since a long-ago rebellion. Sharp teeth and wicked hearts looked to him, their king, and asked to be led. They were asking him for guidance. The weight shifted uneasily on his shoulders. He tried to think of what Wyr would say, and her words whispered through his mind, silver eyes would look to the dead.

"We need to move the bodies." He looked out to the crowd and met eyes with a woman in a large, flower-topped hat. Her mouth was stained in gold, as many of the sinners who had fought were similarly stained. His stomach churned, knowing they had all tasted angel flesh.
"Move the bodies." He frowned at her wide grin. "All of them. Nobody gets eaten." She frowned, and he heard the mutterings of the cannibals as they moved through the ruins. Charlie drew closer, followed by the beaten and bloody residents she'd claimed as her people. They all looked broken down. He couldn't see O'Malley through the smoke and wondered if she had survived. His instincts said she most likely had. He turned to Charlie and gathered her into his arms, breathing in her scent and reminding himself he had arrived in time. He'd gotten there in time. Was everything in flames? Yes. But Charlie was alive.

Now if he could just find Wyr.

And tell her how sorry he was.

"We can't find Smiles and Curly is missin' too." Lucifer looked to the spider demon, Angel Dust, whose limp arms were now empty of guns and splattered with gold. Husker beside him was frowning, claws clenching and unclenching like they were feeling for something. He knew 'Smiles' meant Alastor, but 'Curly'…Was probably in reference to Wyr's abundant curls that always escaped her braids. Charlie shook beside him, Vaggie holding her close.

"I-Dad, I haven't seen Wyr since before the battle…What if they-"
"Don't." His voice came out harsher than he expected, a crack that if he exposed it, would expose how much he cared. He cleared his throat and smiled at her.
"Best not let fear get the best of us, hmm? Your old man hasn't looked for them yet. Leave the search to me, why don't you focus on moving the injured away from the debris?" Charlie looked unsure.
"Dad…I-" Her voice broke as her bottom lip wobbled. He held his breath and reached out squeezing her hand.
"I know, Apple Slice. I know. Let me go look okay? They'll be alright. I promise."

He stepped back and nodded once, before using his magic to change forms into a snake. He didn't look back as he slithered towards the rubble, but heard Charlie as she started to coordinate the survivors. His heart thundered as his tongue flicked out, tasting the air for any trace of beeswax and herbs. He didn't want to think about what he would find in the rubble. Didn't want to believe he'd find cold bodies.
In the darkness under the debris, the world outside seemed to echo hollowly. He heard the shouts and felt the hotel rumble and quake all around and the rubble shifted and moved. Fires had broken out and dust choked the hot air. As a snake, he was able to traverse the broken walls, the collapsed floors, and navigate through the dark in search of survivors. Vaggie had said only Wyr and Alastor had been unaccounted for when the building went down, everybody else had been outside. His chances of finding them were slim, but Lucifer couldn't acknowledge that. Couldn't face the idea he wouldn't find Wyr in this mess.

He needed to apologise, to tell her he didn't regret kissing her, and that she was worth fighting for. He just hoped she'd forgive him. The deeper he slithered the more silence reigned in the dark. He couldn't catch her scent beyond the toxic smoke, and the creaking, skittering noises of a collapsed building filled his senses.

"WYR!"
He swivelled his head towards the desperate, aching cry.
"AL?!"
A familiar voice cried out in the dark, followed by a hacking cough. He shot towards the noise, slithering through cracks and holes only he could fit through. It was only minutes before he reached her, struggling to shift a pillar. O'Malley was straining against the pillar of cement, streaked in dust and smeared blood. She grunted, shoulder pressing against the pillar as she tried to push it aside. She stood stooped in a small space, further on top of the wreckage, and a shaft of light filtered through, illuminating the space. There was enough space for him to transform, and he did, with a pop of sparkling magic. O'Malley flinched, and for a moment he felt terrible. The strong, terrifying woman who had invaded his home this very morning had eyes filled with panic.
"Is she-" O'Malley staggered back from the pillar as Lucifer rushed forward. The woman had a gash across her head, and it slowly oozed blood that she swiped away with a hand already flaking dried blood. Her hands landed on his outstretched arms, staining the already dusty jacket.
"She's back there. I-I can't reach her. It's bad. I can't see Al back there-" She coughed and he pulled away, heart flying to his throat. He could barely breathe past the smoke, but fear smothered him in its icy embrace. He flew to the pillar, rising onto his toes to peer through the dark gap. He could make out the shape of a body, and leaning to one side, the shaft of daylight above slanted through the gap, illuminating a tangle of curls, stained red…But originally white.

She wasn't moving.

She wasn't breathing.

Wyr will give her life…all for you.

He couldn't shift the pillar without bringing down the rubble around them. So he made a portal. O'Malley looked at him, shaking her head.
"No- I'm not leaving her!" Lucifer could feel his body shifting, his horn growing and shrinking as he fought to control himself.
"Yes, you are." Powerful as he believed the pirate to be, she was wounded, and he was an angel. He grabbed her and shoved her, pushing her through the portal to where Charlie stood, talking to the Sinners. He closed it as soon as O'Malley stumbled out on the other side and shifted, turning back into his snake form, and slithered through a smaller gap on the ground.
The space behind the pillar was smaller than then the last and Wyr took up most of the space. When he passed through the gap, he was only able to crawl, towards her, and shove back the vomit that threatened to rise when he saw the brutal reality before him. Even in the semi-dark he saw the devastation of her gut, and felt the coolness of her body as his shaking hand reached out for hers. He flinched as he touched cold skin and shuddered as his heart broke.
People said the dead looked peaceful like they had just fallen asleep…Not Wyr. She looked like she'd had a nightmare, her brow furrowed, blackened hands frozen in a clawed grip in her stomach, you almost couldn't tell they were covered in rapidly drying blood. Her usually springy curls lay limp and soaked in blood, her bloodless lips were down-turned in a frown. Freckles that were usually dark against her pale skin were now sallow, pale spots denoting the lack of life.
"Wyr." His voice cracked, barely a noise to be recognised. He wanted her to wake, to smile and thank him for waking her. He wanted to hear her voice, then breathlessly apologise. He wanted to lean in and kiss those pale, drawn lips and have her wake up like in fairy tales.
"Please…"
Magic…Healing magic! Lucifer willed the magic to rise, to push the golden warmth of his magic into her. If he could just heal the wounds, she would wake. Right?
How could she be gone forever? How could a woman as vibrant and integral be gone? They'd only just started getting to really know each other. The magic felt sluggish as he pushed harder and harder, unwilling to look as the gore and viscera of her body moved and shifted, repairing itself inch by slow inch. The light faded, Lucifer was panting, nausea threatening to overtake him as he looked her over. Two ugly scars now marred the ruins of her stomach. One shiny and old, one puckered and angry. He held his breath as he pressed his fingers into her neck.
She couldn't just be gone. He'd healed her…So she should live…She had to live.

Sinners aren't worth saving. Redemption is beyond them, and I won't condemn the treaty and the lives of the hellborn for the worst of humanity.

Had that really been the last thing he'd said to her? Had she gone where he couldn't follow, thinking that was how he truly felt? Did she die, thinking he didn't care for her? Thinking he regretted kissing her?

Lucifer crawled further up, and closing his stinging eyes, he rested his hand against her cold cheek. A sob wracked his body, wrenching him apart as unbidden, the memory of their day in the cemetery sprang forth. He bent over her, shifting aside her hair and pressed his forehead to hers, willing it to grow warm again.
You had so much good left unfinished…How am I supposed to do it without you?
Darkness encroached as the dam Lucifer had built, broke. The only warmth in the space was his hot tears landing on her cold, unfamiliar skin.

He opened the portal and crawled through, slowly dragging Wyr through until he could pick her up and carry her. His eyes stung, and his body felt numb as he cradled her close. She hated being carried, and would hate if he started flying right now. For a witch, she didn't enjoy flying. He wanted to laugh, thinking of the way she would grip him if he took off with her right now. The way she'd grip his jacket in a death hold, and play it off as nothing.

There would be no more of that now.

O'Malley saw them first and cried out, a broken wail of a noise, because she knew, like she had known since she'd found Wyr… that her friend wasn't there anymore. Her body was an empty shell. She pulled away from the cannibal wrapping her head with a bandage, drawing the attention of Charlie and the others. They all turned and in moments he was surrounded. He didn't stop O'Malley from pulling Wyr from his grip, didn't stop her as she sunk to the ground, head pressed into Wyr's chest. He had the least right to hold her, had no right to pull her back. Out of everybody here, O'Malley had come here for Wyr. His hands were empty, stained with flaking blood, and felt empty still even as Charlie reached out and gripped them. His daughter's hands felt too hot, compared to Wyr's cool skin, and his hands burned in hers as she covered her mouth.
"Dad" her voice cracked, and on instinct, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around the warm alive body of his daughter.

Wyr will give her life before harm comes to Charlie, all for you.

He felt her body lurch as she sobbed, face resting in the crook of his neck.
"I let everyone down!" He stroked his hand down her back, staying silent as he held her close. He watched Vaggie wipe silent tears from her face, smearing the golden blood speckled there. The entire group held each other close, forming a tight circle around O'Malley and Wyr. It filled him with the quiet pride, that Wyr had managed to endear herself to so many in such a short time. That Charlie had nurtured these Sinners that they felt the grief of losing one of their own. Charlie's tears were hot on his skin and soaked into the collar of his coat.
"You didn't let anyone down." His voice felt hoarse from the smoke, but emotion clogged his throat. Not like he had.
"I could have done better. Wyr…She believed in me…And I let her down." She took a shuddering breath and released it in a rush. The words echoed in Lucifer's mind, eerily familiar. No father wanted their child to feel these things. Guilt tore him up, he should have been here sooner. Maybe he could have done more. He could have done better.
It wasn't Charlie who had let Wyr down. It had been him. He'd betrayed her trust. He'd turned his back on her. On all of them. He'd let fear rule him and Wyr had paid with her life.

A breeze ruffled Lucifer's hair, changing the direction of the smoke, and blowing it towards the wastelands. For the first time that day, fresh, untainted air filled his lungs as he took a deep breath. It was cool, and whilst it wasn't sweet with grass or damp with running water, it rooted him to the earth and supplied a quiet strength. His shaking knees stilled, as a breath of cool air ruffled a loose curl, brushing against his cheek.

Aon shoilleir, na cruinnich trioblaid

Her voice was quieter than a whisper, warm and comforting in a world that with her death had become impossible to take in. He imagined a cool hand brushing his cheek, silver eyes crinkling as a soft smile parted warm lips.

I've never thought of death as the end, but another bridge to cross to see those we love.

Her quiet words, spoken in the dimming light of a warm evening, had given comfort to a broken man. Her absolute belief was that death was not the end. There was a silent surge in his heart, a feeling of rising above what was currently breaking him. They were never truly gone as long as they were remembered.

Lucifer tightened his grip on Charlie, squeezing her to his chest tightly before pulling her back. His smile felt less like a lie, and more like a promise. A promise that the hurt would always stay, that there would be more tears than they could count for the ones they lost today…But tomorrow would be better.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair.

Wyr had always believed it meant, perceived good can be evil, and perceived evil can be good. Her magic had been perceived as evil, but it had protected those she loved. The witch hunts that had killed her had been believed to be good for the country, saving the innocents from evil…But they themselves had been the evil, persecuting women who dared to stand above their station.
Adam and his angels had been perceived by Heaven as good, but the pain and death that followed in their wake, year after year, was evil. There was no kindness in these deaths, there was no mercy in quick killings. It was a gruesome, gory murder of a people who knew no other way.
Lucifer, who had been painted as evil, was more than that, other than that. He was kind, he believed, had believed, in change. He'd brought the human realm the space to choose.

Sinners aren't worth saving.

The words still sat heavy in her heart. Said in a moment of fear and pain Wyr knew Lucifer probably regretted them. He never meant to say painful, spiteful things. He wasn't like that. He was ruled by fear.

She hoped fear hadn't ruled him today.

It felt cold, hovering amongst the stars. A common misconception was that witches could fly…Wyr had never flown, on a broomstick, a staff, mortar and pestle, or flying skeleton horse. There was only one instance she could remember, more of a dream than a memory, that she'd been close to the stars, and that had been in the arms of an angel. Her fallen angel.
Wyr had always thought the stars would be warm, but here, trapped in the dark sky with only their light for company, she felt as though she'd taken a dip in an icy river. The light seared into her mind, prickling and tickling at half-forgotten memories. Her stomach ached as she lay there, surrounded by the universe, unable to find the moon to light her way.
She knew why she was here, curled around the phantom feeling of her intestines being yanked out of her body. This was the other side then.

It was something of a disappointment.

Or maybe she was just disappointed in herself. Wyr hadn't done her job. Hadn't been able to give Charlie the protection she deserved. She hadn't been strong enough to survive. She'd not done a good enough job…And she hoped in the end Lucifer would forgive her. Even if he was mad. Wyr wished they'd been able to talk one more time. If only so she could tell him she forgave him. O'Malley would be so mad with her. She hoped Alastor had survived. She hoped he would be okay. Would be able to come back from this. If he'd made it…She hoped they'd take care of each other, and look past their differences.
She closed her eyes against the stars, falling into the depths of blue she'd missed for centuries. It was all beyond her now. She was beyond helping anyone, beyond apologising, beyond forgiving. She hoped everyone would move on…Even if she couldn't. They deserved to be happy.

"Oh honey, I'm not done with you yet."