The two men were in the little car, winding their way through the streets of Shreveport. Lucifer's call to Chloe Decker had been brief. She had reprimanded him for calling her assuming he could just jump in and out of her life at will, clearly still upset that he'd apparently abandoned her and the L.A.P.D. When he'd asked if everything was okay, he could practically hear the woman roll her eyes at him.

If he was being honest with himself, her behaviour often hurt. Today was no different than any other day. Lucifer was disappointing Chloe. By calling to check in on her. By reminding her that he'd stood up for himself

Still, he'd insisted, even as she was hurting his heart.

She at least had had the decency to respond.

She was fine. Trixy was fine. Pierce was fine.

Everyone was fine.

Blah blah blah.

If that's all you're calling about, I need to get off the line and spend time with those that care about me.

Well, if she was going to be like that, perhaps she deserved her beloved Pierce. Lucifer didn't need to be treated that way.

Driving through the night with Eric was far more enjoyable, even if they were looking into the disappearance of his ex. Come to think of it, the one time he'd met the woman, she'd been far more respectful than Chloe ever was. And that was including the fact she'd read Lucifer's mind and peeked into his dirty thoughts. Despite her having clearly hurt Eric, she seemed to at least respect him.

Why couldn't he have that with Chloe?

Lucifer's thoughts were veering toward self-pity, as he began to count just how many people actually respected him. But none of this reverie was helping with the current predicament, and when Eric had him turn down a residential street, he tried to push the negative thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand.

They were here in Shreveport looking for the missing halfling. They were showing up, unannounced at her werewolf boyfriend's home. And apparently it was a nice house, too. Eric indicated for Lucifer to pull into a driveway behind a large truck. A bungalow with an attached garage sat before them, all brick and dark windows. "Is he home, do you think?" Lucifer asked as he cut the engine and looked at the house in the dark.

It seemed that werewolves lived just like everyone else.

Quite honestly, after the werepanther trailer park from the night before, Lucifer found himself a bit disappointed. He'd been hoping for something that made this werewolf's home stand out. Something uniquely . . . wolfy, perhaps. But no, just a standard brick home with a work truck out front.

Eric was out of the car, not having bothered answering Lucifer's question, and the devil was quick to follow. But Eric was lightning fast, using his vampire speed to rush up the two steps to begin pounding on the front door of the bungalow. Even by the time Lucifer had sidled up the walk and joined him, there was no answer. Just when he was about to grab the vampire by the arm and pull him back—no one was home, not if they weren't answering Eric's racket—a low light flickered on beyond the frosted window of the front door.

Perhaps someone was there after all . . .

It seemed like ages before the door finally creaked open, and a shaggy head popped out to give Eric Northman the evil eye. The scowl that graced the tall man's face was ruined when he suddenly began to cough uncontrollably, shrinking back from the door and into the shadows within the house. A low growl came from Eric, the vampire unable to move forward and into the werewolf's personal space. Lucifer, however, had no such problem.

He pushed past Eric, swinging the door inward to find Alcide, the werewolf they'd come to see, crouched in the middle of the hallway, seemingly hacking up a lung. "This wasn't quite the welcome I was expecting," Lucifer huffed, stepping over the threshold and into the other man's home. He grimaced, wondering if Alcide was contagious. But the problem was only being felt by Were people . . . he had to believe that. And he himself should be impervious to it—being a fallen angel, and all. Still, that cough sounded horrible. And Eric Northman, despite his longevity, definitely had weaknesses. Who knew if this obviously magical malaise would affect him or not?

Alcide's cough finally subsided and the man straightened again, showing Lucifer he was actually taller than him. He was in nothing but a pair of worn sweatpants and a blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders. Lucifer spied heavily muscled chest and arms, washboard abs, and for a brief moment he played with the idea of stealing this man from the halfling waitress to play with himself. The scruffy beard he'd seen the one time before was now turning into the full thing, the black streaked with grey here and there. Tired brown eyes studied Lucifer in kind over his hawk nose, but even though he seemed suspicious of the two men that had arrived on his doorstep, Lucifer knew he was in no condition to fight, if it would come to that.

"What the hell do you want?" Alcide finally asked, but the question was directed to the vampire who still stood on the other side of the door.

"To find Sookie," Eric replied, deadpan. It was clear there was no love lost between these two.

"She isn't yours, vamp," Alcide growled out, which only caused him to start coughing again.

"I never said she was," Eric replied. "But apparently the wolf she does belong to couldn't even pay attention when someone fucking ripped her from his own bed."

Alcide seemed to puff up, but then he thought better of it, slumping under his blanket as if in defeat. "You're right," he grumbled. A second later, he waved a hand in a 'come here' gesture. "Come in, Eric," he said, and then slumped away down the hallway toward a back room.

Lucifer and Eric exchanged a look and then followed the werewolf to a back den. The man had already flopped back down onto the leather couch, burrowing into a nest of blankets he'd clearly made much earlier. Judging by the dirty dishes that ringed the couch, he'd been huddling there for a few days now. His missing shirt was sitting in the middle of the floor, most probably thrown there in the fit of a fever, and the TV was on, the sound low and the flicker the only light in the room.

It was a comfortable room, with the couch and coffee table clustered in one corner near the TV, and a table pushed against the far wall, with what looked like a diorama or train set displayed upon it. Lucifer couldn't help but move closer to eye the little scene. It took him a few moments in the dark to realize he wasn't looking at a diorama. It was a set up for one of those strange games, some sort of tabletop roleplaying game. He couldn't quite remember the name of it, considering his pastimes hardly ever included such nerdy pursuits. It was surprising to see, considering the gorgeous hunk of testosterone that was currently huddling under a blanket. Looks could be deceiving, apparently.

The big man in question snuggled deeper into his couch, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. In the darkness of the room, the gleam of sweat on his forehead was more prominent, and Lucifer wondered how high a fever the werewolf was running. For a few moments, it seemed Alcide had perhaps dropped off to sleep.

Eric's cool shadow in the archway seemed to bother the werewolf and he finally opened his dark eyes. His gaze slipped past Lucifer and straight to Eric, not that Lucifer could blame him. The broody vampire looked gorgeous in his leather jacket, leaning one shoulder against the archway. He was, undoubtedly, a sight for sore eyes. And Alcide very much looked like he needed something to distract him from his illness.

"Where is Sookie?" Eric finally asked, when it was clear Alcide wasn't going to say anything.

This resulted in a pained expression on the sick werewolf's face. "I don't know," he said, his voice hoarse.

A snarl from Eric had the other man sitting up straighter on the couch. "I don't!" Alcide said hotly, before another cough gripped him. "She just . . . up and left the other night. I haven't seen her since."

"What have you done to find her?" Eric asked, clearly impatient.

Alcide pulled a blanket tighter around himself. "I called Sam. He said she hasn't been to work."

"That's all you did?" Eric growled, before spinning around and stalking away down the hall, intent on checking the house out.

Lucifer felt an itch to follow him, but he wasn't quite finished speaking with Alcide. "Did you do anything else?" he asked, not quite willing to make the same assumptions as his vampire.

Alcide shook his head, eyes closing in a pain that wasn't from being sick. "I can't," he finally said. "I can barely get myself up to go to the fucking washroom. How the hell am I supposed to find Sookie when I can't even clean myself?"

He dropped his head into his hands, the scrape of his beard against his hands just audible above the sound of the TV. "She fucking disappeared and all I can do is watch the fucking news and wonder if the world is falling apart."

"What do you mean?" Lucifer asked, looking toward the TV. It was, indeed, turned to the news, a reporter standing in front of a dock, the bloated carcasses of alligators floating in the water. "The dead alligators." It was daylight on the TV, telling Lucifer this was an old shot. The world was hazy beyond the dock, that fog Lucifer had been driving through the past two days still lingering.

"Dead gators. Sick Weres. Storms all across the country. Late crops being ruined by, get this . . . locusts." Alcide leaned forward to grab a remote off the cluttered coffee table. He turned the volume up. "Hurricanes off the coast of Florida, but that's not quite as strange. The cloud cover across the entire continent is though. The electrical storms."

Lucifer turned fully, his attention riveted to the screen as it changed to a worried looking weatherman with a map behind him. "You don't say," he nearly breathed, staring at the images that flashed before him.

If he didn't know better, he'd say his father was pissed at the humans. Again. But did he know better? What if the missing halflings, the sick Weres, the dead gators—what if it was all some plan of his father's? Was Dad trying to get Lucifer's attention? If he was, he was doing a pretty shit job of it. If he wanted to talk to Lucifer, all Dad had to do was bloody show up and talk. But he never did, did he?

"I had no idea it was so widespread," Lucifer said quietly. The fog that seemed to plague him, from Los Angeles to Bon Temps—it wasn't just tailing him, it was everywhere.

"It's getting worse," Alcide said.

"And you think the weather and your . . . affliction are connected?" Lucifer asked, turning back to study the man.

"What else could it be?" Alcide asked. "Maybe it's the end times."

Lucifer snorted a dry laugh. "Don't be silly," he said. "I'd know if that were the case."

Alcide looked confused for a second, but then seemed to nod slightly as he leaned back on his couch. "Right. You claim to be Lucifer Morningstar, devil incarnate."

"I don't just claim. I am," Lucifer replied smoothly. "Father's done much worse to humanity. Although this is becoming alarming. Still, I'd know if my family had a hand in this, and they certainly don't." Although it wouldn't hurt to reach out to Amenadiel to see if his brother knew anything. Unlike Lucifer, Amenadiel had contacts up in the Silver City. Perhaps something was going on, but he simply was not privy to it—simply because he was the one son cast out, sent to rule Hell and to never come back home.

"When did you get sick?" Lucifer asked, trying to change the subject back to Alcide and the fact that he'd let Sookie disappear from his home. Judging by how sick Alcide was, it was hard to believe he'd been out when the woman had been led away, like Florence had been.

"Almost a week back," Alcide said, and the man reached for the coffee table and a murky glass of water that was sitting there. Lucifer stared in disgust as the man drank from it. Sure, he was sick—but adding extra germs to the mix was not going to help matters. Couldn't the man at least get himself a fresh glass. Humans, sometimes they were disgusting. Well, perhaps in this case it was werewolves.

Lucifer slipped out of the den and went searching for a kitchen. It was just a few paces down the hall and he turned on the light to find the room filled with dirty dishes—which explained why Alcide was drinking water from a disgusting cup. It wasn't that the werewolf was a messy person, either. Lucifer could tell that he was normally a tidy person, with a well-kept home, otherwise. It was clear his illness had made him give up on the dishes and laundry. He began flipping through cupboards, hoping to find something clean. All the glasses and plates, most of the bowls—they were all sitting in the sink or back on that coffee table in the living room though. Except the beer steins, all lined up on a top shelf. Lucifer managed to snag one and headed for the fridge, the water dispenser and ice maker a much better option than tap water.

The gratitude in Alcide's eyes as he returned to the den with the glass mug made Lucifer feel good. He hadn't needed to help the other man, but he'd wanted to. And the small act did not go unnoticed by the sick werewolf. "Is it all of you then?" Lucifer asked after Alcide gulped down half the water.

Alcide nodded and sank back into the couch. "Every last Were in Shreveport," he finally said. "At least one pack has been completely wiped out."

"As in dead?" Lucifer asked, surprised. "Just like the werepanthers."

Alcide grunted. "They're gone?" he asked, but he didn't sound too surprised. "Must be the V and drugs," he muttered to himself before he started coughing again.

"There's only one left," Lucifer said. "She's spent the majority of the last week as a panther, not a human. She says it eases the sickness."

This got a new kind of grunt from Alcide. "That's an idea," he finally said. ""Although I think I'll manage to get over this."

"Oh?" Lucifer inquired, wondering if there was something special about Alcide.

Eric ghosted into the room, a tight frown on his face.

Alcide didn't seem to care about the intrusion, willing to keep speaking to Lucifer. "It really seems it hits those living in packs the worst. I . . . I live on my own."

"Lone wolf?" Lucifer mused, liking the idea of it. "Is that why you date a halfling? Shunning your own kind?"

"Considering his last girlfriend, I understand why he wants to," Eric said wryly.

Lucifer gave the vampire an inquisitive look but when he said nothing, Lucifer turned to Alcide.

"She was a crazy bitch," Alcide said, then changed the subject. "Those Weres who live together, or gather regularly, seem to be hit really hard. Those who were hooked on drugs, even worse."

"And you, a self-professed loner, are doing better than others?" Eric asked. "And yet still you've managed to lose Sookie."

Alcide tried to growl, the sound definitely wolfy compared to when Eric did it. But it resulted in a new bout of coughing. When that finally subsided, Alcide sat up on the couch and glared at the vampire. "I wasn't in the same fucking bed as her," he said. "I was here, on the couch. I even told her to go home that night. That I didn't want her catching whatever the fuck I've got."

"She refused to, right?" Eric asked, sounding thoughtful. "She wanted to take care of you."

Alcide snorted. "Exactly. I knew she was gone when I woke up the next morning and breakfast wasn't being made. You know?"

Eric nodded, and Lucifer's attention bounced between the two men. Neither one seemed to be glowering anymore and Lucifer realized they were bonding. Bonding over a missing woman who didn't ever take no for an answer and had offered both of them kindness where perhaps no one else had before. Given the opportunity, it seemed Eric could play well with the halfling's boyfriend. Well, when he didn't have to think about them getting it on together, thanks to his blood bond with the woman.

The second time that night, Lucifer wondered if he couldn't bring this man into the bedroom—without the waitress from Bon Temps.

Eric turned his attention to Lucifer. "It's here too," he said. "On the pillow on her side of the bed. By the light switch. On the floor in the bedroom." He scowled momentarily. "Unlike Mark in Los Angeles, it doesn't appear that she put up a fight. It's like whoever it was woke her up and convinced her to go. It might explain why Alcide here never even knew she'd been taken away."

"Because she wasn't forced?" Lucifer asked. "Why would she do that?"

"To protect someone maybe," Eric said.

"Me?" Alcide wondered.

"Perhaps her brother?" Lucifer asked. "He is missing too, after all."

Eric nodded. "A threat to Jason would definitely get her to go willingly," he agreed.

"So what do we do now?" Lucifer asked. "You've found the algae, but we still don't know where they've been taken."

"Jason's gone too?" Alcide asked, concern etched across his face.

"Other halflings too," confirmed Lucifer.

"Fuck." Just the one word held all kinds of emotions, and despite the fact Alcide hadn't been much help since they'd arrived, Lucifer could tell the man was worrying about his girlfriend. To have her go missing while he was so sick was incredibly bad luck.

. . . or was it?

It was awfully convenient that the man who would normally protect the halfling was out of commission. It was honestly starting to feel like this wasn't just about missing halflings. It felt more like an attack on the supernatural world, at large.

But then why weren't the vampires affected?

He looked to Eric. "What else is there to do in Shreveport, Viking? I'm at a loss." He didn't want to admit it, but he could really use the help of a real detective. Someone like Chloe Decker. Hell, even Detective Douche would do—there just didn't seem to be enough clues for him to figure this out. And bashing heads or pulling wants out of people was not going to get them new information in this situation. But good, honest detective work? It would probably lead them somewhere that Lucifer wouldn't think to go.

Problem being his police friends were all the way back in Los Angeles.

It seemed Eric had the same opinion. "There's nothing more to go on here," Eric ground out, clearly unhappy with the outcome of their trip. "We're no further ahead than we were back in L.A."

"Not entirely true," Lucifer argued. "We've confirmation that Sookie and Mark are both taken by the same people. And we've a lovely orgy with the underlings under our belt as well." Lucifer pulled a demon blade from his pocke, holding it up in the dim light of the living room. "And for what it's worth, I've managed to procure a weapon that can kill just about anything."

Alcide seemed perturbed at Lucifer's mention of their sexual escapades, but the sight of the blade seemed to distract him. He shrank further into the couch, eyes wide as he stared at it. "What is it?" he asked.

"Demon blade," Lucifer informed both men. "Forged in the fires of hell. I figure, whether this plot to steal halflings is celestial or otherworldly, it doesn't hurt to have a true weapon on hand. Bullets won't hurt an angel, if it's one of my siblings doing Dad's dirty work."

"Will it . . ." Alcide trailed off.

"Hurt a Were? Almost certainly. If it can hurt me, it can hurt just about anyone. It was designed for that. For Hell."

"Stealing from Maze?" Eric asked.

Lucifer shook his head. "She lent them to me. Since she's not around to protect me, I asked if I could protect myself."

A silence stretched out between the men. When it was obvious no one else was going to speak, Lucifer struck out blindly, hoping he could get this investigation back on track somehow. "Perhaps we can head back to Los Angeles, Viking. Ms. Lopez might have some information for us now. The algae is key, I suspect. Knowing where it comes from might just help us figure out where to go next."

Alcide made a grunt from the couch and suddenly stood, blankets spilling off of him onto the floor. "I hope you don't expect to catch a flight. I saw earlier that there's been no air travel since early this morning, all across the country."

Lucifer waved a hand with a lack of concern. "It's early yet. If we head back now, Viking, we should make it before sunrise." He gave his lover an imploring look. He really wanted out of Louisiana and he wasn't going to let something like grounded airplanes keep him stuck here if he could help it. His thoughts were beginning to return to Sookie Stackhouse, and he'd rather be thinking of the problem in an abject way.

When Eric didn't say anything, Lucifer took a step back. Did Eric want to stay? Search for Sookie here rather than solve the mystery as a whole? "We can leave the car for the ladies to return," he said, feeling unsure suddenly.

If Eric said no . . .

Eric scowled suddenly, fangs showing. He was unhappy, it was clear. "She's not here," he finally said. "Not here, not in Bon Temps."

Lucifer shrugged helplessly. "We don't know where she is."

Eric's hands turned to fists. "You're right," he finally said. "We're no good here. At least in L.A. we might get information out of your friend at the precinct. And if all else fails, we could ask Amenadiel if he knows anything."

Lucifer didn't want to ask his brother for help, but he knew it was a smart move. He'd already been thinking it himself, too.

And besides, Eric had just said yes to taking for the sky and heading back to Los Angeles. Lucifer would be a fool not to take that acceptance and run with it. They'd spent their time in Louisiana. He didn't need to immerse Eric in any more memories if he didn't have to.

"You're going to find Sookie, right?" Alcide asked.

"That's the plan!" Lucifer said brightly.

"She's not yours, vamp," the Were tried to threaten, but the words sounded feeble. He was too sick to even wash his damn dishes.

"I never said she was," Eric replied hotly. A second later, he amended it. "Since she told me she wasn't."

"Yeah, well . . ." The werewolf trailed off, clearly not knowing how to follow up.

Lucifer pretended to look at his watch. "We really do need to go if we want to drop the car off and still make it to L.A. before the sun rises."

"How are you planning to do that?" Alcide asked.

"We'll fly—sans airplane, of course."

This got a curious look from Alcide, but before he could ask further questions, he was suddenly coughing again.

Lucifer stepped back toward the archway into the hall. Fine, he was safe from whatever it was, but it was still so very unbecoming. Disgusting, really. Such a shame considering the hunk of a man.

"We really must be going," Lucifer said, grabbing Eric's arm and pulling him back. "You might want to think about changing into your wolf form. Wereing? Shifting? What do you call it?"

"Wereing," Alcide was able to reply around the coughs. "I think you might be right," he said, after he'd caught his breath again. "Maybe being human isn't the best idea. Find Sookie, Eric. Please."

A second later, the big man had dropped his sweat pants and Lucifer was suddenly smiling from ear to ear. He might be sick, but Alcide Herveaux was a fucking snack.

God damn, that was an eight-pack, not a six-pack.

"See yourselves out," Alcide said, and seconds later a wolf stood where he'd once been, golden eyes almost glowing in the dark. He jumped up onto the couch, circled a couple times and then sank down onto the cushions, his tail draping over his nose before he let out a sigh that rattled in his lungs. He closed his eyes and shut out the world around him.

"Not much for a host, is he?" Lucifer asked, pausing to look at the sick wolf. He was beautiful in that form, he decided. And all that fur hid the fevered sweat, too. Yes, a werewolf was definitely something he wanted in his bedroom—a healthy one.

"I don't think he's in the mood for anything," Eric said. "He let me wander his house on my own. We might not hate each other, but we sure as hell don't trust each other."

There came a wolfy huff from the couch and the twitch of a tail, which got a grin from Eric. Alcide, it seemed, agreed.

Lucifer led the way out of the house, pausing at each doorway because he was unable to not snoop. He'd just spent the last half hour chatting with a werewolf without taking any time to go see how, precisely, a loner werewolf lived. It was killing him just a little bit to leave without touching at least some of the things. And Alcide did have nice things. Lucifer stopped in the front hall by the door, turning back to see a neat home, despite the mess illness had dragged in.

He would have liked to win this man over, charm him and turn him into a friend. But the circumstances in which they'd met hampered that instinct. Besides, they needed to head back to Los Angeles now. And even though they were heading back because their work here was done, he couldn't help but feel the need to personally check in on Chloe Decker. There was a dangerous man back in L.A., and she was apparently in love with him.

And if Eric was allowed to be worried for Sookie . . . well, it was only natural that Lucifer could be worried about Chloe as well. He'd have the whole day to kill, too. Why not go visit the precinct?

As the two immortal men left Alcide Herveaux's home, Lucifer decided there was nothing stopping him from coming back here some day. When the halflings weren't missing and the werewolves weren't sick and the entire continent wasn't covered in clouds and rainstorms. He'd come back and he'd get to know this hunk of a wolf, and if he convinced him to leave the halfling waitress, well . . .

Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake?