I'm very sorry that this isn't a proper chapter, but this story isn't dead yet! I am trying to continue it, I want to continue it, but fuck if I have the time or energy to do it. I'm working on the next chapter, but it's been long enough that I wanted to get a feel for the characters again, and this little idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here's a fun scene that's not connected to the actual story.
For the canon timeline, this takes place during Lucifer's and Maze's confrontation in season five, episode three: ¡Diablo!, and for the Lightbringer timeline, this takes place right around where we left off.
"—And Greed actually took the bet?" Lucifer asks incredulously.
"Right?" Maze cackles, a note of disbelief in her voice. "Something that stupid? I think she just wants to see if Gluttony can actually manage to do it."
"Swallowing ten boiled eggs whole?" Lucifer scoffs as the penthouse elevator slows to a stop. "He's survived dumber endeavours, I suppose—"
Lucifer cuts himself off as the elevator doors slide open to reveal someone identical to Maze stopped a few steps before them. One demon blade is clenched tight in her fist, her expression smoothing over into blankness too fast for Lucifer to parse out the hurt previously there. Beyond the doppelganger, on the steps leading to the master bedroom, is Michael. He's dressed in what Lucifer thinks is one of his own suits, something that draws an offended scoff to his lips.
"Really now?" he asks as he and Maze step out the elevator. The fake Maze moves back a few steps in return, a sneer curling her lips, and Lucifer's gaze sweeps over the rest of the penthouse. "This is either going to be interesting, or a pain in the ass to deal with, but that"—he jerks his head towards the remains of the piano—"is a tragedy that somebody better explain."
Michael sneers, pulling a demon blade from the wall next to him and pointing it at Lucifer. "Are we really doing this again, Michael? Didn't have enough of pretending to be me, and now you bring a fake Maze?"
Lucifer falters for a split second—him being Michael? Offensive—before sneering. "Pretending you're the real me? As if that would ever work—"
"I am the real me, bastard—"
"Shut up," Maze—his Maze, the real one—hisses suddenly, drawing her own blades. "Don't you two start a stupid argument. I'd rather not have to bash my head into a wall to escape the idiocy."
"Really?" the fake Maze asks with a sour scowl. "You're not going to let them go at each other? They both deserve a good pummeling."
"As if I'd let that shitstain anywhere near Lucifer."
"Mazikeen," Lucifer cuts in, giving her a tight look. "Might I remind you that the last time Michael crossed our path, it was me who came out unharmed?"
Maze curls her lip at him, twirling her blades threateningly. "And that rat bastard hurt Drakrayel. It's about time I got him back for that."
"Not if I get him first." Lucifer scoffs and eyes her. "I thought you'd be more concerned with the fake Maze."
"Fake?" the fake snarls.
"Excuse me!" Michael cuts in loudly before fake Maze can lunge. "I've had enough of being ignored in my own home, thank you very much, and I've had enough of whatever evil twin plan this is now—"
He's interrupted by the loud, high-pitched alarm of the Hell emergency alert from both Lucifer's and Maze's phones. Maze pulls hers out instantly, while Lucifer waits for her to read it out as he knows she will. One of them has to keep their eyes on Michael and fake Maze, after all.
"What the fuck." Maze sneers down at the phone, her voice incredulous and spiteful. "Listen to this shit: 'through a severe, universal fuck-up, our Hell has temporarily become paired with a different version of Earth that seems to be four years in the future. Any hellions on Earth, you are temporarily on a different Earth where your alternate selves may exist. Remain vigilant, but due to the cambion rules regarding location of residence, you should not face any consequences concerned with being recognized.'"
"Pardon me?" Lucifer asks, glancing at her disbelievingly. "You're telling me that this is just an unfortunate universe mix-up and that they"—he jabbed a thumb at Michael and fake Maze—"are just you and me from this universe?"
"Looks like it." Maze shrugs, sneers, and pockets both her phone and her blades. "Good news is that no one needs to get pummeled. Other news is that the alert also said Dia is checking on all Earth-living hellions and flying them to Hell to wait this out if they want. Other other news is that I need a strong drink; I would rather not have to go through this sober."
"Agreed." Lucifer wipes a hand down his face with a tired sigh. Then, because Alternate Lucifer and Alternate Maze are still glaring at them both, and because he does have situational awareness, he explains further, "What Maze read out is basically all we know. We're not from this Earth, but we are Lucifer and Maze. As if Michael would have this much style. Now, drinks."
Satisfied with that explanation and really starting to crave something strong, Lucifer heads for the bar, already scanning over the bottles to pick out what he needs. "Mazes, what do you think of something fruity? Alternate Me, do you happen to have any Hell-fire gin hidden away? I don't see it here."
"Fruity is good." Maze moves closer with him, but she keeps her eyes on the Alternates, distrustfully studying them. "Something like Lux's strawberry mix."
"Don't even think about touching my bar before proving what you say is true," Alternate Lucifer says indignantly before Lucifer can reach for a bottle. "For all I know, this could just be an elaborate, poorly detailed scheme. Alternate universes and time travel—?"
"Just what I was thinking," Lucifer cuts in with a huff. Still, he takes a relenting step away from the bar. "But if Diablos sent out the Hell alert, he knows enough about the situation to say that it's the truth, and I've yet to see Diablos be wrong about something as big as this. Small things, like whether or not Abel would kill Cain or vice versa, sure, but not something like this."
Alternate Lucifer scoffs, "That information provides nothing useful—"
"Who the hell is Diablos?" Alternate Maze interrupts with a disgruntled, angry sneer.
That stops Lucifer in his tracks, a strange chill overcoming him. He turns to study Alternate Maze. Really study her. She looks the same as his Maze, fierce and unyielding, a master with her blades and not afraid to use them. Her posture is the same. There's something different about her though. Lucifer can see it when he looks at her. She's… smaller, somehow. Guarded. She feels like a solitary island, weathering the storms alone despite being here, with her Lucifer.
Though there had been some form of hurt in her gaze, just briefly when Lucifer and his Maze first appeared here. Alternate Maze had been walking away, rather than coming to her version of Lucifer for help or comfort or an accomplice, like Lucifer knows Maze—at least, his Maze—would do if she needed it. Alternate Maze had either not found what she was looking for in her Lucifer, or he had caused her that hurt.
Who the hell is Diablos?
"Well, I suppose that likely means that's a no on the Hell-fire gin, then," Lucifer says distantly, because he doesn't know what else to say. "Unless Maze feels like flying down to grab some?"
He turns his gaze to his Maze, just to look away from the Alternate. This is one he watched grow up, the one he helped along the way, the one he knows.
Just how different was this world, without Diablos?
"I don't want to leave you alone here," Maze replies, open and blunt. She glances tightly at both Alternates before looking back at him and continuing, "We don't even have to stay here at all. We could wait this out in Hell, like Dia suggested."
"And crash land because you wouldn't be able to balance with my weight when you carry me down?" Lucifer gives her an affronted look. "Absolutely not—"
"I don't crash land anymore." Maze scowls at him, crossing her arms. "Get over it—"
"You have wings?" Alternate Maze cuts in.
Her voice causes Lucifer to freeze again. There's something distant and pained poorly hidden in her tone. Lucifer purses his lips, briefly glancing at her and quickly looking away again when he sees her shuttering her expression into a careful neutrality that he's never had directed at him from her. Beside him, Maze hesitates for a long moment before revealing her wings.
Both Alternates gape at her. Maze shifts uncomfortably, her wings fluttering in response to her discomfort. She gives them a moment to look, and then hides her wings again, her hands going to her blades to soothe her nerves. Lucifer gently nudges her shoulder with his, and she gives him a small, tight smile in return.
"Well, if you'd had wings, Mazikeen, you would have been able to fly yourself down to Hell," Alternate Lucifer says with a huff. He moves past Lucifer to the bar, pulling down a bottle of whiskey and offhandedly continuing, "Then you wouldn't have to ask Amenadiel and that little attempt to stab me wouldn't have mattered."
Whatever that comment refers to, it provokes something fierce in Alternate Maze. She glares furiously at Alternate Lucifer, her grip tightening on the one demon blade in her grasp, but it quickly melts into a weak, resigned sneer and a defeated slump of her shoulders that Lucifer hates instantly.
How dare anyone put that expression on her face?
"What did you do?" he demands sharply, turning to face Alternate Lucifer. "What did you do to hurt her like this?"
"Returned to Hell without her, apparently." Alternate Lucifer looks at him like he doesn't understand why it should matter. "I'm back now though, and it's not like we can change the past—"
"You were her only way back," Lucifer sneers angrily, because without Diablos around to create the highway— And the time difference— Oh, he's not liking this one bit. "You abandoned Mazikeen on Earth? For how long? And it never occurred to you, in all the time that would have passed in Hell, to pop back up and ask if she wanted to join you?"
"Amenadiel is just as capable of making the trip to Hell," Alternate Lucifer argues. Both Lucifer and Maze scoff in disgust, and Alternate Lucifer frowns. "Right, you're still in the 'return to Hell or else' phase, aren't you? Don't worry, he'll fall and get much humbler—"
"Not the point. The point is that you left her here, and presumably alone."
Lucifer throws a brief glance at the two Mazes. Neither of them has moved from where they were before. His Maze is glaring at Alternate Lucifer, looking just as infuriated as Lucifer feels, but Alternate Maze is looking at him, something like surprise in her expression. Lucifer doesn't quite know what to do with that.
"She's a grown demon," Alternate Lucifer replies. He just looks confused as the fuss being made, glancing between the three of them. "She can handle herself; she always has."
And Lucifer has a very solemn realization.
It's not just Hell itself that would be different without Diablos. Of course, Infernum wouldn't exist, and Hell would be made up of nothing but dreary hallways and chained doors. But the aftermath of his fall…
Lucifer remembers the pain of his broken body and burnt wings. He only had to deal with that until he passed out, and he'd been perfectly healed when he woke up. That was because of Diablos. If not for him, Lucifer would have spent much, much longer lying broken and alone under Hell's ashen sky, cursing his father and his siblings and everything he knew.
And the lilim… They would have been alone. Utterly alone. Even once he healed physically, Lucifer doubts his Alternate would have provided any help. He himself had tried to spend his days locking himself in his suite, stewing in rage and resentment, but Diablos and the Sins kept dragging him out to help take care of the lilim. It had become normal to him, choosing to seek out other residents of the palace rather than sitting alone in his room or studying in the library, but it had taken a lot of time and a lot of relentless prodding.
Who the hell is Diablos?
This world is nothing like theirs. Everything since his fall is different. He is different. Lucifer couldn't imagine his life as Lucifer without the family he's found in Hell. Maze seems to be thinking something similar, if the way she's gone utterly still has anything to say. For the lilim to raise themselves in a place like Hell? No one deserves that.
This world is cruel. It's rather ironic, given that the devil doesn't exist here. Would Elohim have done anything differently, to balance out the scales of good and evil here? With only one divine power, no one would be able to oppose his rule. This entire universe would be under his control, how could anyone bear that—?
When a familiar flare of power sparks in the air, Lucifer can't help but sigh in relief. He doesn't even bother with the fact that Diablos is appearing from a reflection somewhere rather than flying in; who knows how long he's been there watching? Lucifer doesn't particularly care at the moment.
Diablos appears near the splintered remains of the piano. He's dressed in flowing, wide-sleeved robes today, a palette of white and pale blues. Besides the usual, small braids by his ears, his snowy hair is down and free over his shoulders. He's also carrying two bottles that Lucifer recognizes as Hell-fire gin.
His appearance startles both Alternates, and they stare wide-eyed at him, but he pays them no attention, instead gliding over to set his cargo on one of the tables near the bar before approaching Lucifer and Maze.
"There's no use concerning yourself with the history and relationships of this Earth," he says calmly, cupping both of their cheeks, his steady gaze meeting theirs. "No matter how imagining it may feel, it is not our reality. It will not matter when this little mix-up is done."
It's enough to reassure Lucifer, soothing the anxiety that had sprouted in his chest. He notices Maze ease too, and he knows they'll be okay. Lucifer is eons old. He and Maze are old enough, smart enough, and skilled enough to take care of themselves. That doesn't change the fact that having Diablos to rely on is a support that Lucifer doesn't quite know how to live without.
Who the hell is Diablos?
Diablos is the reason Lucifer is who he is. He's the reason that all of the demons, lilim and cambion, are who they are. Diablos is the ruler of Hell, the devil, the one who took them all in and gave them a home they loved. He's also the reason for thousands of catastrophes throughout humanity's history, directly or indirectly, but what does that matter when human lives are merely a blink anyway? Diablos plays too big a role in the lives of every hellion for him to be judged by his impact on humanity.
Diablos is one person, but the ripples he's made in so many lives are too important to lose. Who would any of them be without him?
"Lucifer." Lucifer blinks, broken out of his thoughts. Diablos is looking at him with a faint, amused smile. It's enough for Lucifer to know that the devil had just been scanning his thoughts. He huffs slightly, but is quickly distracted as Diablos continues, "Go mix something up. I believe you and Mazikeen agreed that you didn't want to experience this while sober."
Lucifer brightens considerably at that, remembering the two bottles of gin Diablos had brought. "Oh, excellent. Something strong."
"If you drink straight from that bottle, I will take them back," Diablos warns as Lucifer grabs one of the bottles, and, with a pointed look at Alternate Lucifer, starts grabbing a few other bottles from the bar.
"I'm not uncouth, Diablos," Lucifer replies, affronted. "Everyone knows Hell-fire gin is better mixed than neat."
"It's strong enough to affect us?" Alternate Lucifer asks, moving closer and clearly interested.
Lucifer sends him a proud, smug smirk. "Indeed. And it doesn't taste like ass—"
"Yes, it does," Maze cuts in with a scoff. "That's why you mix it. Hurry up."
"You're perfectly capable of mixing your own drink, Mazikeen."
"I don't want to. Hurry up."
Lucifer shoots her a scoff, then reaches out to snatch the gin back when Alternate Lucifer takes it to pour a glass. "That 'no drinking it neat' warning includes you too. You'll spit it out and waste it, everyone who tries it as their first taste of Hell-made alcohol does."
"There are other alcohols—?"
"Ah." Lucifer holds up a finger to cut him off. "No conversation yet. First we get drunk, then we can talk. I have a feeling there's a lot to talk about."
Who the hell is Diablos?
Does it matter? As long as they belong to the same universe, what does it matter who Diablos is? He exists, Lucifer knows him, and that's enough. What use is there in trying to define who someone is? Diablos is theirs, and that's enough.
When Lucifer glances over at him, Diablos gives him a small smile.