Chapter Text
After the Detective vanished and Lucifer came to the decision that all he desires is to be back on Earth, with her, he realized his problem. He may be able to escape his guilt, but he’s still stuck in Hell. Wingless. Powerless. Alone.
And bloody hell, could he use a damn drink.
He looks longingly towards the wall where, on Earth, he keeps his stock of expensive, top-shelf booze. Here in Hell, the bottles are filled with blood and ash. Not even the lighting is right; the blue is more grey and it flickers. It reminds him of Hell’s skies. Probably intentionally.
He looks towards the lift. What would happen if he walked through that door as a soul? Would he still have his powers over Hell? No soul has ever left their Loop before; he would be the first and he has no idea what would happen to him. Either way, still bloody well stuck in Hell.
Sighing, he looks around the penthouse, pointedly not looking at the piano. Hell’s version of Uriel hasn’t made another appearance. Lucifer isn’t sure if he truly overcame his guilt, or if Chloe’s presence somehow chased off his brother.
Chloe.
Not once has Lucifer ever genuinely smiled whilst in Hell, but every time her name crosses his mind, every time he thinks about their talk, he smiles again. How could he not? She learned the truth about him, through possibly the worst circumstances, and she isn’t afraid. She braved Hell, even if it was only in her dreams, for him. And she wants him back.
How does he fulfill her desire?
“Hello, my son.”
Lucifer freezes, every inch of him growing ice cold, even as he feels his eyes flash with Hellfire. That voice could not possibly be here. Not now. Perhaps it’s another illusion from—
“I assure you, I am not one of Hell’s mirages, Samael.”
The Devil’s lip curls. “That,” he growls, slowly climbing to his feet and turning around, “is not my name.”
Standing just inside the Hell penthouse is an older black man with short greying hair and beard, looking like he walked straight out of an old folks’ home. He’s wearing a cream colored cardigan, tan slacks, and—oh, bloody hell—socks with bloody sandals.
God himself is in Hell looking like an elderly grandfather.
“Really? That’s the best you could come up with for your first Hell tour? Here to lock me in my Loop for all eternity, are you? Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news, Dad, but I won’t stay here anymore than I stayed on my throne,” Lucifer says coolly.
Dad gives him a kindly smile. “I’m not here to lock you up anywhere, Sam—” Lucifer growls. “Lucifer. Old habits.”
“Is that so?” Lucifer asks. “What do you want, then? I’ve nothing to say to you.”
“You never seemed to have any problem shouting at me before,” Dad says, tilting his head slightly. “Some of your tirades were...colorful.”
Sneering, Lucifer takes a step towards his father. “Oh, so you were listening? Just ignoring me. I should have known.”
“Well, you didn’t need me before now.”
“I bloody well don’t need you now, either.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. “No? So you aren’t wondering how you’ll return to Earth and your Detective without your wings?”
“Stop reading my mind, Dad!”
“I am omniscient, son. What’s the phrase? Not a jedi?”
Hearing his father use the same phrase he once used with Chloe makes Lucifer bristle. “What do you want, Dad? I’m done with the punishments, done with Hell, all of it. I just want to live my bloody life. Preferably alive and on Earth.”
“I know, son,” he says gently. “That is why I’m here. To tell you that what happened with Uriel was not your fault.”
“I beg your pardon? And how do you figure that? You said yourself you’re omniscient, omni-bloody-everything. You saw what happened, as it was happening, and you did nothing, Dad! One word from you, and Uriel would have stood down and flown back to the Silver City, but as ever, you couldn’t be bothered. You’re the reason I’m a murderer. And now you’ve allowed another son to murder me. Or was that on your orders?”
Dad shakes his head. “Barachiel’s actions were his own. And he has been...reprimanded for that transgression.”
“Transgression?” Lucifer repeats incredulously. “He beat me to death, Dad. Literally. He tortured me! Me! The King of Torture.”
“And you let him. You could have fought back and sent him back to the Silver City, but instead, your guilt would not allow you to take another life. You accepted a punishment that wasn’t yours to accept in the first place. Your Detective was correct, you did the right thing in protecting her and your mother. Uriel...”
Dad shakes his head sadly. “He made his own choices, believing he was acting in my name, which he was not—I never would have condoned his actions, and I do not condone them now. He chose duty. But you, Lucifer, chose love.”
Lucifer scoffs. “Love. I’m the Devil, Dad, as you well know since you made me into that. I am not capable of love.”
The sadness in his father’s eyes deepens. “So you’re telling me it was your incapability of love that protected Chloe all those times you saved her life. Or when you asked to make a deal with me for her protection when Malcolm Graham was threatening her life?”
“I made that deal because she and her spawn didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a porn-stached cop whose soul was brought back from Hell by...oh, who was it again?” Lucifer hums, pretending to think. “Oh, that’s right! Your firstborn. Seems to me, Dad, your other children are the real problems and yet, I’m the one constantly being punished!”
Dad sighs, folding his hands behind his back. “You aren’t wrong.”
“Beg pardon?” Lucifer says again, this time truly wondering if he heard that correctly. Not once in his entire existence has his father even hinted that there is a possibility that he could be right about literally anything. “Say that again.”
“I said, you aren’t wrong, Lucifer. My children have been on their own for far too long. Perhaps it’s time I take a more...hands-on approach with them. Starting with you.”
Lucifer stiffens, a feeling he doesn’t want to identify as fear trickling down his spine.
Dad takes a few steps forward and the Devil barely resists the urge to step back. Or flee altogether. He reminds himself that if his father punishes him this time, at least the fall to Hell will be quite short. Just a few mere feet to the ground.
“About that deal you attempted to strike with me...”
Memories of that night flash before Lucifer’s eyes. Since they’re in Hell, that is quite literal. Half the penthouse transforms into a brightly lit hangar. Lucifer glances over to the left where, behind racking and wooden crates, he can just see the Detective’s blonde head poking out in time to witness Malcolm Graham shoot Lucifer in the gut. She gasps silently and drops back down to hide, pressing her lips together to avoid making a sound. Past-Lucifer falls to the ground, dying, and with his last few breaths, breaks eons of radio silence to pray to his father, promising to be the son he always wanted him to be, go wherever he desires, if he protects Chloe.
The illusion fades. Lucifer continues to stare at the spot where the image of himself vanished, pressing a hand to his abdomen where he’d been shot that night. “Yes, I remember,” he says quietly, dragging his eyes back to his father. “What of it?”
“I never accepted that deal, Lucifer.”
Lucifer’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns. “You must have. I returned to the hangar after that brief stint in Hell, long enough to see Mum had escaped. How else would I have gotten back?” He wracks his mind, but can’t come up with the answer. It would have been impossible if his father hadn’t assisted him.
“I did lead you to your mother’s door so that you could see she left Hell, but I was not responsible for your return to Earth or for protecting Chloe.”
“Then how?” Lucifer demands.
Dad smiles. “You.”
“Me? Me, what, Dad? Stop speaking in bloody riddles, I don’t have all eternity here!” The longer he’s in Hell the more Chloe hurts on Earth. The ache he’s felt since she vanished before his eyes returns, sharper than ever.
“Who better to protect your Detective than you? Lucifer, you are my Will. What you desire, so shall it be. And what you desired most in that moment, just like now, was to be back on Earth to protect Chloe and Trixie. I was prepared to intervene, but you didn’t need my help in the end.”
Lucifer stares at his father, stunned. “That...is not possible.”
“Isn’t it?” Dad turns and slowly starts to pace the length of the penthouse, eyeing the books on the shelves as if the titles on the spines weren’t gibberish. “You may be fallen, Lucifer, but you are still an angel. And I’ll let you in on a secret, I created all my children to self-actualize. Meaning, how they feel reflects in who they are. Quite literally. Take your brother Amenadiel for example. He felt guilty after what he did, bringing a damned soul back to Earth and letting him wreak havoc. I did not punish Amenadiel for his transgressions; he is punishing himself.”
“What?” Lucifer breathes, thinking about all the changes his brother has gone through. The loss of his wings. His angelic strength. Being unable to slow time.
“Or you. What you call your Devil face. You believe that is part of your punishment. The truth, my son, is that you believed yourself to be a monster and so that is how you began to appear.”
Lucifer’s breaths are becoming shallow. All those millennia, hating his father for making him into a monster. Hating himself. Watching humanity hate and vilify him. And now his father is saying he did it all to himself?
“Or your vulnerability with Chloe.”
The Detective’s name snaps him out of his turmoil. “What of it?”
Dad smiles. “You wanted to lower your walls with her, to let her in, so to speak. To be vulnerable. But as you’ve never been in such a position before, you had no idea how to become emotionally available to her. So while you learned, you became physically vulnerable, opening yourself up to hurt and rejection as much as gunshot and knife wounds. All this time, you’ve been searching for a home, somewhere to belong, and I think you’ve finally found it, haven’t you? In her.”
Lucifer swallows, thinking about his last session with Dr. Linda. “Yes,” he breathes, mostly to himself. “She’s the only home I desire.”
“So go to her, Lucifer. She’s waiting on you now. I believe you’ll find her at her apartment. And as it’s nearly dinnertime, perhaps a stop for a bite to eat for the two of you is in order? Since you didn’t make it to the dinner you invited her out for.”
“So I could just...go?” he asks skeptically. “And that’s it? No. No, I don’t believe that, Dad. You never do anything for free, so what is it you desire in return? What deal are you attempting to make with the Devil?”
Dad tilts his head, not speaking for long moments. Lucifer wonders what he’ll be asked to do this time. Return Mum to Hell? Return to Hell himself? None of this makes any bloody sense.
“My ask is simple, Lucifer,” Dad finally says. “Be happy. That is all I want for you. Your happiness. And if that is with Chloe, then you shall have it for however long you both desire.”
Lucifer’s jaw tenses. “That isn’t possible,” he says again, coldly. He wants forever with her. Even if they’re only friends, he never wants to say goodbye to her. “She’s mortal, Dad, and she is far too good to ever set foot in Hell, regardless of these dream-walks she’s been having. Her eternity will be spent in the paradise of the Silver City.”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “You’re right. She will rise to the Silver City when her time comes. And if you wish it, perhaps you could be the one to bring her. And stay, of course, if that’s your desire.”
“How? Amenadiel told me you said I would burn out of existence if I returned to Heaven.”
“Amenadiel was...cruelly mistaken. And I think you’ve more than served your punishment, don’t you? Consider this your notice that the banishment I placed upon you has been lifted.”
All the breath rushes out of Lucifer’s lungs. “Just like that?” he says weakly.
“If you like. You’ve done your time. Hell runs well enough on its own without a king. And you would never be happy without Chloe in your life. So I will make it right.”
Lucifer cries out suddenly as his back explodes with pain like it's on fire. His knees buckle and hit the marble floor as he doubles over. The pain spreads all throughout his body until he’s sure he’s going to be literally ripped apart.
“What are you doing?” he cries towards his father. Dad is just watching him like a mildly interesting television show. “Stop it!”
“I’m not doing this, son. As I've explained, you have full autonomy over yourself. Free will is what you desired and it has always been yours. You require a ride back to Earth, to your body, and that is what you’re getting now.”
An inhuman roar reaches his ears that he only faintly realizes is his own voice as a pair of white angel wings spring from his shoulder blades. He remains on all-fours, panting, drooling, as the pain slowly recedes, leaving him shaking. On his back, his wings flutter, as if they’re eager to get moving, to take him back to Earth.
To Chloe.
Feeling weak, he lifts his head, searching for his father through blurry eyes, but Dad has vanished.
“Of course he has,” he pants breathlessly. “Bastard.”
Nearly twelve hours have passed since Chloe left Charlotte’s apartment.
Goddess—whatever.
The moment they realized Lucifer might be returning to his body, Maze dragged her out of the room, hastily explaining that Lucifer needed her gone to heal. Chloe hadn’t wanted to leave him, not when she was so close to getting him back, and she certainly didn’t want to leave Lucifer with his asshole family. Maze promised to stand guard over the Devil.
Since then, Chloe has been at odds.
Returning to sleep was impossible, so she spent hours cleaning her apartment from top to bottom. She managed to keep a level head when Trixie woke up, though she thinks her daughter may have been suspicious at the sight of a full breakfast—scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes—on a Thursday morning. Usually big breakfasts are relegated to weekends due to time constraints. Thankfully, Trixie had to go to school and Chloe was able to dodge any questions.
Dan finally called to let her know about Lucifer’s body going missing from the morgue. He framed it like there was some sort of mix-up. Chloe didn’t bother to call him on it, her mind too preoccupied by where the Devil was and if he was okay to even consider it. Dan assumed she was just upset.
Now there is nothing else to clean. The apartment is spotless. She can’t focus enough for reading books or even watching TV. So she’s pacing now, and staring at her phone every five seconds, waiting for Maze to call and tell her what’s going on.
Or for Lucifer to call.
There’s been no word from anyone. All the text messages Chloe has sent the demon have been left on read. She doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad one. Maybe Lucifer came back, but his injuries aren’t healing. Or maybe he came back wrong. Like, his memories are missing or something. Or maybe Maze and Lucifer are dealing with Charlotte/Goddess.
Chloe is just debating grabbing her keys and driving back to Charlotte’s apartment when she hears a soft knock on her front door. Her heart thuds to a stop. It’s probably a delivery. Or the wrong address. Or maybe it’s Olga needing a cup of sugar or something. As she stares, trying to see through the door itself, whoever is on the other side knocks again.
Swallowing, feeling unaccountably nervous, Chloe forces herself to walk across the apartment to the door.
Okay, maybe not unaccountably.
Over the last few days, she’s realized many things—her feelings for Lucifer, that Lucifer really is the Devil and everything he’s said is true. She saw her partner’s dead body and mourned him, sure she would never see him again, and then dream-walked right into his Hell Loop. She helped the Devil overcome his guilt over killing his own brother and helped him realize he wanted to come home. She faced down a Goddess who once tried to blow her up.
This has been the most insane, emotionally draining week of her life. And the only thing she wants right now is to open that door and find the Devil standing on the other side. She wants to throw herself into his arms and never let go. She wants everything with him. Assuming he wants the same.
Her hand is trembling as it wraps around the doorknob, her heart beating harder and faster than it ever has in her life. Closing her eyes, because she doesn’t want to see that she’s wrong, she finally opens the door. She inhales sandalwood and vanilla, and she knows that scent like she knows her daughter’s.
Gasping, she finally opens her eyes.
Lucifer is standing two feet in front of her, twisting his cufflink, a soft, uncertain smile on his lips. His eyes are bright, staring at her like she’s water in the desert or he needs her to breathe. He lets out a sigh and it sounds like relief.
“Hello, Detective,” he murmurs softly.
A sob rips from her throat. “You’re okay,” she whispers, looking him up and down slowly. “Aren’t you?”
His smile turns hopeful. “I’m fine, darling. You’ve my word.”
She’s a bit surprised he didn’t offer to let her strip him down and check him from head to toe herself. For once, she thinks she might actually take him up on that offer. “I can’t believe it,” she says tearfully, stepping towards him.
Tentatively, afraid to find out this is just another dream, she reaches out to touch him, running her fingers along his firm chest, no longer in tatters. Warmth rolls off him in waves, which she hadn't felt in the dreams, not really. Not like this. He doesn’t wince like he’s bruised. He’s completely unscathed. Her touch travels up his neck and she cups his face.
Lucifer’s eyelashes flutter and he leans into her touch, his eyebrows furrowing low like the weight of his emotions are pulling them down. “Chloe,” he whispers, his voice trembling.
Not hesitating another second, Chloe throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and holding him tight. Lucifer lets out a sharp breath, stiffening for less than a second, then his arms wrap around her, holding her just as tightly. She feels his cheek rest gently against her hair and he lets out a breath of pure contentment.
Chloe doesn’t know how long they hug, but she pulls away first, just far enough to look into his glimmering brown eyes, full of wonder and awe. She’s sure her eyes reflect those same emotions as they drop down to his lips. Leaning forward, she kisses Lucifer the way she’s wanted to kiss him for months, however she’s tried to deny it.
He freezes in surprise momentarily, then kisses her back, humming against her lips. And it’s undoubtedly the best kiss of her life. When they part, they’re both breathless. Lucifer gives her that smile he’s only ever given her. The one she was sure she’d never see again. He lifts a hand to her face, tenderly wiping away her tears with his thumb.
“I missed you, Detective,” he murmurs.
She huffs a wet laugh. “I missed you too, Lucifer.”
To her disappointment, Lucifer releases her, just long enough to reach down to his feet for a brown paper bag she hadn’t noticed until now. He holds it up in front of her and she can smell fresh french fries.
“Might I come in, darling? I believe I owe you dinner.”
Smiling, Chloe nods, stepping back to let him inside. This time, she hopes to never lose him again.