Hello, everyone! I'm D. Taína. You may know me from the Gargoyles fandom or from "The Day After." I've had writer's block for years, and then Lucifer came along and reignited my passion for telling stories, and my first Lucifer fanfic was born. I have ten chapters already written and I'll be posting them once a week until I'm all caught up. You can also read the first ten chapters over at AO3. English is not my native language so if you see any mistakes, please let me know. Without further ado, I hope you like the story!


Chapter I: The Bloody Wings


"Deep down, you know you're a monster," said Lucifer as he loomed over Cain, watching as the light was slowly extinguished from his eyes after stabbing that former immortal in the chest with a demon blade. "And that you belong in Hell where you would torture yourself with that truth for eternity." He could see as the realization of his guilt slowly dawned on Cain. His face felt like it was on fire, but he paid no heed. "Cause no matter what you tell yourself, you can't outrun what you've done. What you truly are…"

Lucifer reached down, feeling himself burning with rage, to twist the blade in him one last time before the former immortal finally perished. Cain seized his hand instead and looked up at him with a twisted, self-satisfied smile even at death's door. "And neither can you!" said Cain, laughing, before the laughter died in his throat and he finally expired before the Devil's eyes.

Lucifer watched him die, still burning with rage, the former immortal's laughter still ringing in his ears. This was the same monster who had ended Charlotte Richard's life in an attempt to kill his brother, Amenadiel. Then he had lured the detective and himself into a trap, with the intention of killing him. The detective had tried to save him and would have lost her life if not for a hidden bulletproof vest. Then the world's first murderer had ordered his goons to open fire on both of them, forcing him to use his own wings as a shield to save the precious, unconscious woman in his arms.

Lucifer glared down at Cain's lifeless body, looking at the demon blade still stuck to his chest, feeling fire and brimstone in his eyes, imagining him suffering in Hell, trapped by his own guilt, unable to escape for all eternity.

"Lucifer!" he suddenly heard the detective say behind him.

The anger quickly subsided, and he slowly rose to his feet, giving one last look to Cain's body. His back was loudly complaining, but he did his best to ignore the pain. The last thing he needed right now was the detective asking about his injuries. Then he'd have to tell her the truth, and then of course she wouldn't believe him but would still insist on fussing over him, and then he'd have to show her his bloody wings just to get her to stop fussing, and then all Hell would break loose.

"Lucifer?"

He turned to face her, his back stiff, trying not to show how much it was hurting. He sighed with relief at seeing her alive and unharmed, and a genuine smile crossed his lips. Then he saw the sudden horror in her eyes and his smile disappeared.

"It's all true," she whispered, eyes wide.

"Detective?" he asked, confused about her reaction.

"It's all true," she repeated, slowly backing away toward the stairs in the back of the loft.

"What's true?" He looked around and saw all the bloody white feathers littering the floor, still emitting a faint glow of divinity. "Oh, those! I can explain those, actually." He looked at her expectantly, dreading her reaction, and then continued. "Remember when I couldn't sleep for a week because I thought I was flying around doing angelic deeds in my sleep? Well…" He gestured with one hand to the feathers, brows raised, not taking his eyes off her. "I hate to say, 'I told you so', but…"

Still seeing no reaction, he attempted to follow her gaze and saw the body of Marcus Pierce, or Cain, lying lifeless on the floor. "Oh, you saw that." He nodded a few times, pursing his lips, his eyes darting between the dead body and Chloe. "Right. Maybe I should've led with that," he mused, trying to ease the tension between them, but she remained frozen in place. "Well, as you know, Pierce," he spat out the name with the utmost contempt, "was trying to kill us. I had no choice but to… to…" Her eyes were locked on to his, horrified. His heart skipped a beat, suddenly getting a terrible feeling that something was very wrong. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Chloe kept backing away until her heel collided with the stairs and she quickly stumbled, caught herself and gracelessly sat down on one of the steps, still staring up at him in silent horror.

Lucifer quickly rushed after her to make sure she was all right, but she recoiled at his presence and hurriedly backed up a few more steps, her horrified eyes never leaving his. "What's wrong? Are you…" he started, still staring at her, trying to understand, "…upset that I killed him?" Once again, no response. "Detective, surely you understand killing somebody in self-defense. You even shot him first, remember?" The more he looked at her, the more she looked like she just saw a monster and was now frozen with fear at the terrible sight and looming sense of doom. "Detective, please," he pleaded, "I did what I had to do. You have to believe me."

He tried reaching out to her, and that's when he noticed it. His eyes went wide, and he stared at his outstretched hand. It was a deep red color, covered in welts and scars. So, that was the burning sensation he felt while damning Cain to Hell. He quickly brought his hands up to his face, and a cold shiver ran down his spine when his fingers touched the burnt skin. His Devil Face, the one he had been missing since his kidnapping, was finally back, and the detective had finally seen it. "Bloody Hell!" he cried out, burying his face in his hands, feeling exposed. "Not now!"

"You're the Devil," she whispered, in a trembling voice, eyes wide.

The way she said those words tore him apart. He could tell from the look on her face that she saw him as a monster. "I've… I've always told you the truth, Detective," he tried telling her, desperately, feeling his heart sinking, unable to look her in the eye like this. "I know history and religion paint me as a monster, but you have to believe me… I'm nothing of the sort." He looked back at Cain's dead body and the bloodied feathers surrounding him. He had stabbed him in the chest and had relished every second of it. "Or at least… I hope not."

"You're Satan," she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.

She never called him that before, and the way she said that name felt like a stab to the heart. "This is not all that I am," he said, his voice breaking, feeling like his heart was being torn in two. This wasn't how he wanted her to find out, with the dead body of her ex-fiancé surrounded by blood-stained feathers. He would've sat her down instead and found the right time to explain it to her. This was how criminals were supposed to react to his Devil face, but not the detective—never the detective.

Suddenly, he heard the police nearby, guns drawn, just a few paces away. He tried to will his Devil face to go away, but no matter how much he commanded his burns to fade away and return his alabaster skin, the change never came. He gave Chloe one last look of desperation that betrayed his gaze of fire and brimstone, and he quickly covered his face and made a hasty exit as the police streamed in. On his way out, he chanced a look back at Chloe and saw the police sounding the all-clear. They helped her get back on her feet and pulled her away from him.

He quickly exited to the rooftop and tried to unfurl his wings to make a hasty retreat, but he cried out in agony at the sudden, sharp, burning pain and almost fell over. It hadn't hurt that much the last time he unfurled his wings on that same rooftop, when he flew down and crashed through a window, looking every bit like an avenging angel, to take care of Cain once and for all. It had been hard enough tucking his wings away a second time before his final fight with Pierce. If he did it again, there was no telling how long it'd be until he could put them away again, and he'd rather not walk around shamelessly displaying his divinity to the world.

Having no one else to turn to, he pulled out his phone, looked through his contacts and placed an urgent phone call. "You have to help me, doctor," he said, desperately.

"What's wrong, Lucifer?" asked Linda on the other end of the line.

"Where do I begin?!" he said, letting out a dry laugh. "So many disasters, so little time! My main problem right now is that my Devil Face returned, and I can't make it go away. I'm stuck here with no way out looking like a bloody burn victim! Normally, I would ask Mazikeen to assist me, but…" Lucifer's eyes glowed even brighter, and he gripped the phone tighter, furious at that demon for her betrayal. She made a fool of him with that little 'Angel of San Bernardino' stunt just to push Pierce and Chloe closer together. "She betrayed me."

"I see… Talk to her, Lucifer. She's been through a lot lately. I'm sure she's sorry for what she did to you."

"If she wants to beg my forgiveness, she knows where to find me."

"I guess that response is as good as any. And Amenadiel?"

"He's…" he started saying, trailing off. His brother was back in the Silver City, with Charlotte, the one place he could never go to. Once again, Charlotte's death hit him hard, along with the thought that he would never see her again. "He's… taking care of a good friend of ours," he finally said, with an air of sadness to his words. "You're the only one who can help me."

"What do you need me to do?" asked Linda.

"I need a ride back to Lux as soon as the police clear the building. I can't face anyone looking like this," he said, looking down at his scorched hands, "And my bloody wings can't help me now."

"Why can't you fly?" asked Linda.

Lucifer stared at the phone for a second, stunned, and then put it back to his ear. "Didn't you hear me? I said, 'bloody wings'. Literally!"

"Oh! Okay, where are you?" asked Linda.


Detective Chloe Decker sat outside the loft in an ambulance, with a blanket around her, still staring off into space. She had just gotten looked at after getting shot in the chest and knocked unconscious from the force of the impact against her bulletproof vest. But she wasn't thinking about her injuries; she was thinking about The Devil. She was certain that she was still in shock, based on how calm she was after that earth-shattering revelation.

"Decker, are you ready to tell us what happened?" asked one of the policemen.

Chloe looked up at him tiredly, then proceeded to tell him the story. "We were investigating Charlotte Richard's death, which led us to Lt. Marcus Pierce. When we got too close to proving he was responsible, he lured us into a trap, intent on killing us. I saw at least three gunmen in the rafters ready to shoot us. One of his goons shot me in the chest, hitting my bullet proof vest, and knocked me unconscious. I don't know how Lucifer got us out of there in one piece. I woke up on the rooftop and when I came down to the loft, Marcus was dead on the floor with a single stab wound to the chest. I saw Lucifer standing over his body, and then you guys came in and pulled me away. I don't know where he went."

"We need to get a statement from him. He's the only other witness to what happened in that loft. He can help us fill in the gaps."

"I don't know where he is," she answered honestly, feeling worn down. He just ran off. He's probably at Lux now, hiding his face from the world.

"Do you know if he killed the lieutenant?"

"I didn't see it happen," she answered once again, "Probably? All I know is that if he did it, it was in self-defense."

"Okay, we'll try to get in contact with your partner," he said.

"Thanks, Bluestone," she said, and watched him leave.

'Her partner', he said. Her partner was the actual Devil. She had spent the last few years working with the Devil. She had let the Devil near her family. She had opened up to the Devil. She had even kissed the Devil—twice and had even dreamed about a steamy aftermath at his penthouse. That handsome face she once kissed had suddenly been replaced by another, monstrous face. Was that his real face? Had she kissed a fa?ade? She shuddered, trying not to think about the implications of that.

Lucifer Morningstar, the actual Devil. His father really was God. Heaven and Hell were definitely real, and her partner had been banned from the former and made the ruler of the latter. He had ruled Hell as its king, a torturer of damned souls. Was that why he worked with the police? Was he just looking for people to punish in Hell? Try as the might, she couldn't reconcile the stories of The Devil from antiquity with the man she had come to know these last few years. He had always told her the truth, but he knew that she had never believed him. Why didn't he ever try to prove it to her? Why not show her his wings? Or… that face?

I was afraid—she remembered him saying—Afraid that you'd want me because you've only seen certain sides of me. That if you saw all of me… knew all of me, you would run away. …The other side of me… It's bad. It's monstrous, even.

And that was what she saw in that loft—something monstrous. A fallen angel, the Devil, who was as old as time itself and had spent most of his existence punishing people in Hell. And yet, she knew in her heart that the Devil cared about her and would do anything for her, despite how unworthy he seemed to think he was of her affections. How many times had he saved her life? He risked his life to save her and Trixie from that lunatic, Malcolm. When he inexplicably found the formula for her antidote when Professor Carlisle poisoned her, he did that for her, too. Who knows what he had to do to get that formula? And he did it without regrets.

How could she reconcile that with the Devil of lore, the punisher of damned souls? Was she vilifying an innocent because of the way he looked, same as everybody else? Or was he really that monster from antiquity that everyone feared? Who was the real Lucifer Morningstar?

Where do I begin?—she remembered him saying, right before she discovered the preacher's dead body lying next to the bar—With the grandest fall in the history of time? Or perhaps the more agonizing punishment that followed? To be blamed for every morsel of evil humanity's endured; every atrocity committed in my name. As though I wanted people to suffer…

She felt tears in her eyes, and she wiped them away with a shaking hand. She put her head in her hands, trying to contain her sobs rising within her, trying not to lose her composure.


Lucifer sat cross-legged on the helipad, still feeling that burning pain in his back. He pulled out his flask yet again and took the last sip out of it. Even alcohol had failed to dull the pain thanks his supernatural metabolism. He just wanted to go back to his penthouse, change out of these dirty and bloody clothes and take a cold shower. And then he'd unfurl his wings and begin the painstaking process of removing all the bullets and plucking all the ruined feathers so that his wings could heal properly. He would have to hide out for a while, especially if he was stuck with his Devil Face and with angelic wings out in the open. How would that even look? A Devil with angel wings? He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"I'll never be rid of you, will I?" he whispered, glaring hard over his shoulder at where his wings would be. He sighed, staring at nothing, looking lost in thought. "Still, without you, we wouldn't have survived Cain's assault. Thanks to you, my feathery burdens, I was able to save the detective. Maybe you're not completely useless, after all, even if you hurt like Hell right now." He looked back at his phone, tempted to dial Chloe's number, desperately wanting to know if she was all right, but he sighed, resigning himself to giving her some space, and put the phone away.

The phone rang and his heart skipped a beat. He stared down at the phone, eyes wide, and then he sighed and rolled his eyes when he saw that the call was coming from the precinct. "Getting my hopes up…" he muttered, and then answered the phone. "Lucifer Morningstar."

"Lucifer, it's Matt Bluestone from the precinct. We need to get a statement from you regarding the lieutenant's death. Can you come over to the precinct?"

Lucifer knew he'd have to face what happened with Pierce eventually, but he couldn't very well go down to the precinct looking like this. "I'll swing by the precinct as soon as I can. I'm, uh… currently indisposed."

"Where are you? It's windy in there," said Bluestone.

"Yes, I should really close that window," he replied, looking around at the complete lack of windows on the helipad, then hung up. He never specified which window.

So, he had to stop by the precinct as soon as his Devil face went away. Hopefully, he'd run into Chloe, and then he could… No, he still didn't know how to deal with the detective discovering his true nature. Her reaction reminded him of all those criminals he showed his Devil face to, rendering them unable to do anything but scream in terror. He hoped that she would recover from seeing him like that. He couldn't bear the thought of Chloe rejecting him.

"Please, don't hate me, detective," he said, feeling vulnerable even when she was so far away. "Anything but that."


"What am I supposed to do with you, Lucifer?" Chloe asked herself, still sitting in the ambulance, feeling lost. Suddenly, she heard a car pulling over. She looked up and saw Dan and Ella stepping out of the car and rushing toward her.

"Chloe! Are you all right?" asked Dan.

She looked up with tearful eyes and saw Dan and Ella running up to her, their concern for her obvious. "I'm fine," she lied, wiping at her eyes.

"Where's Lucifer?" asked Ella, looking around worriedly for her eccentric partner. "Is he hurt? Did Pierce and his goons hurt him?!"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. He's probably hurt if those bloodied feathers are anything to go by. "He ran off before the police arrived." She remembered how distraught he was when he ran off hiding his face, and she felt a twinge of guilt for making him feel that way. Was she really feeling sorry for the Devil right now? Was that just more manipulation from him? She really was a mess.

"Of course, he ran off," said Dan, planting his hands on his hips, looking angry at his gall to leave Chloe while she was in danger. "That's what he does, isn't he? He's probably back at Lux attending some bachelorette party! That's all Lucifer Morningstar seems to care about. But what can you expect? He's…"

"The Devil," whispered Chloe.

"Yeah, now I see why he chose that persona," muttered Dan.

Trust me, I didn't choose it—she remembered Lucifer telling her at the Children of the Goat Church—Why would anyone choose to be vilified?

"This is all his fault!" yelled Dan, and despite his anger, his grief was all too easy to see. "He should've told us that Pierce was the Sinnerman! He knew for months and kept it a secret! Now Charlotte is dead because of him!"

I'll never get to see her again—she remembered him saying as the paramedics wheeled Charlotte's body away—Sadly, she's gone somewhere I simply can't follow…

"This isn't Lucifer's fault, Dan," said Ella, "The only one to blame is Pierce! I can't wait until they haul him off in handcuffs!"

"Pierce is dead," Chloe announced, getting two shocked looks thrown at her. "Lucifer may have killed him in self-defense."

"If it was him, at least he did one thing right," said Dan, sneering.

"Dan, please," said Chloe, trying to keep her composure. Her ex-fiancé had tried to kill her, and Lucifer was Satan himself. She just didn't know how to handle this. "Everything's a mess right now. I just want to go home and see Trixie."

"You shouldn't drive like this. How about I give you a ride? And Ella can drive your car back home," said Dan.

"I'd like that," she said, glancing up at the rooftop, wondering if that's where Lucifer ran off to so that nobody would see his face.


Lucifer suddenly heard somebody arriving on the rooftop and he looked over his shoulder, cringing at upsetting his back once again. For a moment, he hoped it was Chloe who was coming to tell him that everything was all right, but then he realized it was Linda.

"Finally, the cavalry has arrived," said Lucifer, noticing the large blanket bundled up in her arms, "and she comes bearing gifts!"

"We have to sneak you out of here somehow," said Linda, and threw the blanket over him. That Devil Face still freaked her out, but she tried to remind herself that her friend was still in there beneath that fa?ade. "Now come on," she said, offering him a hand to help him up.

He brushed her hand away, not wanting to show any more weakness. He tried to get up, but he cried out in pain and nearly fell over, hissing in pain, grabbing at his back with one hand. "Bollocks," he said, gritting his teeth in pain.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, offering him the hand again and helping him back to his feet, giving him a shoulder to lean on. It was not easy for a woman of her short stature to handle his tall frame, especially when he was clearly in pain, but somehow, she managed it.

"I'll be fine," he said, strained, the pain clearly written all on his scarred features. "At least Cain got what he deserved."

"Pierce did this? And what do you mean, he got what he deserved?" She saw him grinning, and it chilled her to the bone. "Lucifer, what happened with Pierce?"

"He's dead." One wrong move and he was crying out at yet another pain in his back. "Bloody Hell, that hurts!" he yelled, "Of course my wings are angry with me! This is payback for cutting them off so many times, isn't it?! Well," he shot angry, red glowing eyes toward his back, "Don't tempt me!"

"Lucifer," she said, sternly, trying to get him to focus. He had a habit of letting his thoughts wander whenever he was uncomfortable with something. Finally, he looked at her again. "What did you do to Pierce?" she asked, dreading the answer, as she led him to her car.

"I killed him," he said, and he couldn't help grinning widely, showing his mangled, yellowed Devil teeth.

"You killed Pierce?" said Linda, looking stunned. Not only had he killed him, but he seemed to relish in it. "But I thought you said that angels weren't allowed to kill humans."

"If dear old Dad has a problem with me breaking another one of his stupid arbitrary rules, He knows where to find me," he said, shooting an angry look at the clouds. "Cain would've never stopped hunting me and using the detective against me. I did what I had to do. I only wish that…" he trailed off, frowning for a brief second, remembering the horror in the detective's eyes. That she hadn't seen me like this. "…That I hadn't waited so long to fulfill my end of the bargain," he finally said, putting on a strong fa?ade again.

"Maybe killing a human for the first time is what triggered the return of your Devil face?"

Lucifer stayed silent for a moment, thinking that over, trying not to look worried. "I'm sure it'll go away after a little R & R," he insisted, "I'll be right as rain after a nice, cold shower and some much-needed wing grooming."

"I hope you're right. Come on, let's get you out of here." She wrapped the thick, gray blanket around him, covering his head, and then led him back into the building. "We really need to talk about what happened with Pierce, Lucifer. That may be the key to…"

"Perfect," he said, looking down at himself, leaning hard on Linda, still wracked with pain, as they slowly made their way down into the loft. "Just perfect. Now, instead of the Devil, I look like a bloody Nazg?l. Do I have to go stab a hobbit, too?"

"Lucifer, are you using humor to avoid talking about something again?" asked Linda as they slowly exited the rooftop and looked for the elevator to go to back to street level.

"What makes you say that?"

"Are you?" They approached the elevator, and she pressed the "down" button. They boarded the elevator and pressed the button to go down to the lobby.

Lucifer leaned heavily against the wall, grasping the bars, trying to ignore the pain in his back. Linda kept staring at him, waiting for an answer, and he sighed in frustration and finally relented. "There's nothing to talk about, doctor. I killed a human for the first time and my Devil Face returned."

"Ah-ha. Look, I know that killing a human is against your Father's rules, but I'm not talking about celestial repercussions. Killing a person, even in self-defense, can be a traumatic experience."

"I know. Believe me, I know," he said, closing his eyes in pain, trying not to think about his brother. "But this is different. Cain asked for it, literally and figuratively."

"And you're okay with it? With killing him, I mean?"

"I regret nothing," he said, grinning.

"I see." The elevator stopped and the doors opened. She once gave him a shoulder to lean on and helped him exit the building. They found her car parked nearby and she helped him walk toward it, feeling terrible every time he hissed in pain. She helped Lucifer to her car, opened the passenger door for him and helped him sit down. "But I have to ask about those celestial repercussions. Do I have to worry about a plague of locusts, or sudden floods, or…?"

"I don't know," he said, hissing as his back touched the car seat, and then he slammed the door shut, eliciting another hiss of pain from him. He hunched forward, hugging his midsection, trying to find a comfortable position, but he was unable to, so he just resigned himself to being in pain for the time being. "As far as I know, none of my siblings have ever killed a human. Thus far, besides the utter inconvenience of being stuck like this out in the open and the searing, burning pain in my back, everything seems…" Not fine. "Well enough."

"Maybe your Father realizes that you had no choice but to kill him?" Linda climbed into the driver's seat, shut the door, and got out her keys to turn on the car. "Surely the fact that you did it in self-defense will get you off the hook?"

"I doubt Dad cares much for the distinction," he said, his eyes looking distant. And with that thought looming over them, they were off to Lux. He looked down at his phone once again, tempted to make the call, but he sighed in resignation and put it away again. No, she needed time to recover from what she saw. The last thing she needed was the Devil hounding her.


Chloe was in Dan's car on their way to her apartment, feeling like the entire weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She had said little on the way there, mostly lost in her own thoughts about Heaven and Hell and the Devil-Cop that she had allowed into her life. She knew Dan could tell something was wrong with her, but thankfully, he didn't pry.

"We're here," said Dan, pulling over in front of her house and putting the car in park. In the rearview mirror, he saw Ella pulling up behind them with Chloe's car. "Chloe, you want us to stay with you a while?"

"I'll be fine, Dan," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt, opening the door, and stepping out of his car. "But thanks for the ride home." She closed the passenger door behind her and walked up to her door, fishing out her keys, looking worn down.

"Decker!" said Ella as she rushed toward Chloe. "You need anything? A hug, maybe?"

"I'm good," she lied more to herself than Ella, "I just need time to think."

"Well, when you're ready, my door is always open, sister," said Ella.

"I know," she said, smiling weakly at her. Then she unlocked her front door, walked into her house, and quickly closed the door behind her. The house seemed quiet except for the babysitter watching TV in the living room. She checked on Trixie and found that she was in her room working on another one of her artistic masterpieces.

"Shari, thanks for coming on such short notice," she told the babysitter, glancing over at the TV. Was that Aladdin? "I can take over from here."

Chloe followed her to the door, waited for her to come out, and then she quickly shut the door and locked it. She knew that wouldn't work with Lucifer because he seemed to have a talent for opening locked doors, but it made her feel safer than not having a lock at all. She leaned against the door for a while, taking deep, calming breaths.

"I need a shower," she whispered.

Chloe dragged herself to take a shower, needing time to think without interruptions, and also to wash the dust and even small splatters of blood on her clothing and hair. That must've been from his wings because he didn't seem to have a scratch on him. She quickly undressed and saw that nasty bruise on her chest from where the bullet hit her. She slipped out of the rest of her clothes and was ready to step into the shower when a glint of light on the floor caught her eye. She went looking for whatever had caused that glint and found a small feather trapped in the fold of her jacket. She stared at the white feather, seeing the blood on it. So that's how she woke up on that rooftop. Lucifer flew her there to save her life.

"This is from his wings," she whispered, aghast, twirling the feather in her fingers to get a better look. "The Devil's… angel wings." She gazed at it with wonder for a while, and then she realized what she was doing and threw away the feather as if it burned her. She quickly climbed into the shower to wash away everything that happened in the loft.

She couldn't stop thinking about those feathers. Because of course he had wings: white, feathery wings, and they were gorgeous and…

Real? Exquisite? Divine? It's okay to say it—she remembered him saying.

How did he have wings again? She remembered seeing those crescent-shaped scars on his back. Didn't he say that Maze cut off his wings? Had they grown back?

It's my wings! They're back!—she remembered him saying in that interrogation room, looking sleep-deprived and exhausted—My father, he's manipulating me! He's making me do things that I would never do!

Like flying through the night, helping people like some rogue angel?—she remembered asking him, sounding annoyed with him.

Yes! Yes, exactly!—he had said to her, and then laughed like he was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown—Either that, or Linda's right, and I'm suppressing pent-up feelings about you and Pierce! Which is obviously absurd…

She had replayed that conversation so many times since that night. She'd always regretted that she was more annoyed with him rather than noticing how close he was to a nervous breakdown. But for the first time, she was actually thinking about what he was trying to tell her. Was Marcus really Cain? Had she almost married the world's first murderer?

Pierce isn't Pierce—he'd told her that same night—He's Cain, from the Bible, and he's immortal and he's been around for eons! And all he cares about is ridding himself of that stupid course that my Father put on him because he killed his brother…!

"I guess he got his wish," she whispered, letting the water rain down on her, feeling like she was burning in her own personal Hell. "Courtesy of Lucifer."


Lucifer and Linda finally made it to Lux and parked in the underground garage. He painfully got out of her car, leaning hard against it, hissing at the pain in his back. "Oh, I hope Cain's suffering in Hell," he said, and let out a pained laugh. "At least my pain is only temporary."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" she asked as she quickly exited the car and went around to give him a shoulder to lean on. Then they slowly made their way to the elevator and pressed the "up" button to go to the penthouse.

"I'll be fine after I get these bullets out of me," he hissed.

"Bullets?!" she asked, alarmed. "Pierce shot you?"

"His henchmen did, on his orders. They opened fire on us."

"On you and Chloe? I thought he loved her. He even asked her to marry him! I went to the bachelorette party!"

He scoffed. "People sometimes kill people with whom they're in love. The heart's mysterious—or so I've come to learn." The elevator doors quickly opened, and they made their way inside. He leaned hard on the wall again, aching for a stiff drink. "The only reason we're still alive is because I used my wings to shield us from the hailstorm of bullets."

"Did Chloe see them?"

"She… didn't see my wings, no."

"Chloe must be really affected by all this. Have you talked to her?" she asked, and instantly regretted asking because his demeanor changed completely. He looked like she ripped his heart out, stomped on it in front of him, and laughed in his face. "Lucifer?"

"She, uh… She saw my Devil Face," he whispered.

"Oh, Lucifer… I'm sorry." She touched his shoulder, trying to comfort him. She could tell he was really affected by all this. "She didn't take it well?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I expected her to yell at me, or punch me in the face, or run away from me… But instead, she just stared at me in silent horror. I couldn't even talk to her because the police streamed in and pulled her away."

The elevator doors opened and revealed the penthouse. The first thing he did was stumble over to his bar and pour himself a large drink. "What should I do, doctor?" he asked her, sounding desperate. "I don't want to lose her."

"Okay, first, we have to take care of your wings," she said, and went around looking for some medical supplies. "Then we'll figure out how to help Chloe. I'm sure she'll come to realize that you're still the same person inside and out."

"I hope so," he said, sounding hopeful.

"I'm sure she'll see you for who you really are—horns and all."

"Horns?! I don't have horns!" he said, outraged at her implication. "Do you see any bloody horns on me right now? Hmm?! If I ever find out whose bright idea it was to give me horns or portray me as a bloody goat…!"

"Lucifer. Wings. Out," she said, coming back with a first aid kit.

"One more drink," he said, and proceeded to quickly fill another shot glass. "I need to get my buzz on. This is going to be a long and painful night indeed, and I'd rather not be sober for it." He pulled out his phone again, tempted to call the detective and ask her how she's doing, but once again, he decides against it. She was probably still processing his Devil face and she needed her space, so he was going to give it to her, even though every second not knowing what she was thinking was torture.


After getting dressed, Chloe made her way to the kitchen, wanting to get a drink to soothe her nerves. She went to the fridge, opened it, and looked inside for some cheap wine she stored.

What kind of abomination is this?—she could almost hear Lucifer saying after finding her cheap store-bought wine in the fridge—Honestly, detective, sometimes I question your good taste! She let out a chuckle, and it died in her throat, once again reminded of what she saw in that loft.

Her gaze fell to the fridge door, seeing all those pictures Trixie had drawn that she proudly displayed on her fridge. One of them caught her eye. It was the Devil, complete with red skin, horns, hooves, a tail, and a goatee, holding a large pitchfork. She had seen that drawing before, but this time, she was really seeing it. Her daughter was drawing the Devil. Lucifer. Did she know…? "Trixie," she breathed out, and then she grabbed the drawing from the fridge and rushed to her daughter's bedroom. "Trixie!"

"Yeah, mommy?" asked Trixie, looking confused at her mother. She had been too busy drawing on her sketchbook when her mother barged in.

"Why did you draw this?" she asked, sitting next to her in bed and showing her the drawing, trying to hide the panic in her voice.

"Oh, that's just Lucifer," said Trixie, and went back to drawing.

"I know it's Lucifer," said Chloe, trying not to sound worried and failing, "Why did you draw him like this?"

"Because he's the Devil, mommy," replied Trixie, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She didn't notice the way her mother paled at her revelation, her breath catching in her throat. "But he's really nice to me! He gives me cash and chocolate cake! And he promised to give me driving lessons! And he's really fun at Monopoly!"

If you want that top hat—she remembered her daughter telling Lucifer on their first game night—You're going to have to do something for me. Otherwise, you get to be a shoe!

Why, you little urchin! I am not a shoe!—she remembered Lucifer saying to her daughter, sounding slightly offended—I am a top hat. What do you want in return for it, child?

Well, mommy and I both got face paint, so… I want to paint a unicorn on your face!

…How about Bruce Lee mid-fly kick? …No? Did you know that unicorns are extinct, urchin? They all drowned, at the same time. Do you still want to paint a drowned, extinct unicorn on my face? Hmm?

It's either a unicorn or you get the shoe!

…You drive a hard bargain. I'm almost impressed. A unicorn it is then, urchin.

She remembered how hard she had laughed at the absurdity of their little exchange, and the look of utter consternation on Lucifer's face as her daughter painted a unicorn on his cheek. Then the post-game karaoke that followed had all of them in stitches. She found herself chuckling under her breath, remembering the good times that they'd had, but it quickly died in her throat. Knowing what he really was, those sweet memories she once cherished were now seen in a terrifying light. Was her daughter in danger from the Devil?

When Trixie heard no response, she finally looked up from her drawing. "Am I in trouble?" she asked, sheepishly. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the cash…"

"No, monkey," whispered Chloe, feeling tears in her eyes, "You're not in trouble."

"Is Lucifer coming over soon? I want to play Monopoly again!"

"You really like him, don't you?" asked Chloe, trying not to let it show how upset she is at this development.

"Yeah! He's so funny! And thanks to him, that mean girl who tried to bully me on Snapchat never bullied me again!"

"What did he do to her?" she asked, eyes wide.

"He said something about a special place in Hell reserved for bullies, and then she screamed her head off. She missed school for a week!"

Chloe looked at the drawing again, then back at her daughter, and a decision was made. She had to get away from here, away from Lucifer. She needed to put as much distance between them and Lucifer while she figured out how to process this new revelation. She had already thought of leaving Los Angeles for a while but seeing that drawing cemented her decision. "Trixie, how would you like to go on a little vacation?" she asked, trying to look excited.

"A vacation?!" she said, bouncing up and down, "Where?!"

Far away from here—she thought. "I was thinking Europe. There's a Disneyland in Paris we could check out." She watched as her daughter squealed in delight and jumped into her arms, giving her a fierce hug. She held her tightly, her protective, motherly instincts kicking in. "Well, pack your things, monkey." She let her daughter down and watched as she excitedly started going through her drawers. "We're leaving as soon as I make our reservations."

You always put your daughter first—she remembered Lucifer saying—even though the ungrateful urchin does nothing to contribute to the rent…

"I'll always put her first," she whispered.


Lucifer slammed his shot glass down on the counter, sighing contentedly. "Now comes the hard part," he said, slowly rising from the stool at the bar and getting back on his feet, planting his hands on his lower back, and hissing in pain.

"Okay, so, how does this work? You just whip them out?" asked Linda, holding a tray with some medical instruments. "Where do your wings go when they're not visible anyway? And how come they don't shred your clothes every time they come out?"

"I can't answer that without frying your brain, and I need you to be sane right now, so let's get to it." He took a deep breath and let it out, knowing this was going to hurt. "You might want to step back." He watched as she took a few steps back, and then he motioned her to go back even further, so she went to wait by the bar.

He took a few deep breaths and let them out, preparing himself for how much this was going to hurt. He shrugged his shoulders, willing his wings to come out from between his shoulder blades, and the pain was so intense that he screamed and fell on his hands and knees, shaking horribly. He heard what sounded like bullets landing on the floor all around him and he could feel warm blood trickling down his back. Then he heard Linda gasping and the sound of something metal being dropped on the floor. He looked over at Linda and, just like Chloe, she looked like she had just seen a monster.

"I know they look like a bloody mess, but I'm sure they don't look that bad!"

"Lucifer," she breathed, pointing at him with a shaky hand, "Your wings…"

"Yes, I know, they look…" He glanced over his shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat and his heart felt like it stopped for a second. "No! That can't be!" He stumbled back to his feet, momentarily horrified at the bloodied white feathers lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, and then he ran to the first mirror he could find. He saw himself in the mirror and stopped dead in his tracks at what he just laid eyes on.

Lucifer slowly backed away from his own reflection, staring at it in silent horror.


Chloe was back on her laptop, making reservations to go to Disneyland Paris. It had not been cheap, but thankfully, her mother had been more than willing to pitch in with some of the expenses. After Paris, they could go exploring. She would have plenty of time to process what she saw in that loft, and hopefully figure out how to deal with Lucifer.

She glanced at her phone, almost tempted to call him, but she pushed that thought aside. She knew he was hurt, as evidenced by all those blood-stained feathers she saw. Her heart kept telling her to reach out to him and make sure he was all right. She wanted so desperately to get in her car and drive to Lux just to see him. She had been struggling all day with the good and bad memories of him, and she didn't know which memories to trust. Her fingers hovered over the phone, debating whether or not to make the call. But her brain kept screaming at her that he was the Devil and was not to be trusted. Eventually, her logical mind won that argument, burying her feelings for the time being.

She sighed and finished making the reservations, then put in a call to the precinct to let them know that she was going on vacation. When asked for a reason, she told them honestly that she needed time to process what happened in that loft. She hung up, then minimized her window, and saw the folder called "Lucifer" on her desktop. Unable to stop herself, she opened the folder and saw that video of Lucifer effortlessly throwing Joe Hanson through a glass window. She remembered him being shot six times by Jimmy Barnes.

He's the Devil! He's the Devil! He's the Devil!—she remembered Jimmy Barnes screaming at that mental institution, over and over, until he was sedated by the orderlies. In her memories, his screams were soon joined by the screams of so many other criminals who had come into contact with the Devil. They all saw him as a monster to be feared.

Despite everything she and Lucifer had been through, and all the good times they had shared, she was having trouble seeing him as anything but a monster.


Lucifer was standing in front of the mirror, beside himself with horror. Instead of pearly white wings covered in feathers, there was something monstrous in their place. His Devil Face was now framed by huge, gargoyle-like, crimson wings. "No! This can't be happening!" he cried out. His heart was pounding in his chest, he could feel beads of sweat running down his forehead, as well as chills all over his being. All he could think about was how his Father was punishing him for breaking his most sacred rule: that angels shall not kill humans.

"No, Dad, no…!" he screamed, grabbing at his bald head, clearly panicked and hyperventilating. "Please, no! I'm not a monster! I'm not…!"

Deep down, you know you're a monster, and that you belong in Hell where you would torture yourself with that truth for eternity. 'Cause no matter what you tell yourself, you can't outrun what you've done. What you truly are…

Linda rushed over to him, seeing that he was having a massive panic attack. "Lucifer, we'll figure this out, but I need you to calm down," she told him, trying to soothe him, but he just kept hyperventilating and saying "no" over and over. She saw him swaying and she quickly tried to steady him. "You're going to pass out if you don't stop doing that. Take slow, deep breaths."

"I'm a monster," he sobbed out, feeling faint, swaying. After a few more ragged breaths, his eyes rolled back into his head, and then everything went black.

"Lucifer!"


To Be Continued


The next chapter, "The Devil Face," will be up next week! Hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to let me know what you think! -DT