#whisperingwolf

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855507/chapters/36932547

Summary: Emmett had never thought much of Angela Weber until he was paired with her for a history assignment in class. She had always been just another one of Bella’s friends, someone whom he looked out for because Bella did. But then one day he learned that the girl who always seemed so silent was the one person who was screaming the loudest, and what kind of protector would he be to ignore the cries of an innocent in pain?

Roses in Winter

By WhisperingWolf

 Book One: Shattering Glass

 Prologue

Giles Corey

    January 10, 2009

 Alice came to me last night, her visions troubling her. There is something on the horizon. Something is changing, but she can’t see what it is. She can’t feel it, either. My daughter relies on her visions, as much as Edward relies on his talent for reading thoughts, to protect our family. Alice told me that her visions have been blurred, out of focus, for the past several days. She can’t tell whether what is coming is dangerous, or not, and in her efforts to search for an answer, my daughter has strained herself to the point of exhaustion. Or, as close as one of our kind can come to such a state.

 She sat next to me on the couch in my office, and I sang to her for almost an hour until she relaxed. I know it worries her not to be able to see, but I find myself curious. What is this change? What will it mean for my family?

 Carlisle’s brows drew together as he set aside his pen, staring at the words he’d written in the handcrafted leather journal. Something was coming, that was all Alice had told him, the three words she’d repeated to him over and over again as she’d sat curled in a ball on the couch next to him. Something was changing but what?

 Pursing his lips as he slipped the silk ribbon between the pages, he folded the journal closed, wrapping the rough leather tie around the book thrice before tucking the end of it inside, and returning the journal to the shelf he kept it on. Wherever and whatever those answers might be, they wouldn’t be coming any time soon, and as much as he wanted to know more, he knew the only thing he could do was wait. After all, patience was a virtue, or so they said.

   ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

   Her eyes stung, her brow furrowing as she looked down at the book in front of her, shaking her head – the movement barely perceptible – as she stared at the picture in her textbook. He was just an old man who wouldn’t bend to the hysteria around him, and for that, he had been tortured and killed. The image of the townsfolk standing around, some cheering, others who looked so angry, their faces twisted and pinched. How could they do that? How could they watch their neighbor – their friend – be slowly suffocated, his bones breaking from the weight that was piled upon him, and not say anything?

 That huge plank of wood–-it was larger than the door of the classroom she was seated in, she thought as she glanced up at the front of the room-–had to have been terribly heavy in its own right, but then to have been forced to lay there while boulder after boulder was piled on top of him? What did they expect him to say? The people lifting the stone depicted in the image-–it took two huge-looking men to move it. How could they demand answers of someone who likely couldn’t even draw in the air he needed to breathe, let alone speak? How could anyone justify those actions? How could someone-–anyone-–do that to another human being and call it righteous and lawful?

 Edward frowned as he looked at Angela from the corner of his eye. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her stare down at the history textbook lying open on her desk, wincing as he pursed his lips. She had always been such a shy girl, quiet and unobtrusive, her thoughts the most selfless and compassionate he had ever known, and for reasons he didn’t fully understand, he hated the way the topic of their class upset her. Part of him wanted to rip the book away, tear it to shreds as though it posed some kind of threat to her, and as irrational as he knew the desire was, he couldn’t silence it, either.

 If I were alive during those times, Angela thought and Edward found himself unable to silence the quiet growl rolling in the back of his throat, my father would be one of those preachers. He wouldn’t even think twice about doing something like this. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard as she shook her head, her heart skipping a beat. He even calls archaeology and anthropology blasphemous. For all the traveling he’s done, and he still thinks . . . She shook her head, and Edward straightened in his seat, wincing at the feel of her mentally closing the door on her thoughts as though guarding herself from some kind of monster. Why is it so hard for some people to accept other cultures and let them be?

 “Miss Weber.” Edward growled when the clipped tone of the teacher’s voice made Angela jump, the sound too soft to be heard by anyone other than his vampire siblings. “Mister Cullen,” the teacher continued as he looked up from the clipboard in his hand, dropping the edge of the paper he’d been holding up back in place as he looked up, taking off his plastic-rimmed glasses as he scanned the room. “Emmett Cullen,” he specified as he pointed to Emmett with his glasses before slipping them back on.

 Well, Emmett’s thoughts echoed in Edward’s mind, the sound of his brother’s voice breaking his concentration away from Angela. At least, I got paired with Weber. She’s not so bad.

 “You two will be partners for the next week,” the teacher said as the whispers and low tones of the students turned into a dull roar, the clock counting down to the end of the day. “Now, for those teams I’ve assigned with even numbers . . . People, please stop talking and listen!” The teacher looked across the room at his restless students and sighed. “For those teams with even numbers, please raise your hands,” he requested and waited as half the class raised their hands. “You will be working in defense of the actions taken by the townspeople of Salem, up to and including the deaths of all the victims of the Salem Witch Trials.”

 What’s with you, Edward? Alice directed her thoughts to him and Edward cast her a sidelong glance without turning his head. I don’t know if it was just an errant thought or not, but I had a split-second vision of you destroying Angela’s textbook. You know that would have scared the living hell out of her, right? And it’s not like you could have explained it to her, either. Edward sighed inwardly as he rolled his eyes, knowing Alice could see what he intended to say in response, her visions allowing her an almost subtle form of telepathy when they conversed. I know that’s why you stopped yourself and I wasn’t trying to harass you.

 Edward turned his head, fisting his hands against an incessant ringing in his ears. He knew it wasn’t from him, there wasn’t any sound he was hearing that could be causing it, but he could still hear it; he just didn’t know where it was coming from.

 It’s got to be from Angela, Alice said, her alto tones soothing against the high-pitched burn. You’re still listening to her, I can tell. What is it about her today that’s got you so focused? Edward shook his head, the movement slight as he narrowed his eyes on the girl seated a few desks in front of him.

 “Miss Weber.” Edward watched Angela look up when the teacher called her name. “You and Emmett Cullen will be acting as defense council for Giles Corey. And remember, the laws we have today didn’t exist back then. You’ll need to research the laws in the historical record from that time period.”

 I wonder what it’s like to be loved.

 Edward blinked at the thought that whispered through the girl’s mind, following her line of sight when he noticed her distraction. His lips turned up at one corner when he realized she was watching the gym teacher and school nurse standing in the quad outside, their body language speaking of a young couple in love. Edward frowned, his eyes narrowing as her thought whispered through his memory. Loved? She was dating Ben; he knew she was, so why didn’t she feel loved. And why did her thoughts sound so very . . . lonely?

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There is only a portion of the prologue that is shown here as the completed rewrite of the chapter has been donated as a compilation piece to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation. For a donation of $10 or more to the ACLU, Kids in Need of Defense (KIND), or a few other agencies that can be found by the address below, you can receive a copy of the entire compilation that includes works of 119 other authors of Twilight, other fandoms, as well as original works.

Twifandom News: https://twifandomnews.com/?p=2574

AN: Lucifer and all recognizable characters belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and FOX television. Set post 'A Good Day to Die'. (Written during the Spring break before the airing of 'Candy Morningstar') While some scenes may seem similar to scenes in, or after, Candy Morningstar, this story is not meant to follow the TV’s aired storyline, and is of my own creation. This story can also be found here on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705482/chapters/23713356

Summary: Unable to accept the guilt of the pain she had caused her son, she turned her rage on the one person she believed had caused it all. Charlotte may have promised Lucifer that she wouldn't directly harm Chloe, but she never said anything about not influencing someone else to go after the detective. If she couldn't kill the woman with her own two hands, just maybe she could make Chloe do it herself.

                                                   Ashes of Eden

                                                        Prologue

                                                     “Lost It All”

                                                by WhisperingWolf

  Lucifer nodded his thanks to Amenadiel, watching as his brother left the hospital room, and closed the door a moment later. He sighed as he turned back to look at Chloe. She was still unconscious, no one had told him if she’d woken since he had returned from Hell with the formula, only that she had been asking for him before. He stepped over to the area between the window and the bed, pulling a chair close to her bedside and angling it to see her face before he sat down.

She looked tiny to him, fragile, and he didn’t quite know how to handle that. Their first case together, she had been shot. But even then, when she had been lying in the hospital bed wrapped in bandages, she hadn’t looked fragile to him. Not then. But she looked so damn fragile now. He looked down at his hands as he crossed his legs, the tip of his tongue slipping out to wet his bottom lip. He took in a shaking breath as he tried to force back the storm of his emotions.

This time was so much different than her shooting had been. He closed his eyes as he lifted his head, his brow furrowing as he opened his eyes to look at Chloe. Back then, he had been closed off from his emotions. He hadn’t cared what anyone thought of him, but then she had come along. Detective Chloe Decker never had believed his claims that he was the Devil. She hadn’t slept with him and tossed him aside. He tipped his head as his brows rose and fell in a shrug. She hadn’t slept with him at all, not for his lack of trying.

Maybe that was for the best, he thought as he sighed. The emotions storming through him now were powerful enough in their own right, had they slept together, he was certain they would be that much stronger. He scoffed at himself as he shook his head and looked down at his hands folded on his knee. Chloe had gotten under his skin, and he had been blind to it until it had been too late. He closed his eyes as he thought back on their time together, his lips parting as he released a shaking sigh.

Father Frank Lawrence, he thought as his lips turned up in a bittersweet smile. That had been the first moment, the turning point between them. That was the first time he had ever felt the edges of this new emotion. He hadn’t liked it then, and he certainly didn’t like it now. He had thought it was anger, but it wasn’t. Anger was easier than this. Anger, he knew how to handle, but this – this aching pain that left him hollow and cold. It made him want to lash out at everyone, even while it left him unable to breathe.

He had felt broken the night Father Frank had died, blaming his own father for the death of the man. After what he had learned recently, he couldn’t help wondering if it hadn’t all been planned. A man who’d had a checkered past that had become a priest. A man with a love of the piano and a gift for rock and roll. The connection had been instant, once they had sat down at a piano together, that was. But then, to have him ripped away only minutes later? He closed his eyes as he clenched his jaw.

He looked up at Chloe, watching her sleep as he remembered the night she had come to him. Blues, jazz, rock and roll, even songs that were considered heavy metal that he was able to create piano versions for, that was what he chose to play. But for Chloe, he had found himself playing Heart and Soul, and why? Because it made her smile. He had never just watched her smile, he thought as he stared at her, he felt her smiles – each and every one of them.

She had soothed his pain, healing him and he had found himself steadied in her presence. He still remembered the look in her eyes when the song had come to an end and she had turned her gaze up to meet his. Whether he wanted to talk, or play something else on the piano, or simply sit in silence, it didn’t matter. She hadn’t come to him because she wanted anything from him at all. She had come to him because she had understood his aching need to not be alone.

Everything that had happened since that night had only brought them closer. And then, three days ago on the beach, he had finally told her why he wouldn’t pursue a sexual relationship with her anymore. He had bared himself to her, laying out the reasons that she deserved better than him, and instead of agreeing with him, she had kissed him. Even now, his lips still tingled with the feel of her kiss, the taste of her mouth. He could still feel the burn of her soul wrapping around his, pulling him closer, welcoming him in. He had expected the arousal that accompanied her kiss, but what he hadn’t expected was how deeply the embrace had shaken him.

His world had become richer, more vibrant. He would’ve done anything she asked, taken it slower, made love to her for hours. Before he could though, his mother had revealed the truth of Chloe’s existence to him. She wasn’t meant to be, his father had put her in his path, and the deep soul-aching pain that accompanied that truth made him question everything. The anger had come then, betrayal twining around it with the strength of a tornado. He had wanted to yell at her, to demand -

Lucifer took in a deep breath as he turned his eyes up to the screen of the heart monitor watching over her. He didn’t know what he wanted, only that he was so deeply hurt he hadn’t been able to think straight. But when he had confronted her, his world had been turned on its ear again. His sense of betrayal had turned into a fear so deep it had left him cold and shaken to his core. To discover she had been poisoned, to know there was no cure, no hope. The very real possibility that she would be gone from him had made him turn on his brother, only to realize that her death hadn’t been part of his father’s plan, and that Chloe had no knowledge of what she was. A miracle sent to destroy him.

His eyes flicked up to the heart monitor when he heard the tempo increase, only to turn down to her face when he heard her whimper in her sleep. His brows furrowed as he watched her, realizing that she wasn’t waking so much as she was having a rather unpleasant dream. He reached out to her, placing his hand on her arm as he spoke to her softly. He tipped his head in curiosity as he watched her calm to the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand. She sighed deeply a moment later, and he listened as the heart monitor slowed down once more.

He looked down at the feel of her fingers wrapping around his, and smiled sadly at the sight of her holding his hand. Smoothing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles, he promised her he wouldn’t leave until she woke, and slipped his fingers from her grasp. He wasn’t angry anymore, he thought as he watched her sleep. All he felt now was broken. He would give anything – absolutely anything – to know that what they had was real, but he couldn’t trust it. His father had put her here, and in doing so, he had very likely been tugging on the strings of her emotions. Turning her heart into some sick and twisted marionette, and Chloe had no idea.

As much as he couldn’t bear the thought that his father was behind all of this, the very real possibility that her emotions weren’t her own made it worse. How could he stay here knowing that she wasn’t free to feel what she wanted to feel instead of what his father made her feel? He had been the pawn between his parents from the very moment he had come into existence, he couldn’t let her suffer the same. Taking in a deep breath, he licked his lips and closed his eyes. All of this, every emotion, every memory, every part of this was made worse by the knowledge that his mother hadn’t sought him out because she wanted to get to know him. No, she had come to find him, did everything to forge a bond with him, for the sole purpose of manipulating him.

His guilt over Uriel’s death returned in the moment that his mother had revealed that particular truth to him. He may have killed Uriel to protect Chloe, but he couldn’t help the thought that his wayward brother had been right all along. Their mother was a danger to them all, and had he seen her for what she was in the beginning, then maybe – just maybe – his brother would still be alive. And maybe . . . Maybe he and Chloe wouldn’t have grown closer. And maybe he never would have learned the truth of Chloe’s origins.

He released a harsh sigh as he shook his head. He sought truth, he told the truth, but Linda had been right. The only person he was lying to was himself. Ignorance would never have been better. Ignorance would only have made his pain that much worse in the end. He had already made the decision to leave Los Angeles before he had come to sit beside her, but he realized now that it wasn’t just because of the pain and betrayal he felt at all his mother and father had done to him. It was because he owed Chloe at least that much. She deserved a good life, a happy life, and she would never get that with him in the picture.

Lucifer blinked as he pushed back his emotions, and looked up at Chloe’s face when the heart monitor began picking up rhythm. He watched as she breathed in deeply, her cheeks gaining a healthier color as she rose to consciousness. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened slowly, and he grinned in bittersweet amusement when he heard the whispered half-moan half-sigh as she turned her head. Her blue eyes met his, and he felt himself frozen under her stare, only to wish he could ignore all that he knew and felt when she smiled at him.

“Well, look who’s back,” he teased her, and returned her smile when she placed her hand on top of his. “You didn’t die after all, that makes one of us.”

“I heard you saved me,” she said softly. He smiled sadly as he felt the warmth of her soul reach out to him.

“As much as I’d like to take all the credit,” he told her with a shy smile and a teasing arch of his brow. “This one was a team effort.”

“You know, this whole poisoning thing has really put a pause in everything that’s been going on with you and I. So, should we just pick up where we left off?” she asked him, and he saw the hope in her eyes that made the ache in his chest return.

“I think, right now, detective,” he said as he stood from his chair. “You just need to focus on getting better.”

She nodded to him, catching his hand, and he looked down to meet her gaze. “Would you have someone bring Trixie in?” she asked, and he smiled sadly.

“Yes,” he agreed easily. “Yes, of course.”

“And we’ll talk . . . We’ll talk later, yeah?” she asked him.

He made a motion that was almost a nod, but not quite. He couldn’t speak. If he did, he’d have to tell her the truth, and he knew she wouldn’t understand. She’d either believe he was running from his emotions, or that there was something wrong with her. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if she believed there was something wrong with her. Even now, after all he had learned, she was still too important to him.

He left her hospital room a few seconds later, and released a heavy sigh when he stepped into the hall. Mazikeen was sitting outside the door with Trixie in her lap, both wrapped around each other. Dan had gone back to the precinct, having been called in on another case that wouldn’t wait, and he nodded to the door of Chloe’s hospital room when her daughter looked up at him. For the first time that he could remember, Trixie didn’t run to hug him. Instead, she slipped off of Mazikeen’s lap and ran for the door.

Lucifer tucked his hands in his pants pockets as he made his way through the halls and left the hospital. The late afternoon sun was blinding as he stepped outside, and just when he believed himself to be free, he heard her voice. The anger he felt surged bright and furious inside of him, only to be gone a moment later as the darkness of his pain returned. In that moment, he found himself wishing that she could feel even a tenth of the agony he felt. Maybe then she would understand what she had done.

“How is the detective?” Charlotte asked.

“She’ll be fine,” he said as he continued walking, wanting nothing to do with her.

“And?” she said, and he heard the sound her steps quickening as she stopped him with her hand on his arm. “What about the two of you?” she asked as she moved to stand in front of him, forcing him to give her his undivided attention.

He scoffed as he looked at her, anger and pained amusement warring for dominance inside of him. “Well, it was never real, was it?” he asked of her, hating her for all she had done.

“Lucifer, I am so sorry,” she told him, and he couldn’t silence the thought that her apology was yet another manipulation.

“Father brought her into existence just to put her in my path,” he said, wishing he could be angry at Chloe, but knowing he couldn’t.

None of the blame laid with her, it was all shared between his parents. He realized then that he had never been anything more to them than a pawn. To his father, he had been the one He could cast blame on, the one He could vilify, just so that He didn’t have to take any of the blame for the bad things that happened. Even Ella hadn’t thought what he did was bad enough to deserve being cast out.

‘What did he really do that was so bad? Rebel against his dad, and ask a naked lady if she wanted an apple?’

But to his mother, he thought as he stared at her. To her, he was nothing. Just a tool to be used in her war against his father. Maybe she should have let his father destroy him, he thought. At least then he wouldn’t have had to deal with the lies, the manipulations. All he’d ever wanted was to be accepted, and he’d found that with humanity. He’d found so much more with Chloe, only for all of it to be yet another of his father’s lies.

“Yes,” Charlotte said, and he felt his anger spark hot and fast as he stared at her.

“The whole thing’s been a sham, Mum,” he told her, wishing he was back in Hell just so that he could torture someone. “A long con,” he said with a wince of hatred for his parents. “And I fell for it.”

“Lucifer, you can’t blame yourself,” she said, and he wondered how it was possible for her to be so blind. “This is all His doing. And He should be punished for it,” she told him, and he knew then that she was still playing him.

“Oh, make no mistake, I plan on that,” he told her. “I mean how can I trust anything – anyone – now that I know He might be behind it all?”

“Well, you can trust me,” she said, and he felt his hatred for her burn inside of him.

“Can I, Mum?” he challenged her. “You’re as bad as He is, worse maybe. At least He doesn’t pretend to love me,” he said, and walked past her, only to be stopped when she caught his arm.

“Lucifer!” she called to him as she stopped him. “I do love you,” she declared, and he scoffed, laughing at the notion. “I went back to Hell for you. I helped save the detective for you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“It’s too little, too late, Mother,” he told her. “You set out to break my heart. Well . . . mission accomplished,” he told her, letting her see the true depth of his pain.

“Lucifer – ”

“No!” he denied her, stopping her when she reached out to touch him. “No more manipulations. This feud that you have going with Father, I refuse to be caught in the middle any longer. I am tired of being a pawn. So, no more. I’m done.”

She called out to him when he turned away, but he didn’t turn back. He couldn’t look at her anymore, couldn’t stand to be in the same space as her, let alone the same city. He had to get away. All of this, every part of it, it had all just been too much. He needed to return home to gather his things, and then he would leave.

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 Mazikeen looked up from the cup of coffee in her hands when she heard the door open, and met Dan’s gaze as he stepped out of Chloe’s hospital room. Trixie was asleep on his shoulder, the child worn out from the stresses of the day, and Mazikeen found herself jealous of her for just a moment. The ability to simply fall asleep and have the innocence of blind trust that told her she would be taken care of. If only her life were that simple, the demon thought as she stood from her seat.

“They’re keeping Chloe overnight,” Dan told her, keeping his voice low as he rubbed his daughter’s back. “I’m taking Trixie home with me. The doctor said Chloe will need to be on reduced activity for a while.”

“Do you have what she needs?” Mazikeen asked with a frown as she nodded to the sleeping child.

“No,” Dan said with a sigh. “I’ll need to pick up her school stuff, and clothes for her.”

Mazikeen nodded quietly, and turned as she led the way down the hall to the elevators. Stepping inside the metal carriage, she put her arm across the doors to keep them open and waited for Dan to step inside. Closing her eyes as she lifted her brows high on her forehead, she blinked quickly before reaching out to press the button that would take them to the ground floor. She frowned as she turned her attention on Dan, able to feel the heat of the man’s silent stare.

“What?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“With everything that’s happened, I didn’t even think to ask how you were doing,” he said, and Mazikeen looked away as she shook her head. “You live with Chloe, and as much as you may like to show a rough exterior, I know none of this was easy on you.”

Mazikeen sighed when she realized Dan wouldn’t let the subject drop, and shook her head before she met his gaze.

“I don’t know how I’m doing,” she told him honestly.

Mazikeen released a heavy sigh when Dan reached out to pull the emergency stop button. The bell rang, the shrill echo sounding around them before falling silent, but Trixie never stirred. That child could sleep through anything, she thought with a sigh, and turned to face the man next to her. She waited for him to speak as she watched him, her brows drawing together, and found herself struck speechless by the honest concern in his expression.

She was a demon, Mazikeen thought. She was the one who fought for and looked out for Lucifer, for Linda, and Chloe, and Trixie, and now Ella, too. She was the warrior, but here was Dan, and he was worried for her. She didn’t know how to accept his attention, and looked down as she nodded to herself, before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Chloe almost died,” she said simply. “I didn’t even know she was . . . until Lucifer told me his plan to save her.” She shook her head as she looked at the corner of the elevator behind him. “What Lucifer did, what I helped him do,” she said as she met his gaze once more, “I almost lost him, too.”

Dan nodded slowly. “You ever need anyone to talk to,” he offered as he reached forward to release the emergency stop on the elevator.

Mazikeen released a breath of amusement. “Thanks,” she said, and nodded before shaking her head. “But there’s a lot you wouldn’t understand. And as stupid as it might sound to you, I hope you never have to understand it.”

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 The sharp tone of the elevator’s bell rang as the metal carriage came to a stop, and Lucifer stood waiting for the doors to open. He bowed his head as he tucked his hands into his pants pocket, his eyes turning up when the doors slid open. This place had been his home for the past six years. He had been happy enough here, far more content than he had ever been in Heaven or Hell. There had been a moment not that long ago when he had almost lost this place. He laughed sadly as he stepped out into the penthouse. It had been Chloe who’d saved his home, doing everything with no price or expectation involved.

That was crux of it all, wasn’t it, he thought as he moved slowly to stand beside his piano. In the past year, his world had become about Chloe. From the first moment she stepped into LUX and spoke his name, he had been lost. The sight of her, the way her eyes watched him, the way the tone of her voice was as vibrant as she was, even her smell, he thought and shook his head as he closed his eyes. But none of it had been real. His father had designed her, put her in his path, and why? Because if there was one thing Lucifer knew better than anyone else, it was that he was his father’s favorite son for only one reason. His very existence gave his father someone to hate.

Lucifer sighed as he sat down at his piano. He would leave soon enough, but he couldn’t leave without one more song. At every point in his life here on earth that he had been ready to give it all in, his piano had brought him comfort. He needed that now, even if he was so numb that he could barely breathe. Lifting his hands to rest on the keys, he found that he couldn’t feel them, and pressed down only to wince at the unpleasant minor chord that resulted. He closed his eyes as the music came from him, the notes seeming to play themselves, his lips falling open as he took in air to sing.

“I ruled the world,” he sang, his voice soft and rough. “With these hands, I shook the heavens to the ground. I laid the gods to rest.”

Every moment had led him here, to this one moment of heartache so deep he was left feeling hollowed and frozen. The time he had spent in Heaven with his family, the years of cosmic creation when he had helped light the stars, only to realize the jealousy of his siblings. He hadn’t understood it then, why they were jealous. No one had told him that he was his father’s favorite, all he knew was that his wings had been pure and white, so much so that his siblings had touched them every chance they’d gotten.

“I held the key to the kingdom. Lions guarding castle walls. Hail the king of death,” his voice grew rougher, adding a deeper timbre to the notes as he sang.

He missed that connection, the stroking of his wings. But those days were long past and ground into dust. As a child, he had been the one to question everything. His mother had called it curiosity. His siblings had called it something else. But his father had been the one to call it rebellion. All he had ever wanted, as a child, was to understand his father. He wanted to know why God had created the earth, and other planets like it. Why had he created the humans, these creatures that looked like flightless angels.

These humans were flawed and careless. God had imbued them with free will, but they were blind sheep all the same. His father had insisted they could think for themselves, that in the end they would do what was right, but he hadn’t believed the same. Samael, the he that was before, had been brazen enough to challenge his father. He had asked him so many questions, and in the end, when the answers hadn’t been enough for him, he had gone to the humans to prove his father’s claims wrong.

Adam and Eve were supposed to be examples of freedom, but they knew nothing. He had truly believed that his father couldn’t claim these beings to be perfectly free and in command of themselves if they didn’t know anything at all. And so, he had offered the apple to Eve. He hadn’t forced her to take it, he hadn’t commanded her to eat the fruit, all he had done was ask her a question. Did she want the knowledge God had kept from her? It had been the beginning of the end.

“Then I lost it all,” he sang, his voice becoming stronger as his eyes stung with tears he refused the acknowledge. “Dead and broken, my back’s against the wall.”

He closed his eyes tightly, his face a mask of pain as the memory of being cast into Hell came into sharp focus inside his mind. The heat of Hell’s fire, the searing pain as his skin was burned and charred. The way he had screamed himself hoarse as his wings felt as though they were being torn from his body. Was it pride on his father’s part that had left his wings untouched by the fire? His feathers should have been charred, lost, but instead his wings had remained in perfect condition, while the rest of him had been melted and burned, charred and disfigured.

“Cut me open, I’m,” his voice broke around the words as he took in a breath to sing. “Just trying to breathe. Just trying to figure it out.”

His father had wanted someone weaker than him. He closed his eyes as he bowed his head, his mother’s words chasing themselves around inside his memory. ‘Your father didn’t send you to Hell. I did. He wanted to destroy you.’ Hell had been anything but empty when he had gotten there. He hadn’t been alone, and at first, the demons had taken great pleasure in torturing him. They had cut into his healing scars with their claws, beaten him until he had been broken.

His anger had risen fast and furious, his rage leading him to dominate the demons and lost souls. Mazikeen had stepped out of the shadows, neither wanting to tear into him, nor to comfort him. She had watched him for centuries, protecting him from the other demons. He hadn’t been certain what to make of her, and she hadn’t known what to make of him, and then he had learned that she’d been created to protect him. His father had cast him down to rule Hell, and in response Hell, as an entity of its own, had created Mazikeen.

“Because I built these walls,” the words fell from him, his tone heavy with grief. “To watch them crumbling down. I said, then I lost it all. Who can save me now?”

After all the centuries of pain, the endless torment. All the time spent learning that emotion was weakness and love would only get him killed, he had escaped Hell. He had run away, and why? Because he was so far beyond done with Hell, that all he’d wanted was a chance to live. A chance to be free.

“I stood above, another war. Another jewel above the crown,” he sang, paying no attention to the dampness of his eyes, or the hitch in his voice. “I was the fear of men.”

He had come to earth, living in the rush of sex and drugs. He had shown himself to the humans who’d sought to do him harm, or to harm those he called friend. The drug dealer who’d blackened the eye of one of his waitresses, and all because she’d been brave enough to help her friend get clean. The woman who had tried to show her affection for his bartender by putting his ex-lover in the hospital by way of a baseball bat. Each time, he had watched the worst of humanity fall apart in front of him at just the barest glimpse of his true face. His burned, disfigured flesh, and glowing red eyes.

“But I was blind,” he sang, his voice softening. “I couldn’t see the world there right in front of me. But now I can.”

He had met Chloe, and in the blink of an eye, everything had changed. From one moment to the next, he had found himself drawn to her. He had told himself it was because she had a dangerous job, and that he enjoyed teasing her. Both were true among themselves, but neither were his truth. His truth was so much richer, dizzying and frightening. Chloe made him feel. She didn’t simply arouse him, she made him feel all of the emotions he had ever closed himself off to, and as much as he loved her for it now, it had terrified him then. Maybe, it still did.

“Ye-e-e-e-ah,” his voice exploded with the fullness of the song as his hands came down on the keys of the piano with power and fury, the walls bringing the song back to him in waves and roars. “Because I lost it all.”

Chloe Decker had been his savior, and in the end, his destroyer. The longer time went on, the deeper he fell, until the faces of the women he slept with became a sea of hers. He had tried to get her out of his head, but she wouldn’t leave him. If only she would have torn into him, somehow sat in judgement of him for his sexual adventures, but she never had. Maybe it would be easier now, if she had. Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen in love with her.

“Dead and broken, my back’s against the wall.” He blinked, a single tear slipping down his cheek, thought he ignored it as he took in a deep breath, his voice wavering. “Cut me open . . . I’m just trying to breathe, just trying to figure it out. Because I built these walls,” he sang, his voice cracking as the pain he had denied himself rushed forth in a maddening storm. “To watch them crumbling down. I said, then I lost it all . . . Who can save me now?”

Lucifer’s voice cut off with a sharp bark of a sob, the song falling into silence around him. He clenched his jaw as he slammed his hands down on the keys in anger, the discordant sound reverberating through the penthouse. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t sit in this place and be surrounded by the memories of her. He would give anything, do anything just to be given the promise that the emotions Chloe felt for him were real. But he knew they weren’t. Chloe was as much of a pawn as he was, and he couldn’t bear to see her hurt because of it.

He pulled the cover down over the piano keys, and closed his eyes as he stood from the instrument. Pushing the bench in beneath the piano, he reached for the folded white sheet lying on top of the polished wood and flipped it out. The white cloth fluttered in the air before settling gracefully on top of the instrument, and he turned to look around one last time at the space in front of him. This had been the only true home he’d ever know, and now it was no more.

“Maybe I am a coward, Chloe,” he said as he looked around at the expanse of furniture and things covered in white sheets. “But I can’t say goodbye to you. I don’t think I’d survive it,” he admitted, and turned toward the bar.

Stepping around behind the bar, he lifted his bag from the floor, and scanned his eyes across the living space one last time. Moving to stand next to the piano, he placed his hand on top of the cloth covered instrument and smiled sadly.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

Turning to leave, he stopped and turned back with a frown, swearing he could hear Father Frank’s voice in the room around him. Shaking his head at himself, he moved to the elevator, and reached out to press the button. He turned around as he stepped into the elevator, his brow furrowing deeply as the memory of holding the dying priest flashed before his eyes.

“At first, I didn’t understand why God put you in my path,” Frank said, gasping for air, as he’d looked up at him. “But then it hit me. Maybe he put me in yours.”

“I highly doubt it, he gave up on me a long time ago,” he denied the man, fighting to keep the priest alive even as he’d felt the warm wetness of Frank’s blood soaking through his Armani jacket.

“You’re wrong, Lucifer. Remember, your father has-a has a plan,” Father Frank had whispered, his breaths coming in stunted gasps.

“My father,” he had said with some confusion, unable to believe the priest knew the truth of who he was. “You . . .you know?” he had asked, only to look down and find the man dead.

“Why them?” Lucifer whispered as he shook his head. “Why make me feel so deeply for them, only to rip them away? Do you truly hate me so much?” he asked as the elevator doors closed around him.

He closed his eyes as he rode down to the club, and took in a deep steadying breath as the doors opened. They were already here, his staff, dutifully setting up the club in preparation for it to open in a few hours. He released a heavy sigh as he stepped up the bar and watched as Patrick stopped to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, before Lucifer could say anything, his brows drawing together in a curious frown when the man nodded. “I kind of figured. Call it a gut feeling.”

“Keep her running,” he said in reference to the club.

“You got it, boss,” the part-time manager said with a slow nod. “Will you be reachable?”

“No. Maze can handle whatever you need. I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he said, and watched as Patrick nodded.

“Don’t worry, Lucifer,” he said with a bittersweet grin. “I’ll watch over them for you.”

No explanation was needed, Lucifer thought as he turned away and walked to the door that led into the alley. He knew Patrick was talking about Chloe, Ella, and Linda. The bartender had joked more than a few times that women had become his pride. Like a male lion on the savannah, three of the strongest women he’d met had flocked to him. They circled around him, supported and challenged him, and while only one of them had taken part in his carnal activities, all of them had chosen to stand by his side.

He would miss their teasing and jesting, even the awkward hugs from Ella. He imagined that she was what Trixie would be like when the girl was grown. All the strength and fire of her mother, paired with the open heart and easy love of Ella. It wasn’t until he was sitting behind the wheel of his car that he realized he would miss that small human, and he sighed as he laughed at himself. Turning the key in the ignition, the car came to life, his stereo repeating his goodbye back to him with the song that played on the radio.

“I said, then I lost it all. Who will save me now?”

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 It was nearing midnight when Mazikeen slipped into Chloe’s hospital room with a bag of clothes and necessities for the woman. She still wasn’t sure exactly how she had become so close with the detective, but had found herself shaken hours before when the possibility of losing both Chloe and Lucifer in one go had been all too real. Stepping toward the bed, she set the bag down on the floor, and moved to sit in the chair by the bed. Chloe had looked better before a few hours ago, Mazikeen thought as she studied her sleeping friend, but now she looked pale and worn.

Turning her head back toward the door when she heard it open, she watched as a young nurse walked into the room. She nodded to Mazikeen in greeting, and Mazikeen returned the gesture as she watched the woman check Chloe’s vitals. Narrowing her eyes when the nurse pursed her lips, Mazikeen frowned and asked her quietly what was wrong.

“It’s the after effects of the poisoning and the antidote,” the nurse told her. “It’s hitting Miss Decker harder than hit the other survivors, probably because of how close she came to the point of no return.”

“What do you mean?” Mazikeen asked, and met the woman’s gaze when she looked up from the chart in her hands.

“Nausea, vomiting, headaches, muscle aches, and vertigo,” she answered with an empathetic sigh. “For the other survivors, it was mild. For her . . . “

“But she was fine before,” Mazikeen argued with a frown of confusion.

“It takes about six to ten hours for the after effects to hit. It’s basically a result of her system detoxing from it all. She’ll be fine in a few days – a week – give or take, but we’re keeping a close eye on her,” she said, and leveled Mazikeen with an almost disapproving look. “Normally, I would have to kick you out. You’re here well past visiting hours, but an extra pair of eyes on her wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Her expression softened when Mazikeen shook her head with confusion. “She had another seizure a few hours ago. It may simply have been aftershocks, but we can’t be certain.”

Mazikeen snorted. “So, her assurances that she was leaving here in the morning?” she asked, and watched the nurse nod.

“Early afternoon at the best,” she said. “We’ve got a series of tests to run before we declare her fit enough to leave. And when she does go home, she needs at least two weeks of rest before she can go back on duty. Her body’s gone through Hell these past twenty-four hours, and she’s still got a lot of recovery ahead of her.”

“How close was she?” Mazikeen asked, and the nurse sighed.

“Another thirty minutes, and there would have been no saving her,” the nurse told her. “I’ve got to get back to rounds. Anyone tries to give you trouble, just tell them Jocelyn said you were good.”

Mazikeen nodded once, and turned her attention back to Chloe as the woman left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She wondered if Lucifer knew just how close he’d cut it with getting the cure, or how close he had come to losing Chloe for good. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she withdrew her cellphone, and frowned at the screen. There were no new messages from Lucifer, nothing at all since the early afternoon, and she sighed.

In a way, it didn’t surprise her that he wasn’t talking to her right now. Less than thirty hours ago, he had found out the truth of Chloe’s origins, only to find out minutes after that the detective had been poisoned. With everything that had happened, the Devil deserved a little downtime. They all did. Mazikeen turned her head back to look at the door when it opened, and arched her brow curiously when Amenadiel entered the room.

“How is she?” he asked in a low voice as he shut the door.

“Nurse said she had another seizure,” she told him. “Apparently, there are some unpleasant after effects she has to deal with.”

“I heard,” Amenadiel said, and looked back at the door. “Ran into one of the kids that was poisoned. He said Lucifer saved him. Walked right through poison gas like it was nothing.”

Mazikeen nodded quietly as she turned her attention back to Chloe. “A year ago,” she said softly, her voice tinged with confusion. “I wouldn’t have cared if Chloe died, or not. But now?”

Amenadiel nodded as he moved to stand beside her, and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re changing, Maze,” he told her. “We all are.”

“I’m a demon,” she countered quietly. “I don’t have a soul.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart,” he mused. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Lucifer?” Chloe called out as she stirred.

“Shh,” Amenadiel soothed her as he moved closer to take the woman’s hand.

“Lucifer?” she called again, her eyes still closed.

“It’s alright, Chloe,” he calmed her. “It’s Amenadiel,” he told her when she called out for Lucifer a third time.

“’Mena . . . “ her voice trailed off, his name only half formed as she slipped back into sleep.

“Part of me wanted to be resentful of her,” he confessed quietly, and looked down at his hand, Chloe’s fingers curled loosely around his. “I was angry at Father when I realized her origins,” he said, and smoothed the pad of his thumb over Chloe’s knuckles. “In some manner, I was jealous of Lucifer because in a way, God created Chloe for him. But . . . I never could be upset with Chloe.”

“You blame your father for that?” Mazikeen asked, and met Amenadiel’s gaze when he looked back at her over his shoulder.

“No,” he said with a thoughtful pout. “In all of this, Chloe’s innocent. She has no idea that she was created by Father. She doesn’t know that she singlehandedly holds the power to destroy Lucifer. And she doesn’t know that Lucifer gave her that power.”

“What are you talking about?” Mazikeen asked him, as she looked between the fallen angel and the woman sleeping in the bed.

“Everything both you and Luci told me, Maze,” Amenadiel told her. “He protected her from bullets when they first met. If Father had meant for her to have the power to destroy Lucifer, then he would have died with her in that music studio. She didn’t make him vulnerable for weeks. Not until . . .”

“Not until he became infatuated with her,” Mazikeen finished with a heavy sigh.

“Exactly,” he said, and stepped back to stand beside Mazikeen’s chair. “Luci fell in love with her, he just never realized it.”

“Until yesterday,” Mazikeen told him, and shook her head. “You should have seen him. He was so happy, practically glowing like some love struck human. And then your mother threw the knowledge of Chloe’s existence in his face. I watched him break.”

“And then she was poisoned,” Amenadiel finished with a sigh.

“What?” Mazikeen asked as she studied Amenadiel’s expression, his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.

“Uriel,” Amenadiel said simply. “He promised to kill Chloe and Mother. What if this was his plan?” he asked, and Mazikeen frowned.

“Lucifer killed him before he could press the key,” she denied, as she shook her head. “Uriel never started the pattern.”

“If there’s one thing I know – knew,” he corrected himself, “about Uriel, it’s that he would give you a false start. When we were young, he would tell us that a bird, or a plant, or a breeze was the start of one of his patterns, when the true start was something else entirely.”

“You’re saying Uriel lied?” Mazikeen said with mock offense.

“With the best of them,” Amenadiel said, his brow arched in annoyed amusement. “Uriel learned his gift for patterns from Mom,” he told her. “But once he got good enough at them, he began to see her as a rival. The wars, the plagues, the natural disasters, all that happened before Mom was locked up in Hell,” he said, and met Mazikeen’s gaze. “Those were little more than sparring matches between them. Mom was always better, but Uriel . . . He knew how to create a false pattern to distract you from what was really happening.”

“You mean?”

“I’m fairly certain Chloe was supposed to die,” he told her. “And if she had, I have no doubt that Lucifer would have turned on Mom.”

“He did – ”

“No, Maze,” he interrupted her. “I mean, Lucifer would have killed Mom with Azrael’s blade. How many times has Mom already tried to kill Chloe?” he reminded her. “Luci would have seen Chloe’s death as something Mom orchestrated.” Their attention turned to Chloe when she moaned, her eyes fluttering without opening. “Come on,” he said, and nodded toward the door. “We should let her sleep.”

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 “Detective - Chloe,” the nurse called to her in a cautioning and empathetic tone. “I know you want to get out of here, and I’m pretty sure I know why. That man who brought you in, I’ve seen him here with you before. He’s always by your side, and I can only imagine how much you must want to get back to him,” she said, and Chloe turned to meet her gaze as she sat down on the side of the hospital bed to pull on her boots. “But I must warn you, there are a lot of unknowns here.”

“I’m fine,” Chloe told her with a shake of her head. “I feel fine. Last night was just -” Chloe paused as she sighed. “I don’t know. An anomaly.”

“Not an anomaly,” the nurse countered. “The other two survivors of this poisoning experienced nausea, headaches, vertigo, exhaustion, even insomnia. The symptoms didn’t hit until ten to twelve hours after the antidote had been administered. But those patients didn’t come nearly as close to the point of no return as you did. Their symptoms were mild, yours may be worse. And they will abate for a time, but they will also come back stronger.”

“You brought me the discharge papers,” Chloe reminded her with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, but you’re also leaving against medical advice. You had more than one seizure last night,” she told her. “I would feel better about letting you leave if there was someone here to pick you up.”

“I’m fine,” Chloe insisted again, and stood from the bed. “I’m going straight home, and I’ll stay there all night, ok?” she offered the platitude.

“Nothing strenuous,” the nurse told her with a pointed stare. “At least for the next four days. And if you find yourself experiencing memory lapses, or more seizures, I want you to come back in. Chloe,” the nurse cautioned her when she donned her jacket, and Chloe met her gaze. “Another thirty minutes and that antidote wouldn’t have worked. The line got cut pretty close. Just be careful.”

“I will be,” Chloe promised, and offered her thanks as she left the room.

There was only place she wanted to be, and only one person she wanted to be with, Chloe thought as she reached for her phone. The battery was dead, but she would charge it in the car on her way to LUX. She smiled as she stepped into the elevator, pulling her keys from her pocket as it carried her to her destination, and smiled when the doors opened to the hall that would take her to the skywalk.

She looked down at the keys in her hand with an affectionate grin, and rubbed the pad of her thumb over the small piece of paper Lucifer had tucked into the threads of her keyring, the location of her car noted on it. Her poisoning had shaken him, she thought as she walked across to the parking garage. It had shaken her, too. But it had also brought everything into focus, and she had wanted nothing more than to be with him since the moment she’d woken up.

“I’m ready, Lucifer,” she whispered to herself as she made her way to her car. “I’m ready.”

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 Chloe took in a deep breath as she stepped into the elevator and closed her eyes. For the first time, in a very long time, she wasn’t afraid. From the moment she’d woken up in the hospital after collapsing at the party, to this moment now in the elevator, the only thing she had been able to think about was how much she wanted Lucifer in her life. Every time she had closed her eyes, he had been there in her mind, in her dreams. The night she had visited him after Father Frank had been shot, to the morning he had joined her for breakfast after Perry Smith’s trial, to the day on the beach when she had kissed him, every moment played through her mind on a loop until she had known, without a doubt, that Lucifer Morningstar was the one she wanted.

With everyone else, even with Dan, she had been guarded. There was a shield around her heart, strong enough to protect her from almost anything, but around Lucifer, that shield had been oddly absent. He had made her want to feel. He fueled her passion, encouraged her success, and stood by her even when everyone else was adamant that she was wrong. He made her feel safe, protected, desired, in a way that she had never felt before. The words he’d spoken to her on the beach came back to her as she leaned forward to press the button that would carry her up to Lucifer’s penthouse.

“You deserve someone worthy of you, and that isn’t me.” Lucifer’s voice sounded inside her mind when she closed her eyes. “You deserve someone better, because you, detective, are selfless to a nauseating degree. You always put your daughter first, even though the ungrateful urchin does nothing to contribute to the rent. So, you deserve someone worthy of that grace. Someone, who at every crime scene breaks your heart, even though you’d never admit it. Someone who actually appreciates your impossibly boring middle name – Jane. More importantly, detective, you deserve someone as good as you. Because, well, you’re special, and I’m . . . I’m not worth it.”

Chloe lifted her fingers to her lips, the feel of Lucifer’s kiss still tingling upon her skin. He had told her that he wasn’t worth it, and in the moment of his confession, she knew that he was. She had been waiting, hoping, that he would give her a sign that she was more to him than just another notch on his bedpost. What he had done, instead, was tell her that he loved her without ever saying the words. They had parted on the beach after their kiss because neither one had wanted to rush anything, but the case of Dr. Jacob Carlyle had gotten in the way of everything that had begun.

“I’m not scared anymore, Lucifer,” Chloe said to herself as she looked at her reflection in the brushed steel doors. “I was for a long time, but I’m not anymore. I always thought that I was just a game to you, a toy, but you proved to me that I wasn’t.” She nodded as she smiled and looked up as she blinked back the tears stinging behind her eyes. “You might be right, maybe I deserve better, but I want you. I want you, Lucifer,” she admitted out loud, and took in a deep breath as the elevator came to a stop.

Chloe released a slow deep breath as she closed her eyes and waited for the elevator doors to open. As nervous as she was, she also felt calm and confident. She and Lucifer had been building up to this for months, and she nodded to herself as she heard the doors slide open. She frowned at the darkness that greeted her, and called out Lucifer’s name as she stepped out of the elevator. This felt wrong, she thought as she looked around, and reached for the light switch. The penthouse felt empty.

Blinking as the soft white light filled the room, she stilled, her lips falling open as she stared at the furniture covered in white sheets. She called Lucifer’s name again as apprehension tightened around her heart, and walked closer to the piano, her breath coming in stilted gasps. She shook her head as she called for him again, and felt the room spin around her as she made her way to the couch. He was renovating, she tried to tell herself as she sat down on the couch, but even she was forced to admit the frailty of the thought.

There was nothing to renovate. No walls to be painted, no floors to be redone. His home was structured from glass and Italian marble, and ceramic tile polished to a mirror shine. Nothing was broken, or out of place. There was no need for him to vacate, especially not after buying the building back from Eleanor Bloom. When she’d had LUX marked as a historical landmark, Lucifer hadn’t simply bought back the club and the penthouse, he’d purchased the entire building. There was no landlord to kick him out, she reasoned as she leaned forward and propped her elbows on her thighs as she dropped her face into her hands.

He couldn’t be gone, she denied as she looked up, her hands steepled over her nose and mouth. She shook her head as she dropped her hands and stood from the couch, only to fall back down with a harsh exhalation. Her vision blurred as spots danced before her eyes, and she panted as she leaned forward. She blinked quickly when she lost her vision completely for a few seconds, and frowned in confusion when she heard Lucifer’s voice sound near her.

“Lucifer?” she called out, her voice soft and confused.

“Darling, you’re exhausted,” Lucifer said with amusement, his voice almost like an echo. “Lie down for a bit,” he said, and she felt a gentle pressure against her shoulder.

“Trixie,” she protested weakly, and pulled her feet up on the couch as the sheet draping the sofa fell down to cover her.

“You’ve already said yourself that’s she’s safe with her father,” he said, and Chloe released a harsh grief-stricken laugh.

“This is a memory,” Chloe said, her voice trembling as she laid down on her side, and pulled her knees to her chest. “It’s just a memory,” she whispered as consciousness slipped away.

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