Chapter Text
Contrary to popular belief, God never intentionally favored any of his children over the others.
And despite what some of his offspring believed, his affection for humanity didn't hold a candle to how he felt about his celestial creations.
But having feelings and expressing them properly were two skills that many never mastered even without the added struggles of omnipotence and a sinisterly abusive ex-wife.
Still, God could only shift so much of the blame away. He wasn't perfect by any means. He made mistakes.
Like favoring one of his children slightly more than the rest.
It wasn't a conscious decision. He loved all of his children equally, of that he was certain, but he liked some much more than others. Having coexisted with so many being for so many millennia, God supposed it couldn't be helped that he wouldn't enjoy every single one of his offsprings’ personalities.
He may have been a miracle worker (sometimes), but that fell outside the realm of plausibility - even for him. Unfortunately, it often seemed as though reconciling with his brightest creation was also out of reach.
Samael had always stood out amongst his siblings. His wings were the brightest of all his children's. His personality had always been too big for his body, and he was nearly bursting at the seams once his sense of humor and curious nature developed.
His ex-wife often complained about what a handful Samael was, especially when compared to his more subdued twin brother Azazel. While God had always struggled to care as strongly for Azazel as he had for Samael.
Long before Samael made the first stars for humanity, he made twinkling little lights to entertain himself. As an infant, God would often wake in Heaven to the sound of quiet, gurgling giggles from the nursery. He could still remember the very first time it happened. Azazel was sound asleep on his cot, facing the wall. Samael, on the other hand, was wide awake, surrounded by floating specks of light that danced around him.
God had watched him play and entertain himself for several moments before he was discovered by the ever-aware babe, who blessed him with the brightest smile to ever grace the lips of one of his children.
“Da!”
Samael had spoken early. He discovered his wings before the end of his first millennia, dozens of centuries sooner than any of his siblings. He was determined to spend time with his older siblings. He learned to fly long before God or Goddess felt was safe - and God was certain he'd done so that way his siblings couldn't leave him behind.
Azazel, as a result, spent more time with his mother than with his twin, which was another first amongst God's children.
When Samael and Azazel had two millennia to their names, Goddess became pregnant once more, and Samael became the first of his siblings to take big brothership seriously at such a young age.
While Raphael's healing powers strengthened and manifested with practice - primarily easing his mother's discomfort during pregnancies - Samael gained more control over his light.
He made two marble-sized balls of light that were cool to the touch, but Samael had done more than prevent concentrated light from being untouchable. He'd recreated his mother's light so perfectly that the two marbles changed color depending on how she felt.
They dimmed when she was unwell or sad, and before she would even know of her own suffering enough to ask for aid, God or Raphael would notice and heal what they could.
The Samael who called himself Lucifer only acknowledged his ability to make light. But he never realized that his father considered his gift a cousin to His own celestial abilities. His son was more like him than he would ever admit. As far as God was concerned, the two marbles of light his wife turned into earrings were his son's first intentional blessings. And he couldn't have been prouder of the caring, selfless nature of the act.
Once upon a time, Samael was a little angel who didn't want his mother and unborn siblings to suffer.
Now, he punished mortals who brought suffering upon the rest of their kind.
A noble but sad evolution, God supposed. Made sadder by how many of his son's actions were governed by spite rather than selfishness.
If he were braver, God would've been more obvious in his reconciliation attempts than sending Amenadiel to bless the Deckers. It wasn't that he feared his son's wrath, though he was wise enough to be wary of it, but rather that he was terrified of making things worse.
If he could undo their falling out, and Samael's Fall, he would. But his son wouldn't have as happy of a future if he did.
God watched, his chest tight with memories of Samael as an infant and child as Cain shot Chloe and Samael, despite his mortality, shielded them both with his wings. He knew the thought of Chloe being dead hurt more than the spray of bullets tearing through sinew and feathers and bone. Watching his son tremble from the shock of it all made his father murderous.
But Samael prided himself of punishing those who deserved it. So God made no move towards Cain. He watched his son drive Mazikeen's dagger through his chest, quickly sent Azrael to make sure Cain ended up in Hell, and sighed when he realized his son's suffering was far from over.
He'd given himself his “devil face” again, on accident. Because despite being one of God's truly good children, Samael had always been too hard on himself, and with his guilt came his scars.
His wings were still bleeding, even though he'd tucked them out of sight of mortal eyes.
Chloe was in shock.
SWAT and the LAPD would be there any moment.
God refused to let Cain ruin everything his favorite son held dear.
Lucifer's wings were visible again, but only to Chloe, and the angry red scars from Samael's fall vanished.
God itched to heal them permanently, but part of his son wore his scars proudly. He would give Samael the choice of keeping that face, though the reminder of his mistakes made God nauseous and achy with guilt.
Chloe's shock fell away as she pieced together why and how Samael's wings ended up in their current state and whispered his chosen name, bringing him out of his shocked and anxious stupor.
“Detective...I…”
“Lucifer, you're hurt .”
Samael didn't look back at his wings, assuming they were still out, and God made them invisible to Chloe when he made to ‘hide’ them.
“I'll be fine, Detective,” Samael began, but the rest of his words were interrupted by the arrival of the authorities.
Chloe took notice of the blood staining Samael's suit once the area had been deemed safe and made him sit against one of the pillars.
God vanished all broken bits of bloodied feathers and erased their existence from the mind's of everyone except for Chloe, Daniel, and Miss Lopez. The latter of the three blinked when the feather she's been examining simply vanished, and turned her gaze Heavenside.
He's not a method actor, is he, Big Guy?
God chuckled softly. “Nor is Rae-Rae a ghost, my dear.”
Ella's eyes widened in shock, no doubt because he answered her directly, but she quickly turned towards Samael who was losing consciousness as they waited for a medical team. God frowned and Ella abandoned her post and ran to his son.
“Hey hey hey, Lucifer! Stay awake, buddy, okay? You can't quit on us! And after this I swear if you refer to yourself as anything other than an angel, so help me God .”
Samael gave a small derisive grunt. “I assure you, Miss Lopez, that my father wouldn't be inclined to aid you in that regard.”
Ella's face fell. “Guess it begs the question why he's not helping you, huh?” she asked.
“I want to,” God said, this time letting Chloe and Daniel hear him, since the former was nearly hyperventilating in her worry for his son. “But I doubt he would appreciate me interfering any more than I already have.”
He felt Chloe's temper spike before her expression darkened. “I'd never watch my daughter suffer. Even if she hated me for helping. She's my child ! And he's yours!”
With another bittersweet chuckle, God conceded that the detective had a point. With a brief spread of his wings, he brought time to a halt and flew down.
His wings were away by the time the humans, and his son, registered his presence. The distrusting hiss from Samael was the least he expected, but it hurt all the same.
“Samael,” he began, faltering slightly at the snarl he received. God sighed. “I know you've decided to hate your name, and fashioned yourself a new one, but I will not address you by ‘The Devil's’ name,” he said. “Not because I don't respect your choice, but because I hate the persona humans have given you and I refuse to feed into it. I will not address the maker of stars by a mythical monster's name.”
“I am a-” Samael began, but his fury was too much for him in his weakened state and he gasped for breath, fighting blood loss and exhaustion. Always fighting.
“It is something of a comfort how little some parts of you have changed,” God said gently, taking a few steps nearer to the group. “You may think yourself a monster, but all I see is my Little Star.”
Pain, not from his wounds, flickered across Samael's face. “ Don't call me that!” he hissed.
God raised a brow, briefly taking note of his son's injuries and the status of his spirit. His light, weakened to make him mortal around Chloe, was dimming further.
“Sam then. Or Little Star. But I cannot address you as a monster - I won't. Even if you choose to go as one.”
Samael scoffed. “And I'm the proud one.”
God smiled slightly. “I don't refuse out of pride for myself. Pride for you , my son, and guilt for myself. But we can speak of this when you're well. You are very hurt and the human medics will take too long to get you in an ambulance. Let me heal you at least enough for them to take up the rest.”
The silence of the humans became oppressive while Samael stared at him.
“You're asking?” Samael wheezed. “For permission?”
God sighed at kneeled at the end of his son's outstretched legs. “I suppose I deserve your mistrust, even now. I've been rather passive about giving you cause to trust me again. But yes, son of mine, you may choose. You may not survive if you shun my help. As much as it pains me-” he glanced briefly at Chloe “-I know how much your free will means to you. Even to save you, I hesitate to simply take the choice from your hands.”
Samael swallowed hard, and the humans’ demanding he stop hesitating and accept his father's help fell on two sets of deaf ears.
“Why are you here?” his son asked.
God's eyes burned as he met his son's gaze and, without prompting, allowed his son to see his desires.
The look in Samael's eyes was not unlike a day long passed when his son had broken a wing playing a game he was too young for. Hurt and shame, misplaced then and now, distrust towards his siblings for tricking him into flying too fast and too high, was aimed at God. Eons prior, the same eyes had sought comfort and protection instead.
“Someone hurt my Little Star,” he whispered. “You've already punished the culprit. Now please let me heal you.”
His son didn't trust him. God knew that and felt the pain of it as sharply as he knew the pain in his wings was starting to affect his son. But Samael closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly all the same, to his father’s surprise.
“I don't want to die.”
God leaned forward and pressed his palm to Samael's forehead to heal some of his wounds.
“And I don't want you to suffer. I never should have,” God said quietly.
He vanished the bullets, shards of bone, and broken feathers from the wounds in Samael's wings. He painlessly removed all the feathers that sat jaggedly or otherwise not how they ought to have - a painless preening, so to speak. He left the bullet in his arm but numbed the pain of it, and lessened his pain and fatigue overall.
“Thank you,” God said. For letting me help. For trusting me even for just a moment. “I will give you space now, if you wish it. But I'm watching and I want to check your wings again once you've gotten to the hospital.”
A weak nod was all he received, and Samael refused to meet his gaze.
The burning in God's eye reignited. “Call and I will come. No favors or debts owed.”
He reluctantly returned to the Silver City in an instant, before any of the humans could direct another spoken word towards him, and time resumed on Earth.
Chloe, Ella, and Daniel tried not to bombard Samael with questions, but the few they asked went unanswered. His son was pensive the entire ride to the hospital, long after his one bullet-wounded arm had been tended to.
“You don't have to tell me everything now,” was the first thing Chloe Decker told Samael once he was allowed to have visitors. “But I need to know if you're okay. And if you're not...I'm here for you. You can talk to me, Lucifer.”
“Is he making you unafraid?” Samael asked.
“No,” said Chloe. “How could I be afraid of you? I know you. I'm a bit freaked out by the situation, sure, but that's mostly shock over the fact that you were never speaking in metaphors. God and heaven, hell, all of it’s real. That’s...a lot.”
“I've never lied to you.”
“I know.”
Chloe pulled up a chair at sat at Samael's bedside. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because of your dad?”
Samael shrugged with his unharmed shoulder. “I haven't seen him since…”
“...the fall? Did that really happen?”
Samael chuckled, the watery sound aimed at his lap. “Oh yes, darling. How else would I have gained my other face? It was an epic row of biblical proportions.”
“But you were close before that, right? He has nicknames for you. Like I do for Trixie.”
Samael's shoulders hunched and shook. God couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. “My birth name is almost lost in history, yet the most popular story of me was immortalized in a blood nursery rhyme.”
Chloe's eyes widened. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?!”
Samael shrugged again, only this time he forgot about his wounded arm, and winced as a result. “I liked playing hide and seek as a child. It was a challenge to hide, especially from Him, since...well, you ve seen the bloody things now. My wings are particularly difficult to overlook. My...my father wrote that song. I presume he gave humans the melody at some point. I assumed he was mocking me by doing so.”
“Lucifer, I don't pretend to understand God, especially considering I didn't believe anything about the bible was real a few hours ago, but nothing about his body language struck me as mocking or disappointed earlier.”
“He can be a right manipulative bastard when he wants to be, Detective.”
“Yet he kneeled at your feet and begged you to let him heal you.”
“I'm still trying to understand that part.”
“I couldn't imagine fighting with Trixie and never making up, Lucifer. He's your father . Surely he loves you.”
“Did he love me when he cast me out of my home the one time I truly asked him for anything, Detective? When all I wanted was the right to make my own choices? Did any of them love me as they watched me fall, watched me burn! It's been millennia and the past few years have been the most I've seen of my family since that day.”
“Well, if you are all immortal, then it kind of makes sense why it would take eons or whatever, right? Time passes differently for you all?”
“They knew where to find me. They chose not to. Not until I left Hell and lobbed off my wings and decided I had no intention of following any of His bloody rules anymore.”
“Sounded to me like he respected your choice to do so.”
“He sent Amenadiel to drag me back to hell, Detective. Amenadiel, who revived Malcolm, and you know how that turned out.”
Chloe faltered at that and frowned. After a moment, she took Samael's hand. “I don’t have the answers for all that. And I'm not trying to excuse whatever your father has done. But his actions today don't line up with much of that. Maybe you should ask him. He said to call for him if you needed anything.”
Samael squeezed her hand, but fell quiet. “I don't want to. Being disappointed and betrayed by my father once was...more than enough, thank you.”
“You don't want to mend things and have them fall apart again.”
“No. Or even hope for it.”
God hung his head, barely aware of the tears burning down his cheeks. Tears that began when he left his son's side. And Chloe Decker, who was also crying for his son's pain, turned a withering glare to the sky.
He'll never ask for you and I think you know that. Just because he won't swallow his pride doesn't mean you don't owe it to him to swallow yours and fix the mess you two made.
“My son has no desire to listen to any of the things I wish to say,” he told her. “And as you can see, he's not recovered or forgiven me for forcing my will on him last time.”
That's because you took your anger out on your son and didn't think before you acted. You've had time to think. Doing what he needs and losing your temper are very different.
Once again, The Miracle was correct.
“You are similarly wise to my son's therapist, Miss Decker,” said God. “Would it be too much to ask that you make sure my presence is at least tolerated before I drop in? Samael is fond of his privacy and choices, as I'm sure you're aware.”
Chloe told Samael that his father wished to speak with him. And that she was struggling not to tell him to go to hell, which made his son smile. But the knowledge that he was still watching over him made Samael stiffen all the same. God's chest ached.
He tried to think back to games of hide and seek in the garden to ease the pain, but only succeeded in making it worse.
“I suppose this is fair,” he said when he landed in the hospital room. “The pain of your distrust has been a close companion of mine for some time now. It's a fair punishment and you're not even doing it out of spite. Isn't that what you've always wanted - for me to hurt as I hurt you? Revel in it, if it makes you less unhappy, son.”
Samael didn't respond. Chloe Decker gave him a hard look.
God sighed. “I'm not mocking you, Samael. If rejoicing in my torment brings you peace and a sense of justice then rejoice, for your sake and mine.”
“I don't know what I want you to feel,” Samael muttered. “I scarcely know what I feel.”
God didn't move from his spot against the wall - he was as far as he could be without making it difficult for Samael to look at him if he chose.
“You have every right to be upset with me,” God said. “I've been upset with myself since the full weight of what I'd done sunk in.”
Samael scoffed. “And how long ago was that? This morning?” he sneered.
God blinked away tears as the unwanted memory of his son engulfed in flames came to the forefront of his mind. “No,” he said softly. “Your...your wings dimmed as you fell. As the fires caught you.”
Samael's eyes were blazing with his light- not the light of hellfire like his son often believed - when he finally aimed a glare at his father.
“What in my name did you bloody well expect to happen when you threw me down!?”
God tried to hold his gaze, but shame won out and he stared at the floor instead.
“I...I didn't realize that your wing was…” he swallowed stiffly. “I honestly expected you to fly back up and keep arguing with me. I didn't realize you'd gotten hurt in all the fighting. You were nigh indestructible by then, Samael. I...forgot that I wasn't battling a true equal in power.”
“You never considered any of us equal to you!”
God forced himself to meet his son's eyes again. To let Samael see his tears and his pain. “How could I have considered you anything but my equal after all of your input, help, and insight while we worked on humanity? Who lit the universe I created, Samael? Who realized that the only way to make humans consistently stable was to give them souls as we have? Who realized the bad eggs were an inevitable design flaw and helped me design a fitting punishment for those who deserved it?”
God took a deep breath and sighed, using the back of one hand to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. “You're the only one who helped me create humanity, Samael. The others simply helped me govern it. You know that.”
“Fat lot of good being the favorite did me.” The waver in Samael's voice felt like a knife. “You still let me fall.”
“I was in shock,” said God. “It's a worthless excuse, but it's true. I saw forks emerge in your path the moment I realized your wing was broken. You would be happier at the end of millenia of suffering than if I'd gone back on an ill-timed decision and saved you. Even if your happiness excluded me, I wanted you to find it.”
He looked at their silent audience member of one, then back to Samael.
“You've found a chunk of it,” he said softly. “I didn't realize I'd be directly responsible for her existence until moments before I sent you brother to bless her parents. I promise you I've had no major influence on anything else. Except for preventing her from dying a few times and thwarting your siblings’ attempts to make you return to hell.”
“Attempts they claim were your will,” Samael grumbled.
God raised a brow. “Only one of my children has never felt the need to make assumptions and perform tasks I never directly asked him to do. The others have decided there's some sort of favoritism vacuum left that one of them needs to fill. There isn't. We've been estranged, but you were never gone in the sense they seemed to enjoy pretending you were. I blame your mother's influence on that particularly unhealthy bit of sibling rivalry.”
Some of the armor behind Samael's eyes broke away, replaced by more hurt. “Did she lie to me?” he asked. “She said you wanted to destroy me.”
God felt bile burn the back of his throat, briefly remembering the smug Checkmate that his ex-wife had sent in his direction all those months ago.
“Is that what she told you?” God whispered. “Heaven above, Samael, even at my angriest I never wanted to truly do you harm. I still ache for your little brother despite his undoing being his own fault, as far as I'm concerned, and Uriel was, admittedly, one of your more annoying siblings. Even I couldn't have gone from loving you to blatant, murderous apathy over one frustrating bout of teenage rebellion, Samael. I wanted you to learn a lesson and not the way it played out. I didn't want you dead. ”
“But...Mum-”
God inhaled sharply, piecing together what had happened with his ex-wife as he glanced back in time to events he hadn't watched over.
“Your mother...changed after the last of your siblings were born,” God said quietly. “I didn't recognize how drastic the changes were. For the sake of simplicity, let's say she developed a case of celestial postpartum...well psychosis really. Her personality started to warp entirely. She pretended to be her old self more often than not. She started being cruel to some of your siblings when I had my back turned. When I discovered it, I started to punish her, but in ways that wouldn't draw your attention. I didn't want our fighting to affect my children more than it already was.
“She retaliated by attacking humanity. But she specifically tried to destroy your contributions and she wanted you to think I'd done it. She made the first black holes. I tried to counter them by making new, rarer types of stars, but by then, you'd begun to rebel. I sent your mother hoping, forgetting that you didn't share all of my gifts - which I did often, you always knew my thoughts - you'd realize her offenses against you.”
Samael's eyes were glassy. “You...sent Mother to hell so I could get revenge? She... She broke my stars? I thought-”
The words caught in his throat, and Samael chose to stare at Chloe's hand in his own instead, his fingers gently stroking hers.
God swallowed uncomfortably. “You thought I did it. To spite you.” He sighed. “I understand why. But I've never broken one of your stars.”
“Mum has.”
The mood-marbles.
“I remember,” God said. How his little angel had cried when he found the broken pieces of his stars on the kitchen floor.
Samael's shoulders began to shake again. “W-why now?” he asked. His voice trembled. “It's been millennia. Why now?”
God waited to answer until his son's pained gaze met his own, and smiled sadly.
“I guess I didn't feel like I deserve your forgiveness,” he answered. “I'm still not sure that I do. But the desire for it has started to overpower the guilt.”
He paused, pretending, for the sake of his son's pride, that he couldn't see his tears.
“Tell me, Samael,” he said softly. “Have we grown drastically different from one another, or does our catchphrase still hold true?”
An exhale of a half laugh left Chloe, the first sound she’d made since God joined them on the human plane. “Like father, like son,” she murmured, giving Samael an empathetic, encouraging smile.
A broken, choked sob left God's favorite son.
He left the wall before his desire to move registered. The bed railing in his way slid out of place a moment later, and God sat at his son's side. Hope built up in his chest when Samael reached for him, the pressure suffocating, and he held his son. But he was gentler than he preferred, mindful of the pain in his son's back.
“Let me heal your wings.”
Samael nodded against his shoulder.
Again God ignored the wound on his arm, mindful of the humans who knew he had a bullet wound. But he did take away as much of Samael's pain as he could. The fatigue would have to heal naturally.
God managed to catch a few words amongst the sobs his son tried to withhold. Millennia of pent up longing, shame, hurt, and betrayal, left to fester due to God's own shame and cowardice.
It took a few moments of holding his son and listening to make out what he was trying to say.
I never wanted to fight.
I just wanted you to listen.
I wasn't trying to be disrespectful.
I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry.
“You don't owe me an apology, Samael,” he whispered. “I lost my temper. Among other things. I found out after the fact that your mother meddled as well. Made the situation worse. I think she knew hurting you was the most certain way to hurt me, second only to making me hurt you myself. I am the one who should be sorry. You, Samael, were forgiven and my anger forgotten the moment I realized your wing was broken. I'm sorry that the shock of it all made me immobile. And I'm sorry that your happiest possible future could only be reached through a path of torment and suffering. If I could have given it to you without that, I would have…”
God held him tighter.
“I know better than anyone that you of all my angels didn't deserve what you've gone through. You haven't lived a day without my love, Little Star, and you never will.”