Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The penthouse lights shine down on gleaming celestial steel sitting atop Lucifer’s piano as the Devil speculates about what to do with Azrael’s Blade. After the last two days of chasing this bloody thing down before any more human lives could be taken, throwing it into the sun is most appealing option. There is no actual blood on the blade, not anymore, anyway, but Lucifer’s imagination sees the layers of it building up—Uriel, several humans, Jensen Glory, even a bit of his own, thanks to Detective Douche. All because his mother wants his father’s attention.

As bloody if.

Lucifer has spent eons trying and failing to get a response from God. Either the bastard can’t hear them or he’s ignoring them. If God were going to show up, one of his children killing another in cold blood would have been the time, surely. Now Mum is learning the harsh truth Lucifer has known for eons: God doesn’t care.

Lifting a crystal tumbler to his lips, Lucifer forces back the memories of himself and Uriel. What he was forced to do that night. But no matter how he tells himself he had no other choice—that it was Mum’s and Chloe’s lives or Uriel’s—he isn’t sure he believes it. There is always a choice.

So what would you have done? How else would you have stopped him?

Well, Lucifer doesn’t know that, either. No matter how he replays that night, somebody loses their life.

Perhaps it should have been me.

With a sigh, Lucifer turns away from the blade towards the balcony, intent on taking his dark contemplations into the fresh air. His ears prickle with the sound of the lift being called downstairs. Though he isn’t sure he’s quite in the mood for entertaining this evening, perhaps a distraction would do him good. Something to take his mind off celestial matters for a little while.

A jolt of panic rushes through him. If there is a human in that lift, Azrael’s Blade is right there in the open; it will call to them and the stabby town cycle will begin anew.

“Not on my bloody watch.” Setting aside his tumbler, he grabs the blade instead, hiding it behind his back in time for the lift doors to slide open with a soft chime and reveal—

“Detective! This is a lovely surprise!” Lucifer calls, genuine delight rushing through him. Seeing Chloe under any circumstances always improves his mood, even if just a little. “What brings you here?”

The Detective’s jaw is tense and her eyes have that steely determination she usually reserves for cases. “We need to talk,” she says seriously.

Lucifer’s eyebrows furrow. “O-kay,” he says slowly. “Can I get you a drink, darling?” Or better yet, can this wait? But he doesn't ask.

She shakes her head. “I want to know why you were acting so weird on this case, Lucifer.”

“Ah.” Behind his back, his fingers twitch around Azrael’s Blade. There’s a faint ringing in his ears he can’t place that makes it a little difficult to concentrate on everything, let alone his own thoughts. “Yes, well, I do apologize for my...strange behavior, Detective. I assure you it was a matter of the utmost importance.”

Chloe takes a few steps closer to him. “Look, Lucifer, you have to know by now that you can talk to me if you need to,” she says earnestly. “We’re partners. But more importantly, we’re friends. Right?”

Taking in her slightly uncertain look, Lucifer smiles as his heart does that odd flipping thing it only seems to do around her. He isn’t sure if it’s his vulnerability near her or something else, but he likes it. Quite a lot. “Yes, of course we are, Detective,” he says softly.

The ringing in his ears is getting louder, more insistent on being heard, and there’s a faint whispering, too low for him to make out the words. He tilts his head, trying to hear it better.

“Lucifer. You okay?”

“I...” Straining his ears, he frowns—if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was...Uriel’s voice. But that can’t be. Uriel is dead. Lucifer made sure of that.

Not just dead, brother. You erased my soul from existence. No Heaven, no Hell, just gone.

“Detective, can you hear that?” Lucifer whispers, his heart racing. He can feel the blood drain from his body.

Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Hear...what?” she asks carefully. “Lucifer, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t— You can’t hear the whispering?”

My blood is on your hands, Lucifer. And so is the blood of all those humans. The blade never would have been released to humanity if you hadn’t killed me.

That...is true, he realizes. All of this, it was entirely his fault. He wasn't quick enough to find the blade when it was released amongst humanity, and he failed to find an alternate solution to Uriel being on Earth.

Another voice joins Uriel’s, this one far more familiar—his own.

You’re a monster. You’ve always been a monster. Dad knew it when he created you. Why else would he name you ‘poison’?

“Lucifer, talk to me. What’s going on?” That voice is more welcome, cherished, even, but it’s so far away, he can barely hear it.

There’s only one solution to deal with monsters. You know what it is.

Yes. He does. From behind his back, he brings Azrael's Blade into view, unable to pick up on Chloe’s gasp beneath the din of voices in his head.

Monster

Defective

Burden

Unworthy

Guilty

Murderer

“Lucifer!”

The blade really is quite remarkable. From the bone white hilt to the gleaming steel...and the deadly sharp point at the end. He knows from experience how easily it slices into celestial flesh like it's hot butter—and with the Detective here, it will be even easier. Just one thrust into his heart and the monster will be destroyed for good. The agonizing pain he’s spent eons burying will be at an end. Win-win. And another win after that.

In his mind, he watches himself throughout time—all the crimes he’s guilty of. The rebellion in Heaven that led to so many injured siblings and left one dead; he may not have ended that life, but he is responsible. The chaos that followed, ultimately resulting in his banishment to Hell.

Every dead soul whose Hell Loop he oversaw with an apathetic eye, too useless to help them overcome their guilt. He is the reason for their continued suffering.

The demons who got in his way during a foul mood; the ones he destroyed with a blade or his wings or even his bare hands.

The human lives on Earth that he’s destroyed through favors or deals.

Delilah’s death was his fault. He introduced her to that human stain, Jimmy Barnes. And it nearly cost Chloe her life, too.

Lucifer should have protected Father Frank, one of the first true friends he ever made.

If he’d never left Hell, he would have known when Mum escaped and could have stopped her fleeing for Earth.

Uriel. Everything that happened with Uriel was Lucifer’s fault from him coming to Earth in the first place after he made a deal with Dad to protect Chloe, to Chloe’s car accident, to the church.

Hot blood spills over his hands as he stares down at his brother’s empty shell.

“He was my brother. What have I done?”

Chloe watches fearfully as Lucifer mutters to himself, a familiar looking dagger in his hand. She’s pretty sure it’s the missing murder weapon for the case. And she will deal with that, right after she stops Lucifer from pointing it at himself.

“He was my brother. What have I done?” Lucifer whimpers, his chest heaving for breath.

She has no idea what’s happening right now, but after several minutes of trying to get his attention, she’s sure of one thing: Wherever Lucifer is right now, it isn’t with her. Not mentally, anyway. PTSD flashback, maybe? Dissociation? She knows there is massive trauma in his past, but she doesn’t know enough to help him. Should she call his therapist? Does Chloe have enough crisis training to get through this? Preferably without anyone bleeding...

“Lucifer?” she says gingerly, eyes darting warily from his face to the wickedly sharp blade in his hand. “Lucifer, listen to me. You’re safe. You’re at Lux, in the penthouse. Everything is okay.” She keeps her distance. Even though she knows Lucifer wouldn’t hurt her intentionally, he doesn’t seem to be in his right mind at the moment. He could lash out at any second, believing his memories are real. And Chloe is the only other person here.

An inhuman snarl rips from Lucifer’s chest and his eyes, locked on the blade, turn crimson. Chloe gasps, eyes widening as she takes an involuntary step backwards. If that wasn’t enough, his face changes next. No longer is she looking at the handsome face she’s come to know and care so deeply for; his hair recedes into his scalp, his skin crackles and melts, tiny flames dancing across his face; it scars and turns red so dark it’s nearly black in some places. He looks like the world’s worst burn victim, and she can no longer deny the truth.

Lucifer is the Devil.

The Devil is real.

It’s all real.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes, frozen in terror as she stares at the Devil before her. Heart pounding, she tries to work her feet—to run—but she’s paralyzed.

“I’m a monster, a murderer,” he growls, slowly lifting the blade. Chloe whimpers—is he going to use that on her? But he turns the tip towards himself, aiming it at his heart. “All killers must be punished.”

The words click in her mind, like a switch resetting a computer. Lucifer said those words to her not long ago, just before Halloween when she knew something was wrong, but he wouldn’t talk to her. She’d been so worried for him, unable to figure out how to help. And then he stepped into the scope of a sniper.

Just like that, she pushes back her fear of the Devil. This is her partner, her best friend, and he’s about to do something horrifically terrible.

Save Lucifer from himself now, Chloe. Existential freakout later.

“Lucifer! Lucifer, don’t!” she cries, leaping forward to grab his arm. She needs to get that blade away from his chest. Away from him. She looks up into those unfamiliar crimson eyes full of fire (has she seen this face before?), searching for any sign of the Lucifer she knows—all she sees is fire and self-hatred so deep it makes her ache. But even with all her weight behind it, his arm doesn’t budge; it’s like trying to pull a mountain.

“Lucifer, please, listen to me!” she begs, tears stinging her eyes the closer the blade gets to his chest. “You’re not a monster!”

“I am,” he snarls, his teeth bared.

Chloe shakes her head frantically. “No, you aren’t! I don’t know what happened, but whatever you did, I know you had a good reason for it. Because you’re a good person.” But from what he’s been muttering—“I’m a murderer”—she thinks she gets the picture. “You’ve spent a year helping me put bad guys in jail, Lucifer. You sponsor student scholarships. And—and you don’t sleep with drunk women.” She starts reeling off all the good things she’s seen Lucifer do in the last year, big or small, it doesn’t matter. Anything to get through to him.

Tears are streaming down her face as the blade continues to inch closer. Her shoes are skidding across the Italian marble floor as Lucifer pulls her closer with her arms still wrapped tightly around his. “You are the best partner I have ever had, Lucifer!” she cries out. “And you’re my best friend. Please don’t do this!”

The hairless brow above Lucifer’s eyes furrows. Chloe stumbles slightly when he stops pulling her, and the blade, closer. “What?” he whispers, sounding more like himself than he has in minutes.

“You’re my best friend,” she repeats desperately. “And I know in my heart you’re good. Our pasts don’t define us, Lucifer. Neither do our mistakes. Whatever happened, you’re more than one mistake or even a hundred mistakes.”

Lucifer blinks. Is this the first he’s blinked in all this time? When it seems like he isn’t intent on stabbing himself, Chloe takes one hand off his arm, cradling his roughened, scarred cheek with it instead. A look of longing rolls across his expression and he leans into her touch, as if he can’t help himself. His eyes close and when they open again, they’re on Chloe, not the blade.

“Detective,” he whispers, anguished.

Relief like she’s never felt floods through Chloe’s body. She smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. Your Detective,” she whispers back soothingly, as if he's a scared wild animal. “I need you to put down the blade, Lucifer. Please.”

Looking faintly bemused, he glances down at his hand as if he is only now realizing what he’s doing. He freezes. “Detective, back away, please,” he says quietly, looking from the blade to her. Chloe thinks there’s panic in those crimson eyes. “You can’t be near this blade.” His brows furrow again. “Was I...?” He shakes his head, taking a step away from her.

But the moment he breaks the grip she has on his arm, he seems to start fighting his own mind again. His lips curl in a snarl and she thinks she’ll have to make another grab for him. This time, though, he doesn’t fall into whatever trauma or flashback he was just reliving. His muscles are so tense that he’s trembling. As if he’s fighting a losing battle.

While he’s preoccupied, Chloe makes her move. She steps forward carefully, eyes darting from his face to the blade. Biting her lip, she knows she has to pick the right moment—she only gets one shot at this. And Lucifer’s life could hang in the balance.

Lucifer’s grip slackens slightly, just enough that she can grab the hilt.

“Detective, no!”

Chloe’s fingers tighten around the hilt and she stares, mesmerized, at the gleaming steel. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. A musical note begins to ring in her ears drowning out...whatever Lucifer is yammering on about now.

Her stomach twists. Lucifer. Her supposed partner and best friend who spent this entire case going behind her back. Not to mention all the whispering and smiling at Ella. He’s Chloe’s partner—not Ella’s. Yet he betrayed her on this case. The evidence is right here in her hand. Chloe had been chewed out by the Lieutenant for losing the murder weapon and Lucifer had it the whole freaking time?

A memory replays in her mind. Walking into the dimly lit penthouse to find her Lucifer hugging Ella.

He betrayed you, the voice whispers. He deserves to pay for that.

He does deserve to pay for that, doesn’t he?

A low growl builds up in her chest, escaping her lips. She lifts her eyes to Lucifer, no longer looking like the Devil but the partner she’s known for a year.

He’s kept that secret from you, too. You’ve been working alongside the Devil all this time and he didn’t trust you enough to tell you.

More betrayal.

“How could you?” Chloe growls, stepping towards Lucifer.

Lucifer holds his hands out in front of him, trying to ward her off. “Detective, listen to me carefully,” he says slowly. “This isn’t you. It’s the blade. You must believe me. Please trust me and put it down.”

“Trust you?” she snarls. “How am I supposed to trust somebody who keeps secrets from me? Who hides from me? Who lies to me!”

His eyes widen. “I wanted to tell you the truth,” he says almost pleadingly. “But the last time I told someone I care for, it didn’t go well. Detective, I-I-I didn’t want to lose you when you learned the truth. I’ll explain everything, darling, but please, put down the blade.”

With a furious roar, Chloe lunges for Lucifer.

Chapter Text

The Devil’s mind is in overdrive, focusing on too many things at once. Buried beneath everything else, he can still hear those faint whispers, remnants from Azrael's Blade hooking its claws into his mind. The accusations. The guilt. The need to punish himself. Lucifer blocks it all out for now in light of more important things.

At some point, he summoned his Devil face. The visage he uses to punish the guilty. That in itself isn’t a problem, but the Detective bore witness to it. Chloe watched his face change from devastatingly handsome to devastatingly horrific. Which means, she knows the truth now. She knows she’s spent the last year working alongside the Devil himself. What will this mean for their partnership? Their friendship? She may have called him her best friend whilst talking him down from suicide by smiting, but is that still the case?

Then there’s wondering why Azrael’s Blade called to him at all. He is the Devil, a fallen archangel. He’s celestial and the blade only affects humans. The only theory he has at the moment is that his vulnerability in Chloe’s vicinity has a much further reach than he believed.

But all of that pales in comparison to Chloe having the blade of death in her hands now. Lucifer watched her expression shiver from the woman he would know anywhere to one he doesn’t even recognize. Her eyes darkened, filling with hatred and rage as he tried to convince her to put it down. After all, if Detective Douche could fight the blade’s pull, it should be no match for Chloe, right?

Wrong, apparently. Whilst he knows Chloe’s mind is exceptionally strong, it would seem the blade is even stronger.

“How could you?” Chloe growls, stepping towards Lucifer.

Lucifer holds his hands out in front of him, taking a step back for every one she takes closer to him. That rage and hatred he never would have thought her capable of seems to be directed solely at him. “Detective, listen to me carefully,” he says placatingly. “This isn’t you. It’s the blade. You must believe me. Please trust me and put it down.”

“Trust you?” she snarls. “How am I supposed to trust somebody who keeps secrets from me? Who hides from me?”

His eyes widen and he ignores the way his heart cracks in two. He can deal with that later. “I wanted to tell you the truth,” he says pleadingly. “But the last time I told someone I care for, it didn’t go well. Detective, I-I-I didn’t want to lose you when you learned the truth. I’ll explain everything, darling, but please, put down the blade.”

With a furious roar, Chloe lunges for Lucifer. She’s quick, but the Devil is quicker, spinning out of her way as she slashes downwards. Lucifer could easily take her down and remove the blade from her vicinity, but he won’t hurt her. Can’t hurt her.

He turns around as she regains her footing, teeth bared. Chloe rushes at him again with an inhuman shout that he suspects is the blade acting through her. But rather than using the blade to attack as he predicted she would, she swings her right arm, her fist catching him in the side of the face. Though not hard enough to take him down, Chloe's right hook is nothing to sneeze at; the pain is just enough to distract him while her other hand swipes the blade at his side, slicing into his skin.

“Argh!” Lucifer shouts, gritting his teeth. It didn’t feel deep enough for lasting damage so he pays the long, bleeding wound no mind, keeping his eyes on Chloe and ignoring the betrayal he feels. “Detective, I beg you. You can fight this. It isn’t you!” He wonders which of them he’s trying to convince more.

“How would you know who I am?” she sneers, stalking towards him again. “You’re the Devil, a monster.”

Lucifer flinches. He knows those aren’t her words, that she would never say that to him, Devil face or not. “I am,” he admits. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you, Chloe. You are a brilliant detective, the best the LAPD or any PD has ever seen. You have a wonderfully clever mind that works in ways that fascinates and intrigues me to no end.

“You’re a magnificent mother to your daughter. No child is luckier than Trixie. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for her.” Lucifer sees her expression shiver and she falters slightly at the mention of her offspring. His heart leaps, knowing he’s getting through to her. He rushes on, speaking everything he feels for her without thinking. “And you’re an incredible friend, Detective. To me and anyone else fortunate enough to earn that title. You’re kind and compassionate, warm and caring. I have never, in all my time, come across a brighter soul than you. You’ve enough grace to befriend even the Devil, which is truly miraculous.”

Chloe’s eyebrows furrow and something of her flashes in her eyes. She’s fighting it.

Unable to bite back a proud grin, Lucifer hurries on, “You said that I’m your best friend, Detective. Well, the same is true for you. I have never felt more—” He bloody hates this word, but in this context, it’s apt, “—blessed than I have merely knowing you. You’re truly remarkable and if anybody can fight this blade, it’s you, Chloe.”

Unfortunately for him, though, it would seem the blade still has some fight of its own. A deep, subsonic growl he wouldn’t have believed a human capable of is ripped from her chest and she lunges again. Lucifer spins on his heel at the last second and before she regains her wits, he grabs her from behind in an iron grip, her arms pinned to her sides.

Chloe writhes and struggles against him, bucking her hips back against his crotch. In a whole other context, this would be quite enjoyable, but right now, he’s worried she’ll hurt herself more than him. “Get off me!” she shouts shrilly.

“Give me the blade, Chloe,” he murmurs in her ear, grunting when he catches a sharp elbow to the ribs. When she stomps on his foot, he’s relieved to still be wearing his shoes or she may have broken his toes. “I promise, you will feel more like yourself if you let it go.”

Rather than letting go, she hooks her foot around the back of his leg and yanks. Already off balance, Lucifer falls, being sure to take Chloe’s weight to avoid her cracking her skull on the marble floor. The last bloody thing she needs is a concussion.

He groans as his back hits the unyielding floor, his eyes promptly widening when he sees Chloe has shifted the blade from the arm he has pinned to her freer one. “Detective—”

“I hate you,” she snarls, swiftly lifting the blade and bringing it down. That more than anything shatters his heart, but he pushes it back. Save Chloe first, deal with his hurt feelings later.

Preoccupied with the Detective, Lucifer doesn’t notice the faint sound of wings in the room nor the angel appearing beside them. “Oh, for Dad’s sake! There it is! How in His name did it wind up down here?”

Lucifer’s gaze snaps towards the new arrival and has never been more relieved to see one of his siblings. “Azrael! Get the blade!”

His favorite little sister’s eyes widen as the scene finally registers in her mind. “Oh, crapola! On it, Lu!” Azrael rushes forward and easily pries her blade from Chloe’s hand before it sinks into Lucifer’s gut. Chloe fights back, snapping her teeth at Azrael’s hand, but she’s only human; Azrael overpowers her, prising the blade from her fingers

Chloe’s body goes completely slack against Lucifer’s chest and when he looks her over, she’s unconscious. A sigh of relief falls from his lips and he lets his head fall to the floor. “Bloody hell,” he mutters, panting.

“You all right, Lu?” Azrael asks tentatively, standing over him.

He takes stock of his body. Fairly sure he’s leaking blood all over his floor, definitely sure he’s lost another suit, and quite sore in other areas of his body, but the only thing that matters is that Chloe is okay. “Fine,” he says quietly. He carefully ignores the cracked-wide-open feeling in his chest from Chloe's words; celestial influence or not, hearing those things from her hurt.

Catching his breath, he sits up carefully, adjusting Chloe into a more comfortable position. Just to be sure, he places two fingers to her pulse point. Another sigh of relief escapes when he feels her strong, steady heartbeat. He rests his forehead against her hair. “We’re fine,” he whispers to himself.

“What even happened?”

“Long story.” He eyes his sister suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

She holds up her blade. “I’ve been looking all over for this for months,” she explains sheepishly. “Thought I lost it for good and was going to have to tell Dad what happened, but... How’d you get it, anyway?”

Lucifer swallows. Surely all of Heaven knows what happened? “Uriel,” he says quietly. Azrael’s face falls, confirming his suspicions. “He ‘borrowed’ the blade from you and brought it to Earth with the intention of wiping Mum from existence. And he used the Detective here as leverage to get me to hand Her over to him. When I refused...”

“Uriel was going to smite Mom?” Azrael asks, horrified. “That’s... I didn’t know.”

“Yes, well.”

“So that’s why you...” She looks away from him briefly. “To save Mom. And Chloe.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows furrow, thinking over the last couple minutes. “How do you know the Detective’s name?”

The angel’s eyes widen, darting back and forth. He knows that look; he saw it all the time back in the Silver City. She’s trying to come up with an explanation.

“Azrael,” Lucifer growls.

Her shoulders slump. “Ella Lopez?” she says, sheepish again. “Long story, but I’ve known her since she was a kid. We’re kinda friends. I actually encouraged her to move out here to be closer to you.”

“You what?” he snaps furiously.

“Look, I figured if I couldn’t be with my best friend and my favorite big brother, then...maybe they could be there for each other. It wasn’t some big scheme or anything. But the last time I popped in on Ella, invisible, of course, she was at work talking to Chloe. She seems really nice,” Azrael adds. “Chloe, I mean.”

Lucifer’s ire softens at the mention of his Detective. He looks down, brushing some hair from her face. Her head is resting on his shoulder, and he can’t help but enjoy their current position, feeling her slight weight in his arms. She fits against him perfectly. “She is,” he murmurs. “Exceptionally so.”

What she’s doing with me, I haven’t the foggiest. Then he remembers that Chloe knows now and wonders if they’ll even still be partners. As if on cue, Chloe groans lightly.

“Oh, I should probably go,” Azrael says slowly, backing away. Her wings materialize. Lucifer feels a brief, sharp longing for his own wings that he also ignores. “Angel of Death can’t be seen, and all that.”

“Azrael,” he calls before she can fly off. She raises her eyebrows. “Thank you for...interceding. I’d rather not be smited.”

Even if I deserve it.

Azrael smiles. “Anytime.”

“And one more thing,” he says, giving her a stern look. “Lock that bloody blade down and keep a closer eye on your possessions in future.”

She winces. “Gotcha. Smell ya later, Lu!”

The moment she disappears, Chloe stirs in his arms and he has an entirely different situation to deal with. “Detective?” he murmurs. “Are you all right?”

“Luzzifer?” she mumbles.

He smiles fondly. “Hello, Detective.”

Her eyes open and he’s relieved to see her in them rather than the hatred and rage from the blade. Her eyebrows furrow. “What happened?”

Lucifer sighs. How to even explain this... “It’s rather a long story, darling. I suppose we should start with, what do you remember?”

Chloe shakes her head as if trying to clear it of cobwebs. “I, um, came to talk to you about the case,” she says slowly. She goes completely still and he knows she’s remembering his own battle with the blade. “You...had a knife and I think you were trying to...” Her eyes widen and she snaps her gaze to him, scanning every inch of his face. “You—you had a different face.”

“I did,” he murmurs, loosening his arms around her in case she needs a quick escape. “Detective, I owe you an apology. I didn’t realize...” Well, he didn’t realize several things—like how his vulnerability would make him susceptible to the effect of Azrael's Blade.

Turning in his lap, but not scurrying away in fear, she studies him. “I didn’t imagine any of that, did I?” she whispers.

“Afraid not.” Lucifer braces himself for the mind-numbing terror in her eyes. For her to run away and never look back. He prepares himself to lose her for good.

“Okay, I...” Chloe drops her head into her hands, eyes darting back and forth. “I need a drink. And then, we’re going to talk.”

He blinks. That isn’t what he expected her to say in the slightest. “We are?” he says dumbly.

“Oh, yeah. Make it a double.”