Chapter Text
Dan’s heart hammered in his chest as he pressed the elevator button designed to take him up to Lucifer’s penthouse. He kept a firm hand on his gun as he contemplated his decisions. It felt as if the cool metal was the only thing keeping him rooted to reality. This was the right thing to do, he reminded himself. Lucifer is the literal devil…
The elevator dinged as the doors opened, allowing Dan – and the rest of the world – entrance. It was honestly laughable, the devil was so unconcerned about his safety that he didn’t even have a door to lock.
The ride up felt like an eternity; Dan didn’t feel like he was getting enough air and his vision was blurring slightly. It’s okay, he told himself. All I’m going to do is kill the devil.
The doors opened and Dan let out a shaky breath as he saw Lucifer looking out from his balcony. How had he not realized earlier? There were so many signs.
“Well that was fast.” The words that left Lucifer’s mouth were distorted and it was a miracle that Dan understood at all what the man was trying to say as he turned around.
Dan didn’t say anything in return, he was worried that he would vomit if he even opened his mouth. The devil was right there… standing in front of Dan as if he didn’t have a core in the world.
“Oh, Dearie me,” Lucifer said with a laugh as he realised who had really just entered. “Still suffering from a bout of the old trotskies, are we?”
Dan’s breathing accelerated as he felt around his person anxiously, his fingers eventually gripping the cool surface of his gun. He pulled it out, finding the trigger with more difficulty than usual. The pistol was surprisingly steady as the detective pointed it at Lucifer.
“I was only joking, Daniel,” Lucifer said with a slight eye roll, raising his hands slightly. Dan didn’t lower the gun. He would not play a part in this puppet show any longer.
Lucifer’s smile faded as he finally realized that Dan wasn’t playing. The liquor in the devil’s hand wavers a bit, the only outward sign of worry that Lucifer portrays.
While the detective is deciding if he really wants to go through with this plan, Chloe walks in. “Dan, what are you doing?” she asked a bit hysterically.
Dan looks over at her, looking for some sort of sign. Did Chloe know that she was dating Satan? Had she any idea of the atrocities that the… thing before them had committed?
Chloe shakes head, and that single motion makes Dan hesitate, causing him to lower gun slightly before the sensible part of his brain returns. “I’m sorry, I have to”
He looks back at Lucifer. The man that had seemingly devoted his life to making Dan’s a living hell. That was his specialty, after all.
With a final inhalation, Dan tightens his finger around the trigger slowly, still unsure about the plan. The gun fires, but the loud boom that usually accompanies it is nothing but a dull ringing to the man’s ears.
Dan re-focuses his eyes, watching as the devil is propelled backwards by the pure force of the bullet. Dan’s bullet.
Dan is unsure as to if his heart stopped or if it's going too fast for him to realise. He just shot the devil. He just saved the world, so why did he feel as if it just ended?
Chloe’s shriek brings him out of his musings and he looks over to see her sprinting through the penthouse, focused completely on her fallen boyfriend.
The body hit the floor with a dull thud, but it brought Dan no satisfaction. He just shot a man. For Lucifer is a man, not some evil entity sent to make him miserable.
Dan pulls himself out of his thoughts and forces himself to look over at his ex, who was crying hysterically, trying to slow the bleeding.
And that’s when the full result of his actions caught up with him. Dan dropped his gun and ran over to where the duo was on the floor. Unsure of what else to do, he pulls off his jacket and pushes it to Lucifer’s chest, hoping to slow the bleeding.
“Call 9-1-1!” Chloe says as she grabs the coat, her brain still working rationally despite the body of her boyfriend under her.
Dan nods dumbly, searching desperately for his phone. He was beginning to regret his actions. What if he was wrong and Lucifer just really enjoyed cosplay? Was he even the devil?
“Damn it, Dan!” Chloe exclaimed, letting go of Lucifer’s blood-soaked chest in favour of grabbing her phone and dialing the number. “We need an ambulance at the penthouse of Lux, located at 8358 Sunset Boulevard. Gunshot wound to the chest.”
Chloe remains on the phone for a bit, but Dan has no idea how long it really was. It felt like days, but no phone call really took that long. Right?
Dan was beginning to panic, his vision was darkening along the edges and he was struggling to find air.
“Dan!” Chloe yelled, although there was no warmth in her tone. “Calm down, damn it!” His ex-wife had eyes for no one but Lucifer, which grounded Dan for some odd reason.
The edges of his vision started receding slightly and he let out a few more shaky breaths. “I’m an idiot.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Chloe asked, her tears obstructing her words a bit as she focused on keeping her partner alive.
The man started laughing maniacally despite the fact that the situation was not funny in the slightest. “I was thinking about that exactly, actually!”
“You found out,” Chloe said simply.
“What? That my friend is Satan?”
“He’s not,” Chloe said quietly. “He’s not really the devil. He’s… a fallen angel.”
Dan let out a grunt, but he knew that Chloe was right. Lucifer stole pudding for God’s sake! Pudding!
Just then, the paramedics streamed in, pushing Chloe and Dan away from Lucifer’s pale and bloody form.
Dan attempted to pull Chloe towards the elevators, intent on getting the two out of there before they started asking questions, but she resisted. “I’m going with them,” she said firmly.
Dan nodded as he backed into the open elevator. Now was the decision: should he run and leave his daughter behind in order to escape what he had done or should stay here and spend the rest of his life in either prison or a mental asylum?
As much as he wanted to, Daniel resisted the urge to run. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left his daughter alone. If Lucifer did indeed die, then his Monkey would be heartbroken.
The elevator dinged once more and Dan exited, torn between crying and smashing something.
“What the hell happened?!” the bartender demanded as soon as the doors opened. “There are paramedics everywhere and I heard a gunshot.”
Dan shook his head, trying to get rid of the fluff. “Lucifer was shot.”
The man looked up sharply, clearly surprised despite the fact that he heard the shot ring out. The man just always seemed to be so invincible. “Is he okay?”
“What do you think?!” Dan almost yelled. “He was shot!”
“Fair,” the man muttered. “I told him to install some security, but noooooo…”
Dan let out a watery laugh, but he was not amused in the slightest. He just shot Lucifer.. His co-worker. His ex-wife’s boyfriend. His best friend’s brother. His friend.
Dan kicked the bar with so much fury that he was surprised it didn’t crack. “I’m a moron,” he muttered.
“It’s not like you are the one who shot him,” the bartender said with a shrug. “Who was it, anyway? I didn’t see anyone come up besides you and the chick and it’s not like either of you would do it.”
Dan let out a sob. He hadn’t shot the devil. He’d shot his friend.