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Chapter Text

“The worst they can do is say no.”

Lilith’s words beat in his heart as Lucifer strolled down the promenade to the courthouse, rolled up blueprints under his arm. He grinned ear to ear, showing off pointed teeth to the winners staring him down in the street. They whispered to each other, side-eying him, gasping, and a woman down the street shouted at him to get lost, before being hushed by those around her.

“That’s The Devil.”

“The most hated being in creation.”

“That little guy? I could take him. I’d be a hero, too.”

“He’s showing his face here? I’ll fucking kill him.”

But none of that mattered to Lucifer. Today was his day. He’d get heaven on board with his plan. He would save his people, one at a time, as they learned to be better people and were granted access to heaven. He would make Hell safer and happier for Charlie as she grew beyond his protective reach. His family would be proud of his work, and all those nights alone at his desk, aching to be with them, to hold Charlie, to listen to Lilith singing, they would all be worth it.

And maybe–just maybe–he could start to redeem himself.

_________________________________________________________

“This court is now in session,” said Sara, alone at the bench. Below here, a few dozen angels sat in pews, settling down, but eyeing the being below them. In the center sat Adam, maskless and sneering, and dressed in pure white robes. This was going to be a tough crowd.

“Lucifer, you know of your status here,” Sara advised “This proposal must be worth our time.”

“Oh, it is!” Lucifer shouted, running out onto the stage like a ringleader. He tossed a blueprint onto the ground and it unraveled, then it projected a golden image above it. The sudden movement, though, had the exterminators, acting as guards, around the room grasping their spears and pointing them at Lucifer. He laughed nervously and put up his palms defensively.

“Hey, hey, I don’t bite!”

“Guards, stand down,” said Sara with a wave of her hand, and the guards returned to standing at attention.

“A-hem,” Lucifer continued with a fake cough. “As I was saying, welcome to Redemption Acres!”
The image projected above the blueprints showed an Elysian acreage with white, wide-windowed buildings. With a turn of his wrist, Lucifer slowly rotated the image so that everyone in the courtroom could see the different angles.

“This is my plan for fixing the sinners!” Lucifer exclaimed.

And there was Adam, who apparently couldn’t keep it cool for two minutes in court. “If you hadn’t fucked up with the apple, there would be no sinners to fix, would there, dipshit?”

“Adam, decorum,” scolded Sara. “Proceed.”

“This is the residential building, where sinners who choose to redeem themselves reside,” he explained, pointing. “And this is the administrative building, and the therapy center, and the stables. I have a five-step plan for redemption that I’ve been working on and testing for years, and it’s ready to go as soon as I get your say-so!”

“Why do you want to redeem souls?” asked Sara.

Lucifer paused. That was like asking why someone cared about kindness or happiness. Doesn’t everyone believe in redemption?

“Because…it’s the right thing to do.”

“But why? To what end?” asked one of the Ophanim in the pews, his eyed-wheel head spinning.

“Oh!” said Lucifer, with a fake smack to his forehead. “That’s the best part. When they’re redeemed, they can come here.”

This caused loud muttering among the angels in the pews. Offended muttering.

“Order, order!” said Sara as she pounded her gavel. “Lucifer, how are we to house all your sinners? And more importantly, why would we want your kind around here?”

“Ah, I’ve thought of that!” Lucifer said as he pulled out a second page. As he unraveled it on the floor, it revealed a complex set of equations. “See, Heaven is functionally infinite in its space, being a sphere above the earth that can expand as you see fit. Hell, being in the center of the earth, has a very limited volume. So, as part of the Redemption Acres project, I can build halfway houses in Heaven, and as much infrastructure as you want.” With so much to get through, Lucifer spoke with a fiery pace, gesticulating and grinning at everyone in the room.

“Furthermore, if any former sinner becomes a problem in Heaven, I have a simple spell that can send them back to Hell. And, as an added bonus, you can send anyone you want to hell, including any winners who have never been there, if they are convicted of breaking your rules. That way you don’t have to deal with them, and they can either run wild in the streets or try to re-enter Heaven once they complete the curriculum at Redemption Acres! This is win-win-win!”

“Pfft,” said Adam. “You think souls can be redeemed? What about yours?”

“Uh–well I–”

“Look at how long you’ve failed to make up for what you’ve done!” Adam taunted as he unfurled his wings and flew above his seat. “Why the hell would we listen to you when you’re solely responsible for all the suffering on earth? You are the one who created hell, and sinners, and sin, you are the hand that strikes, you are the heart that covets, it was your apple that brought murder and rape and abuse and violence to humanity. You are the incarnation of sin, yet you think you can cleanse their souls of it?”

Unconsciously, Lucifer reached out to the height of his shoulder, grasping the void before realizing there was no hand there to hold. Instead he took off his hat and held it to his chest.

Chapter Text

“Your honor,” Lucifer began with a deep breath, hardly able to look up at Sara. “I know the pain my actions have caused. I never meant to hurt people the way I did, and not a day goes by that I don’t see the damage I did.” He thought about his dystopian world, the violence and suffering that surrounded him and his family. His empire of dirt. His own creation.

“As someone who has caused so much hurt, wouldn’t you say I’m obligated to help make it better?” Lucifer’s earnest voice cracked and his eyes watered. He looked down and quickly wiped away a tear. Sara looked at him with what, he hoped, was an expression of compassion. Even Adam was silent. 

“I would do anything to help.” 

One of the Ophanim in the pews spoke up with a low, booming voice. “What is the incentive?” 

Lucifer, trying to break from depression back into his excitement for his project, sniffed. “Oh! Uh, the sinners who complete the program get into heaven, of course! It’s pretty nice here, wouldn’t you say?” 

“I don’t mean for them,” the strange creature of many-eyed wheels said. “I mean for you. When we cast you out of heaven, that was permanent. Do you think this silly project–if it even works–is really enough to get you back in?” All eyes in the courtroom turned back to Lucifer. 

“No,” he said, slightly upset but more so confused by the line of questioning. “I’ve accepted that I’m not coming back.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

“Just because…because it’s the right thing to do.” 

A soft muttering swept over the pews. 

Sara was next to speak. “But what do you get out of it?”

“I…I get to live in a world with less suffering, I suppose. The project isn’t really for me. It’s for the human souls, but I can go further into how it would benefit heaven! You see–” 

“This makes no sense, Lucifer,” Sara said, her voice rising. “Heaven exists as a reward for the righteous. Hell exists as a punishment. No one acts selflessly without a reward. What are your real motivations, Lucifer? Are you planning something against us?” 

“No, not at all!” His heart started pounding as the tension in the air thickened. The seraphim and ophanim started shifting in shape, growing eyes and horns, their teeth sharpening. The exterminators slowly directed their spears towards him.

Chapter Text

It couldn’t be over already. It had hardly just begun.

Lucifer chuckled nervously and put out his palms defensively, crouching slightly. “I’m just trying to bring some good back into the world.”

“Lucifer. What are you trying to do to us?” The Ophan’s voice boomed. “EVERYONE acts, ultimately, for their own benefit. How do YOU expect to benefit from this project?”

“I–I–” Lucifer looked down and thought. He really would not convince them that he just cares about the souls in his realm.

“I’m doing it so that my wife and daughter will be proud of me!”

That seemed to quell some of the suspicion in the room, and the seraphim calmed and looked at each other. Not Adam, though. Perhaps Lucifer should have predicted that.

“Oh, your wife!” The masked angel danced around in the air in front of Lucifer. “If she wants this so much, why isn’t she here?”

Lucifer gulped, and Adam continued. “Or maybe she and your little blasphemous daughter are planning an invasion too. I bet they’re pissed that they missed out on a life in heaven because of your stupid and selfish actions. You ruined their fucking lives with your own! They aren’t going to be proud. Get this–They probably sent you up here alone in the hopes that we’d catch on to your little plot and kill you off so they’ll be free.”

Lucifer swallowed thickly and looked to Sara. He knew she tended to act with more decorum and even criticize Adam for swearing in court. But she was just looking down at her hands, folded on the parapet in front of her.

The angels in the pews spoke amongst each other while Lucifer debated arguing with Adam. What did he know?

No, he should just remain calm and collected. Lucifer knew that the angels were more sympathetic to those with decorum, and those who played by the rules. Even when the rules were stupid. He had to play by them if he was to get them on board with his dreams.

As Sera stood, her menacing look made him wonder if his dreams were even on the table anymore–or if there was something even more dire at stake.

Chapter Text

“Lucifer,” Sara spoke, her voice professional but booming. “There is a reason we didn’t want your ideas when you were one of us. Now that you are fallen, we aren’t to trust you.”

Lucifer’s mind raced, searching desperately for any string of hope that they would reconsider.

“I can change the plan!” he started. “I can do it however you feel! I can do a trial run, or you could appoint an overseer, or–”

“We’re way past that,” Adam interjected.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” Sara said. “You are under arrest for the charges of treason and attempted sabotage of the sanctity of heaven.”

“WHAT?” Lucifer started backing up, his blueprints laid on the floor. He looked around the room and, unconsciously, his tail grew out from behind him. It swished as guards approached him, his eyes darkened, and his horns started to emerge.

“You will be taken to the jailhouse until your trial date is set, roughly 12 months from now,” Sara informed him coldly, and then turned to her head exterminator. “Adam, arrest this demon.”

“Gladly!” Adam swooped down to Lucifer with such energy that the king of hell instinctively threw out his hand and gestured so that a thin column of golden shield appeared, growing from the floor to the ceiling in a second. As it formed so quickly, it struck Adam in the jaw.

“That fucker attacked me!” Adam yelled, lower lip bleeding from where he accidentally bit it.
“No, I–” Lucifer’s tail swished harder as guards on all sides approached him with their angelic spears. His horns grew larger, his eyes glowed red, and the murmurations in the rooms turned to shouts.

“He’s attacking!” One of the guards shouted. “He’s showing his true, demon form! That means he’s going to kill us!”

Lucifer tried to calm himself, to return to his little whimsical look as a diminutive circus worker with a silly white top hat.

“Subdue him!” yelled Sara.

“No, it’s ok, I’m not going to hurt anyone!”

One of the guards approached him with a chain, the rest with spears. “Sir, you are under arrest!”

Think, Luci, think. He could take these guards, easily. But then what? If he hurt a hair on any of their heads, Heaven would be after him and his family, if he even survived the attacks of the high seraphim. They had been looking for an excuse to take him down permanently, as he was reminded every year at the meetings at the Embassy.

Maybe if Lucifer went peacefully, he could get out later with a good lawyer. He held up his hands in surrender as the angels approached, attempting to call his wings, horn, and tail back, but with so much at stake, his agitation kept them out and fluttering. A guard came up behind him and jabbed him between the shoulder blades with the butt of her spear, and he hell forward onto his hands and knees. Then the one holding the chain–one blessed with a type of magic that Lucifer knew as able to dampen angelic powers–put it around his neck. Another kicked him in the back so he fell to the ground completely, and two others wrenched his arms behind his back to put him in angelic handcuffs.

He shook. He had been here before, on the floor of the courthouse, prone, restrained, vulnerable, humiliated. Hopeless. Lucifer tried not to think about what happened after the court had decided he was unfit for heaven’s light. So many nights, he had tried to forget, but the visions haunted him. The sounds of bone crunching and flesh tearing. The burning fire of angelic steel cutting his back. The horror of seeing the disapproving and disgusted faces of the angels, his family, reflected in his ichor, spilled on the marble floor.

He had searched their faces for pity or understanding, and found none.

That was right before “the fall,” as they called it.

But it wasn’t a fall. Not really. Falls are accidents.

Adam stood above Lucifer and wiped some ichor from his own chin. “You haven’t changed at all, traitor,” he spat, then kicked Lucifer in the ribs. Lucifer grunted, and Adam kicked him again. And again.

How was he so stupid, to go back to heaven after what they had done to them? Lilith had asked him to “heal,” “forgive,” and “let go.” What foolishness. Every moment of every day that he had spent dreaming and planning and hoping and sacrificing–sacrificing his time with his wife and daughter–not only failed to save his people, but it further angered the angels. Against Lucifer, his family, and the sinners.

Several sets of hands lifted Lucifer, only enough so that he could kneel before the court, his hands still bound behind him and his neck collared. Adam smirked at him. The demon looked up at Sara, this time looking less threatening, as his horns and tail had retreated with the effects of the dampening collar.

How he had been so excited for this moment. How it had taken so many years to learn to hope again. For a long time after the fall, he could barely move due to his physical injuries, and then when they healed, he could barely do anything with his broken heart. It took him years to find the strength to do even the simplest of tasks, his younger voice reminding him, “what’s the point?” It was only through Lillith’s songs that he became a person again, and many more years before he dared to dream again.

Now Sara looked down at him as though he was nothing but a monster, intent on destroying all of heaven. What she didn’t know–and what he couldn’t expect her to know–is that Lucifer would never lay a finger on any of the seraphim or other members of the council. It had been so long that Lillith had drowned out the hate in his heart with love for her. No matter what had happened in the past, and no matter how scared he had been to return to the Pearly Gates, and no matter how many nightmares he had of the higher angels’ vicious attack and casting him to hell, he still loved them, in his way. He knew they had their reasons, and besides, that’s his family.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” Sara declared in a booming voice. “For the safety of Heaven, you will be kept in our jailhouse until your court date, at which time your fate will be decided. Please note that the punishment for high treason is execution.”

Lucifer blinked back tears. “How–when is my court date? Please, Sara, I didn’t do anything.”

“You can expect a hearing in a year.”

Chapter Text

The nightmares were back, but that was hardly surprising. 

Lucifer suspected that Lillith had been the only thing holding his dreams at bay. Alone in his cell, he dreamt of falling. 

The angels had taken four of his wings, and he couldn’t fly with two. So, as he plummeted to hell, he just wrapped Lillith in his wings, their bodies pressed together as the cold air whipped around them. It was deafeningly loud, and their eyes watered. But they never looked away from each other until they smashed into the depths of hell, spilling Lucifer’s golden ichor so widely on the ground he truly believed it was the end. 

He had lived so long among the Angels. Among God. They spoke so often of boundless love, of limitless mercy, and how they were a part of each other. He never once doubted them until the day came when they took him before the high throne, screamed of his transgressions against heaven. Tied him up with angelic rope, beat him, ripped and cut off his stunning gold wings. He didn’t even fight back. He can’t raise a hand against his family. He knew in his heart that his family was good. So what they were doing must be good. And Lucifer must have done something unspeakably horrible to deserve it. 

I was only trying to help. 

At least Lillith was only mildly injured in the fall, protected by Lucifer’s embrace. As he lost consciousness, suspecting it might be the last time he saw anything at all, he was, at least, glad his vision was occupied by Lillith’s beautiful face. 

Lucifer awoke with a start, sweating, and reached reflexively to his right. But, instead of a warm body, he only found a cold concrete wall. 

Fuck. 

He was still in jail in heaven. He looked at the marks he made on the wall and counted 115 days, cut in groups of five. It had probably been more. Some days his anguish prevented him from even getting up to make a line. 

But the sight of a certain guard made him shoot up and run to the bars. 

“Hey, Zaraeil!” Lucifer called from behind the bars, with the friendliest smile he could muster. “Can you grab me the phone, real quickly?”

The guard got closer and looked down at him. “Not today, little guy.” 

“Zaraeil, Zaraeil please ,” he begged. “I did my part of the bargain, and you promised.” 

“Maybe later,” he said and twirled his spear. 

It had been weeks since Zaraeil promised him access to a phone, Lucifer was sure. “Please, Zaraeil, listen, I was supposed to be able to call home as soon as I came in here, but I never got to do that.” 

“And that’s my fault?” 

“No, no…” Lucifer was desperate, getting louder as the guard turned his back and retreated. “Please! I need to call my family! They don’t know where I am!” 

Zaraeil kept walking, not even turning to listen to Lucifer. “Quit bitching!” he yelled back. “No one cares about the problems of the traitor who brought sin to the world!” 

Lucifer’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor, covering his head in anguish. As the terrors of the night broke for the light of day, he was faced with the crushing reality of his situation. He was missing so much of Charlie’s life. Her 11th birthday must have passed over a month ago. Lucifer’s actions had condemned Charlie to a fatherless year of childhood, and Lilith to a life as a single mother. They would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. His breathing became hard and loud, then made way for sobs. 

Lilith might have guessed that Lucifer ran into trouble in Heaven, but for the most part, she was less scared of them. Her voice, and her hope, gave him strength to try. 

But he was regretting that hope now, as tears collected below him. 

I was just trying to help.  

No, he would never try something like Redemption Acres again. And certainly, he would never return to Heaven, or let anyone else he cared about anywhere near it. 

Never dream of it. Never dream at all.

Chapter Text

Given the context, Lucifer probably should not have been smiling. 

Inside the armored truck sat four angels. One drove, two sat in the back with their angelic pistols pointed at the fourth, from whom they were seated across. That angel, a prisoner, though restrained in angelic chains around his wrists, ankles, and neck, attaching him to the wall of the vehicle, grinned widely, relaxed, inadvertently showing his sharp, white teeth. 

He leaned back and his gaze drifted to a corner, and one of the two guard angels smirked. “What are you so happy about?” 

“Hm?” Lucifer gazed idly at his captor. The tall, wide angel had a black halo and blue skin, and his dark grey guard uniform had a name tag reading “Celaziel.” 

“You’re on your way to be sentenced,” the guard clarified. “You shouldn’t be smiling.” 

Lucifer considered not responding. He tried to avoid talking to anyone during his year in custody. He didn’t socialize, didn’t participate in games, and he tried to avoid fights. Fights came to him–fights he could have won with ease–but he was less interested in showing his power and more interested in keeping a clean record so that he didn’t have to stay any longer. So that he could make a clean break and get the hell back to Hell. 

“No reason.” 

“You think they’ll find you innocent and you’ll go home?” Asked Celaziel. 

“Doesn’t every delusional prisoner?” Lucifer replied with a smirk.

“And what exactly do you think you’re going home to?” the guard pressed. 

That just made Lucifer smile even more as he sighed and gazed dreamily up to the corner of the truck. 

“I suppose I’ll be re-banished to my own realm with the most amazing, inspiring, beautiful family in the world.” 

The second guard, an even taller one, but thinner, tilted his ear toward Lucifer, but said nothing. 

Celaziel laughed haughtily. “You’re talking about your wife? I’ve seen her on a poster. There’s no way some shrimp like you pulled that.” 

Lucifer laughed. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it?” 

The wider guard snorted. “Aren’t you a fruit? With your singing and dancing and big dreams and cheesy ideals. There’s no way she’s with you. You’re just some queer twink.” 

Lucifer looked at him briefly, uninterested. By the guard’s tone, Lucifer deduced that these words were meant to be insulting, but it didn’t hit home because being called “gay” wasn’t an insult in Hell. He had heard these accusations a few times in jail during the past year, and only by some of the younger, less intelligent inmates, but one’s sexuality was never a matter of insecurity or insult when Lucifer grew up in Heaven. He suspected the homophobia trend wouldn’t last up here, either. 

“I suppose,” he replied, unengaged. 

His mind was already with Lillith. He imagined being in her arms, wrapping his wings around her, and never letting her go. He imagined her gentle smile, her heart-wrenchingly beautiful voice, the warmth of her words and her heart, and the way she looked at him with those sparkling eyes. 

“Unless she has a size kink. Is that it? Short guys are her fetish?” 

Lucifer had heard that insult regarding his height in hell a handful of times. “I don’t ‘like short guys ,’” Lilith once said in response to a similar comment. “But I like short guy. One guy. Love him,” she said, and bent down and kissed Luci quickly on the cheek. Then, as though she couldn’t stop herself, planted another quick kiss on the lips, then pulled away with a beaming smile that he returned, his heart fluttering. “Love that short guy,” she continued, taking his hands as they slowly twirled, eyes locked together. “Love him to Heaven and back! Love every inch of him, body and soul! Love him for eternity!” 

The truck rumbled and rolled to a stop, but didn’t turn off. There were no windows for them to see out of, but Lucifer deduced that they had come to a red light, which meant they were likely at the edge of the city where the courthouse was. 

Celaziel huffed, seeing his prisoner only looking more and more lost in his dreams and love as the guard tried to press him. At the jail, guards could rough up the little demon almost any time they wanted, which was thrilling, as they knew they were significantly weaker than him in general, but Lucifer never fought back in jail. Here in the transport vehicle, though, there were only two guards, and they might have to explain themselves if Lucifer turned up to court bleeding. Given the opportunity, Celaziel might throw a punch or two anyway, chalking it up to a fake take of self-defense, but his colleague, Galex, was a cautious type and wouldn’t approve of such behavior risking their jobs. So they both stayed their hands and used their words instead.

“I’m sure she waited for you,” Galex said, speaking for the first time during this drive. His voice was breathy and low. Sounding almost sincere. 

“Hmm.” Said Lucifer, understanding that the taller guard was likely trying to antagonize him as well, but still not caring. 

“It’s not as though a woman like that has other options,” Galex pressed. 

Lucifer laughed. “Like what? Buddy, you don’t even know! She’s the most inspiring, impressive, badass, loving, devoted, warm person ever created! Just about anyone in Hell, Heaven or earth would die to be with her!” 

“Interesting,” said Galex. “So, she could have chosen anyone else she wanted in your absence.” 

“No.” 

“Why’s that?”

“Because she loves me.” 

“And you’ve never been loved before?” Galex asked, giving just a hint of a smile as Lucifer’s eyes finally met his. 

“Yes, I have. Of course I have. You know the story. I was God’s favorite angel. I was everyone’s favorite.” 

“Why, I had no idea,” Galex teased. “So, you say you were loved deeply in Heaven?” 

“Very deeply.” 

“And you’re deeply loved by your wife?”

“Of course.” 

“And, what, pray tell, did Heaven, who loved you so, do with you?”

Chapter Text

“Do we really need to do all this? You know how this will end,” said Adam as he plopped down on Sera’s blue velvet couch. 

Sera paced, then stopped to look out her window, standing regally with her hands behind her back. “We can’t just kill him without a trial. We need to remain civil.” 

We need to maintain the appearance of civility, at least, Sera thought. 

Adam raised an eyebrow, but then looked away and stretched. “Ok, Sera. So we pull off this little charade and then kill him, right? Right there in front of everyone? Not that I mind.” 

“No, we’ll keep him in chains for some time. We need to organize the execution date, get it approved, and things like that.” 

“The longer you keep him, the more of a chance he has to escape and go back to Hell, and that will come back to bite us in the ass. You know he’s like, way powerful, right? I’m surprised he hasn’t escaped yet.” 

Sera turned to face Adam. “We have our ways. This time, when we take his wings, they won’t grow back; our doctors know that they have to amputate more of the bone and musculature. The wing removal surgery is both more humane and more permanent than simply tearing them off like the ways of the past.”

Adam crossed his legs, put his elbow in his knee, and put his chin in his hands. “And he can’t open portals without his wings. But listen, he’s gonna go apeshit when he realizes he won’t see his family again. Don’t angels and demons get mega powers when they’re thinking about love, or some hippie crap?” 

Sera sighed. Yes, that was her biggest worry. She had never understood how Lucifer had become such a powerful being, considering his size, but his siblings, the archangels had explained. Growing up, Lucifer hadn't had much need for physical prowess, but one day, when Uriel broke her wing, the much smaller Lucifer surprised the lot of them by carrying her home. That's when their heavenly father had explained the significance of divine love impacting one's power.

The deeper the love, the deeper the power. 

“You’re referring to his wife?” Sera said, turning back to the window and drawing a deep breath. “I’m not worried."

Chapter Text

White, glowing chains clinked as the guards brought Lucifer into the courtroom. There sat the same angels who arrested him the previous year for the simple act of bringing his dreams to them, as well as a row of pews filled with an audience. 

The small angel couldn’t help but imagine them watching him, as they had all those years before. He couldn’t remember whether they laughed or looked at him with pity as he was judged, beaten, mauled, abandoned. If Heaven had a drop of mercy, they would at least let him suffer his punishment without pews of gawkers. 

The two guards led him to his seat and attached the end of his chains, which connected together, to a bolt at the center of the floor in the courtroom. Lucifer looked again at the audience, now closer, and suddenly recognized the angels sitting in the front row. 

There were seven of them. The archangels. His siblings. 

As they stared back in silence, the memories returned. 

They had spent so much time in the clouds. Every sunset was different; some bathing them in golden light, some radiating white pillars, there were fluffs of pinks and blues, there were wide, open skies, and thunderous, exciting storms. 

The siblings played in the clouds, years of bliss among the sun and the stars. During the day, they would create beautiful things; towering waterfalls, blue lagoons, dusty red rocks, misty forests… 

Lucifer looked up to Uriel in the pews and remembered how relieved he was when he brought her home after a fall and the doctor said she’d make a full recovery. He looked to Sariel and remembered the time he had showed Lucifer how to bring designs to life. He looked to Michael and remembered how soulful and true his brother had sounded when he swore to protect little Luci forever. He looked to Gabriel and thought of how he had supported Lucifer’s idea to expand the family tree of birds, making all manner of waterfowl. He looked to Raphael and remembered how they used to speak so highly of each other, praising their respective divine and unending compassions. 

Lucifer’s heart swelled seeing his siblings after so long. The guard, Galax, tugged on the chain attached to the fallen angel’s neck. Lucifer looked to him, then down to his own hands. He was glowing a faint white light. 

As it turned out, the trial had already started. Luckily, Lucifer only missed some of the less important aspects, like a roll call, and Sera explaining some logistics. Still, this trial was going to be one of the most important events in the Devil’s life; he had better pay attention. If only the faces of his siblings didn’t plunge him into blissful memories, darting through the clouds, playing in the sunlight, and making masterpieces of earth, with every glance. 

“How do you plea?” 

The angel sitting beside him, whose face resembled a pink horse and who was dressed in a darker ping suit, leaned toward him. “Remember what we talked about.”

Lucifer blinked and turned to her. This must be Cavalline, his lawyer, who he had apparently failed to notice upon being sat at the defendant’s table. The two of them had spoken on the phone just twice, and Cavalline had advised Lucifer to plead guilty to Attempted Sabotage of the Sanctity of Heaven. 

But Cavalline had failed to even secure much of a plea deal–it was still the death penalty. 

Plus, Lucifer was innocent, damn it!

“Not guilty,” Lucifer stated without hesitation. Cavalline put a hand to her forehead. 

“Luci, just plead guilty! Your sentence could be commuted to life with good behavior!” 

Everyone turned to the voice that was shouting out of turn. It was Gabriel, who now covered his mouth. 

“Order, Gabriel,” said Sera. 

“I’m sorry, Your Honor.” 

“Weaver, you may start your case.” 

Another lawyer, on the side of the prosecution, stood. This was a strange angel, with no visible face, but a burning orb for a head. Still, he spoke professionally, almost comically so for a divine being. 

“Speaking of good behavior, I’d like to start with testimony I have here from Zaraeil, one of the guards from prison,” the prosecutor said, handing copies of a written testimony to members of the jury. 

Lucifer turned his head slightly sideways, curious what that the guard had to say. That bastard never gave him his phone call. 

“As you can see, those who were charged with guarding the Fallen One described him as violent and merciless.” 

Lucifer’s mouth dropped open. What?! Lucifer had never raised a hand to anyone while in jail. 

“Attached are pictures of the Morningstar’s clothing. As you can see, just about every week, the laundry staff saw they were stained in ichor.” 

The demon couldn’t believe it. All this time being on his best behavior, hoping that it would help his case in court, only to find that he was being painted as evil with a brush of damned lies!  

He gripped the side of the desk, careful not to speak out of turn, trying his hardest to keep his demon form to himself. While the white chains drained him of much of his power, shifting into his more natural state would be all-too-easy. But he had to maintain an angelic presence. 

“This man is a violent felon who betrayed us all, and returned with a plan to ruin us entirely. In his year awaiting trial, he chose to prove himself to us by getting in bloody fights,” Weaver explained to the jury. “I implore you not to be swayed by his charm, his manipulation; letting him live is not mercy, it is stupidity. Every moment you delay his date with the golden guillotine is another step closer to ruining us all.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer should have been paying attention, but as the hours passed and the sun moved, he couldn’t help but become enamored with the shifting rays of sunlight emanating from the glass ceiling of the courthouse. 

Hell had artificial lights and a day-night cycle, but nothing like the golden sunlight that bathed both heaven and earth. If he had to spend a year in heaven, he lamented never getting to, at least, enjoy the sunlight, imprisoned as he was in a windowless cell. 

How he danced with his siblings in the sunlight. How he remembered it changing color and lighting up their faces. How the light would bend on water, reflect on snow, and travel vast distances. 

It was hard to believe that those same archangels that bonded with him so deeply all those years ago were the same ones who looked down on him at this trial, which would determine whether he ever lived to see the sunlight, ever lived to see his siblings, ever lived to see his beloved wife and daughter again. 

Realistically, Lucifer couldn’t rely on their history of fraternal love to save him. It didn’t when he was kicked out of heaven, and it wouldn’t today. 

As the lawyer and prosecution raised on, Lucifer snuck a look at his siblings’ faces, trying to read them. Did he even know how to read a face for emotion? He wished he could ask why they tore him apart, but he never had the opportunity. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. Was it a hard choice to kick him out of heaven? 

Or had they hated him this whole time? 

Had the smallest angel missed some sort of clue? Had they been looking at him with resentment his entire life? But they had held hands, they had preened each others’ wings, they laughed together, created mountains, rivers, deserts, and vast swathes of earth together. Back when Lucifer had the confidence to take on big, rewarding projects. 

Maybe none of that bonding meant anything to the rest of the archangels, and never had. Maybe they had excluded him from their real familial devotion, laughing at him in private. Maybe they all messed up at some point, creating just as much chaos as Luci had, but they cared about and protected each other from having such a fall from grace, and they were all forgiven. 

Maybe the smiles and laughs they shared with the smallest seraph were all fake, calculated and practiced manipulations worn for the sake of maintaining order and decorum. 

If that was the case, the devil couldn’t really blame them. The people of hell referred to Lucifer as “Your Highness” and “Your Majesty,” but that’s only because they had to–the Devil understood that, and he knew these same devotees would tear him apart if they had the chance. 

And why shouldn't someone fake a smile? Lucifer did it all the time. 

Chapter Text

Pay attention, the devil told himself. 

The court case of his life was happening before him as he sat in glowing white restraints, preventing him from flying away. He wouldn’t have done so, even if he could; he was determined to do this right and get a formal pardon. 

When was it going to be his turn to speak? It had been hours since the case started, and he had not once been called to the stand. As the angels talked above Lucifer, it was as though he was just a concept or an inanimate object, or that he was too small to see or acknowledge. 

Despite being in heaven, he was still so low, chained to the floor, his hands chained behind his back, looking up at his siblings, up at the high angels, up at the ring of guards on the level above him, and again, looking up at the glass ceiling as daylight burned. 

The lawyers and prosecutors and witnesses spoke and testified and raged. They were lying about him, or maybe they just misunderstood him. If they had such strong opinions about his dreams of Redemption Acres, why not just ask him? He was sitting right there. He’d be happy to explain to anyone who would listen. He could talk about it all day. Lilith could testify to that. 

If she was here.  

“And this jackass thinks he can save sinners without making problems for heaven!” raved the first man. “Where would the new population even stay? He doesn’t know what the shit he’s talking about.”  

“Permission to speak, Sera?” Lucifer nearly interrupted, loudly enough that his voice echoed off the high ceiling. The Devil surely was supposed to have a turn at some point, but he wondered if they had forgotten, and, frankly, his dedication to decorum was waning. Perhaps the angels needed reminding that he was a real person. 

The angels stopped and looked down at him at the floor of the courtroom, bewilderment in their eyes as though a rock or a plant had just spoken. 

After a few moments, Sera responded. “Uh, yes, alright, Morningstar.” 

Lucifer wasted no time, assuming that it would likely be cut short. “Thank you, Adam, for acknowledging that the Redemption Acres project is for the purpose of helping, not hurting anyone–” Adam yelled back “I did not!” but Lucifer continued with conviction– “but if you took a moment to read the documents I brought, you’d see that I addressed this very problem in the binder labeled ‘residencies.’ I will happily construct housing for reformed sinners in Heaven, and the first batch will be people who can work on said housing as soon as they get there. I’ll start with a housekeeper, a building manager, and a chef–”

“Luci, Luci, Luci,” Adam interrupted, and the Devil huffed at being talked over. “You keep thinking that just because you have some ideas, your whole plan will work out, but you’re completely ignoring the important stuff, like how the sinners will mesh with Heavenly society.” 

“Actually, if you look at the yellow binder I brought, labeled ‘integration,’ it details seven different outlines of how to address that, with varying levels of Heaven’s involvement, in–” 

“Ugh! We’re not reading your boring, overly detailed ideas!” Adam groaned. 

“You just said that I didn’t have a plan at all! Now you’re saying I plan too much! The fact that you refuse to look at my ideas or listen to me doesn’t mean my dreams are stupid! How can you accuse me of being delusionally idealistic when you refuse to even pay attention?” 

Lucifer’s eyes turned red and the courtroom shushed. He took that as an opportunity to go on, speaking rapidly and pausing on some words for emphasis. 

“You’re all ready to sentence me, to kill me , to take me from my family based on your fancy ideas of retribution against something that hasn’t even happened! Crush my dreams if you want, you compassionless hypocrites , doom all the sinners and take away their dreams of redemption. I know I can’t stop you from fucking over others who you know nothing about just for the sake of acting high and mighty, so you can pretend that you care so much about safety issues that aren’t even real. Fine. I’ll leave and never bother you again. Just let me go.” 

Adam’s eyes widened briefly, but stood firm. 

“If your plan is so amazing,” he taunted, “why haven’t you done it already?” 

Lucifer’s horns sprouted from his head, and he unconsciously noted that, even with the angelic restraints dampening his powers, it seemed he could, at least somewhat, shift form. 

“I wanted to consult Heaven before acting!” The Morningstar shouted, shoulders moving as though he was gesticulating, although he couldn’t really as his hands were fastened behind his back. “I wanted to give you all an opportunity to talk, to ask questions, to tell me if there was anything you didn’t like about the plan. I had hoped you would help. I had hoped I could do something to help the sinners and Heaven. You could have worked with me on the project to make it exactly what you wanted, or you could simply have told me no. ” 

The first man smirked. “Little Luci didn’t have the confidence to nut up and do it? You needed Mommy and Daddy to help you?” 

“I have enacted plans without telling anyone before!” Lucifer’s voice dipped briefly into a demonic growl, and his black tail sprouted. “You should remember what happened, I remember it every day!”

Guards lowered their spears so they were ready to strike, a hundred angelic weapons aimed to pierce his flesh, destroy him. Lucifer took a deep breath and forced himself to resume his more non-threatening form. But he wouldn’t be scared into silence, when silence is what he was forced into for over a year. 

The Morningstar looked up at his siblings, who silently trained their eyes back on him. “I wanted to tell you about the apple before giving it to Eve. I wasn’t sure it would work out. I was worried about what would happen.” Lucifer searched the faces of his siblings for meaning, but they were so far away. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid that you’d crush my dreams before even hearing them.” 

The devil’s eyebrows knit together, and his eyes, returned to their normal yellow with red irises, were wide and wet. 

“You…you fucking mutilated me,” he said quietly, but in the silence of the room, his siblings could hear loud and clear. “But I…I still want to help. I never wanted to hurt any of you. Not in the past, not now, not ever.”

Chapter Text

Lillith reached over, putting her hand behind the couch to embrace her husband, as the newly-10-year-old Charlie between them and the fire in the hearth crackled. 

“What a fantastic day,” she beamed, crossing her legs and leaning in. 

Lucifer dusted a bit of confetti from his shoulders and grinned at his wife and daughter as he returned the embrace. 

“Did you have a fun time today, Duckling?” 

“Best birthday ever,” Charlie responded, bouncing her new stuffed sheepies on her knee. Lucifer’s heart swelled. Sure, all sorts of people lied about having a good day, but not Charlie. She was too young, too pure to be telling him anything other than the truth. 

The previous few months had been a roller coaster, where Lucifer’s manic dedication to planning the party led him to extensive investigations into the best and safest birthday attractions in hell, including ponies, performers and, well, even a small roller coaster on their property. He flew her around on his wings, dozens of kids from school attended, there was cake and presents and endless, boundless love. 

Thank goodness the event had turned out well, a miracle with so many moving parts. Although the petting zoo was late, the children were too busy feeding ponies and playing games to notice. Jugglers distracted the kids on the brink of tantrum, any dropped cotton candy was quickly replaced, and not a single thing led to the dooming of humanity. 

There were times during the planning phase, though, Lucifer worried. Was he doing this for his daughter, or himself? He asked Charlie for input, then cursed himself for ruining the surprise or putting pressure on her to decide. What if something went wrong? Horribly wrong? Who could forget what happened the last time he was so excited for something? 

“There’s the dreamer I fell in love with,” Lilith praised as they sat on the couch. 

They looked into each others’ eyes, smiling, and Lucifer’s watered. Seeing his wife and daughter smile was a small dream, and it was just a day in his long, long life, but it was a dream come true anyway. His heart opened and his mind started planning more: maybe next he would make a whole, permanent theme park for Charlie and the rest of hell. 

The blaze in Liltih’s eyes never wavered. She only needed a little time to recover from the fall, and she picked Lucifer up and tried to help him get better too. As hell started to populate, she inspired the other demons with her uplifting voice, and she shared her fire with Lucifer to ignite his spark again, too. 

So when she cheered Lucifer on to take his plans of Redemption Acres up to Heaven, he couldn’t say no. 

Nights of dedicated planning and blueprinting and hoping and dreaming led to the demon’s biggest project yet. It would be better than a few roller coasters and circus acts for the people of hell, it would be a chance for them to live in the big theme park in the sky: Heaven. 

But something was tugging at his heart as he imagined showing his ideas to the angels. Something that made him want to quit his high-risk endeavor and retire to some low-stakes, repetitive task that he could never fail at badly enough to risk anyone’s safety or freedom or family. 

It was something Lillith didn’t understand. Something he hoped she never would understand. 

Lilith was a sensation as a singer, her career a fabulous success, and she enjoyed a linear trajectory of bigger and bigger concerts. She had a family who loved her more than anything, and who she loved back. Lucifer was nothing but proud of her, and grateful that she would share her joy and optimism with him, and as the months passed she graciously hyped up his plans for Redemption Acres. 

“But what if Heaven says no?” Lucifer once asked cautiously, sitting at his desk with his blueprints. “What if…what if they get angry? Or they think this is some sort of devilish plot?”

“My love,” Lilith had cooed, sidling up beside him, wrapping an arm around him, and rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much! Everything will be fine!” 

She was only trying to help.

Lucifer wanted to believe his wife. He tried to, and half of his heart did–if he could sustain such a perfect marriage with a perfect wife and raise such a perfect daughter, Lucifer himself must be without folly! He was pride itself! A king! 

A king of the underworld. A lord of the flies. The other side of pride was fear. Lilith hadn’t experienced the devastation of a deep-seated dream going so horribly wrong. Lilith wasn’t torn from her beloved family of millennia when she fell. Lilith didn’t lose everything. 

Lilith, thankfully, doesn’t understand fear in the way Lucifer does. What if history repeats itself, and he loses everything again?  

Because now, Charlie and Lilith are everything.

Chapter Text

“Doesn’t angering him put us at greater risk?” asked Michael. The archangels sat around the various couches in the office as Sera stood with her hands behind her back, dark against the light of the window overlooking the Promenade. 

“Yes, anger does influence power,” she admitted. “But our real risk with the Morningstar is the power that he drives from love. With enough of that in his heart, I’m not sure even our angelic chains can hold him.”

“So, what do you want us to do at this trial?” Michael asked. 

“Very little,” Sera responded. “What I don’t want you to do is have some sort of lovey-dovey reunion. No hugs, no words of support. When you see the Morningstar, maintain an air of restraint. If you must speak to him, speak down, remind him of his sins and his fall, of the complete and utter rejection from heaven.” 

Uriel let out an awkward chuckle. “That’s a little dark, Sera. That’s our brother.”

“This isn’t about your relationship with your estranged brother, Archangel,” she said, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for all of you. But, we cannot let Lucifer gain enough power to escape our grasp, rampage in the courtroom, and possibly destroy us all with a hellish uprising. Don’t you all care for each other? All of your safety is at risk when such a strong being is free.”

_________________________________________________________

The court was nearly filled as the archangels sat in the pews closest to the floor of the court, waiting for the defendant. When Lucifer finally arrived, nearly unrecognizable, in chains and a grey jumpsuit, Uriel gulped, suppressing a desire to call out to him. She and the other archangels shuffled their wings anxiously.

Was that really their brother? His eyes had changed color, his teeth were now sharp, and, oddest of all, Uriel saw no wings. He should have at least two. Or, were they under his grey prison uniform? She kept looking down, but as his gaze moved in her direction, she quickly looked away. 

As the trial progressed, the archangels kept their word to stay silent. What did they have to say about this, anyway? They didn’t know a damn thing about this ‘Redemption Acres’ plot, or whether it was some sort of attempt to take down heaven. Uriel knew the archangels were only there to remind him of what happens when you put faith and love into your family. 

But it was reminding her, too, and she sensed mourning in all of her siblings. 

Hours passed, and Uriel barely kept it together. He’s a traitor, he’s a traitor, he’s a traitor, she reminded herself. Of all the pain she felt–and of all the pain Lucifer felt–it would only multiply a thousandfold if his plans of evil were released on Heaven and Earth. 

Then, despite her desperate attempts to emotionally remove herself from the situation, she heard his anguished words. “You…you fucking mutilated me.” The words in their truth hurt so badly, even after all these years, she had to cover her mouth and turn away to hide her tears. “But I…I still want to help. I never wanted to hurt any of you. Not in the past, not now, not ever.” 

Her heart fell to her feet. The sincerity in his voice was inimitable. No trial, no lawyer, and no argument could ever be stronger than that; Lucifer’s entire soul was in his voice, and Uriel knew every word the fallen angel had said was true. 

Chapter Text

The archangels had changed since the fall.

And because of it. 

For starters, their looks had modernized. While “clothing” could be purchased, altered, and worn, such high magical beings often simply projected the outfits they wanted through their powers. Back in the days of Eden, they opted for robes, but now they mostly wore thigh-length regal military-style jackets, fastened with rows of golden buttons, with shoulder pads and decorations. Their halos were simple gold rings, and Uriel wore white laurels in her red hair. 

Lucifer looked up to them and thought they all looked a bit off. Like a tea set missing a sugar pot, a puzzle missing a piece, a story missing a character. They were meant to come as a set, with their roles working with each other. Their faces looked similar, each with white, round faces and flattened noses and colored circles on their cheeks. Uriel’s were orange, Gabriel’s yellow, Raphael’s green, Sariel’s blue, and Micheal’s purple. 

Raphael and Sariel carried short swords, fastened in golden scabbards at their waist, and Michael still carried his long sword from so long ago. Rather than fancy, sparkling adornment, Michael opted for athletic Grecian garb and light armor on his chest, head, forearms and shins. 

Lucifer was slightly amused at this–-who needs to wear armor to court? But he knew that Michael had other reasons for presenting himself as such. To show that he was always ready for battle, that he was never without defenses. 

The demon didn’t know what hurt more; thinking about the end, or remembering all the joy they shared. Knowing that they would never frolic in Elysium again, knowing that such love can turn to such pain. He wished that it had been anyone else who had been tasked with beating him down and hurling him out of Heaven; if only he had some enemy to blame. 

If only he could hate the ones who hurt him. If only he couldn’t still feel their loving embrace. If only there were true villains here, then he could push his anger onto someone other than himself. 

His eyes went to Michael’s sword. It was hard enough not to avoid seeing it when he closed his eyes any time Lillith wasn’t in bed with him. 

That sword, in this very courtroom…

_________________________________________________

Despite her wide, fearful eyes, the young Lilith was lovely, as always, in a simple white dress, being held by the wrists by two guards, armed with angelic spears, across the room as her and Lucifer waited for the verdict. 

A much younger Sera read the verdict, with little emotion evident in her voice. “Lucifer and Lilith, the court has made its judgment. You have been found guilty of bringing humanity into sin. Your punishment is to be expelled from both Heaven and Earth, to serve eternity in a pit of hell. Here and now, you will be beaten and then thrown over the precipice. Guards, begin with Lilith.” 

The guards holding Lilith took a step back and simply raised their spears to strike. Lucifer, in a rage, pumped his wings so hard that he broke free of the guards holding him, and the wind knocked them over. The young angel launched himself to Lilith, positioning himself between her and the violence of the guards. 

One stopped his strike just in time, but the other’s spear came down, hitting Lucifer on the left side of his head with the blunt end of his spear. Lucifer grunted, and faltered, taking a step forward, and both guards took a step back, looking to Sera to see how to proceed. 

“Waitwaitwat,” he rushed, holding his right hand out defensively as his left came up to wipe the ichor from his eye as the golden blood flowed down his face. 

“You can’t beat her! She’s a human, she can’t survive angelic power!” 

“This isn’t your judgment to make, Morningstar,” Sera noted. 

“But...but...” Lucifer looked back and forth at the two guards. “But she didn’t really do anything!” 

“She convinced you to give Eve the apple, did she not!” 

“No, it was my idea!” 

“But she encouraged you.” 

“She didn’t know what the apple was! I…I lied to her. I told her it was something you approved of. She had no idea it would bring sin into the world!” Not that Lucifer knew that, either, but he did know he was violating Heaven's order. He had simply wished--dreamed--that it would turn out alright. 

Sera leaned back and thought. “I see.” She gestured at the guards and they returned to attention. Lucifer put his hand in the long sleeve of his robe and pressed it to his head to slow the bleeding, then turned to his right so he could show his good side to Lilith and smile at her. 

“You’re saying that you lied to a human, risking her life and freedom, in order to defray your own responsibility in bringing sin to the world?” Sera questioned.

Lucifer gulped. “Y-yes.” 

“Pitiful. I thought that you at least had love in your heart for her, but now I see you are nothing but prideful and selfish.” 

Lucifer was silent as Sera continued. “Very well. She will be spared physical punishment, but yours will be more severe, and you will both be cast into the pit.” 

Lucifer took a deep breath and held out his wrists for the guards to chain him. “I understand,” he accepted. 

Chapter Text

Lucifer had already messed up once, the least he could do was make a sacrifice for Lilith, so he said nothing as he was chained by the wrist and neck to the ground. He looked around the room, taking in the expressions of hatred and pity, and wanting desperately for it to be over with. His siblings hovered above at Sera’s balcony, talking with her. 

Lucifer looked back at Lilith with a gentle smile that he hoped was reassuring, trying to hide the bloody side of his face. She looked back at him, but frowned. 

The older archangels descended to Lucifer. At the thought of them seeing him beaten and thrown out of Heaven, he cringed, and took a deep breath. Then, he tried to smile warmly at them, to instill one more loving memory before the end. Maybe he could ask them to leave before he suffered his punishment. At least, as they approached him, he was comforted by the fact that he could say goodbye to them. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer said quietly up at his siblings, who circled around him, darkening his view. The others were two to three times his height, and they blocked out the light. “I’ll miss you,” the youngest said, turning slowly with a sad smile. 

The archangels drew closer, surrounding Lucifer like a pack of coyotes, but none would meet his eyes. Uriel turned and covered her eyes with her hands, mouth stretched in sorrow. 

Suddenly, Lucifer felt someone pulling at the back of the top of his robe, yanking him backwards and tossing him like a ragdoll. Before he even hit the marble tiling, Lucifer recounted that he had felt this only once before. Back when he was younger, just barely a fledgeling and before he learned to fly, he was peering far over the edge of a cloud into a canyon when Michael grabbed him by the back of his clothes and threw him back onto the soft cloud. 

Sorry, Michael had said, back then. I was afraid you’d fall. 

Lucifer hit the floor with a grunt, face-first, and looked back at Michael towering over him, six wings flared immensely. The archangels surrounded again, all kneeling so they could hold his arms, legs, and wings down. 

Lucifer’s mind raced. If he had to be beaten, it wouldn’t be by his beloved family, was it? But it would. That was the point of a punishment, to hurt him both body and soul. He barely had time to react before he felt Michael’s foot on his spine and his cold sword sliding down into the top of his robe. With the smaller angel pinned, Michael pulled the sword towards himself, tearing the back of Lucifer’s robe to reveal where wings met skin. 

Archangels kneeled on each of Lucifer’s wings as his stomach churned. Michael sat on his legs and grabbed the base of his lower left wing, then pulled it out sideways to make the skin taught. The largest seraph pressed the sharp tip of his sword into the point between the scapula and the humerus. Lucifer squirmed as the blade passed through his skin, muscles, and into the cartilage of the joint between his wing and back. Michael angled the blade and shoved it between the bones, wet snaps of soft tissue being broken ringing in Lucifer’s ears. He gasped at the air and clawed the ground desperately, wings attempting to beat and prompting the others to put more weight on them. 

Michael pushed his sword so it went all the way through the wing and then pulled the blade to the center of Lucifer’s back and outward to the side, to sever the remaining strips of flesh keeping the appendage attached. The smallest of the angels saw the wing tossed to his side, and at the horror of being dismembered and the burning in his back, he opened his mouth to shriek. 

The sound rang about the courtroom and Rafael rushed to cover Lucifer’s mouth with one hand, the other pressing his head into the marble. The smallest angel looked up at his brother in a silent cry for mercy, and then down towards the floor. Then he squeezed his eyes shut as tears flowed onto the marble. 

Wasn’t Mercy supposed to be a virtue?

Michael switched hands with which he held his sword so he could perform the same amputation on the opposite wing, grabbing it roughly. Lucifer had always known Michael’s hands as huge but gentle and warm. The bleeding seraph bucked in fear as he felt the blade carve into the junction between his back and his lower right wing, hotly slicing through muscles that retracted like snapped rubber bands and audibly breaking apart the white cartilage that kept his body together.  

As Michael grabbed the base of his middle left wing, Lucifer’s eyes opened and, in a fit of terror, thrashed so hard he was able to get a knee under himself, pushing up his lower body enough that Michael lost his balance and had to place a hand on the ground so he wouldn’t fall off of Lucifer completely. 

“Hold still, damnit!” Michael shouted and pulled back at the chain on Lucifer’s neck, like a leash on a dog, choking him and turning his face dark.

Sounds became muffled as pressure built in the suffocating angel’s ears, but Lucifer could hear Uriel’s shriek, “Let go! You’re going to kill him!” 

Lucifer thrashed even harder, mind singularly focused on getting air, and even wrestled one of his arms from Gabriel. Raphael scrambled to hold onto him. Michael let go of the neck chain and Lucifer gasped loudly, but it wasn’t over yet. Michael put his long sword back in the scabbard as he struggled to keep Lucifer down like a bull rider. “Give me your sword!” he demanded of Raphael, who handed him the shorter weapon as Lucifer took a ragged breath and freed both his hands, which he used to push his torso off the ground. Now only partially pinned by his wings and legs, he just needed a little more time to squirm out of their grasp, to use his small size to slip between the cracks, and zip out of there with Lilith. Maybe with four wings he could still fly a little? 

“I said hold still !” Michael, barely still atop Lucifer, slammed the short sword down onto his brother’s right shoulder, right above his top wing. The swing was so powerful it pierced through Lucifer’s scapula, sliced between the front of his top ribs, and embedded in the floor, cracking the marble. Uriel, still pressing on one of his wings, gasped. The hilt at Lucifer’s back pressed him into the rock like a pinned butterfly. 

With that, Lucifer stopped thrashing. Even his harsh breaths hurt as his torso expanding scraped his flesh against the blade. He coughed, nearly retching, then looked up at Michael silently. 

Michael panted and withdrew his sword again, keeping his eyes on his victim rather than his siblings, who he could see peripherally were looking ill. 

“Now is not the time for weakness,” Michael declared in a low boom, in a way not entirely clear if he was talking down to the pinned angel, his siblings, or himself. Lucifer tried to hold still as directed; he didn’t attempt to get up, but he couldn't maintain complete motionlessness as his remaining wings shook violently, mitigated by his siblings pinning them. He closed his eyes as his brother, his protector, reached down and pulled at the base of his left middle wing, slowly positioning his sword at the shoulder joint, then stabbed it through. 

Lucifer’s eyes rolled up as he felt the burn of his three missing wings. Would his body grant him the mercy of unconsciousness? The idea provided little comfort, knowing that a reprieve of pain wouldn’t last long, and he would still inevitably wake up completely disfigured. 

Michael tossed the wing to the side, and through closed eyes Lucifer could hear the feathered limb hit the ground. “Halfway done,” Michael huffed. 

Ichor ran down his wounds, wetting the side of Lucifer’s body and pooling on the ground, soaking the front of his clothes and chest. His face against the floor was wet too, and his whole body was cold but sweating. The small angel tried to withdraw into his mind, to think about anything else or nothing at all. He would get through this eventually. Right? 

At least part of him would. 

He hoped. 

As Michael took the base of the right middle wing, every twitch of muscle brought him back to the present. He wished he could disappear, shrink down into nothingness where no one could see him, scorn him, judge him, touch him, hurt him. Pulling the skin taught, Michael tried a new technique, sawing the skin around the joint open with the edge of his sword, and then twisting the joint in circles to split the muscles and tendons. 

He couldn’t help but whisper to his siblings. “Please, let me go. I’ll go to the pit and you’ll never have to deal with me again. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll never talk to you, never see you, never even think about you again.” 

Heaven never listens. There was no point in begging for mercy. But in his mind, he couldn’t help but pray for it as the cold steel of Michael’s blade touched the base of his top left wing. 

“Stop!” 

It was Uriel’s voice. Lucifer doesn’t know when she left, but it sounded like she was running back toward them. 

“Sera said we can stop there, Michael! We’ll leave him with the top two wings to remind him of what he once was, and what he lost. He can’t fly or open portals like that anyway! Please, Michael.” 

Michael looked at her, then looked up to Sera, who nodded in confirmation. All the siblings stood up and looked down at their brother, pinned by the short sword, shaking but not trying to get up, bloody and dismembered like a butterfly whose wings had been torn off by a sadistic child. 

“It’s too much ichor,” whispered Uriel. “We’re not supposed to kill him.”

Raphael awkwardly took the handle of his sword, still impaled on his brother, who whimpered as it moved. Then, pressing a foot to Lucifer’s back, he yanked it out, flinging gold blood all over Michael’s front–

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An elbow at his side jostled Lucifer to pay attention, pulling him from his reverie. His butchering was long in the past. Now was now, and the trial for his freedom over his plans for Redemption Acres was coming to a close. He tried to lock into what his lawyer was telling him; it could be critical to his freedom. He had to hope beyond hope that he would survive this, that he would be freed, relatively unscathed, and able to join his family. 

With a deep breath, and against all logic, he silently prayed.

Chapter Text

A messenger angel passed the verdict to Sera, scrawled on golden parchment, as the sun outside the courthouse dipped towards the horizon. 

Red light trickled through the glass ceiling of the building, which was imbued with certain magic to dampen the powers of all inside–portal travel was expressly blocked by spells blessing every marble block of its construction. 

As angels are air-born beings, buildings such as the courthouse are more vertical than those on earth, a tall column with layers of balconies. The height of one’s balcony wasn’t expressly tied to one’s rank, but one’s seat assignment tended generally to reflect your position in heaven. 

Naturally, Lucifer was at the bottom. Chained to the floor like a dog. Looking at him brought Michael back to the darkest place he’d ever been in his life. When he had maimed the beloved brother he had sworn to always protect. 

The image of Lucifer on the ground was burned into his mind. Such a small body, looking even smaller isolated on the wide, white floor of the courtroom, shivering in a pool of his own blood, his top two wings twitching, the other four cast aside like they weren’t parts of an angelic being’s very body. Ones that Michael himself had preened hundreds of times, ones that carried his brother high above the clouds, ones that opened portals and flapped in excitement and shrank around Lucifer in fear. It was like looking at your beloved family member severed from their hands, or their face. His identity. Pulled apart in a horror both existential and physical. 

A week after The Fall, Michael couldn’t keep his anguish to himself any longer. 

“I’ll never forget how hard that was,” he had told Uriel, seeking comfort from his most sensitive of siblings. 

Uriel had cocked her head at an angle to him, brow knitted. “Oh?” she had said. “It was hard for you?” 

He didn’t talk to anyone about it after that, but he never did forget. Now, what specific hell he was condemned to, to watch it all happen again? At least he wouldn’t be assigned to maim Lucifer again. His sword–and Michael himself–were made to defend against real threats, not an angel who was just trying to help, not his beloved, kind-hearted, optimistic, playful brother. 

If it was easy, we wouldn’t need a warrior to do it, Sera had told him, back in preparation for the trial before the fall, and again in the morning before the Redemption Acres trial. 

But…had casting Lucifer out of Heaven been the right choice in the first place? They’ll never be able to compare humanity as it is now to as it would have been, but…human souls don’t seem so bad. While knowing good from evil gave them responsibility for their sins, they also had the opportunity to come into a certain true kindness, and, perhaps, they realize their potential to shy away from harming each other. Perhaps they are, in fact, better off knowing good from evil. 

No–Michael couldn’t handle that line of thinking. They didn’t viciously attack and abandon their brother without reason. It has to be true, it has to be true that the Fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil caused more harm than good. Michael was strong, but not strong enough to handle the idea that The Fall had been a cruel, pointless mistake. 

The archangels shifted uncomfortably as a juror handed the golden paper to read the verdict. Michael looked down at his brother, restrained like an animal. His eyes were locked on Sera, and even from this distance, Michael could see his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Sera announced the results dispassionately. “On the count of Attempted Sabotage of the Sanctity of Heaven, we find the defendant guilty.”

The archangels looked to each other, wings fluttering enough that the wind blew each others’ robes around. 

“Did we watch the same trial?” whispered Gabriel. 

“Lucifer didn’t really do anything…” muttered Michael. 

As agitated conversation around the courtroom flourished, Sera had to raise a hand

“Quiet, everyone,” she announced. “It’s time for the sentencing. Lucifer Morningstar, the court finds you guilty, and the punishment for this type of treason is permanent removal of all your wings, followed by three years in prison as we schedule your execution, to be enacted swiftly and humanely. May God have mercy on your soul.” 

At that, Michael looked down at his hands and saw them as they were before The Fall, as though he had been transported back in time to that day. Covered in golden ichor and white down feathers. He closed his eyes and shook his head, barely registering talk from the other angels around the courtroom.  He looked down to see the two guards advance on his little brother to take him away, as the Devil stood there chained and immobile. 

But, in a moment that had Michael questioning whether his baby brother was as wholesome and demure as the older archangel had always thought of him, Lucifer’s eyes started to glow red, and Michael could just barely hear him repeat two names.

“Lilith…Charlie…Lilith…Charlie…” 

With that, the youngest seraph started to glow. It was a particular white glow, silent but beautiful, that Michael hadn’t seen since long before The Fall. 

It was a shapeshifting glow. 

The guards pointed their spears down to Lucifer, widening their stances and bristling their feathers. Michael stood in front of his siblings and put his arms and wings out in front of them. “Get back,” he commanded. 

Michael couldn’t imagine the anger boiling inside Lucifer–nor, truthfully, fault him for it–feeding his power, which he would surely use to change into something terrifying. Michael had heard stories of hell, with some demons growing into dragon-like forms, several stories tall, blazing with fire, screeching through hundreds of teeth and dozens of eyes. Ready to tear apart anything in front of them. Any one in front of them. 

Tearing Lucifer from his family a second time, this time to keep him in Heaven’s jail, may have been a necessity to protect Heaven, but maybe, Michael thought, doing so would simply feed the demon’s dark power, and put Heaven at a greater risk than ever before. 

And they were about to see the true extent of the Devil’s anger. The Dark Prince, the Original Sin, fueled by hurt and rage, claws of fire and hatred, fangs sharpened on a need for revenge, here and now, was ready to show them exactly why they feared him so much. 

In trying to subdue the monster, all they had done was create him. 

In only a second, Lucifer’s light flashed subtly, and brief sparkles and a jingle filled the air, signaling the transformation. 

The white, angelic chains clinked on the ground. Michael put his palms on the parapet and leaned far over it to look, and he knitted his brows together and opened his mouth in confusion. 

Instead of an enormous, flaming dragon before him where Lucifer’s small form had been, he looked down, and, from that distance, he saw empty chains, an empty jumpsuit, and no one at all. 

Chapter Text

There were so many angels, holding so many spears, filled with so much anger, looking down at the little traitor with so much malice as the messenger angel passed the verdict to Sera. 

Their gazes were suffocating. Lucifer wished he could shrink even smaller and hide from them all, make them forget he ever existed. 

He had loved them–and how was his love for Lilith and Charlie any different? What if they betrayed him as well? 

He thought of their smiles, their warm embraces. The little crayon drawings Charlie drew of her family, smiling doodles holding hands under rainbows. Flying with Lilith and spinning her in circles in the air. The way his heart swelled when Charlie brought him a little duck she had made of clay. Because I know you love ducks , she had said, and I love you. 

How could he worry about them leaving him, hurting him, or betraying him, when he was the one who had abandoned them? He never meant to, of course–he was supposed to be back from Heaven a year ago, the same day he left Hell–but he swore he wouldn’t leave them alone for another day. He would do anything to see them again, and he would try for the rest of his life to make it up to them for being gone.  

And if, one day, they decided they hated him, left him, and turned against him, he would try to understand. But now, Charlie is just a child; she deserves a present and loving father, one who does whatever it takes to raise and support her. At the very least, she deserves a chance, and unconditional love untainted by Lucifer’s fear of abandonment–-and unimpeded by Heaven’s wrath. 

Lucifer imagined going home, standing in the garden out front, and the door of the mansion opening for him as yellow sunlight bathed the walkway. He imagined Charlie’s surprise in seeing her father again, running toward him as he crouched to catch her and spin her around in a hug. Lilith would walk slowly and gracefully from the doorway, a being of pure, radiant beauty and confidence. He would shift Charlie to one side as Lilith embraced him, tears in her eyes, kissing his cheeks. 

At least for a moment, everything would be ok. 

Cavalline, the lawyer beside him, elbowed him again. “What are you smiling about? They just read the verdict.”

Lucifer’s whole body went cold. “What?” 

“They’re going to kill you, Morningstar. They’re taking your wings, throwing you in jail, and killing you.” 

Lucifer’s pupils narrowed to slits. His vision changed to a nightmare, his beloved family at the dinner table quietly, the seat at the end conspicuously empty. Where’s Daddy? Charlie asked in the vision. I don’t know, Lilith responded. It’s been so long, we may never know. It might be time to move on. 

The anguish of knowing he would cause his girls to wonder forever, perhaps to search for him, to let the years pass by wondering and hoping and suspecting others and wasting their time trying to get him back, or hating him for leaving without a word, never knowing for thousands of years that he was long dead , it felt like his heart had turned to stone and was falling through his body. 

“Lilith…Charlie…Lillith…Charlie…”  

The love and the fear of hurting them pulsed through him. If only he could disappear from here forever. Angels pointed their spears towards him and descended upon him, ready to drag him away to a Hell worse than Hell. 

The desperation increased in intensity that he began to glow, power outsizing the magic-dampening spells in his chains and in the courthouse. Voices hushed as he, nearly subconsciously, began to glow with transformation magic. With a little jingle and a soft, white light, he changed. In a moment, everything was dark and grey. 

From the perspective of the courtroom, he had simply disappeared-–but how could that be when it was truly impossible to summon portals in the courthouse? They looked to each other in confusion, and no one saw the little, white snake slither from the grey jumpsuit, leaving the now-oversized magic-dampening chains behind, non-existent hands and feet no longer bound. 

Lucifer looked upwards to the red streams of light coming in through the ceiling, glass and unguarded. He unfurled his wings, tiny in his snake form, and flapped up to it, leaving the chains and his captors behind. His wings grew and his body unconsciously shifted to his more natural state, growing arms and legs into his full demon form, rising quickly but gaining the attention of some of the armed angels. 

Soon, Lucifer presented fully in his ringmaster form, with red shoulder pads, glowing red eyes, horns holding up his snake-halo, a tail, and extra eyes on his coattails. All six wings flapped, beautiful with their crimson feathering. As he ascended, he was singularly focused on his escape. 

That is, until he reached the balcony with his siblings. 

There, Michael stood with one arm outstretched, shielding the archangels behind him, the other touching the hilt of his sword.

Lucifer’s heart stuttered. He was scaring them. He stopped on the parapet of the balcony, black boots tapping the marble. His presentation calmed, with his horns, tail, and fire retreating. He looked just like a silly circus ringmaster with wings, gazing at them softly, hands held up in warmth. 

As he landed, he gestured to pull up a golden dome, surrounding the entire balcony–-and just in time, as he heard the muffled thump of dozens of spears aimed at his back hitting the shield instead. Other angels flew at him and angrily banged on their obstacle. 

Michael slowly began to unsheathe his sword, but Uriel’s lower wing came around to block it, and she gave him a hard look. Lucifer, standing on the parapet, could almost see eye-to-eye with some of his siblings. He would have to make this quick. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I miss you,” he said, a pleading look in his eyes and a gentle smile, inadvertently showing off his sharp teeth. “I love you all. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. I know it’s over, but I’m glad we had our time together, and I will never hurt you. I just want you to know that, you never have to be afraid of me.” 

Every one of the archangels had tears in their eyes, and Uriel moved slowly forward, reaching out her arms in a tentative request for an embrace. Lucifer wanted to hug them all, but Uriel would have to serve as the ambassador, and he hugged her tight. 

The banging on the shield got louder. Michael looked at the man before him, and spoke as Uriel pulled away. “Luci, I–” 

Suddenly, with a loud crack, the shield shattered, thanks to the power of Adam’s fist. Lucifer grew out his wings in an instant to be large enough to cover his siblings like an umbrella as the tiny pieces of the shield rained down on them. He turned back to see more spears flying toward him, and he repositioned his wings again, behind him, to protect his siblings. 

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the bottom left of his rib cage, and his breath stopped. He blinked at Michael and cocked his head. Then, the huge warrior angel lunged forward and grabbed Lucifer by the lapels and yanked him forward, then tossed him like a doll onto the floor of the balcony.

It hurt. His side really hurt, and he realized his leg and upper right wing did too. Writhing on the ground, his siblings were over him, putting their hands on his body. Lucifer’s heart thrummed in his chest looking up at them as they blocked the sunlight from his view. At the familiar feeling of them grabbing at his arms, legs, and wings, he squirmed in terror. 

Between the shouting, he heard one voice directed loudly at him. 

“Hold still, damnit!” 

Chapter Text

Uriel gasped as the Devil himself landed on the parapet in front of her, flaring his wings, now white and red. 

Internally, she thanked Heaven they had grown back, but was surprised that he had kept them hidden until now. All the seraphim could retract their wings but it was profoundly uncomfortable, even painful to do so. To think he had been doing that during the whole court case was terrifying.

Lucifer raised his arms to form a gold, shimmering shield over them all, preventing spears and the prying ears of other angels from reaching them. The demon’s form was so very different from their days in the clouds, his red horns sprouting above him and supporting a gold snake–a halo. He had been so sweet and jolly in their youth, it was hard to take Sera seriously when she expressed concern that his power was too strong. Now, Uriel sat at a duality: the being in front of her was one she had known as incredibly gentle, silly, and loving, and she knew her baby brother must be in there somewhere. But he was also a powerful, fiery demon whose love-primed strength was so immense he was able to shapeshift despite the power dampening shackles and spells on the building. 

A king. 

Faced with his siblings that he had so loved and hated, would he be? Angel or Devil? Lover or fighter? The blazing being before them was something heretofore unseen and unknown.

Through his anger and his love, Lucifer had been made a new creature. 

Michael, in front of Uriel, began to pull out out his sword. A future flashed in front of Uriel; a future of violence and hate, started by Michael’s slash. But she saw another future, as well, and to call it into being, she carefully moved her wing in front of the sword and gave Michael a look. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I miss you,” Lucifer said, retracting his horns, and Uriel’s heart beat like a hammer. “I love you all. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. I know it’s over, but I’m glad we had our time together, and I will never hurt you. I just want you to know that, you never have to be afraid of me.” 

The question of what Lucifer was and how to keep him from realizing his true power was no longer of interest to Uriel. His choice to love was what kept them safe. If they protected that love, they would need no fear. 

“Luci, I–” Michael started, but was interrupted by the sound of the dome splintering. Lucifer raised his wings to protect them from the dome’s shards, then re-positioned them to shield them again from spears as they flew toward the balcony with soft fwwwt ’s.

In an instant, Lucifer made a choked noise and stepped forward. Uriel scanned him in horror and saw several spear tips in him, pointing toward the archangels, but stopped by his body. One was in his thigh, one was in his right side, and several were in his wings. 

With a surge of energy, Michael grabbed Lucifer by the lapels and threw him back toward the siblings. The warrior angel then jumped up on the parapet, stood defiantly, and expanded his wings to cover his siblings, who were crouching over Lucifer and semi-protected by the railing of the balcony. Michael drew his sword, aflame, held it over his head righteously, and slashed at the few remaining spears that other angels had cast in their direction. Adam looked at him in anger, but the severity of Michael’s gaze, his gritted teeth, his stance, and his energy convinced Adam to stay back. 

Lucifer hit the ground and his siblings hovered over him. He had to lay on his side, as the spear in his ribs kept him from getting on his back or front. In a panic, the siblings started holding him down and grabbing at the weapons.

Gabriel yanked out the spear in Lucifer’s thigh and tossed it to the ground, prompting a yelp from the smaller angel, who squirmed harder and flapped his wings. Luckily, many of the spears in his wings were only caught between the feathers, and were dislodged by the movement. Then, all the wings aligned in a concentrated, specific move that only resulted in red and gold sparks above his head. He tried again, and again, and Uriel suspected he was trying to open a portal.

There was still a spear in the flesh of his upper-right wing, around the elbow, and Raphael attempted to pull it out, but Lucifer’s movements were too erratic for him to get it. 

“Hold still, damnit!” Raphael commanded, and grabbed the wing with frustrated force. 

Lucifer stilled at the command, mouth parted to gasp raspily. The smaller angel’s eyes darted between his siblings, wide and blinking rapidly as Sariel pinned her brother down by the shoulders to help, his waist still twisted to accommodate the handle of the weapon sticking out of his back. Uriel sat by Lucifer’s face, kneeling on his left wings, and Gabriel held his legs down. Raphael grabbed the back of the spear with one hand, the wing in another, and pulled them apart. For that, he earned a scream and slick, golden blood on his hands. 

The scream evolved to coughing, and Lucifer coughed blood onto Uriel’s robe. In horror, Uriel noticed that the spear in Lucifer’s side likely punctured his lung. Worse, the spear wasn’t all the way through the small angel. 

Raphael moved down and took the handle of the spear to pull it out through Lucifer’s back. 

“Wait!” yelled Uriel. “You have to push it through, pulling it back will catch the hook on his lung and do more damage.” 

Raphael paused and considered the paradox in front of him, the angelic weapon sticking out of a rapidly rising and falling ribcage on the trapped and catatonic seraph. But, he listened, took the handle of the spear, and pushed it further toward the front of his brother’s body until the hooked side protruded, prompting an anguished whine. Gold ichor spilled from the wound like a waterfall onto the floor. 

Sariel carefully held the tip of the blade and Raphael pulled out his short sword and angled it at Lucifer’s back, near the handle of the spear. Lucifer’s eyes turned to Raphael and he stilled so completely, it seemed he had stopped breathing. Tears silently fell down his face. 

Raphael raised his sword and brought it down toward Lucifer’s back, who closed his eyes, tensing. The sword came down on the handle of the spear, breaking the wood away from the blade. With that, Lucifer clenched his jaw and pressed his eyes together in pain as Sariel pulled the sharp end of the spear out of Lucifer’s side.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Uriel assured Lucifer, satisfied that her younger brother’s body was finally free from angelic weapons. The siblings got him properly on his back, and he turned his head to cough up more ichor that had trickled into his lungs. “Just stay down, ok? Raphael, can you–”

“I’m trying,” Raphael responded, looking down at his hands, pressed to the wound on Lucifer’s ribcage. His hands were glowing with his attempt to summon healing magic, but the magic-dampening spells stopped him. 

Sariel gasped. “Shit, he’s–what if he–he could die,” she said. “We can’t help him.” 

Raphael puffed. “We can give him over, the angels will take him to a hospital before jail…”

Uriel swallowed. “And then what?”

“We can’t let him die right in front of us!” Raphael barked, noticing blood flowing more freely from the wounds and Lucifer’s eyes getting glassy. “We have to turn him in. What choice do we have?” 

Before Uriel could consider the options, the form beneath her pushed up, turned over, and slipped from their blood-slippery fingers. In only a moment, he took two rapid steps away from them and their grasps, then opened his wings gloriously. From the back, they were all white, and his horns and tail sprouted again, resuming his full demon form. Lucifer raised his wings and then, with an intense pump, flapped and pushed off from the ground with such power that he cracked the marble. His blood-stained siblings could only watch as he ascended toward Sera.

The guards tossed a few more spears toward Lucifer, and he spun around to catch one by the handle with shocking agility. He paused for a second at Sera’s balcony, holding his weapon close to his chest, smiling with his eyes glowing red, wings spread. 

Then with one more blast of energy, he shot toward the ceiling, spear pointed above him. There were five sounds, three strikes and two breaks. First, the spear hit the glass, just cracking it in a spider-web pattern, then the handle broke off. Then, Lucifer’s horns hit it too, with such force that the glass cracked more. The tip of one horn broke off, and the force dislodged the entire keratin sheath of the other, which fell off and exposed blood and bone. Finally, Lucifer’s head hit the glass and the whole ceiling shattered, making a space for him to ascend outside the courtroom. 

Uriel looked up, wide-eyed, as the glass pieces fell toward the angels in the court. But before it could get far, the ceiling was encased in a golden dome–Lucifer’s shield, catching the shards before they could harm anyone. 

The last thing she saw of her brother was him protecting them. 

Chapter Text

There never was a fresher breath of air than the one that filled Lucifer’s lungs as he broke through the ceiling of the courthouse. Shining glass surrounded him, gold blood sparkled from his injured horns and head, and a grin of sharp, white teeth filled up his face. 

He kept his eyes closed through the shattering, then reached behind him to summon a shield below the ceiling, which caught the falling shards, as well as his broken spear, the broken tip of his left horn, and the keratin of his right. The shield should evaporate by nightfall, or when someone chose to break it, and by then, Lucifer figured, the angels would be smart enough to be out of the way. What a misery it would be if he had hurt someone else just to save himself. 

For only a moment, Lucifer slowed his flapping and opened his eyes to the sunlight. The red beams were even more beautiful than he remembered. Splotches of clouds painted the sky at the horizon, pastel purple and pink, soft and puffy and cool. The colors in Heaven were always so much more gentle than hell. For now, Lucifer felt no pain, just a light cold sweat in the evening stillness. 

Lucifer resumed his rapid flight, quickly leaving the courthouse behind, but unable to resist performing a few barrel rolls in the fresh Heavenly air. The place had changed, but he knew enough to zip around in confusing patterns, hoping to obfuscate his location from anyone in pursuit. 

When he was safely behind a building, Lucifer stood on the ground and flexed his wings in the portal-summoning position. A gold ring formed above his head, and he tried to direct it to his home in hell. 

Yet, as he pushed his magic harder and harder, the locations in the portal shifting rapidly he simply couldn’t stretch the portal to go all the way to hell. It was too far and his one injured wing wasn’t helping. Furthermore, despite his euphoria, Lucifer’s energy was being depleted as his blood ran down onto the ground. 

Fuck, he thought. I’m leaving them a damn trail of breadcrumbs. 

There was another way, he knew, and he launched himself again into the sky, towards the edge of Heaven. 

He had thought through this plan, and endless back-up plans, over and over in his cell. Darkness was starting to envelop him and he thanked the stars for its cover. 

The edge where he had fallen–where he was thrown–was in sight. It was a dusty cliff, edged with white, a mile from town. Lucifer just needed to plunge off and let gravity take him down to hell, his six–or, five uninjured–wings safely slowing him down as he goes. 

Instinctively, he slowed as he came to the edge. He landed on the ground and walked to where he could lean over, staring into the abyss. He could see neither earth nor hell in the darkness. He just had to jump. 

There, standing at the edge of Heaven, with wind whipping around him, all he had to do was jump. He took a deep breath and visualized his descent. 

He could feel the air burning on his skin as he had fallen the first time. The emptiness, the lack of control as gravity sucked him down from his family. His heart pumped in his chest, and unconsciously, he fell backwards onto his backside, desperately scooting away from the terrifying edge. 

He gasped raggedly and clutched his heart. This was the site of his undoing. He tried to suppress his memories, but they were so real. So visceral. He couldn’t fall into the pit again; despite the fact that Hell was now an established society, Lucifer didn’t think the ground was any softer than it was when he first fell. 

The angel looked behind him at the horizon, unable to see if anyone was chasing him. He couldn’t stop gasping, trapped between his fears of falling and of Heaven’s wrath. 

But he didn’t need much time to think of an alternative; he had nothing to do but think for the last year. 

So he opened his wings and used every bit of energy he could to open a portal. Above him, the golden ring showed a destination–not hell, but not Heaven either, and perhaps a safe pitstop. Somewhere he hadn’t been in so long, he only recognized it from paintings and descriptions he had seen sinners provide in Hell. 

He stood up, and leapt through the portal to Earth.

Chapter Text

Dusk had arrived in the city park as the angel appeared above it, hovering above a fountain in the center of the pond. Quickly, he shifted into a white sparrow and dove into a copse of aspen by the lakehouse. 

He scanned the area and found the park had neatly-mowed rolling green fields, a large pond, benches, picnic tables, and rowboats parked from the water’s edge over into the small forest. Judging by the faintly glowing buildings he could see in the distance, it was an urban park. That meant people. Luckily, at this hour, it seemed the park was empty.

The little sparrow flitted to the center of the copse, hoping to obscure himself as well as possible among the aspen, then he resumed his more natural, six-winged angelic form to save energy. He noted with disappointment his own exhaustion before he even tried to open the portal. Surely, he could reach Hell from here at full strength, but with so much blood loss and such a long, harrowing day, the gold ring above him flickered with failure. Each repeated attempt just made Lucifer more tired. 

Tomorrow, he thought. The angel walked toward the water until he came across the first upturned rowboat, which he dragged 30 feet deeper into the trees. He let himself fall into the soft earth beside it, then lazily scrambled under it. 

He laid on his back and looked up at the wood. Obscuring his view of the stars. Obscuring their view of him. Lucifer took a deep breath and turned his head to cough up more blood, knowing that the pain would return as the adrenaline wore off. 

There was so much that could go wrong. As ichor wet the ground below him, trailing from his side, leg, and wing, the idea that he could die here settled on his mind. He could fall asleep and silently bleed out, or suffocate from a punctured lung filling with blood. If only he had made it to Hell; Sloth hospitals have somewhat effective treatments to counter non-fatal effects of Angelic weapons, and his own natural regeneration abilities might help. 

That is unless he died before he could heal. Then it was game over, end of story, no coming back. After all that, neither Heaven nor Hell would know what happened, the damage of the Angelic weapons dooming him to die anonymously among cruel humans.

He sighed as he realized that it wasn’t just the weapons that put him in this deadly position. It wasn’t just the wrath of Heaven or his plans to redeem sinners. It was his fault, too. He had risked his life to escape the courtroom, and was paying for it. Furthermore, despite usually being physically strong–current situation notwithstanding–he had been too emotionally weak to simply jump down to Hell. Too scared, too scarred, too pathetic. 

But crashing through the ceiling had been so freeing. He could still feel the fresh wind and bold, glorious sun on his face, cooling the heat of glass stuck in his skin. Flying among Heaven’s clouds had been everything, if only for a moment, and certainly worth more to him than the alternative--three years in jail, followed by an execution. Talking to his siblings was worth the pain, and maybe if they believed his heartfelt words, they would have the kindness to tell Lilith and Charlie what happened so they could have closure. Lucifer knew that Gabriel had the ability to send messages to Hell, and if the sympathy he saw in their eyes was real, perhaps his siblings would have enough of a heart to reach out to Lilith and Charlie. 

He coughed again, spitting gold onto his chin. He pressed a hand to the wound on his side and breathed slowly. He let his mind meander through the events of the day and the fears of what could go wrong; there was no stopping it anyway.  

It was only when he envisioned Lilith’s face, Charlie’s laughter, and his siblings’ care that he came to the gentle understanding that he had made it into some form of sleep.

Chapter Text

Wrapped in feathers, the cold crept into Lucifer from below. With no insulating layer, the fallen angel laying on the ground grew colder and colder, until he couldn’t ignore it anymore and woke up. 

Lucifer exhaled quietly in the darkness of the upturned rowboat, mindful of alerting others to his presence. He unwrapped his wings from his body and turned over, carefully peering out from the space between the edge of the rowboat and the ground. Outside, only a moonlit night accompanied by a symphony of crickets. 

Carefully, he lifted the rowboat and slipped out of it into the trees. With the rest, he wondered if he was now strong enough to summon a portal to hell. Looking down at his gold-covered chest and thigh, shivering in the cold, and realizing that he was starving, he sighed, knowing he wasn’t in the condition to open such a long-range portal. Yet. 

Hobbling around the aspen slowly, his body cried out for food and warmth. Looking around, he saw the white lakehouse, or, perhaps it was a visitor center, closer to the shore of the water. Maybe it would be warmer there, and maybe he’d find food there. If there was a vending machine he’d break the damn thing open. 

He approached the door and was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. Inside it was reasonably warmer, featuring a perpetually-lit hallway, some sort of community room, a locked office, a board with fliers, two bathrooms, and a large cardboard box that said “Lost and Found.” 

Lucifer was curious about why this structure existed–why the park itself existed, actually. Human souls were supposed to be selfish, so who was bothering to maintain a park? The board of fliers had a few advertisements for businesses, but many of them were advertising park events that said they were “free.” Other fliers advertised various types of “family resources,” “food assistance,” and “housing vouchers,” whatever those are. 

He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity.  

The angel looked at the “Lost and Found” box and realized it was full of clothing. Warm clothing. So he grabbed the whole thing and ducked into the men’s room, locking the door behind him. 

As his white ringmaster outfit was a projection of his shapeshifting abilities, he relaxed and let them disappear, keeping only his boots and boxers. Unfortunately, the bathroom mirror was in front of him, and he grimaced at the dried blood still on his face and body from his bleeding horns, cuts from the shattered glass ceiling, and the spear wounds on his torso and leg. The devil rushed to the sink, wet paper towels from the dispenser, and cleaned himself off as much as possible. He had to stop once, folded over and hacking up more ichor into the towels, frustrated that his injuries kept slowing down his endeavor. 

The pain was bad, but looking down at the blood brought a worse, crushing fear. He had come so far; what if he passed out from blood loss? Then he would have no control whatsoever over his own survival, he would be at the mercy of humans–if they had any. Everything he had done would mean nothing. He had to stay in control until he could get to safety. 

Lucifer huffed and searched through the Lost and Found box, flinging clothing around the bathroom. He took two scarves and wrapped one each around his bleeding leg and torso. His injured horns were tucked away and he folded his wings inside to hide them too. Then he selected a T-shirt, black sweatpants, a fuzzy grey trapper hat, and two charcoal sweatshirts, bundling himself up desperately. Hopefully any ichor that seeped through the fabric wouldn’t show up in the dark colors. 

He still shivered as he put the rest of the clothes back in the box. The insulating fabric didn’t do much to retain heat when his body temperature was already so low, but at least the clothing prevented him from getting much colder. If only he had a warm body to embrace, to share in the heat of another. 

He left the bathroom carrying the box and put it back where he found it. Through the windows of the building he could see the first rays of the yellow sun leaking into the sky. The angel couldn’t help but be excited to see an earth sunrise, but he suspected that as the day rose, so would the humans, so he had to don a disguise. 

In addition to the baggy discarded human clothing he was now wearing, he used some of his strength to transform his head and hands to look more human, albeit a very small one, with blonde hair, a visible nose and ears, and skin that was pale but not unreasonably so. He just needed to sit in the sunlight for a bit, and to find something to eat to regain his strength, and with this disguise, he shouldn’t attract too much attention. 

Lucifer left the building and walked out into the open where he could fully see the sky. The gentle gradient of light faded the stars at the horizon and wispy clouds slowly traveled with the northward wind. Birds had begun their morning songs. Spotting a bench by the pond, he made his way to it, slightly frustrated at realizing the severity of his limp. 

He came to the empty bench and sat back against it. With another deep breath, he tilted his head back to watch the sky shift for him. 

Humans began to appear in the park, walking in through the side streets, some dressed in business suits, others holding coffees or riding bicycles. Lucifer watched them warily, with a light sweat forming on his brow, unconsciously praying they’d leave him alone. He had always been told his actions had made humans evil, but as he watched them with a tilt of his head, he couldn’t help but think they only seemed to be minding their own business. Maybe their evil tendencies were more subtle. More sinister. 

A grey-haired woman with glasses and a baseball cap sat on the bench on the other side of the pond from him, holding a paper bag. As she reached into the bag, Lucifer noticed a half-dozen ducks, one of which was a brown female with ten adorable little ducklings, swimming towards the human, as though they had been summoned. The woman casually pulled out the contents of the bag, which were small, yellow morsels–perhaps corn? Then she gently scattered the food on the grass in front of her and into the water. 

The ducks happily picked up the corn, their bills biting quickly at the water. Lucifer couldn’t help but smile, and his heart swelled seeing his creation interact with humans. He watched with fascination as they shook water from their feathers, floated effortlessly like boats, and disappeared and reappeared from the surface of the water. 

And the babies– oh! The babies were so little! They were so curious, tapping on the corn with their feet before tasting it, awkwardly ambling on land and looking around with their big, shiny eyes. They followed their mother faithfully, and she looked back to them in parental adoration. 

The swelling of his heart was strong enough that he could forget the pain, if only for a moment. 

Then someone sat on the other side of the bench from Lucifer, startling him so badly he almost puffed out his wings and horns. He looked over, seeing a red-headed woman in her 20’s. Oddly, she carried two bags, one tote with red flowers, and one large, square, black bag. She smiled politely and gave him a nod. 

Lucifer couldn’t help but stare, shaking again at her proximity and the fact that he still hadn’t warmed up. From where he sat, the sunlight was diffused by the treeline, but soon the rays should be on him more directly, he hoped. 

The woman met his gaze and saw as he curled in on himself in her presence. 

“Are you ok?” she asked. 

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, scanning her voice for meaning. “Why?” 

“Not to be in your business, but I saw you limping.” 

Was she ascertaining his weakness? To take advantage of it? He started to feel a wetness in his breath, a slight gurgle. 

“I’m more powerful than I look, you know.” 

She laughed a little at that. 

“What?” 

“Oh, it’s just an odd thing to say. Makes you sound like a wizard. But it’s fine. You’re not from around here, huh?” 

He smiled at that, but still watched her carefully. “No, I’m…I’m from a long ways away.” He suddenly felt the liquid in his lung push up, and he pulled the sleeve of his innermost sweatshirt out, hacking wetly into it. He pulled it away from his mouth and looked down; despite his disguise, his gold blood was still coming up. Frantically, he pushed the sleeve in and covered it with his second sweatshirt. 

“You ok?” The woman asked again. 

Lucifer waved in defeat. “There’s nothing I can do about it here.” 

“Actually, there’s a free clinic over on 12th street,” the woman said, pointing just north of the rising sun. “They’re great, you don’t need insurance or a VISA or anything. Just look for the sign that says ‘Mercy Clinic.’” 

Lucifer blinked at her. 

“Mercy?”

“Yes. All the care is free. It’s a charity.” 

“Charity?” 

“Yeah, my girlfriend works there. We went to Eastern Hope College together, majored in public service. She went into medical and I went into food distribution.” 

Lucifer swallowed at the mention of food. The young woman smiled awkwardly and unzipped her black bag, while the angel watched her carefully. 

The woman pulled out a black plastic container and held it out to the disguised angel beside her. “Hungry?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the sight of the container, and he could even smell the spices. 

“What–what do you want from me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, it’s free,” she said as she pushed it closer to him, nearly putting it in his lap before he took it in his hands. It was warm. He couldn’t help but hold it to his chest, trying to get the heat onto his body. 

The woman found a plastic fork in the bag and handed it to him as well, which he took. His suspicion was melting away under his hunger, but he still had to ask: “Why is it free?”

“Lots of people help with the charity I work for,” she said. “Grocery stores donate extra food, volunteers pick it up and make meals out of it, and the city gives us grants to hire people to pack and distribute it. Sometimes we have more food than we know what to do with.” 

Lucifer tore open the top to see some sort of seasoned dish of potatoes and onions. He was ready to tear in, but hesitated. As unlikely as it was starting to seem, this could be an elaborate attempt to poison him. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked. 

The woman shrugged, but saw his hesitation. “Oh, do you need someone to–oh, certainly, I’ll eat with you.” 

She pulled out another container and fork and opened it. It seemed to contain the same meal as the one in Lucifer’s hands. She then pulled out two water bottles and placed one beside herself, and one beside the demon. 

The moment she started to eat, Lucifer dug in as well. He tried to only eat at the same pace as her, but couldn’t help devouring the warm, comforting meal. 

As he did so, stopping only a few times to drink the water, he couldn’t help but wonder if this woman was the nicest human in the world, or if she was normal and humans, generally, weren’t so bad. His heart ached a little knowing that people like her could end up doomed to hell, to have their immortal soul chained to the underworld, or exterminated, with no hope of salvation. All because he had failed to get Heaven on board with Redemption Acres. 

No…no, surely she would end up in Heaven as soon as she died. If kindness, charity, and patience were virtues, she should never have to risk Hell. Unfortunately, Lucifer had never been sure what the process was for human souls to get into Heaven. She could make any good-natured mistake and lose favor with the Divine Court. 

In fact, aiding and abetting The Devil could be her damnation. Shit. 

“I–thank you,” he said. 

“You’re welcome. But it’s not just me, there are lots of volunteers and donors that help with this program, it’s a community effort.”

“If I ever see you again, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But, hopefully, this will be our last meeting.” 

“Oh?” 

“Oh, sorry! I just mean–I’m going home soon and you don’t want to go where I live!” 

Lucifer finished his meal and downed the rest of the water, pushing away the thoughts of how he had failed humanity, including the red-headed woman. He sighed deeply and let the feeling of satiation warm him. He could feel his strength returning. 

The woman reached into her bag and handed him several pamphlets and a business card. The pamphlets featured some of the same resources he had seen on the bulletin board and more–a homeless shelter, an application for food stamps, and a map of warming centers. “There’s always someone willing to help you, you know.” 

Despite sometimes feeling trapped, abused, and untrusting of others–and justifiably so–Lucifer had to admit that there was kindness in his life. His siblings had just risked their status to pull spears from him. His wife had tended his wounds after he fell. His daughter showed kindness and forgiveness to everyone. The woman across the pond fed ducks, and this woman fed him. For free. 

As his heart swelled, so did his strength. Now was the time. 

Lucifer stood, tucking the business card into the pocket of his sweatpants and gathering the empty food and water containers. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I won’t forget this.” 

With that, he hobbled to a trash can to discard the empty containers and pamphlets, then tucked back into the cover of the aspen. He took a deep breath. He may only have one shot. 

He looked around hoping no one would see him, but admitted that even if they did, he would be gone in a second. There was a man by the edge of the copse, walking towards the water, not looking in Lucifer’s direction. The man was carrying something on his shoulders–a little girl. 

Both the man and girl were grinning, the girl gently drumming on her father’s head. He held onto her legs to keep her secure, and took some bouncy steps, eliciting giggles. He spun a few times and sang a silly song to her, then walked under some branches so she could reach out and touch the yellow leaves. 

The angel was overwhelmed with emotion at watching these two, blissfully happy together, and wished them a lifetime of joy. His heartbeat pumped through his body and he released his wings. 

With all the strength he could muster, he pumped his wings in the portal-opening method, and a large gold ring formed above him. He concentrated on expanding the reach of the portal, further and further. 

After a few seconds, he saw it. Above him showed the back garden of the mansion. 

He nearly laughed hysterically, but, knowing he couldn’t keep the portal open for long, he leapt through the gold ring. 

The little human girl laughed as she saw the tail end of the magical display, as the little man disappeared into the glowing apparition. 

Chapter Text

The Morning After the Trial 

Sera stood with her hands behind her back as the archangels shuffled into her office quietly.

“Thank you for joining me,” Sera started. “As you know, I have requested your presence to discuss how to move forward with the Morningstar situation. I have assigned the Divine guards and exorcists to search for the fugitive and found a trail of ichor leading to the edge of Heaven. I suspect he has returned to Hell.”

The archangels looked at each other, eyebrows raised. “And what are you asking of us, Sera?” asked Michael. 

“I may be willing to overlook your treasonous actions in the courtroom if you go to hell, secure Lucifer, and bring him back here to serve his sentence.” 

“You mean, you want to kill him,” huffed Sariel. 

“Hold your tongue. Justice has been decided, now it must be served,” Sera responded with narrowed eyes.

“Sera, if I may,” Michael interjected, with a regal politeness that muffled the tension in the air. “We have nothing but the utmost respect for your desire to protect Heaven, and we fully understand the court’s desire to find and contain our–the fugitive.” 

Sera nodded and moved to sit in the chair behind her desk. It had been a hell of a night, sending half the security in Heaven to chase after the devil, who had summoned a shield behind him so the guards at the courtroom couldn’t follow him through the shattered ceiling. Sneaky bastard.

“But we were thinking that, considering the unprecedented power of the Morningstar and his family,” Michael continued, “the safest action we could take, the best way to protect Heaven, is to let them be.”

Sera flared her extra eyes at the sentiment. “You expect us to simply let him go? What kind of precedent would that set?” 

Uriel walked over to place a hand on Sera’s shoulder. “The safety of our people is in your hands, and letting him go is the best way to keep dark forces from our doorstep. There is wisdom in the serenity of turning the other cheek.” 

Sera put an elbow on the desk and rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. What do I tell the Council? We are rewarding him for escaping?” 

“You could…you could tell them that…” Uriel rubbed her palms together and swallowed, voice pitching. “Sera, we don’t even know if he’s alive. The guards looked, they didn’t find him. Just focus on the fact that he’s not here, he’s not a threat, and Hell isn’t our realm to invade.” 

Sera and the archangels spoke nearly the whole day. They called in other high-ranking angels, discussed strategy, plans, and concessions. Finally, a decision between all of them was made: The guards would continue to keep an eye out for Lucifer and capture him if they found him in Heaven, but they would not send antagonistic forces to Hell. As long as Lucifer never returns to Heaven, the angels could assume he had been defeated, they would leave him and his family be, and there could be an uneasy peace between realms. 

____________________________________________________________________

The archangels shook hands with Sera and the other high-ranking angels after the plan was decided. It wasn’t until they calmly exited the office, left the building, and returned to their own private garden that they cheered. 

Michael and Gabriel pumped their fists in the air, Sariel and Raphael hugged. Uriel, however, cast her gaze downward. 

“What is it, Uriel?” asked Michael, patting her on the back. “We won! We don’t have to get Lucifer!” 

“And,” Raphael added, “he won’t have to get got.”

Uriel rubbed her palms together. “It’s true, I’m glad,” she said. “But we really don’t know if he’s alive.”

That put a damper on the mood, and the celebrating angels stopped, their wings fluttering. 

Sariel broke the silence first. “We have to find out. I can’t stand not knowing.” 

“Imagine how Lilith feels,” Uriel said quietly. “She didn’t know for a whole year what happened, and if he didn’t make it home, she may never know.” 

“And,” Raphael added, “if he did make it home, he must be terrified because he doesn’t know the deal we just made. He probably thinks him and his family will forever be a target of Heaven’s wrath, and that we’re out to get him.” 

“And that we hate him, and, perhaps, that we’ve always hated him…” said Michael somberly. 

“I just wish we could talk to him,” sighed Uriel. 

Gabriel smiled and looked at his siblings, trying to catch the eyes of anyone not gazing at the floor. 

“Well, I can’t promise you can talk to him,” Gabriel said, twirling his hand in the air to manifest a white quill and parchment and a gold envelope, marked with a special spell for trans-realm travel the others had never seen before. 

“But would you settle for a letter?”

Chapter Text

There was a noise in the yard, like something hitting the dirt. Lilith looked up from her daughter’s homework, curious. 

Perhaps it was an animal, she mused, or her imagination, but after a few more minutes of thought, she thought she might investigate. 

“Can you do this by yourself for a bit, baby? I’m just going to check on something.” she asked, hesitant to investigate. 

“Of course, Mom, this stuff is easy.”

It had been tough to relax since Lucifer disappeared. Lilith knew he had gone to Heaven to talk to the Divine Council about his plans for Redemption Acres, something that was supposed to finish in a day, maybe two. It had been over a year. She thought a thousand times about what could have possibly gone wrong.

Every time the doorbell rang, she ran to it, hoping it was Lucifer, or news of him. She tore through every piece of mail and opened every message sent through crystal magic. She accepted interviews with Tabloid newspapers, no matter how much it hurt, just in case the story of their missing king might reach the eyes and ears of someone who knew what happened. She mandated that every news story and article for which she gave information should end with contact information to turn in any tips. She hired a private eye and a secretary to go through any and all leads. 

I just need to know. Whether Lucifer was safe, hurt, dead even. Whether she would ever see him again, whether she could help him. She never worried that he had run off with another woman; he truly was a hopeless romantic and she never once doubted his undying devotion to herself and Charlie. Could he have run off for any other reason? Had he been overwhelmed with his responsibilities and expectations as king? With his guilt of producing the Original Sin? 

No…no, surely not. Everything was fine in their lives, as Lilith frequently assured her husband.

Lilith put on her boots and grabbed a special purse, filled with spell-granting crystals in case the sound was caused by something she didn’t want to meet. The mansion had a high fence and a decent security system, but that didn’t eliminate threats from above. 

The tall woman walked through the vegetable garden until she spotted something fluffy and white. As she carefully approached it, she thought it looked like a pile of three swans. 

A trail of gold led from the object to a stone altar a few dozen feet away. It wasn’t until Lilith was kneeling down beside the thing that she noticed it was moving. She pushed away some feathers to see it–the yellow hair and face of an angel, eyes closed, one pink cheek up. It was the face of an angel. 

Was this a joke or a prank? Was this one of the other archangels? This thing was too sickly looking to be the angel she was searching for. 

She turned him over, shaking. The angel was dressed oddly, in black sweats, but as soon as she saw the red feathers and fully registered his face, she knew. 

It was her angel. 

“Luci! Luci!” she yelled, moving so he could hold his head on her lap, patting his cheek. He was so completely unresponsive she would have taken him for dead, had it not been for one side of his chest rapidly inflating and the sounds of his deep, labored breaths. 

Lilith cradled Lucifer’s head in her hands, looking at the ichor on his side and leg, panicking. She crouched over him, calling to him. 

“Please, my love, wake up…” 

With tears streaming down her face, she took action, reaching into her purse and shuffling around until she found a pink gem. Tapping it three times and placing it in her palm, it sent a message to Belphegor. 

The sin opened the message and smiled. “How can I help you, Lilith?” 

Lilith positioned the gem so that Bel could see Lucifer’s unconscious body. “He’s here,” she breathed. “In the back garden. Please hurry. Bring your best responders. He’s hurt.” 

__________________________

Three days after the Trial

Lilith tapped her foot anxiously and Belphegor put her hand on her queen’s shoulder. Paimon stood tall and watched the altar. 

The three demons bristled as the six-winged archangel dropped through the portal, dressed in a white jacket and pants with gold accents, carrying a square black bag. The angel, as tall as Paimon himself, cautiously stepped towards Lilith and bowed. 

“Your majesty, the archangel Uriel at your service. We…we have met in person, but it was long ago.” 

“I remember,” Lilith replied quickly. “This is Belphegor and Paimon. Bel is what you’d call a healer and runs the hospital where Lucifer is staying. I trust you came alone and without weapons, as agreed?” 

“Of course.” 

“And may we see what’s in the bag?” 

“Certainly.” Uriel placed the bag down and opened the top to reveal the glowing contents. It was five large, clear bags of golden ichor. “The rest of us wanted to help, as well, in case you need a stockpile. It shouldn’t expire.” 

Uriel passed the bag to Belphegor. “Test that,” Lilith quietly said to Bel. Uriel turned her head and eyed the queen. 

“Apologies for the precautions, Uriel. You must understand, this is a sensitive situation. I wouldn’t have asked you here if the situation were not dire.” 

Uriel swallowed and rubbed her palms together. “How dire is it?” 

Lilith bristled and looked away. “It’s not. It’s fine . Don’t go telling Heaven we’re worried. Or Hell. We’re fine. We have strength here, and very loyal followers. It’s just–it’s just personal. ” 

Uriel nodded in understanding. Paimon opened a portal to the hospital, and the four of them stepped through. 

Belphegor handed the bag to an assistant and instructed him to take the ichor to the hematologist for testing and refrigeration. Paimon opened the door to the hospital room and let the three others step through, Lilith leading them. The queen nodded at Paimon and he bowed, then disappeared in a twirl of sparkle. 

“Please have a seat,” Bel said to Uriel, pointing at a chair near the bed. Uriel walked to it and took off her jacket, placing it on the back of the chair, in anticipation of her agreement: she had come to provide fresh ichor to Lucifer, as Lilith had requested in their exchange of letters. 

Uriel thought back on the letters as she took a seat and rolled up her sleeve. Her and her siblings had intense but mixed emotions as they sat down, not sure who they were writing to, but addressing the first letter to both Lilith and Lucifer. The first half explained to Lilith about the imprisonment, trial, verdict, escape, and subsequent meeting with Sera, and that, at least for now, there was no specific plan to attack the Morningstar family so long as they remained in Hell. 

The second half of the letter was hopeful, addressed to Lucifer, if he was even there. If he was even alive. It was like calling into the void in the hopes of a spirit hearing. The letter ended with an offer.

“We understand if you never want to see us again, and we strongly advise you not to return to Heaven. But if you’ll have us, we’ll be happy to visit you in Hell. If you are ok, please tell us, we promise to keep it a secret. If you want to talk or you need anything, please tell us, we will help if we can.

Love, 

Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, Sariel, and Raphael”  

The response letter from Lilith appeared in their garden less than three hours later. 

As a matter of fact, Lilith had written, there is something Lucifer needs from you. 

“It’s a good thing you’re large, we’ll have you donate a bit more than anticipated,” said Belphagor as she pressed a needle into a vein in the angel’s arm and started the pump to get the ichor into the tube. “I expected Lucifer’s relatives to be a lot more diminutive.” 

The fact that Uriel had been asked here suggested that Lucifer was alive, but her heart weighed heavy with the uncertainty of not seeing him in person. “Could I please see him?” asked Uriel.

Lilith sat down on the other side of the bed. The two demons were silent for a second before Lilith reached out to the bed to touch something. 

“What do you mean?” asked Lilith. “He’s right here.” 

Uriel’s eyes widened as she looked down at the bed. There, in the middle, was a small body covered in sheets and what she wouldn’t even recognize as her brother’s face if it was not for the red spots on his cheeks and messy blonde hair. A tracheal intubation tube came from his mouth, his skin had a greyish tint, and his closed eyes were so sunken with darkness around them that he looked…

…he looked dead. Where was the king? No wonder Uriel had missed his presence entirely when she walked in the room. Lucifer didn’t move an inch or make a sound, like an inanimate stuffed animal tossed into a too-large bed. 

Dire. 

Belphegor pulled Lucifer’s limp arm from under the covers and inserted the other side of the tube into an IV cannula that was taped into the crook of his elbow so the ichor could flow directly to him. Uriel reached out with her free arm as the two conscious demons watched carefully. 

Uriel touched Lucifer’s black hand and took a shuddering breath. It was freezing. She put both her hands on his, careful not to jostle the IV, and tried to warm it with her own heat. Lilith kept an eye on the large archangel’s movements. 

“I was hoping to talk to him,” Uriel said quietly.

Belphegor stood up. “You won’t today,” she said sighing. “Or tomorrow. Medically, I can’t say–” she looked at Lilith, whose head was turned away from them. She knew. She had heard the worst. 

“We’re doing everything we can,” said Bel. “This ichor is going to help his chances a lot. I–it’s up to Lilith to share other details with you.” 

Lilith nodded and sighed, holding Lucifer’s other hand, palm-to-palm, tracing circles on the top with her other hand. “Yes…Bel, would you give us a few minutes? Just please stand outside the door in case you hear anything.” 

“Of course. Uriel, the pump should turn off by itself when it’s done. Thank you for coming.” 

As Bel left, Uriel cringed at the fact that Lilith still wanted backup, as though the archangel couldn’t be trusted. Uriel was a tad offended; Uriel had helped get Heaven not to chase Lucifer down, had started the conversation to get the letter written and sent by Gabriel, and was currently giving her own blood. 

But…she had also held Lucifer down, pressed her knees into his wings, had participated in his maiming all those years ago. And Lilith had watched. Uriel wanted to be forgiven and loved and trusted again, but, ultimately, she had to be willing to help her brother whether it bought her forgiveness or not. 

“Do you know whose angelic weapons hurt him?” asked Lilith coldly, looking down, her question pulling Uriel from her thoughts. 

Uriel swallowed. “It would have been–I can’t exactly–there were lots of spears flying–” Uriel took a breath. “Lilith, why do you want to know?” 

The queen sighed. “I...” She looked around the room and took a breath, as though deciding what is the smartest response to this representative of Heaven. “I don’t know. I don’t need to know.” 

Uriel tried to be understanding, but the situation was very delicate. If Lilith claimed a plan to attack angels… 

“Your Majesty, I truly hope for peace between kingdoms.” 

“Yes…yes, I want that too. I’m sure Luci does too, and our daughter, and the people of Hell…” 

Uriel waited for a “but,” but Lilith just went quiet and stroked Lucifer’s hand. In a way, Lilith and Sera were in the same similar predicament. It set a bad precedent to simply let leaders of a foreign nation violate your laws and rights and then get away with it. Sera had agreed to let Lucifer go, with conditions, which would maintain the safety of Heaven for now, but what would it do in the long run? And it was probably wise of Lilith not to threaten angels; no responsible ruler brings war upon her people. But now, assuming Hell doesn’t retaliate, the Divine Court knows they can get away with injustice against demons without risking retribution. Who can say what the right choice would be in the long run? 

That’s probably why Lucifer didn’t run when he was arrested over a year ago, Uriel thought to herself. He may have been strong enough back then to break free, but this is the exact political complexity and danger he was likely trying to avoid. 

Lilith’s breathing deepened as she gently squeezed Lucifer’s hand, her eyes wet with tears. 

“He’s not just a king, you know,” Lilith said quietly. “Everything’s so political. I had to tell most people that he was fine and almost ready to resume work when they found out he had returned. I’ve had so many conversations about re-assigning crown obligations to the sins and Goetias, about the stability of Hell, military precautions as word got out that The King of Hell was missing.”

The queen put Lucifer’s limp hand down on the bed and stroked the top of it. “But he’s my husband, too,” she continued. “I’m close with some of the sins, and I’m grateful for their support. Asmodeus and Bel were always comforting, but Lucifer has always been my rock, my comfort, and my best friend, and he was gone. I couldn’t spill my heartbreak into a cold, empty bed. And to everyone else, it’s still just tactical questions and political dances. I know our crowns are important but it just felt like I was doing paperwork while he was trapped and alone and scared.”

Lilith kissed her husband’s hand briefly, then scoffed as she continued. “Someone published an article called ‘5 Reasons Lucifer’s Disappearance Could be Good for Hell.’ And I suppose it was meant to be flattering to me, as it described why I was doing such a good job taking over his responsibilities, even though few people know that I could hardly hold it together another day. The article said that Hell could benefit from the deposition of the king, and I tore it into a million pieces. That’s my beloved they were talking about. Oh, it’s a good thing my angel is gone? My best friend? The kind and thoughtful friend to those he held close? That’s Charlie’s father, her hero.” 

Lilith put her face in her hands. “We didn’t even know if he was somewhere waiting to be rescued, or if he was even alive,” she said, achingly, wiping away tears. “And now I don’t even know– ” 

As the queen cried, Uriel waited quietly, pulling the IV from her arm and letting it fall. The archangel’s heart hurt, wondering if she could have helped the Morningstar family earlier…how long has Gabriel known how to surreptitiously send letters to Hell? But…the politics…the international relations…the archangels weren’t supposed to interfere… 

“I’m sorry.” 

Lilith’s eyes were red as she lifted her head, but still didn’t look at Uriel. “The doctors said if they can get my husband stabilized, they can do some operations. Little bits of angelic steel are still draining him and his power.” 

Uriel reached across the bed, offering her hand, palm-up, above Lucifer’s body. Lilith took it. 

“I can’t promise you eternal safety from Heaven, but the archangels and I have agreed not to take part in bringing harm to Lucifer or your family again,” she assured, and Lilith finally met her eyes. “Raphael has some angelic magic. Can I send him next?” 

Lilith nodded, but hedged with her words. “I’ll consult with some colleagues about it. One at a time, though. No weapons.” 

Uriel nodded. “Everyone wants to see him.” 

“I’ll ask Lucifer about it if he wakes up.” 

The archangel looked down at her brother. 

“ When he wakes up.” 

Chapter Text

Two days later, Raphael visited. 

Three days after that, Lucifer awoke.

The first thing Lucifer felt was pain in the right side of his ribs. With his eyes still closed, he shifted to touch his wound, only to find his torso wrapped in gauze and a tube coming out of his chest. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and found himself in a plush bed in a dim room. It was furnished with charts, beeping machines, a button on his bedside table for calling a nurse. Some tubes attached to his arm and IV bags, one filled with a clear liquid, and another filled with gold. 

Unlike a normal hospital room, this place was quite large with a wall-sized window overlooking the city of Sloth. A rainbow of huge flower bouquets lined the walls, a get-well-soon card that looked to be two feet tall, a dozen plush ducks of different sizes and shades of yellow, bottles of apple wine lined up on a table, and a pile of mail, topped with three open golden envelopes, filled the space. 

Then, surprisingly, he turned to his side and found that the bed wasn’t empty. 

The sleeping woman beside him was as beautiful as the day he first saw her in Eden, golden rays lighting up her face, wind gently tossing her long hair. Here in the hospital bed her beauty had changed but not lessened. She had years of wisdom and experience, and had become less cherubic and more fiery. She laid on her back, the perfect outline of her silhouette dark in the soft light of the early morning. 

“Lilith…” 

Keeping her eyes closed as though still in a dream, she turned towards him so her face was right next to his and rest a hand on his chest. “Hmmm…” she hummed with a gentle smile. 

Lucifer’s heart fluttered. Was he dreaming? He let himself have the moment and wrapped an arm around Lilith’s waist. It was like he had never left. 

But he had left. He needed to know what was ruined in the wake of his dreaming. “Lili?” he called again.

She opened her gleaming purple eyes, smiling. He smiled widely back. Then her expression quickly morphed to surprise as she realized her husband was awake, and she shot up in bed. 

“My love! You’re awake! Oh my Lord, how do you feel? What do you need? What happened?”

Lucifer similarly felt the need to ask 100 questions, and sat up carefully, wincing as he turned towards her. Before answering, he reached out to take her face in his hands, and she did the same as they came together for a deep kiss. It was a full minute of their mouths together, limbs entwined, hearts touching before they parted again. 

“It hurts, but that doesn’t matter right now. Lilith, are we safe?” 

“Yes, yes, there’s nothing to worry about, my love. Oh, Charlie will be so happy to see you! She always stops here before school, can you stay awake for an hour? She should be here soon!” 

Lucifer nodded and smiled at the thought of seeing his daughter. And here he was, looking at his beloved, beautiful wife. He had so many more questions, and he opened his mouth to ask, but out came a sob, and his face twisted into deep sobs as he leaned forward to embrace his beloved. 

Lilith, too, cried on his shoulder. “Luci, I’m so happy you’re home. Everyone is! There was a celebration in the street as soon as people found out, the sins and Goetias sent flowers and gifts…” 

“I missed you so much, Lili, I thought of you and Charlie and Hell every day…”

“But I was so worried,” Lilith continued. “Even when I found you, Bel wasn’t sure you’d make it. They had to puncture your chest to let out the air, there were operations, and for two days we worried because we couldn’t get any ichor for you.” 

Lucifer stilled and pulled away to look into Lilith’s eyes. Then he turned to look back at the IV bag of gold blood, blood unique to angels, then back to her. Who in Hell…?

“How did you get that ichor?” 

Lilith smiled and quickly stood up, walking toward the pile of letters. She picked up the three letters and handed them to her husband, a spring in her step. 

“You got a lot of fan mail,” she said, with a humorous grin. “But you should really read these ones first.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next week he resumed his work, mostly from bed, occasionally interrupted by medical check-ups and complications. Lilith, as promised, was always there to help him, to pick him up from where he had collapsed on the floor, to call Bel, and to hold his hand as his eyes went glassy at unfortunate memories. 

A month later, he planned Charlie’s birthday party.

By the end of the year, he finished designing LuluWorld, a theme park for Charlie, hoping she wasn’t too old to enjoy it. Hoping he could hold onto her childhood just a little longer as it slipped through his fingers. Even as she aged, circuses and theme parks would always remind him of his little girl, wide-eyed and enthralled with the rides, lights, animals, and colors. 

Plus, if Lucifer couldn’t get his people into Heaven, he figured he owed it to them to bring a little Heaven to them.

Once a year, he would go to the park with one of several tall, mysterious demons and a few bodyguards trailing behind them. No one else seemed to know who these tall demons were, nor had anyone even seen them elsewhere in Hell. It was odd and inspired curious whispers. 

Well, Lucifer’s companions looked like demons, anyway. Few of the residents of Hell knew how good Lucifer was at producing disguises. They had no reason to suspect that the beings he walked with, talked with, laughed with, flew with, and hugged could possibly be undercover angels. 

Chapter Text

Hi readers - I just wanted to add a little update. I've rearranged some of the last chapters because I think they make more sense this way, and also, if this ending isn't happy enough for you, I have another fic that is fairly canonical to this one.

It's called Sins for the Devil.

Specifically, the happy ending there makes it so that Redemption Acres, Lucifer's dreams of redemption for sinners, despite being a tragedy and a failure with a cost in this fic, might actually be of use in that one! It's got a really squishy, cheesy ending that's post-canon too.

Enjoy!