A/N: It's been a long time, so all I'll say is that this is highly unedited, I didn't even go over it because I didn't want to risk the endless loop of self-doubt for what I did, plus I was WAY TOO EXCITED! I hope you enjoy!

She woke slowly to the feeling of a cold bed. No longer a solid warmth behind her, holding her close. She reached behind herself to feel the sheets cold, as if they had been left empty for hours. Chloe was both rested and alert. She hadn't slept that heavily in a long time, but waking up alone after going to bed with someone was a strange feeling that she hadn't missed from her marital days. Groggily, eyes still blurry with sleep, she got up and slid the large t-shirt back on, forgoing anything for her bottom half. It seemed it was still pretty early, and she hoped she could convince Lucifer to go back to sleep.

He wasn't in her bathroom, and didn't appear to be upstairs anywhere either. Her brows knitting together, she trod down the stairs towards the living room. Nothing. She checked the dryer and found that it was empty; his clothes gone. A cold feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as she turned towards the kitchen and found it empty, as well. A combination of hurt and anger swarmed in her chest, but that was interrupted by the sight of a single sheet of paper, her stationary, sitting on the island, covered in small, neat handwriting. Her hand shook as she reached out and grab the note, her breath equally unsteady as she started to read in her head.

Chloe,

It would be easy to say that it's not like me to leave before saying goodbye, but even you know that's not true. This time it wasn't to avoid an awkwardly clingy morning. I would have cherished that with you. No, this time it was out of fear; fear of telling you and seeing your disappointment, for purely selfish reasons. I didn't want for our last night together to be tainted by anything else. I had already ensured your pain earlier.

You asked me if I knew who killed Maze, and I do. It's the why I was too afraid to explain. I told you some of my family dynamic, of what I was trying to leave behind. Charlotte getting involved with corresponding with my family turned into a plot to find me and punish me for leaving the family behind. I didn't tell you that I had a run-in with one of my brothers here, in L.A. I didn't tell you in order to protect you. You didn't need to concern yourself in a matter I believed to have handled.

Maze, being the force of a human being she was, insisted on helping me. With her unlimited resources, she was able to track him. When she went missing, I honestly hadn't suspected it to be my brother's doing, however, if anyone were to ever overpower her, it would be him. I know without any uncertainty that my brother is responsible for what happened to Maze.

In order to keep this brief, I'll be as up-front as I can. My brother went back home, to England, and I intend to find him. I need to make it right. She deserves that much. It kills me to leave. I've never wanted anything more than to be with you. Simply hold you and tell you how special you are (the other stuff is just a bonus). You've helped me see what a future could look like, one without deals or bargains, one without violence and hate. I can't tell you how long I'll be gone, because I don't know that. I can't expect you to wait for me. Just know that I value the time I had with you more than anything. What I feel for you is even deeper than what I can comprehend. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I wouldn't have been able to leave if I had to look at you and walk away.

Thank you, Professor.

Truly,

Lucifer, the one who might actually be the Devil

PS: Apologies; I just had to make you roll your eyes one more time.

Chloe stared at the note in her hand huffing a sad chuckle as her eyes welled-up with tears she wouldn't shed, mouth open and breath short. He was gone. Just like that, with nothing but paper and ink, he was out of her life. She sat down at the island in one of the tall stools there. Her eyes burned with tears, but she refused to let herself cry. She wouldn't. She was angry and hurt, a devastating combination, but she understood, at some level. Lucifer had changed her unexpectedly. She could tell she had learned to open-up again. Learned to take back her own power, see her physicality as not something to be treated as fragile. She didn't have to keep herself wrapped in bubble-wrap to feel whole. She could be free and move on from her past, always remember, but move on from it. Allow herself to touch again without the guilt of it.

She could tell that there was still so much left unsaid, so much he could have explained. He would have had to write for hours to tell it all, but she would have read it. Would have soaked it in. Instead she was left with a brief explanation, a fragile admission, and a final goodbye. Ten minutes later, she stopped pouring cream into her coffee, rolling her eyes a second time. Who the fuck used semicolons in fucking hand-written letters?

Lucifer went up to the ticket counter in the always-busy LAX, booking a seat on the next available flight to London. He checked the suitcase he packed with necessities and Maze's blades. The trek through security was as miserable as ever, and the small amount of items in his backpack made it just the slightest bit easier for him. He had four hours until his flight departed, but he needed to be at the gate at least two hours prior. Not a significant wait, but a boring one, nonetheless. He went into the first store he could find one in the international terminal and bought a bottle of water and a questionable sandwich all for a price that made him nearly too nauseated to even eat it.

He drank his water, ate his gross sandwich and waited at the gate, sitting on an uncomfortable chair/bench combination with stains he didn't even want to think about. He was inconspicuous in the crowd. Well, as inconspicuous as one who looked like him could be. He'd received some looks during his wait from a few women roaming the airport, young and old alike. One man eyed him for slightly longer than heterosexual male customs allowed. That was pretty flattering. For the first time in his life, Lucifer had absolutely no interest in any of the attention. He smiled back politely, but made sure he didn't put out any yes, I'm ready to do bad things with you vibes like he usually did. He was on a mission, and subsequently, his dick was just an unavoidable passenger. Maze would probably call him an idiot for passing up the opportunity and go grab one of the girls and the guy (let's be real) and take them into the bathroom, and that thought actually put a small, sad smile on his face.

He spent the rest of the wait sitting alone, for the most part. Occasional someone would sit next to him, but would move a few minutes later to find another seat. It probably had something to do with the overall hate emanating from his being. He couldn't stop it. It was something he always had, even as a child. His temper, and the ability to let his rage override every other logical thought in his brain, was something he struggled with. He never saw it as an affliction until much later, when that wrath could come back to bite him in the ass, when the anger and hate were so strong and bubbling towards the surface that he willingly allowed himself to go back into that mindset. Into the mindset he had to have working for his Father. The one that would allow him to enact the right vengeance for Maze. For making him walk away from the only person he never wanted to go without; not now. He can almost picture the way Maze would be sitting next to him, in her tight leather ensemble that made women envy her and men want to peel her out of it. Legs crossed, one heavy leather boot dangling from her raised ankle, no doubt blowing bubbles from her cinnamon gum in his ear. She'd ask what the plan was, want to know all the details of the task. The who and where didn't matter, not even the why most times. All that had mattered to her was that someone she cared about needed her help. Maze didn't keep many people close (in fact, he was her only close companion), but what she lacked in quantity she gave all in the depth of her abilities. Lucifer would do the same for her. Even though he didn't believe in Heaven or Hell, or whatever else there may be, he hoped that Maze would know he would do everything to make it right. He hoped her bones would feel the retribution before being sent to the next hospital for research. Maze was practical like that, making herself useful even in death (actually, she had told him that she got off to the idea that some med-student might jerk-off to her corpse. Maze was a rare and special creature).

Time went by, he boarded the crowded plane and finally let himself sleep as soon as they reached cruising altitude. He slept most of the trip, unsure of when he would get the ability to sleep (mostly) soundly again. Not there. Not back in England where his Father's eyes and ears were everywhere. Where he would see all and know all, somehow, someway. He was sure that the sudden arrival of his long-lost, begotten son would sound some alarms. He just hoped to beat them, to stop the bell-ringer, so he could catch his family off-guard. That was crucial; necessary.

Lucifer woke to a stewardess handing him a coffee and a customs form with suggestive smile on her pink-painted lips. Lucifer accepted the bitter, weak coffee with a small smile, taking the form and noticing a small note in the top corner. The stewardess raised an eyebrow when she saw him notice her offer, and without much of a glance, she headed towards the front of the plane. It was then that Lucifer noticed the still-dark cabin, most passengers sleeping, those awake with their noses buried in some sort of device. The note said First-Class bathroom, to the right. That was it; short, concise, to the point. Lucifer appreciated that. He took a final sip of his horrible coffee, face screwing up in disgust before he got a taste of the whiskey she must have spiked it with. He raised the cup in appreciation for that and calmly rose from his seat. He knew Maze would definitely be rolling in her For Scientific Research morgue-box if he passed that ass up. One final hurrah before the literal shit-storm he was about to cause.

He would have laughed as he stepped out of the airport in London if he hadn't expected it to be as grey and cool as it was. England, where you hardly had to fear melanoma and needed an extra dose of Vitamin D (and not the fun kind). The great thing about airports everywhere was that there was always an endless supply of cabs available right outside the main doors. He had missed the tell-tale black cabs, looking sophisticated and full of class until you got inside. That was much of England, if he considered it. Everything looked posh and elegant, until you stepped inside and realized it was just as debased as the rest of the world. A real polished turd, his long-estranged home.

He opened the door, almost on the wrong side for English custom, but he found he was quickly falling back into line with what Mother England had deemed the right way all those centuries ago. He told the cabbie an address for a townhome he hoped still housed a certain sibling of his. One of the less-fortunate children his Father had adopted, groomed, and enslaved (probably the wrong term for the individual) to be part of his criminal syndicate. Out of the five years he had been away, this brother was someone that crossed his mind time-to-time. They butted-heads and fought more times than he could count, but they always respected one another. Always saw the dark encompassing their work. This brother, however, felt a deep-rooted duty to their Father because of the life he had taken him out of. Lucifer understood, but that didn't make him right.

It took him less time than he had hoped. Just as he began to doze, he was jostled awake by the vehicle quickly stopping at the sidewalk in front of a long row of upper-middle class townhomes. Nice, tall brownstone buildings that did nothing but give off the air of sophistication. He pulled used the cabbie's electronic payment system (how modern) as the driver retrieved his bags from the boot (yes, he did remember that, thank you). Lucifer was left outside with his bags, staring at the townhome matching the address he had given. He really hoped his brother still lived there, and not some spinster woman with 10+ cats. He shuddered; he was like catnip to those women. He had literally had one jump on him in his early twenties.

Lucifer sighed heavily as he walked up to the maroon door, one he hadn't seen in so many years. He rang the bell and waited. He thanked whatever deity was out there when he saw the large, dark figure forming in the frosted glass panels on either side of the door. The man opened the door, his eyes widened when he saw Lucifer and took a step back. There was a moment of pause for both men; one clearly too shocked to form words, the other unsure of what to say.

"Luci!" the tall, dark man exclaimed breathily, his American accent on display. He immediately lunged forward, pulling Lucifer into a huge bear hug, squeezing to the point of pain.

"Yes, hello, brother," Lucifer wheezed out, letting the emotional man have his moment. Amenadiel was always one to be touchy-feely, despite his size. He was a gigantic softie with a mean right-hook. The only person you'd want to hold you on your couch while you cry and eat a gallon of ice cream, and then have on your side when an all-out brawl began. "Still not a hugger," he added, trying to take a deep breath, failing, and coughing out a choke of desperation for air and space.

"Where the hell have you been?" the large man continued, deciding his younger brother didn't need the oxygen he was being deprived of. He hugged him for a few more seconds before released the clearly uncomfortable Lucifer from his massive embrace.

"Land of the free, home of the moronically brave," Lucifer said whimsically, dusting his chest off, even though he still had on his grimy airport clothes. "The place you got all your brawn and lack of brains." He added that with smirk, and the smile actually reached his eyes.

"America?" Amenadiel asked, brows pinching together. Lucifer looked at him quizzically, nose scrunching as he lowered his backpack to the ground with his duffle. The older brother reached down and grabbed the bags, bringing them through the front door without preamble. Lucifer, hesitantly, followed suit. That was something he never thought about. What his family thought had happened to him. He figured their Father had come up with some elaborate story, a story to learn from, to fear the same fate. Something just as harsh but less potential death than the situation had been.

"Brother?" Lucifer started, trying to follow the bulkier man through the narrow hallway of the townhome. It was neat, sparse of much decoration; something Lucifer had always had in common with his adopted brother. "What do all the disciples think happened?" The term disciples was a joke that he and Amenadiel had used to refer to themselves and their other siblings. Their Father's penchant for religious symbolism just made the usage of it that much more fitting. "What did Father say?"

Amenadiel set Lucifer's bags down in the quaint living room, motioning to the couch for Lucifer to, presumably, sit upon while he went and got some drinks. Amenadiel, the always understanding, brought back two bottles of quality beer, and Lucifer thanked him graciously by pressing his hands together in mock-prayer, bowing, and then grabbing the bottle as if it were the Holy Grail.

"Honestly, he didn't say much, and I was the only one who asked any questions," the darker man admitted, swallowing thickly, guiltily, pinching his brows together. He sighed heavily before sitting down in a chair next to the couch, fingers clutching the beer bottle anxiously. "He said you fucked up, did something unforgiveable, that you had been punished and, essentially, kicked-out."

Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes at the absurdity as he took a long, slow pull from the bottle. It was crisp, light, refreshing, and bitter as it slid down this throat. "Let me guess, everyone else just took his word for it blindly?" When he met Amenadiel's eyes again, his brother shrugged, nodding slightly as his face fell in regret. "Please, don't get all remorseful on me now," Lucifer started, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. "Anyone who would have sided with me would have suffered the same fate." There was a silent understanding between them as their brown eyes mingled.

A few more moments passed between them where they caught up, talked about what had been going on in their lives, what Lucifer had been up to for the past five years in America, of all places. Unable to avoid it anymore, Lucifer had to explain his sudden return to the Motherland. He gave the other every painfully graphic detail of the events that had transpired to lead him to Amenadiel's doorstep. His brother listened intently, and it really showed the trouble of their family that he didn't once question the validity of each statement. Lucifer ghosted over Chloe, not wanting to share too much on such a delicate topic. He wanted that for himself. He wanted her image and memory to belong to him, to not let anyone else have her name to say and taint. Gabriel was worse enough.

Talking about Maze proved more difficult than he could have imagined. There were multiple times were he had to shy away from Amenadiel's hand trying to reach out to comfort him when his voice became shaky, when his eyes grew shiny. They talked for hours, and Amenadiel kept the libations flowing, listening just as intently as he had in the beginning. He told Lucifer that Gabriel had been given more and more responsibility in the last few years as was working his way towards being able to take over the family business whenever Father was unable to run it from his omnipresent throne.

Lucifer learned a lot about how things had changed and how they had remained the same. Amenadiel had no problem discussing anything with Lucifer, and he made it clear that his loyalties lied with himself, but he had a duty to Father. He made it very clear, though, that he felt no moral obligation to Father, just an obligation to repay him for the life he was given, as fucked up as it was. When Lucifer asked him for help in getting into the compound, Amenadiel was only hesitant because Lucifer wouldn't tell him the details of what he was planning.

"It's better this way, Brother," Lucifer said, sitting back on the couch and finally relaxing since landing in that godforsaken country. "Plausible deniability and everything, in case shit goes sideways. Just another one of those American idioms I've grown fond of."

"But I could help," the other argued, leaning forward with his muscular elbows on his equally muscular knees. "If you just told me-"

"You're helping plenty by giving me a layout of the estate, where people are posted, and appointment times. All very important, as I'm sure there's been changes since my untimely dissension," Lucifer interrupted, holding up a hand. It's not that he didn't appreciate the offer, or feel like he couldn't use the help, but he wouldn't let Amenadiel put himself in the line of punishment if Lucifer didn't come out on top. "Please, I have to do this," he pleaded, punctuating his words with minute gestures. The older brother stared at him for a moment before conceding with a nod. He was never able to keep Lucifer from what he wanted for very long. Revenge wouldn't be the start of that.

Days passed by, leading into weeks. Chloe was grateful for her class, having something to occupy her thoughts, but the absence of an irreplaceable presence haunted her. If she let her eyes lose focus into the crowd of students, if she let everything get blurry as she spoke without hearing, she could see him in her peripheral; long, dark, brilliant. Each passing day didn't get easier, instead, becoming a paresthesia dwindling into a numbness bone-deep. She cried the morning he had left, the morning she had read his note, and she wouldn't allow herself to cry more. It was ridiculous, the feelings that seemed so obvious now that he wasn't around to distract her, make her body ache with the loss of him inside her, make her crave the heat of his touch and gaze.

The course was almost over. Finals were quickly approaching, and the end of the semester, with the promise of the same material for another set of students, forced Chloe to really think about her career shift. She enjoyed teaching, more than she ever thought she would, but it didn't ignite anything inside her. It didn't make her happy to go to work every day. It didn't make her proud of herself. It definitely had lost its excitement; roaming away somewhere in England.

The end-of-the-semester crisis she was having was to blame for standing outside of one Charlotte Richards' office. She knocked on the door before opening it slowly. The tall woman looked surprised to see her, but there was a tight smile on her lips, and Chloe immediately wanted to slap it off her face. "Ms. Decker, what a lovely surprise," Charlotte expressed, standing only to motion for Chloe to sit in a chair across from her desk. She smoothed the back of her pencil skirt before taking her seat again. "What can I help you with?"

Chloe fought the urge to roll her eyes, and that brought on a wave of emotions she wished weren't tied to that motion. "I just wanted to come by and inform you that I do not plan to return next semester." The words were out. The thing that had taken over the other half of her thoughts. It wasn't that teaching was lacking any sort of fulfillment, but she felt like she was running away, letting a piece of shit win by taking away her career, the thing she loved. Although Trixie had begged her to leave, and had been relieved that she did, how could she feel like she was setting a good example for her daughter by running? By letting a man, no matter how lowly, dictate what she did, control her through fear? No. That wasn't an example she wanted to give; that wasn't being the right role model for her daughter.

Chloe was brought out of her thoughts by Charlotte's scoff, an incredulous sound that matched the disbelief on her poised-to-perfection features. "What?"

"I won't be returning next semester," Chloe reiterated, voice even and sure. She waited for that to process in Charlotte's mind; it was clearly taking a while if the dumbfounded look on her face said anything. That look was quickly changed to a smug one, though, and that sent a chill through Chloe's system, her blood turning icy. She didn't hate her, but there was genuine dislike in her heart.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Charlotte drawled, a smirk set on her painted lips. "I hope none of the staff or student body had any influence in this decision." So much implication in those words, so much knowledge in those eyes, and yeah, maybe Chloe was well on her way to hating her.

The fact of the matter was that Charlotte knew everything. What Lucifer had told Chloe made that clear as such. One thing was certain, though: Charlotte didn't know that Chloe knew. She hoped to wipe that smug grin off her face, maybe make her a little concerned about her position, maybe not. Chloe wasn't out to destroy this woman, she was really no better off, but she didn't want to play the fool anymore.

"Of course not. My time with my students was perfect." She let that sink in. Only the slightest change in Charlotte's demeanor was noticed. "I just think I'm more cut out for helping people instead of teaching them."

"Why's that?" Charlotte asked immediately, cocking her head to the side as she peered at Chloe. "Feel like you get too close to the students? Not able to teach and get friendly?" A telling smirk spread on Charlotte's lips, and Chloe's face fell from indifference to awareness. Simmering awareness. Charlotte was smart, and Chloe should have never assumed that she wasn't aware of everything Chloe knew.

"No, I'm able to be close and remain objective," Chloe protested, a fake smile planted on her face. Charlotte huffed a small laugh before leaning back more comfortably in her seat; no longer needing to keep appearances. Charlotte was smug, Chloe could tell, that she was sleeping with Lucifer all while he was charming his way into Chloe's pants, and, subsequently, heart. "But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Charlotte laughed a little at that, an actually laugh that spelled out how little of concern the situation was to her. "I guess we both know that some students can leave quite the impression, hm?" And if that wasn't the goddamn truth. Chloe wasn't sure where to go from there, what she could say to leave Charlotte's office on-top. There probably wasn't. She'd just have to leave with the little dignity she could, having that woman know that she played a part in getting her fucked by a student.

"The question is," Chloe started, leaning forward, tilting her head up as if she was really pondering some philosophic question of the cosmos. "I wonder if Dan knows the impression certain students can leave." It was as much a threat as any one statement could be. Chloe watched the way Charlotte's eyes darkened, dangerously, the way a predators would when face-to-face with a gun, someone higher on the food chain. "But that's none of my business," she sighed, leaning back into her own chair, wearing her own smug grin.

Charlotte considers Chloe's words, smartly deciding to not say anything. Chloe got her, and while she was sleeping with Lucifer while dating Dan, Charlotte really did care for the man. Chloe could tell Dan liked Charlotte as well. Maybe they were good for each other. Maybe they worked well, both being so invested in their careers to understand the need to make it a priority. "I know he's gone," Charlotte states after what seemed like an eternity. Chloe's eyes shift up, to look at the woman, a sick mix of hope and hate for why she would know, how she could know. "Can I give you some advice?" she cut in, after watching Chloe stew in her own thoughts for a few minutes. She didn't wait for a response. "Whatever problem he has with his family, just stay away. And believe me when I say, he cares for you, more than I thought someone like him could."

"Yeah, I don't really care what you have to say," Chloe replied honestly, making a move to stand up and leave. Charlotte held up her hand as soon as Chloe stood, and whether it was for amusement of hope of more, she waited.

"Golden Gate Firm," Charlotte said, and Chloe looked at her flatly. "Just, that's all you need to know." Chloe nodded at that and turned around to leave. She closed Charlotte's door with much more force than necessary and started to walk towards the parking garage. What she needed to say was said, and within a few weeks, she'd never have to see that woman again. Unless her and Dan became unfortunately serious.

Once Chloe arrived at home, she entered Golden Gate Firm, UK into her search browser and found multiple pages of information. So much so that it was overwhelming. Luckily, Ella had taught her about how to search for specifics, and her detective training gave her insight into how criminals worded documents to make them sound legit. What she found was incredibly suspicious, and all signs pointed to high-end criminal.

Weeks passed; long endless days and nights of planning and thinking. Lucifer spent those nights alone, with nothing but the company of his own hand and very vivid imagination. Images of honey hair, tanned skin, and soft lips fled through his mind on those nights. His fist tight around his cock, pillowy breasts and strong thighs flash before an open mouth and arched back force an orgasm out of him. All so vivid but not enough, never enough. His mind was generic versus the high-end of her in reality. He longed for the feel of her again; the ache deep in his chest even as his body swam in the afterglow.

He was close, close to storming those golden gates his Father built up. Maybe after that he could finally have what he so dearly longed for. Maybe after that things could be normal, and he could feel whole, being with one person, and wanting nothing else. He didn't let himself linger on those thoughts too long, gave him too much to lose in the wake of what he had in store.

He and Amenadiel had spent countless hours of equally countless days going over the schematics of what Lucifer was needing to do to even get to the compound. After a futile argument, Amenadiel managed to convince Lucifer of accepting his help in more than just the indirect way. Amenadiel was about to drive into the compound without suspicion, in fact, he was always welcome. He was their Father's favorite adopted child. Amenadiel had been the best athlete during school, became a black belt in Ju-Jitsu before graduating from University. He was the best amateur fighter in England, so yes, he was a favorite of the children their Father saved from less ideal situations. Bringing Amenadiel home from an orphanage in America had proven to be a great professional decision. None of the adoration and attention made him overlook all the questionable activities he was asked to perform, though. While he felt a duty to their Father for taking him in, he wasn't naïve to think that the man didn't deserve one hell of a legal wake-up call.

So, after a night of Scotch and pizza, the two brothers felt as ready as they'd ever be. They had a time set, they had locations picked out on make-shift maps they drew out of paper, color-coded, of course. Lucifer also knew that Gabriel would be there. Amenadiel hadn't been given word, per se, but he had been told that the eldest Son had returned, laying low at the compound, back from America, successful as ever. Immediately Lucifer wanted to walk into that lavish building and put a bullet through his brother's head, but Amenadiel had talked him out of it, ever the pragmatic supporter.

In the morning Amenadiel would get into his car and drive to the family's estate, to check-in with the security there. He was a large proponent of the family's security, so weekly meetings and check-ins were normal. What they wouldn't know was that Lucifer would be in the trunk (and Amenadiel was so happy to hear someone say "trunk" instead of boot) of his car, loaded down with Maze's knives, his fists, and one gun. He truly hoped that wouldn't be necessary. Guns were so impersonal, and loud, although no more messy than a knife could be. Amenadiel would try his best to round up as many of the security team as possible and hold them in a very long, very boring, but seemingly important training seminar. After his brother had explained how he would distract security, Lucifer almost felt sorry for them; he almost fell asleep listening to that part of the plan.

The next morning, after a light breakfast and spiked coffee (for the nerves, seriously, he performed better with a little liquor in his system), both men got in their respective locations and drove off. Lucifer kept replaying all of the scenarios he had in his head, had not choice in the pitch black of the trunk. It was nearly thirty minutes of pure hell, all of the ways this could go completely wrong, Lucifer being actually murdered by a family member, for starters. There was the option that Amenadiel could go down with him, and he would avoid that at all costs. He wouldn't drag a sibling down with him; it wasn't his fight.

The feud with his family was as personal as personal could get. It went beyond the "disappointing son, too-proud father" trope, and it definitely went beyond any sibling rivalry that could ever happen in such a large family, where worth was based off your usefulness. Not only had his family abandoned him when all that needed to be done was a conversation, or just an inkling of autonomy from a tyrannical parent, but brothers, those he had been close to, had betrayed him wholeheartedly. Michael let the words of a cold man erase any camaraderie they had shared, and Gabriel was too far gone for anything but the punishment Lucifer had for him.

Lucifer felt the car start to slow down to a full stop, and then the muffled voices of Amenadiel and a few other men sounded from outside the car. When he felt the tell-tale sign of Amenadiel getting back into the car, the entire vehicle shifting under his weight, Lucifer exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Everything was going as planned, so far… two steps in. There was still plenty to go wrong, but he didn't focus on that. He closed his eyes and let the red of all his anger and rage flood his vision; images of Chloe and Maze swirling throughout the hate, making that emotion even stronger. He no longer had either of them, because of his fucking family. The ones that deserved it would pay for it.

"Monkey, I know you're worried, but I've thought a lot about this, and it's the best decision for me," Chloe tried explaining to her upset daughter. She knew telling Trixie she was going back to work for LAPD would not go very well, but she was firm in her decision.

"You said you wouldn't do it," the young girl argued, cheeks pink from anger. She had a lot of rage built up in that tiny body, but Chloe knew she was a smart kid; she'd understand once she heard her reasoning.

"I know, honey, but look," she started, grabbing Trixie's hand in both of hers and setting them in her lap. "I liked teaching, I did, but I didn't feel like myself." It was the truth, after all. Chloe Decker wasn't Chloe Decker without a badge and gun on her hip. "I enjoy helping people, and being a cop is my dream. I miss it."

"But it's not safe," Trixie argued, a small pout on her lips as her eyes widened in that way only a child's can. "You could get hurt, like last time."

"Yes, I could," she agreed, not even trying to sugar-coat it. It wouldn't be worth it, or right. "But anyone could get hurt at any time, but being a cop means I could try to help people so they don't get hurt." Chloe let that sentence sit, thinking on how certain people had gotten hurt, and she had had no way of helping them. "Do you remember my friend Lucifer?"

Trixie's face immediately lit up, and it appeared that Lucifer's charm was not wasted on the young, either. "I like him, he's funny."

"Yes, he is funny," Chloe said, a sad smile playing on her lips. "Well, a really good friend of his got hurt, really bad," and Chloe was definitely not going to discuss how she was hurt. That would have been too much, and too close to home. Trixie's eyes widened, and Chloe continued. "I just want to help make sure other people don't get hurt like that. Do you understand?"

The little girl sat there, staring at her mother, really letting her thoughts simmer in her head. Her brows knit together, but then she nodded her head, leaning in for a close hug. "You'll be careful?" she asked, her voice high and breaking.

"Of course!" Chloe assured her, smiling into the hug. "I'll have a partner and I won't go anywhere without backup. Deal?"

Trixie pulled back from the hug and considered her mother, thinking for a second before raising an eyebrow. "Add chocolate cake, and it's a deal."

"Okay, Luci, don't be too fucking stupid here," Amenadiel whispered to him as soon as he opened the trunk to let his brother out.

Lucifer looked offended as brushed himself off, dressed in black slacks, a charcoal grey dress shirt, and a silky, red tie. He was classy that way. He liked his violence immaculate. "I'll have you know, Brother, I'll be as stupid as I need to be." He emphasized the word with an American accent that he knew made most people uncomfortable coming from his mouth. It worked. "Besides, this is my jam, fists then talking later." Amenadiel rolled his eyes, worry setting into his dark complexion. He looked off towards the guard shack, where he was going to go hold the impromptu meeting, folding his obscenely large arms across his chest.

"Okay, so give me about 10 minutes for the word to spread about a security meeting," Amenadiel stated, hands on his hips. "Most of the guards should come towards the shack, where I'll keep them occupied as long as I can." Lucifer nodded, checking his person for the weapons he decided to bring, ensuring they all were easily reachable. "Not everyone can leave their post, as you know. The ones at the doors to the estate will stay, so there's only a few you'll need to incapacitate," he continued, looking pointedly at his brother; waiting.

"What are you staring at?" Lucifer asked, looking down at himself in case some sort of fluid had spilled on him whilst in the trunk.

"Incapacitate, Luci. Not kill."

"Bloody hell," Lucifer sighed, indignant. "Of course! I'm not a murderous monster!" He started rolling the sleeves of his shirt, not only for aesthetic, but practicality in movement. Amenadiel continued to look at him as if he'd tried to sell him snake oil. "That time wasn't my fault!"

"Right," Amenadiel drawled, leaning against the car.

"First of all, alcohol was involved," Lucifer started, holding up his pointer finger. "Second, I was young and angsty," he continued to argue, earning further disbelieving looks. "And third, they questioned my virility," he concluded, fishing with his sleeves.

"We can't have that, now," Amenadiel joked, looking at his phone for the time.

"And it wasn't murder, it was involuntary manslaughter. I could not have foreseen that two men could expire via inflatable sex doll." Although it was grim, the entire situation could be seen as hilarious, from an outsider perspective, of course. Lucifer could tell his brother was fighting off a laugh.

"Well, only you could figure that out how to turn a blow-up sex toy into a weapon."

"Improvise, adapt, and overcome, brother," Lucifer recited, smirking. "I'm pretty sure your people came up with that." At that, Amenadiel's eyes widened and he looked at Lucifer like he wanted to run him over with the car. "I meant Americans, you fucking moron!" Lucifer smacked his brother on his bald head, and Amenadiel pushed Lucifer so hard he almost slid over the car. Shenanigans ensued.

The two brothers parted shortly after they collected themselves from their childish shenanigans of trying to get the other one to beg for mercy. In the years Lucifer had been gone, apparently Amenadiel had learned a few tricks to ensure his victory via submission. Lucifer grouched that the only reason he tapped was because he needed both arms for this endeavor. They went their separate ways after Amenadiel had clapped Lucifer on the shoulder, telling him to be careful, and that he wasn't in this alone. Lucifer had smiled before turning away, but the truth of the matter was that he would ensure he acted alone. He was positive his brother's antics with the guards wouldn't rouse suspicion, especially with what Lucifer had planned.

There was one guard on the side door Lucifer had decided to breech at. He was easy enough. Lucifer's advantage was his height, and the fact that he had done his own stint in the family's security, not to mention his position as an enforcer for his Father ensured he received the best training when it came to incapacitating people. Lucifer scaled the side of the building, thanks to his years of sneaking out as a teen, he had perfected climbing up and down the side of the mansion with relative ease. Years had not diminished his ability there. Silently, Lucifer moved until he was within reach of the guard, jumped from his perch on a balcony above, and stunned the guard with a knife-hand to the jugular. It stunned the guard, and that gave him the time to get behind him, wrap an arm around his neck, and squeeze. He squeezed into the blood-choke until he felt no resistance, knowing that as soon as he let him go, he'd quickly come back to consciousness. He used the few seconds he had to hog-tie the guard and throw him into the linen closet just past the door he was guarding.

He was in, and had hardly broke a sweat. He immediately felt suspicion wash over him. It was easy. Way too easy. Then again, he had never tried to break-into his old home before; especially not after getting access through the heavily guarded gate, brought in by a brother willing to risk it. The familiar quiet of the mansion eased his mind. It had always been eerily quiet in the estate, so much so he had played the large grand piano to add some sound to the overwhelmingly silent air. It was surprising that he still knew exactly where he was, even after all this time, and nothing had changed. At all. The décor and art lining the walls was the same. Untouched, almost, showing just how mundane money and prestige could be.

Walking quietly, Lucifer wound through the halls, going up one floor to his first destination. Amenadiel had been clear that Gabriel would be there, but Lucifer had no idea where on the entire compound he could be found at this time. It was morning, and if Gabriel was anything like he used to be, he surely would still be in his room, probably not alone. As he neared Gabriel's room, he could hear movement on the other side of the door. Being the person he was, Lucifer knew exactly what was going on in the room; the sounds of caveman grunts and high-pitched whines (which he liked to believe were faked) could be heard, as well as the unmistakable noise of a headboard hitting the wall repeatedly.

Readying himself, one curved blade in-hand, Lucifer opened the door silently, he peeked in through a few inches of space to see Gabriel's back towards him (perfect) and a pair of olive-toned legs, short and thin, jolting in the air by his hips. It was fucking perfect. The entire situation; lined-up for him on a fucking silver platter of rumpled sheets and sex.

He approached the bed just as quietly, and as soon as he could see the girl's eyes widen in surprise at his appearance over Gabriel's shoulder, Lucifer attacked. There was a shrill scream just as Lucifer wrapped an arm around Gabriel's neck and slid the blade between two of his older brother's ribs, turning the knife so that the curved edge could hook over ribs, a sort of handle for controlling the larger man. Lucifer quieted Gabriel's shout with a hand over his mouth, no longer needing to hold him by the neck; the blade in his side, no doubt piercing a lung, was all the leverage he needed.

"Don't make another sound," Lucifer warned the girl, who had pushed herself against the wall, desperately reaching for a sheet to cover her modesty with. Lucifer wasn't a monster, especially not to women, and he nodded towards the bedclothes for her to grab one to cover-up. Hyperventilating, she pressed the sheet to her front, back still pressed to the wall. He could feel hot, damp air panting against his hand, but Gabriel had gone silent, not one to give anyone the satisfaction of sounding pained. "Stay in here, you understand?" The girl nodded quickly; at least she understood orders from the family were meant to be followed.

Lucifer drug the naked Gabriel out of the room, applying pressure to the blade whenever he could feel the other man try to resist any movement. He kept his mouth covered, not wanting him to speak and blow their travel to the final destination. Lucifer wrangled him down the stairs, lifting all that weight when Gabriel's knees would give out. He used the knife to direct his brother, and it was the perfect tool for the job. A blade under the ribs, against a lung, was definitely a motivator in going where wanted. They got to the un-guarded doors to their Father's study/office. He was always in there, through all of Lucifer's years there, this was the only spot he saw his Father not outside of the home.

At the gold-leafed door, Lucifer nudged Gabriel's back, motioning for him to open the door. With a shaky hand, Gabriel opened it, even with a protesting sound behind Lucifer's hand. They burst into the office, where their Father was sitting, looking surprised and indifferent as the two stumbled to stand before the large desk. And, just like he remembered of their Father, he said nothing. Lucifer glared at the older man, pushing Gabriel down to his knees, bending so he could still have hold of the knife. Their Father still said nothing, instead, took in the scene before him, and simply stood behind his desk. Lucifer wasn't going to wait for something that wouldn't happen.

"Hello, Father," Lucifer greeted, all false sincerity and loathing laced in his words. "Missed me?" He took his hand from Gabriel's mouth, and relished in the labored breathing and blood staining his teeth.

"That friend of yours," Gabriel started, a wheeze coming out at the last word. "It took a while, but if you could get her to scream, she'd really fucking scream for you." Lucifer twisted the knife in his side, using his free hand to grab a handful of Gabriel's hair, holding his head up as he struggled to breathe around bitter words.

"Shut up," Lucifer commanded, voice even and stern, taking his eyes off his father to glance down at his brother. The fact that the other man was naked made this entire thing better, somehow, more humiliating; hopefully getting a taste of what he did to Maze. How he made her last moments feel.

"Felt so good," the eldest brother groaned, grimacing at the pain and his collapsing lung. "So fucking tight everywhere."

"Shut up!" Lucifer yelled, pulling up with the blade to break through a rib. It wasn't easy, but he felt the way bone gave to the sharp steel, the sound was pleasant and satisfying, too. Gabriel cried out at that, and Lucifer relished in how the sound echoed in their Father's office, much like it did in the man's empty heart.

"Lucifer," their Father finally spoke, but the younger son glared at him harshly, as his eyes started to blur.

"No, you don't get to speak yet!" Lucifer spat out, watching his Father raise an eyebrow before closing his mouth. It wasn't victory, and it wasn't submission. It was simply waiting for the show to be over.

"She played tough," Gabriel started again, coughing around some blood in his mouth, spitting it out on the ground, never giving in to his situation. "But I could see the fear in her eyes when she realized she was going to die there."

Black hatred fills Lucifer's chest, a raging ball of fire that he just couldn't hold inside anymore. "Shut THE FUCK UP!" he screamed, tilting his brother's head back by the hair, pulling the blade out of his side and slicing his throat open, deep, steel catching on cervical vertebrae as blood shot out, misting everywhere. For the first time in his life, Lucifer saw actual shock in his Father's eyes as he bent down to look Gabriel in the face as his blood drained out of him. Lucifer could feel hot fluid spray his face weakly as Gabriel looked at him with rage and disbelief in his eyes. The spurts turned to a trickle as the light left Gabriel's eyes, and Lucifer let his body fall to the ground with a thud.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, his breathing was coming quicker than he wanted, but the look on his Father's face made the feeling worth it. The righteous justification he felt for Maze made everything worth it. It wouldn't bring her back, but he knew she was looking up at him with a wicked smile on her face, blood on her teeth, and fire in her veins. He sighed, long and hard, closing his eyes for a second to bask in that thought, of doing Maze proud, before bringing his attention back to his Father.

Lucifer moved to take a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk, and his Father did the same, sitting down, his eyes never straying from the remaining son in the room. Lucifer wiped the curved blade off on his slacks, smiling at it like he would the original owner, before looking back up at the older man, blood on his face, looking all the monster that family made him. "I want to make a deal." Lucifer leaned back in the chair, getting comfortable, ready to negotiate his freedom from this poor excuse of a family. He told his father everything that had happened with Gabriel, about him threatening friends, killing Maze. His Father, the ever-pragmatic criminal, understood Lucifer's actions. That made Lucifer's stomach turn sour, the fact that a father could be okay with fratricide because it was "deserved".

In the end, two years of service, taking over Gabriel's tasks as well as reclaiming his role of enforcer, was far from the worst he'd ever done in his life. Two years of work for the ability to live the rest of his life free from the grip of his family was priceless, but it left a Chloe-shaped hole in his heart he knew he'd never be able to fill, not for a while, anyway.

The months felt like years, and Lucifer was deep into his work with his family. Amenadiel had never been found-out, and now Lucifer was able to see him without rousing suspicion. The family knew what Lucifer had done, and why, and they held a weary suspicion of him, as well as a healthy level of respect. They mostly steered clear of him, and he had no problems with that. He didn't want any of them anyway. He never saw Michael, though, and he never asked. That was a bridge he didn't want to cross, unsure if he could trust himself to not enact a punishment for him.

One thing that he was certain no one considered was Lucifer's part in undermining Golden Gate's entire system. Every few weeks, Lucifer met with an undercover individual from Interpol, since the family's work went outside of England, as well. He hadn't even told Amenadiel about this, but he did plan to tell him when to make sure he wasn't at the compound, and he had also struck a deal with Interpol for his brother. He covered all his bases.

It was well past 0200 when the car finally pulled up into the nearly empty parking lot of the gentlemen's club that had become their meeting spot. No questions asked kind of a place. Lucifer walked over to the car, wanting nothing more than to go shower and eat after the night he had had. He was sore from a fight, a struggle he was not anticipating, but he got his point across, and ensured no one tried to undercut him again.

Lucifer pulled out the folded envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, handing it over to the driver of the vehicle. The woman took it, noticing Lucifer's bloodied knuckles, bruised and broke skin, as he did so. "Have a little trouble?" The officer asked, opening the envelope to see a few pictures and receipts, proving purchase of "goods" from his Father.

"Well, not anymore," Lucifer quipped, smirking at the officer as he watched her rifle through the evidence he was able to swipe from his Father's study. He had bargained total immunity for himself and Amenadiel in exchange for a long-term job in providing Interpol evidence of his Father's actual business transactions. So far, he had done so meticulously, and as soon as his two years were up, he and Amenadiel would be free to go live their lives free of any charges. This bargain didn't stop Lucifer from having to fulfill his Father's wishes, but Lucifer was angrier than he'd ever been, the violence was welcomed.

"So, two years are almost up," the woman stated, putting the envelope on the passenger seat. "What are you going to do when their locked away?" She looked at him, a genuine question and concern on her face. She had been the same officer to take Lucifer's collected evidence since he first went to Interpol, and they had a certain rapport with each other. One of the only women Lucifer hadn't slept with while getting close.

"Whatever the hell I want," Lucifer replied with a wry smile, tucking his hands into his pockets before walking back towards his own car. It wasn't a lie, it would be whatever he wanted to do; no one else needed to know the where and the who was involved in that decision.

Chloe walked into the precinct with two coffees in hand. It had been about six months since she had gone from desk-duty to field work since coming back to the LAPD two years ago. She quickly stopped by the lab, giving Ella her overly sweet coffee, caffeine the small woman did not need. Ella smiled and mouthed "thank you" with her large headphones blaring her 90's jams as she worked. Chloe smiled back and headed to her desk. She was happy, truly happy with where she was. She was doing what she had always wanted to do, continuing to follow in her father's footsteps.

She was anxious for that day. Lt had asked her to take part in an experimental program the LAPD was running in order to help better their case turn-over rate. It sounded interesting, and her experience in the police force, as well as civilian life, lent to the decision that she was chosen to be the detective in the program. She was able to answer a few emails and drink through half her coffee before the Lt approached her desk.

"Good morning, Lt," Chloe greeted with a smile, standing up to shake his hand.

"Morning, Decker," The man greeted back, large smile on his face. "You ready to start this thing?"

"Of course, Sir, it seems like a great opportunity."

"It is, I was a bit skeptical, the idea of having a civilian partnering with a detective is definitely not something that would have happened in my day, but, times are changing," he said, crossing his arms over his chest in his typical stance. "I've been told the guy isn't without experience, he apparently helped Interpol take-down one of Britain's largest crime-syndicate families. His own family, can you fucking believe that?" The Lt continued, and Chloe's heart suddenly jolted at the words. Her breath caught in her chest, but she knew better than to let those feelings make her feel anything. She had learned to ignore that a long time ago.

"His own family, Sir?" She asked, unable to stop the curiosity that was eating at her.

"Yeah, fuckin' nuts," the man said, exacerbated, sighing loudly. "Fresh out of that hell-hole, and really eager to start working. He should be here any minute now."

Everything around her stilled, as if the world suddenly stopped at the sight of movement just behind the Lt. Tall, dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit, face more handsome than should be legal, and the only person she had lost hope of ever seeing again. She could see Ella off to the side, walking out, hand over her mouth, the human equivalent of the heart-eyes emoji. The only stimuli she could register were the sound of air rushing from her lungs, the visual of a bright smile, and relief washing over her like sunlight after years in the dark.

Lucifer. Salvation.

The promise of something more, something real, and something right, for both of them. All things that had not been possible before, but just his presence made the possibility of everything right real. She could see that his eyes were just as watery as her own as he walked up, holding out his hand for her, like it was a do-over of their meeting.

"Well, Detective, shall we get to work?"

The End

A/N: So… here we are. The End… I hope it was everything you could have imagined it to be. I hope you liked the happy and hopeful ending, thanks to Nadia (More-More). I've said it before, I originally was going to have either a sad or bitter-sweet ending, but this idea she gave me was perfect. So I went with it.

I wanted to address the reasoning behind Lucifer sleeping with the flight attendant before he landed in England. I know he had just left Chloe, and he knew he loved her (even if he couldn't admit it, even to himself) but Lucifer was never one to equate sex to love. It wasn't a normal thing for him. He knew it was different with Chloe, but that wouldn't stop him from partaking in other fruit unless explicitly discussed. It's all part of his psychology.

I wish I knew what to say other than thank you guys for sticking with me. I know I didn't update regularly, life just didn't work out like that for me, but I appreciate your patience and understanding. I hope you had as good a time as I did with this AU. I've teased it to a few, but I'm thinking of making this a series, with Closer being the main story, and one-shots thrown in the mix, snap-shotting their life together as Detective and Civilian-Consultant (who fuck frequently). What do you think?

[edit: It's a series now, in case you missed that *tips hat*]

Ideas? Prompts for that? ;)

Anyways, I've droned on long enough. Thank you guys, again. It's been a great ride, and for a while, I wasn't sure if I could finish this. Thankfully I have a great support system in a few friends and all of your lovely comments!

Until next time, Dark Ones…. xoxo