Hallelujah! Let it all just burn.
'Cause they ain't the type for listenin',
And they sure ain't never gonna learn.
- Never Learn, The Devil Makes Three

The church was quiet. Not surprising. It was a Wednesday afternoon, after all. Most people were at work. Father Patrick had noticed her as she entered and shot her an inquiring, sympathetic look, but Sarah shook her head.

She was here to talk… but not to him.

She slid quietly into a pew and levered down the kneeler so she could be comfortable on her knees. Clasped her hands, bowed her head. Drew in a deep lungful of air and let it out in a deep, rattling breath. She began to pray.

"Dear God. I don't know if you're listening… I tried praying before. Hundreds of times, it seems. At home. At church on Sundays. Thought maybe if I caught you at home during off hours, I could get to the top of your inbox." Sarah shook her head, breath shaky. "I hope it works, because I… I need you to hear me."

Sarah paused, glancing at the front of the church. The altar stood there, and above it, the carved visage of Jesus on the cross. Forever in pain, dying for humanity's sins, but with a look of deep compassion on his face. She couldn't stand to look at it, so she looked back to her hands and closed her eyes, forcing back tears.

"The Book of Job was always my least favorite story, you know?" One traitorous tear slipped down her face, and Sarah scrubbed it away before returning her hands to their clasped position. "It seemed so cruel, to take everything from someone so good, so faithful, just to test him. To test his love." Sarah shuddered out a breath. "So if this is a test of faith, then I guess I've failed."

Sarah turned her face back to the image of Jesus, eyes accusing. "I doubt you. I question you. Did I do something to deserve this? Are you—are you going to burn down my house, next, or should I be expecting boils? What do I have to do to get back what you took from me? Apologize? Confess?"

Her words seemed to echo in the church. She should have felt surrounded by God's presence, by his love, but instead she just felt alone. More alone than she'd ever felt in her entire life.

"You know, I've had my doubts before, but now I wonder if I even want you to hear me. Because at least, if you're not listening, if you're not real, then all of this is just random misfortune in a godless world. And while that's a terrible thought, it's not as terrible as the thought that this is part of some… bigger plan." Sarah huffed a wet, joyless laugh. "Everyone here keeps telling me that God never gives you more than you can handle, so in case you are out there and you're listening, this is it. This is… more than I can handle."

Sarah sighed, rubbing away more tears. She sat back in the pew, kicking up the kneeler feeling like she'd run a mile. "Amen."

"I don't like the Book of Job, either."

Sarah jumped. She hadn't heard the doors, or footsteps, but she'd been a little preoccupied. She hastily tried to wipe away any evidence of tear tracks as she turned.

The guy was skinny. Older than Sarah, but not much taller, dressed casually, with dark, curly hair and a thick scruff on his face. Looking at him hurt. Looking at any man who bore a passing resemblance to Isaac hurt, and Sarah's eyes burned with new tears. She forced them back. The guy was offering her a sympathetic, almost fatherly look. Sarah's hand twitched, but she resisted the urge to slap it off his face.

"It didn't happen that way," he said, casually tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Bible gets a bit right, a lot wrong. You ever play the game 'Telephone'?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. Sarah didn't say anything, but he shrugged anyway. "It's kind of like that."

"What, are you peddling a new gospel?" Sarah asked, voice dry, though a little croaky from tears.

"No." The guy looked thoughtful, maybe a little sad. "No, I'm not in the writing business anymore."

Sarah stood from the pew, gathering her purse. She wasn't in the mood to make conversation with some stranger, especially in the middle of a church on a Wednesday. No one with their shit together ever hung out in a church on a Wednesday. That's why Sarah was here.

"I'll let you be alone with your prayers," she said, politely neutral, trying to edge past him.

"I heard you, you know." Sarah paused, sighing impatiently.

"You were listening?" Sarah resisted calling it 'eavesdropping'. She was talking out loud in the middle of a church, after all, although she hadn't meant to be overheard.

"Yes," he said, not looking the least bit shamed about it. There was an odd, merry gleam in his blue eyes. "Today. Yesterday… last week. Forever, really."

This guy really didn't have his shit together. "That's nice." Sarah edged away, another few inches towards the exit.

He sighed, exasperated. "I'm not crazy, Sarah. I'm God."

Sarah froze. "How do you know my name?" She was certain she hadn't mentioned her name in her prayer. Maybe he'd asked Father Patrick, or maybe this guy was the dangerous kind of not-having-his-shit-together.

"I just told you." He snapped his fingers. Faster than Sarah could blink or comprehend, the church was gone, replaced with a dim but clean-looking bar, not unlike the one from Cheers. "I'm God."

It took Sarah a long moment to process the impossible relocation. She waved her hands through the air, still half-expecting to feel pews, and then knocked on the wood of the bar. It felt real. This was real. Which meant…

"Am I about to be smote?"

"What?" God gave a surprised 'psh'. "No. Of course not. No, I've got a favor, of sorts, to ask of you."

Her? Do a favor? For God? "O...kay. No offense, but I kind of just got done… uh, berating you slash wishing you didn't exist." And was not entirely convinced she hadn't suffered a stroke in the pew and was having some kind of weird death-hallucination. That'd be just her luck. "And now you want a favor? From me?"

God shrugged, unconcerned, rounding the bar and pouring a shot of high-quality tequila. "Not a favor, then. How about an assignment?" God slid the tequila across the bar, where it stopped neatly in front of Sarah.

"Do I have a choice?" Sarah asked, brow furrowed.

"Nope." God popped the 'p', seeming altogether too cheerful for Sarah. She knocked back the tequila. "See, you were pretty spot on, before. I've been an absent father. Answered maybe a dozen prayers in the last few millennia, made a lot more mistakes." God poured himself a beer from the tap and sipped it. "And I don't plan on stepping back in. In fact, I'm leaving. Going on a bit of a… family sabbatical, let's call it."

God poured some more tequila into Sarah's glass. Sarah sipped it, this time, figuring God would tell her what he wanted her to do if she just listened.

"But before I skip town again, I've got a small loose end to tie up. One of my bigger mistakes, really. One I'm not sure I can fix." God's eyes landed meaningfully on Sarah. "That's where you come in."

"God—you—want me to solve a problem that you, God, can't solve?"

"Call me Chuck." He looked vaguely insulted, but waved a hand flippantly. "The fact that I am God is kind of what makes me unable to solve the problem. I," Chuck pointed slowly to himself. "Want you," he pointed to Sarah. "To take care of my son."

"What, Jesus?" Sarah blurted, disbelieving. She glanced around, having half-expected Chuck to point out his son at the end of his little speech, but they were still alone in the bar.

"What?" Chuck looked just as confused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, Lucifer."

Sarah stared for a long moment. "Like, the devil, Lucifer?"

"I wish you wouldn't call him that, but yes. That Lucifer." Chuck took a sip of his beer, seemingly waiting for more protests. Sarah was happy to oblige.

"You want me to take care of Lucifer. Fallen angel, rebelled against heaven, Lucifer." Sarah repeated, then added, with a furrowed brow, "Who is… real?"

Chuck's brows raised. "You believe in me, but not in him?"

Sarah shrugged. "Figured he was just a made up story to scare us away from pornography and pre-marital sex."

"Didn't work on you, though, did it?" Chuck asked slyly. Sarah's cheeks burned, and she coughed. "Anyway, yes. He is real. And in retrospect, locking him away in Hell for millennia was… probably not the best way to handle the situation." Chuck took a deep swig of his beer. "He's free, now, and I don't want to lock him up again. But I can't exactly let him walk around freely, either." He cast Sarah an imploring look. "You could not imagine the trouble he'd cause."

Sarah believed him. "What makes you think I can keep him from causing trouble?"

"Oh, I don't," Chuck said immediately. "No, no, no, I'm stripping him of his powers. Did you ever see the movie Thor?" Sarah was silent, unable to follow the non-sequitur. "Whatever. You'll get it eventually. No, I need you to… play babysitter, I guess. Show him around, try and show him there's some good in humanity, make sure he doesn't starve or stick his fingers in any sockets."

"You're joking." Chuck treated Sarah to a distinctly unimpressed look. "You're not joking. Okay, why me, of all people?"

Chuck shrugged. "Honestly? I'm kind of short on time. You were praying, right time, right place, and seemed like you'd be a good fit."

"A good fit," Sarah parroted, not following.

"You have a lot in common." Chuck made a list on his fingers of the hand not currently holding a beer. "Absent fathers, basically no faith in me, a tendency to suppress all your feelings but anger…"

"Okay, ouch."

Chuck waved an impatient hand. "But unlike him, you have hope. Faith in humanity. And you're not in the habit of throwing tantrums." He took a sip of beer, then hummed. "Anyway, I'm running out of time. Let me introduce you to the kid."

Chuck snapped his fingers. 'The kid' was a grown man, at least six feet tall, with tousled dark blond hair. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it was definitely more along the lines of 'horns and cloven hooves' than 'male model.' He looked deeply confused for a moment, before his eyes landed on Chuck and hardened.

"Dad." He greeted cautiously, then faux-pouted. "Auntie Amara was mean to me. Although…" He stretched contently, sighing. "I see you fixed up my old digs. Fits better than ever. Thanks!" His last words were colored with just a hint of snark and sarcasm. He seemed content to ignore Sarah altogether, and she was fine with that. She wasn't sure she really wanted to have the devil's attention. "How'd you get your mojo back? Last I saw you, you were on your deathbed."

God could die? Was that even possible? And if it was… how?

"Lucifer," Chuck greeted him with a nod, eyes soft. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, slow and cautious. "Amara healed me. I'm leaving again for a while… spend some quality time with my sister."

God had a sister? Sarah leaned against the bar, wondering just how wrong the bible got it.

Meanwhile, Lucifer's face was a thundercloud. "You're abandoning me? Again?"

"I'm not abandoning you," Chuck said patiently. "Look. I got a sitter." Chuck jerked his thumb at Sarah, who froze. Lucifer glanced at her once, dismissively.

"A human?"

Chuck sighed, sounding exhausted. "Yep. And, for the foreseeable future, so are you." He snapped his fingers. Lucifer stumbled a little, looking paler than before, but twice as angry.

"What? Why?!" His voice shook, and he stalked towards Chuck, who set his beer down on the counter. "I helped you. I obeyed you. Amara could have killed me, and you, and now you're going off to frolic about the universe with her?"

Chuck watched Lucifer's display with sad eyes. "I made mistakes with Amara. I plan to fix them. But I don't think I can fix you." He surveyed Lucifer mournfully for a moment before seeming to force some cheer. "So! Introductions are in order, and some ground rules. Lucifer, this is Sarah. Sarah, Lucifer." Chuck snapped again, and Sarah gasped as a burning heat flared in her chest for just a moment before fading just as quickly. Chuck eyed Lucifer seriously. "Now you're connected. She dies, you die. She hurts, you hurt. And I'd stick with her, if you know what's good for you."

"You can't do this to me," Lucifer ground out, disbelief warring with betrayal. "Not again."

Chuck ignored him, raising his fingers again. "Have fun, kids. Try not to burn the house down. And Lucifer?" Lucifer glared, and Chuck's eyes went soft again. "I am sorry." He snapped.

Sarah found herself back in the church again before she could blink. She'd have thought the whole thing was a dream, that she'd somehow fallen asleep in a pew—except she was standing in the aisle, right next to six feet of pissed off ex-devil. Sarah floundered for a moment, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do, when Lucifer rounded on her, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Well, Mary Poppins?" His voice was low, and he crowded into Sarah's personal space, looming. "What makes you so practically perfect?"

Sarah edged backward nervously, the edge of a pew digging into her tailbone. Even if God had made Lucifer human, he still had half a foot on her, and probably a good forty pounds. "Uh. Praying. Wrong place, wrong time."

"Seriously?" He scrunched up his face and drew back, seeming to only now notice they were in a church. He scoffed. "Typical." With a sneer, he strolled past her, out the doors of the church. Sarah wondered, vaguely, if she should try to stop him. Watching after him was her mission from God, but Lucifer didn't seem particularly interested in being watched after. And anyway, what had God done for her lately? Exactly nothing.

With a sigh, Sarah picked up her abandoned purse from the floor and exited the church. She'd go home and heat up a frozen pizza. Maybe a glass of wine. Or an entire bottle. It was already looking like an entire-bottle-of-wine kind of day when she woke up this morning, and had only gotten weirder and more bizarre since then.

She made it down the church steps and halfway through the parking lot when she spotted a man collapsed on the ground. She began to run over immediately, but slowed her steps to a cautious shuffle when she saw it was Lucifer. He was face down, so she wasn't sure if he was conscious. Tentatively, she nudged him with the toe of her shoe.

"Ow." He groaned weakly into the pavement.

God's words rang in Sarah's mind suddenly, and she repeated them, frowning. "And I'd stick with her, if you know what's good for you?"

Lucifer struggled to his knees, seething. "I'm going to kill him."

Despite herself, Sarah was a little curious. "Can you?"

He sighed, glaring at the sidewalk. "Probably not."

Sarah sighed, reluctantly offering him a hand. Lucifer ignored it, heaving himself to his feet with some difficulty and glaring at her as if this whole predicament were her fault. Sarah ignored the look. If God's words about sticking with Sarah were literal, she guessed his "she hurts, you hurt," warning was, too. She looked speculatively between the church and where they stood in the parking lot.

"What do you figure your radius is? 100 yards?" Lucifer didn't answer. He seemed to have decided to silently brood instead of acknowledging Sarah. Sarah shrugged, rummaging in her purse for her car keys. "Whatever. I'm going home. I suggest you follow me if you don't want to collapse again."

Sarah walked, and Lucifer followed. His mind was clearly elsewhere as he settled into her black sedan. Sarah shook her head, still disbelieving as she carefully pulled out of the mostly-empty lot.

"Satan riding shotgun," she muttered, glancing at the—man?—out of the corner of her eye. "Sure, why not." It was certainly the weirdest turn her life had ever taken. It had even distracted her, for a time, from the empty, gnawing ache that burned in her chest every day.

She exhaled a shuddering breath, tamping down the grief and anger and pain until she could deal with it at a more opportune time. Like when she wasn't driving. With Lucifer in the passenger seat.

Lucifer seemed to come back to himself when she finally pulled into the driveway, examining her house with a critical eye and a slight curl of his lips. "Nice pad."

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment as a wave of grief nearly set her staggering. She was saved from answering him, though the alternative wasn't much better.

"Sarah!" Sarah sighed heavily. Her neighbor, Mrs. Munroe had been a stay-at-home mother, but with an empty nest she'd made it her business to mother the entire neighborhood. For obvious reasons she'd taken an interest in Sarah lately. Sarah knew exactly what look she'd have on her face, too. Sure enough, as she turned, she saw overwhelming pity in Mrs. Munroe's smile. "How are you holding up, dear?"

Sarah grit her teeth for just a second before forcing herself to relax. "I'm doing alright, Mrs. Munroe," she lied pleasantly.

But Mrs. Munroe wasn't even looking at Sarah anymore. She was sizing up Lucifer curiously. Lucifer, for his part, looked at Mrs. Munroe not unlike a cat would watch a goldfish. Attentive. Predatory.

"And who's this?" Mrs. Munroe's tone was mostly innocent curiosity, but there was also a hint of disapproval.

Because she was still looking at Lucifer, Sarah indulged in an exaggerated eye roll. "My cousin," she said blandly, voice sharp.

"Oh, of course, dear." Mrs. Munroe's face immediately melted back into syrupy pity. "That's good. You should have your family's support right now."

Lucifer's eyes darted between Sarah and Mrs. Munroe, calculating. "Sorry, Mrs. Munroe, but I should get… Lou, settled." Sarah gently, but firmly, grabbed Lucifer's arm, pulling him up the porch stairs with her. "Long flight."

"O-oh, of course." Mrs. Munroe looked a little baffled. Calling after them, she asked, "No bags?"

"Lost!" Sarah shoved her key into the lock. "Never fly United, right?" Door open, Sarah maneuvered herself and Lucifer in as quickly as possible, shutting the door with a snap. She rested her forehead against the frame, sighing.

"Cousin, huh." Lucifer smirked, eyes roving over what he could see of the house from the entryway.

It was a mess. A small heap of shoes by the door, a half-empty coat closet with a cardboard box propping the door open. Half the kitchen was visible from the door, including an overflowing trash can and a few nearby takeout containers that hadn't made it into the bin, as well as a few empty bottles of wine. An empty dog bowl was upended on the floor, the mat beneath it askew.

Sarah shifted nervously as Lucifer's too-intelligent eyes took it all in. The state of the house was a little too reflective of her mental state, but she hadn't exactly been expecting company.

Lucifer whistled. "What is it? Midlife crisis? Cancer?" He started walking around the first floor, musing aloud, "Didn't think Dad would leave me with a defective babysitter. But then again, I was in time out for an awful long time."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. She heard Lucifer's steps halt briefly in the living room. His pace was quicker as he returned to the front hall, eyebrows raised mockingly as he waggled a picture frame in her direction. "Divorce?" It was a wedding picture. Her and Isaac.

Lucifer's brows drew down at Sarah's lack of response, then rose in realization. "Aaaah. He's dead." He said it with a sort of sadistic glee. Sarah shook her head, stalking into the kitchen and searching for her bottle opener. So what if it was barely 2 o'clock? The devil himself was in her home. She needed a goddamn drink.

Lucifer followed Sarah into the kitchen, squinting at the picture. "Aww. And you were such a cute couple." Sarah watched with half-lidded eyes as she sloshed a more-than-generous helping of wine into her glass.

Lucifer pulled out a seat at the kitchen counter, sitting down and propping his chin in his hand. "When'd it happen?" he asked, as if he was asking her to spill out how Isaac had proposed, rather than when he'd died. "From the amount of trash and empty wine bottles, I"m guessing… a week?"

Sarah exhaled shakily and swallowed a huge gulp of wine. "Five months."

"Really?" Lucifer looked mockingly impressed. "Your restraint is truly impressive."

A fat tear rolled down Sarah's face. She ignored it, gulping more wine. She tried to ignore him entirely, actually, and focus on what the hell she was going to do with the devil. She couldn't just live with him, here, for "the foreseeable future." Mrs. Munroe's judging looks alone made it untenable.

Lucifer's eyes traced the tear track on Sarah's cheek, looking fascinated, then thoughtful. His gaze turned back to the empty bottles of wine on the counter, a speculative look dawning on his face. Sarah grabbed her glass and the rest of the bottle, hoping to lock herself away in her bedroom, away from him, before he could be even more of an asshole. She passed Lucifer by, heading towards the stairs and trying to ignore the blossoming vindictive glee on his face.

"You were pregnant." The declaration was quiet, but it echoed. Sarah didn't stop. She trudged up the stairs, into her bedroom, and locked the door behind her. She set the wine bottle and the glass down on her dresser, hard, and stumbled to the bed as she finally lost control of her breathing. The raw ache in her heart that had been torturing her for weeks seemed like it had been ripped open, fresh and new and real. She couldn't control the sobs that shook her, or the tears that fell. She let herself cry, ugly and loud, for what felt like hours. She sobbed until her tears ran dry, her head ached, and her mouth felt stuffed with cotton.

As her eyelids grew heavily, she huffed bitterly. "So much for 'He never gives you more than you can handle'..." She muttered into her pillow. The last thought she had, before she fell into an exhausted sleep, was that she hoped Lucifer wouldn't burn the house down.

When Sarah stumbled down the stairs the next morning, she hoped and prayed, dearly, that the events of the day before has just been a dream. The house looked unchanged, and all was quiet. She allowed herself to hope… until she smelled coffee.

Sarah's shoulders sagged as she found Lucifer sipping a cup of coffee from one of her favorite mugs. He mockingly saluted her with the mug as she entered, and she sighed heavily as she fished another mug from the cabinet.

"Was kind of hoping all of that was a messed up dream," Sarah muttered, pouring coffee into her mug and sniffing it experimentally. It didn't smell like a trap. Strong and dark, like she liked it. She took a tentative sip, and then another, bigger one.

The devil could make a decent pot of coffee. Who knew?

Lucifer eyed her warily for a moment. "Nope." Lucifer popped the 'p', much like God had yesterday. Sarah wondered who had picked up the habit from whom. "Just regular, messed-up reality."

"Should've been an atheist," Sarah murmured into her coffee. She braced herself for more taunts, more of Lucifer poking at her still-raw wounds, but he didn't. He seemed content to sip his coffee and scribble on a notepad he must have found while snooping. She wondered if he'd slept at all. He didn't seem tired, and he did look a little rumpled—but he'd looked a bit disheveled yesterday, too.

A loud gurgling sound made Sarah halt, coffee halfway to her lips. Lucifer stiffened, frowning deeply.

"...was that your stomach?" Lucifer glared at the kitchen counter, seething, which Sarah guessed was a 'yes'. "Okay then…" Not letting Lucifer starve or stick his fingers in sockets had been part of her instructions. She didn't have much in the way of food, though. She opened the fridge to take stock of what she had in the house, before turning to Lucifer with a raised eyebrow. "I can feed you normal food, right? I don't need to get any dead infants? Virgin's blood?"

Lucifer's eyes were dark and angry, and Sarah was grateful for the counter between them. "I'm human," he said shortly. "I… eat, what humans eat." He said the word distastefully.

Sarah shrugged, pulling some eggs and bacon from the fridge. While Lucifer seemed moody, he didn't seem to be trying to be a huge dick on purpose the way he'd done last night, so Sarah made an attempt at polite conversation while she dug through the freezer. "What did you eat before?"

"I didn't."

Sarah shut the freezer, holding a crumpled plastic bag with frozen potatoes. "You didn't eat?"

Lucifer gripped his pen tightly. Sarah wondered if he would break it. "Angels don't need to eat."

Sarah paused in the act of pulling pans out of the cabinet, looking at Lucifer closely. He was more than just angry, she thought. That look, it was mostly angry—maybe as much as 80% angry, but the other 20%? She knew that look all too well.

Sadness.

She set a few pans on the stove and started to heat them. "I forgot about that," she said quietly, arranging her ingredients on the counter next to her. "I mean, I know the stories, but most of the time when I think 'devil', I think 'demon'."

"I am not, and could never be, a demon," Lucifer said, spitting the word as if it was something foul he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "But!" Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Lucifer seemed to have either shrugged off or suppressed his anger, as the mocking smile was back. "If it makes you feel better, most of the stories you humans would attribute to me, were demons. Except the greatest hits. You know, Garden of Eden, corrupting humanity, creation of demons, ruler of Hell…"

Sarah laid some bacon in one pan and emptied the frozen potatoes into another. "So you've really never been to Georgia?"

"'Fraid not." Lucifer was watching the pan of bacon with intent curiosity. The smell of it cooking was beginning to fill the kitchen, probably making his hunger worse.

"Can you at least play the fiddle?"

Lucifer blinked, looking away from the bacon to squint at Sarah. "Was that a joke?"

Sarah flipped the bacon. "I think if I don't try to have a sense of humor about housing the devil I will literally go insane, so yes. It was a joke."

"Mm. Fair enough." Lucifer shrugged, propping his chin in his hand once again, watching Sarah work with half-lidded eyes. Sarah stirred the potatoes and gulped some more coffee, wishing it was something stronger.

A few minutes later, Sarah plated the bacon. She paused before adding the eggs to the pan. Normally she'd ask how he liked his eggs, but she guessed, at this point, he didn't have a preference. With a shrug, she cracked the eggs in the pan, figuring she'd find out if he liked them over-easy soon enough.

As the eggs sizzled, Sarah turned, finding Lucifer still staring intently. With a sigh, she handed him a piece of bacon. He stared at it suspiciously for a long moment before his hand snaked out to take it. He cautiously sniffed it before taking bite.

His eyes went wide as he chewed, surprise evident. Sarah laughed.

"Probably should have given you something else first. Not much else measures up to bacon." She turned to stir the potatoes and flip the eggs. As she took plates down from the cupboard, she noticed Lucifer had already completely devoured the piece of bacon.

She plated the eggs, potatoes, and bacon. Feeling inexplicably generous, she gave Lucifer the lion's share of the bacon. She handed him his food and some cutlery, then settled in beside him at the other chair at the counter.

Breakfast with Satan. Sure, why not.

Lucifer picked at the food tentatively at first, then nearly inhaled it. Sarah ate hers at a more sedate pace, eying Lucifer cautiously out of the corner of her eye. When he'd cleared his plate, he looked vaguely surprised. He frowned deeply at it, then pushed the plate away with such force that it rattled on the counter.

"I need paint." Lucifer's tone was demanding, and he looked at her expectantly. Sarah chewed her potatoes, wondering if he expected her to stop eating and fetch it for him.

"Why?" She took another bite of eggs.

Lucifer's face darkened with annoyance. Probably wasn't used to being questioned. He'd have to get used to it, Sarah decided. She wasn't anyone's servant. Well, maybe God's. He didn't give her much of a choice there. But she wasn't about to be Lucifer's errand girl.

"Protection." Lucifer said shortly. When Sarah merely continued to eat her breakfast, he rattled out a frustrated breath. "You are currently harboring the Prince of Darkness? One true ruler of Hell? Demons are looking for me. Even those loyal to me aren't above taking advantage of my… fragility. I need paint to ward the house, or they will find us."

Sarah choked down her food with effort. "God didn't mention a demon manhunt."

Lucifer scoffed. "He wouldn't." He gripped the edge of the counter bitterly, knuckles white. "He doesn't care what happens while he's gone."

Sarah put their dirty plates in the sink, gazing around at the house thoughtfully. Lucifer snapped at her impatiently. "Do you want to be slaughtered? Paint. Now."

"Best I have right now are a couple of Sharpies." Sarah rummaged in a drawer and tossed them to him. Lucifer scowled at them darkly. "But don't get comfy. We're leaving."

It was hard enough living in this house, seeing the space she'd shared with Isaac and knowing he'd never drape his jacket over a chair or leave dishes in the sink again. She refused to keep Lucifer here, walking the same halls he did, pitiless eyes examining and criticizing everything she'd ever cherished.

"Ooh, road trip." There was the asshole from yesterday. "Where are we going?"

Good question. "I'll think about it while packing."

"Oh, oh! Can we go to Disneyland?"

Sarah ignored him, tromping up the stairs. She thought about where to go as she pulled out a duffel bag and began shoving in clothes, toiletries, and other essentials. She thought, for a moment, about packing a bag for Lucifer, but quickly discarded the idea. Even if Lucifer could fit into Isaac's clothes, she refused to dress the devil in her dead husband's things. She'd stop at a shop on the way out of town and get him some clothes and essentials.

When Sarah returned downstairs, Lucifer was scribbling strange symbols on the walls in Sharpie, whistling a merry tune. God, that was going to be a bitch to remove later.

Lucifer turned as the last step creaked, offering Sarah a wide, toothy smile. "Mary Poppins." He gestured at the wall proudly. "Drew you a picture."

"You're very talented," Sarah remarked dryly, hefting her bag over her shoulder. Lucifer's smile widened. "You ready to go?"

"Ooh, pretty please, can I drive?"

"Absolutely not."

He heaved a put-upon sigh, pouting exaggeratedly. "Fine, then. I call shotgun!" He strolled out of the house, settling into the passenger seat of Sarah's sedan once again.

For a moment, Sarah stood in the doorway, looking back at the house. Her house. Their house. Shaking her head, she shut the door, locked it, and walked away.

She started the car and pulled out, heading for the nearest Target first. Lucifer pressed his face against the window, watching with exaggerated interest. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Provo."

"Utah?" Lucifer asked, eyebrows raised as he turned to look at her. He scanned her up and down. "You rocking some magic underwear under that turtleneck?"

Sarah rolled her eyes as she made a right turn. "Not everyone in Utah is Mormon."

"I'm not hearing a 'no'," he sing-songed.

"Oh my God, I am not discussing my underwear with the devil," Sarah muttered, signalling and swiftly turning into a large parking lot.

Lucifer tsked. "Taking Dad's name in vain. Naughty."

Sarah slammed the car into park and climbed out of the car. "Get out, loser. We're going shopping." Lucifer exited the vehicle with a spring in his step before raising an eyebrow at the store. "You need clothes and we need food. I'm not dragging you to a mall and a grocery store." Sarah explained, stalking to the entrance and wrestling a cart free.

Sarah eyed Lucifer speculatively. His eyes danced with mischief and malice as he watched the other shoppers in the store, his mouth turned downward slightly in apparent disgust. They'd be out of here quicker if he picked out clothes while she shopped, but she was hesitant to let him out of her sight, especially when his face looked like that.

"Could you stop looking like that?"

Lucifer blinked at her, too innocently. "Like what?"

"Like you want to murder everyone in the store."

"Oh, but I do," he said earnestly.

Okay, that was disturbing. Although really, what had she expected? Lucifer had seemed ready to strangle her in the church yesterday, before he'd gotten distracted. Likely the only thing staying his hand was God's warning that if Sarah hurt, Lucifer would hurt—but that protection didn't extend to other people.

Sarah clamped a hand on his arm. "Okay, yeah, that settles it. You're sticking with me."

Lucifer smiled a mocking smile, rearranging their arms so they were linked at the elbow, and began humming. It took Sarah a moment to place the tune, as she hadn't heard it in years: Jolly Holiday, from Mary Poppins.

With a sigh, Sarah led Lucifer through the store. She grabbed clothing first, holding up shirts and trying to gage with her eyes if they would fit his tall frame. Lucifer occasionally broke from his loathing glares at the others in the store to bat his eyes at her or pose when she did this, smirking at Sarah's visibly glowing exasperation. Every once in awhile Lucifer would pluck something she'd put in the cart and put it back on the rack or toss in something else, which she allowed, since he had yet to attack the other patrons in the store.

When she came to the rack of socks and underwear, she tried to be as quick and efficient as possible. Lucifer had other plans, resting his head on her shoulder and frowning at the packages in her hands.

"What, no magic underwear for me?"

Sarah rubbed her temples, wishing she'd had more coffee before she left. Come to think of it, she hadn't emptied the pot… it'd probably be positively disgusting my the time she got back.

The next thirty minutes were exhausting. Sarah rushed through the store as quickly as possible. In the toiletries section, her hands had reached automatically for the deodorant and bodywash Isaac had preferred. She stared at it for several long moments before shoving it back on the shelf and picking up some other brand and tossing it into the cart with a clatter. She grabbed some snacks and drinks for the road and directed Lucifer and the cart back towards the front of the store. Just before checkout, she abruptly halted in front of a display. Lucifer shot her a puzzled look at the sudden stop, but Sarah merely shook her head and grabbed one of the plastic-wrapped DVDs from the display, tossing it in the cart and heading to the checkout lane.

The older woman who rang them up smiled fondly at Sarah and Lucifer's still-linked arms. Sarah offered her a queasy smile back, hoping she'd hurry it up.

"Newlyweds?" The woman asked curiously, ringing up the items.

Sarah reared back like she'd been smacked. Sure, their arms were linked, but—Sarah glanced down. She still wore her wedding ring, and, curiously enough, Lucifer wore one, too. She made a mental note to ask him about it, later. Sarah's head jerked up as Lucifer slid his arm out from hers and wrapped it around her shoulder instead, pressing her almost painfully into his side.

"Yep! Still hard to believe sometimes, isn't it, honey?" The checkout woman, who had furrowed her brow at Sarah's bizarre reaction to the question, looked mollified, not picking up on the muted sarcasm and derision in Lucifer's tone.

"Yes, unbelievable." Sarah hastily jammed her card into the machine, waiting impatiently for the chip to process.

"Oh, I know that feeling." The woman ran a finger over an old-fashioned band on her own finger, smiling fondly. "Going on forty years, now."

Sarah offered an absent-minded congratulations as the machine pinged and she yanked her card out and shoved it back in her wallet. Lucifer, arm still wrapped around her, remained planted in place, and made an impressed sound. "Any wisdom for us youngsters?" He squeezed Sarah's shoulders, and she stumbled a little.

The woman smiled warmly. It transformed her tired, wrinkled face, making her seem years younger. She leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. "The most important thing is to never take each other for granted."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears against her will, and she blinked them back determinedly. She thanked the woman quickly and pushed Lucifer through the checkout lane, scooping up their bags and shoving a few in his hands while she attempted to control her breathing. Lucifer allowed it, though he frowned deeply, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Fifteen minutes later, when Sarah had gotten herself back under control and they were gaining speed on the highway, Sarah recalled why she'd gotten so worked up in the first place.

"Why are you wearing a wedding ring?"

Lucifer looked down, as if surprised at the reminder, and twisted the ring on his finger disinterestedly. "This vessel was married. Wife and kid. Killed in a home invasion."

Sarah ignored the stab of pain at the mention of the loss of a child and spouse. "Vessel?"

"This meat suit, this body," Lucifer clarified, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. "You didn't really think angels looked like this, did you?"

"I'm still getting used to the fact that angels, and more specifically you, exist at all. I haven't thought much about the mechanics."

Lucifer huffed. "I am magnificent. My true form is a glory to behold—not that you could. One glance at me and you'd burn your pretty little human eyes out." His tone had an unnerving amount of longing in it. Sarah squeezed the steering wheel.

"So the face you're wearing… he used to be a person?"

Lucifer hummed an affirmative. "Nick. He's dead now, of course. His body was never designed to hold me, so he burnt out, oh, years ago, now." Lucifer flexed his hands. "Dad must have made a few upgrades when he remade the body to contain me. Fits me almost as well as my true vessel, which works out, since that one is… occupado."

"True vessel?"

Lucifer sighed gustily. "Not important anymore." He tilted his head back and forth for a second as if he was reconsidering that statement. "Except for the fact that he and his brother are probably trying to find and kill me."

"Wonderful." Sarah drummed the steering wheel with agitated fingers. "But your wall art will protect us?"

"From them?" Lucifer sounded skeptical, face twisting in a grimace. "Not for long, no." He clapped his hands, seeming unconcerned about people wanting to kill him. Sarah resisted the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel, but it was a near miss. "Anywho. Nothing we can do about that. So. Where are we headed?"

"A small town outside Eugene, Oregon."

"Because…" Lucifer gestured for her to continue. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Because my grandparents left me a cabin out there." Lucifer was quiet for a moment, giving her a squinty-eyed, skeptical look. "What?"

Lucifer leaned his elbow on the center console, propping his chin in his hand and tapping his finger against his lips. "Just expecting a little more effort, I guess. You know, show me the error of my ways? How humanity is good? Hospitals, orphanages, soup kitchens—the highlights?"

Sarah huffed. "No."

Lucifer's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

Sarah frowned. "Yeah, God told me to, but he's gone, and I don't particularly like being told what to do. That aside, given the evil glares you were leveling at toddlers and grandmas alike in that store, I get the feeling I could take you to every damn hospital on this green earth and you wouldn't be convinced." Sarah risked a glance at Lucifer, who was watching her, wide-eyed and almost fascinated. Uncomfortable with the close attention, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel again. "I figure you're going to be a sulky, annoying bastard no matter what, and I seem to be stuck with you, so I'm at least going to try to relax instead of trying to drag you around like a recalcitrant child."

Lucifer had leaned back, eyes narrowed in annoyance when she called him a sulky bastard. "You know, I'm accustomed to fewer insults and a lot more cowering and groveling from people like you." His voice was low and dangerous. Sarah ignored the tone.

"Yeah, well, up until yesterday I didn't believe in you. Hard to be afraid of someone you don't believe in."

Lucifer's anger vanished as if it had never appeared, and he looked amused instead. "You believed in Dad, but not me."

"Well, probably not for much longer if he hadn't divinely intervened," Sarah admitted. "But no, I figured you were made up. A scary story to keep the faithful in line, or a scapegoat to blame for human sins and atrocities."

Lucifer hummed, then sat up abruptly. "Take this next exit."

"What? Why?" Sarah cautiously got into the right lane.

"You're gonna get a tattoo," Lucifer sing-songed, then frowned. "And me, too, now that I think about it."

"I am not getting a tattoo," Sarah protested. She flicked her signal on to get back in the left lane.

Lucifer tutted, wagging a finger at her. "You will if you don't want to be possessed by a demon."

"Jesus Christ," Sarah cursed, flicking off her signal and taking the exit at the last possible moment. Lucifer directed her to the tattoo parlor he'd spotted off the highway. He'd apparently kept the pad of paper and Sharpie from this morning, and he drew what looked like a star surrounded by flames.

He strolled in authoritatively. The parlor was mostly empty, what with it being before noon on a Thursday, so Lucifer was able to catch the eye of the heavily pierced and tattooed woman behind the counter instantly. "Can you do this?"

The woman eyed the design disinterestedly. "Sure."

"Great!" Lucifer smiled a close-lipped smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Matching tattoos for me and the lady."

The woman behind the counter raised one pierced eyebrow. "What, right now?"

"Yes, right now." Lucifer said impatiently. The woman rolled her eyes, but obediently walked back to talk to one of the artists in the back of the shop, handing him the paper with Lucifer's design on it. They conversed quietly for a moment, and the woman returned to the front to give them a quote. Sarah nodded and gave the woman her credit card, and soon after both she and Lucifer were in the back. There was only one artist in at the moment, but luckily the design was fairly simple, and all black, so each tattoo only took about an hour.

Lucifer went first, shrugging off his button-up shirt and rolling up his left sleeve to give the artist access to his left bicep. His brow was furrowed and he frowned the whole way through, but that was the only indication of his pain. When he was finished and a bandage had been placed over the raw flesh, Sarah sat down in the chair.

Frowning, she wished a female artist was available. But she'd have to make do. She eyed Lucifer. "Turn around." His eyebrows raised. "I don't want a tattoo that'll be visible in my normal clothes, so turn around."

Lucifer rolled his eyes, but complied, arms crossed. Sarah gave the tattoo artist an apologetic look, unzipping her jeans and levering down her underwear to expose her left hip. The artist was completely unfazed and got to work immediately. Lucifer hissed out a breath when the needle started buzzing, shoulders tense, but Sarah ignored him, staring at the ceiling and trying to breathe through the pain.

When they walked out of the parlor an hour later, both of them walked stiffly back to the car. Sarah rummaged in her packed bag for a loose, high-waisted skirt that would minimize friction on her bandage. She pulled it on over her clothes before gingerly removing her jeans.

Lucifer's face was dark and irritated when she finished. When he had her attention, he yanked down the side of his jeans, exposing his own left hip. Sarah's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then furrowed when she spied the bloody, irritated skin. An exact mirror of the state of her own hip, minus the ink. Lucifer looked unamused.

Sarah winced. "She hurts, you hurt," she repeated God's words. "Here, lay down in the back. I've got a first aid kit in the console."

Lucifer complied, glaring angrily at the roof of the car as Sarah retrieved the first aid kit. She glanced apologetically at his face as she pulled out a disinfectant wipe. "This'll sting."

Lucifer shrugged carelessly, but hissed as she wiped the blood away. He turned his glare on her as she pulled out a soothing ointment. "Your arm is fine," he observed petulantly.

Sarah glanced down at her left bicep, covered by her sweater. It was true, she hadn't felt any pain while Lucifer received his tattoo.

Lucifer scoffed. "So I get stuck with all your pain, but Dad forbid you feel mine."

Sarah gave him a dry look as she applied a bandage to his hip. "If killing me wouldn't kill you, I'd be dead already, wouldn't I?"

Lucifer gave her a pitying look, as if she'd asked a very stupid question. "Yes. Of course. Obviously."

Sarah zipped up the first aid kit efficiently. "Yep, I officially no longer feel sorry for you. Try not to let that get infected."

Sarah wolfed down a protein bar and an apple before they got back on the road and shoved the back of snacks at Lucifer in hopes that, if he were chewing, he'd be less vocally obnoxious. She turned on the radio just for background noise.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah watched Lucifer examine the bag of snacks. His face scrunched, and for a few moments he just stared at the food, looking conflicted. There was annoyance in the lines around his eyes and frustration in the set of his mouth, but something in his posture or his eyes also read something like sadness. He tried one of the protein bars and apparently didn't find it to his liking, tossing it back in the bag with a muttered insult, before slowly eating a bag of potato chips and a bottle of lemonade, staring out the window.

The lackluster lunch break bought Sarah almost an hour of sulky, relative quiet before Lucifer finished his food and became bored. She withheld a sigh as the mischievous, taunting glint returned to the man's eye and he began fiddling with the radio, flipping through stations.

He skipped over a classical station and a latin station, looking bored, and then paused for half a minute on a Christian station before huffing a sharp, sarcastic laugh and moving on. He paused with his hand on the dial a minute later, the intro to something familiar filling the car as a slow, crooked grin blossomed on his face. Warily, Sarah wondered what the hell on the radio could make Lucifer smile like that, and she glanced at the dash. Classic rock.

"They're playin' my song." Lucifer released the dial, sitting back in the passenger seat. Sarah understood when the lyrics began: Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste…

Sarah shook her head, focusing her attention back on the road. Lucifer hummed along and waved his fingers a bit, as if conducting, but a few glances out of the corner of her eye made Sarah think he wasn't nearly as amused as he tried to seem. His eyes were cold. As the song faded out and Billy Joel's "Piano Man" began to play, he turned those cold eyes on her.

"Sympathy for the Devil." Lucifer hummed. "Never thought the Stones were particularly sympathetic, despite the name. What about you, Sarah? Do I have your sympathy?"

Sarah focused on the lines of paint speeding by her on the road, trying to ignore Lucifer's eyes, which looked like cold chips of ice. Still, she mulled the question over for a long moment, taking the notion seriously. Finally she said, "Maybe."

There was a small twitch in the corner of her eye that Sarah guessed might have been some motion of surprise, but she kept her eyes fixed on the road and the signs they passed. They had only recently crossed into Idaho, and she was hoping to make it close to the Oregon-Idaho border before she had to stop for the night and get some rest.

"Maybe," Lucifer repeated, voice mocking. Sarah ignored his tone.

"I've heard a lot of different theories for why Lucifer fell, but I never really believed in you, so I didn't give them much attention," Sarah admitted. "So I guess it depends on why you rebelled in the first place."

Lucifer was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he seemed genuinely curious. "Why do you think?"

Sarah finally glanced at him, taking in the odd mix of emotional cues he was having mixed success at concealing. "The two theories I'm most familiar with are that you were too prideful, and thought that the love and worship people gave to God should be given to you—or, and I think this one sounds more likely, you were too prideful to serve mankind."

"Prideful," Lucifer repeated with a scoff. "Is it pride not to want to serve a pile of flawed, immoral cockroaches? To put them before my Father?" Lucifer turned to look out the window, fixing his eyes on the sky now turning pink-purple on the horizon. "My only 'sin' was loving my Father too much."

"Really?" Sarah arched an eyebrow, skeptical.

"Well, was," he corrected with a lazy shrug. "Before he cast me out. Which he admitted was his fault, by the way, not mine. The Mark corrupts everyone who bears it, but could Dad admit he made a mistake? Nooooo. He had to lock me away instead." Lucifer shook his head, shifting his gaze from the painted sunset to the squat, dark rectangles of buildings in the distance. "But humanity… Dad won't admit it, but that was the real mistake."

Sarah didn't understand half of what he said, but honed in on the last bit. "You're seriously more upset about people existing than being locked up for thousands of years?"

"If Dad had just admitted that humanity was a mistake, I wouldn't have been locked up in the first place," Lucifer said simply. "My brothers would be alive. Dad would still be around." His voice was almost wistful for a moment before it turned bitter. "Instead? Gabriel is dead. Raphael is dead. Dear big brother Michael is insane, driven mad by the same Cage that held me for so long. Half the angels in heaven are dead, and the rest are in leaderless chaos. All for the sake of you." Sarah waited for him to continue. After a few minutes of silence, she thought perhaps his tirade had ended. Eventually, though, Lucifer spoke again, voice casual. "Personally, I don't think it was worth it."

Sarah considered this. It was impossible for her to conceive of a world without man, a world of just angels. What would the world even look like? Would it be without war? Pain, illness, hunger? All of that sounded good—perfect, even. But Sarah couldn't wrap her head around the idea.

Maybe it was because she was human, but she simply couldn't fathom an eternal life of peace and beauty and bliss. That sort of idea was a child's daydream, the faithful idea of heaven, but not Earth. Not… reality.

Sarah knew the value of joy because she'd experienced sorrow. She knew the value of love because she'd known apathy and loneliness. Happiness and sadness, triumph and loss, euphoria and grief and anger and embarrassment… She couldn't imagine all the things that made life wonderful and good without all the struggles and ills that made her ache for happier times.

Maybe that was the flaw Lucifer saw in humanity.

"Are angels so different?" Lucifer shot her a dry look. "No offense, but clearly the sins of humanity aren't just for us. Pride, envy, wrath… surely you can't rebel against heaven, fight against other angels without those faults."

"Pft. Most angels are sheep," Lucifer said dismissively. "They exist to obey. Free will wasn't meant for angels, and it's not something they picked up easily when Dad left. Their sense of good and evil is black and white: following orders good, disobedience bad." Despite supposedly thinking angels were above humans, his voice was derisive as he described his 'brothers,' and downright venomous when he added, "Michael was just the same."

"I'm having a little trouble seeing the moral superiority here."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "They may be naive, but they could have learned. Where humans are weak, angels are strong. They don't know hunger, or thirst, or lust. They are patient and just and reverent." Lucifer's words were fierce now, but delivered in an even tempo, as if he's repeated this list so often before that he could rattle it off in his sleep. "And yet Dad gave all of his greatest gifts—the Earth, the garden, free will, his love—to you dirty, flawed little animals. You, who disobeyed him. You, who slaughter each other in the millions in his name, or deny he exists, turning around and worshipping pagan monsters. You don't deserve it."

"But you do?"

"Most of all." Sarah got the sense the words were supposed to come out confident and self-assured. To her, they sounded more wistful.