I'm currently one of many fighting for Lucifer on twitter under the #saveLucifer #pickupLucifer campaign. I desperately want to know what happens in the story, and I think it's horrible that the show was cancelled in such a way and just as it hit its peak.

But in the meantime, I'm happy to run with that fantastic writing prompt they've given us, and give one or two of my own versions as to what happens next. I hope you enjoy it!

Lucifer stood and turned, and Chloe gasped. His movements were the same as usual, that slight drop of his shoulders in pleasure as he saw her, but his face… She stared in horrified fascination, one thought echoing loudly in her head: 'It's all true.'

Lucifer - it had to be Lucifer, didn't it? But he looked so different, his face a darkened red, his eyes glowing orange - looked at her, puzzled. 'Detective?'

Chloe just stared, unable to drag her gaze away, unable to move, and he glanced around, as though trying to figure out what she was reacting to. Didn't he realise? He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror that was propped up against a couple of stacked chairs. 'Oh.'

He turned his attention back to Chloe, and held her wide-eyed gaze for a moment. 'Well, I did try to tell you.' It was still his voice, his gestures. Everything about him was the same, except for the head. Well, and his hands, she corrected herself, glancing down at the blackened flesh there below the familiar snowy white cuffs.

He frowned, staring in the mirror, then turned back to her, lifting one hand to his face. 'I can't…' Even with the unfamiliar face in front of her, she could sense that he felt fear.

Sirens sounded close by, and voices shouted. Chloe turned for a second to see where they were, and behind her she heard a strange whoomph sound. She had heard it before; she had turned away from him on the helipad, and when she had turned back he was gone. So she wasn't surprised when she turned back now to see a puff of dust and feathers lifted from the floor, and Pierce's body, but no sign of Lucifer.

'Detective?' Police officers were appearing from both entrances to the building now, guns drawn, and she pulled her attention back to them. But as she gave instructions and supervised the scene all she could think of was Lucifer. 'I am the devil. I always tell you the truth. There's a side of me that's bad. Monstrous, even. I was afraid that if you saw it you'd run away.'

She remembered the times when a murderer had shrunk away from him, screaming in terror. At least that made sense now. But where had he gone? And what had happened to him? The floor was littered with bloodied white feathers. His wings, it had to be. He was hurt. And she had no idea where he was.

It was growing dark by the time she was able to leave the scene, and she sat in the car for a few minutes in silence. Her chest was aching, a reminder of the bullet that had knocked the wind out of her. All she could remember of that was the impact knocking her back, and then a feeling of being cradled, and a scream echoing around her head. And then they were on the roof.

Lucifer really was the devil. The thought kept hitting her like a bucket of ice water over her head, taking her breath away. All those times she had grown irritated with him, told him to stop talking in metaphors, denied anything he had tried to tell her. Where was he now? And what was he thinking?

In the end, she started the car and drove over to Lucifer's place. She let herself into the penthouse, to find it empty and silent. Dan and Ella had tidied up after themselves, and there was little evidence of their former prisoner apart from a half roll of duct tape sitting on a coffee table.

She settled down on the couch, in the dark, waiting, and just as she was about to fall asleep her patience was rewarded: that whoomph sound again, and a shadow entering from the balcony. She waited until he had almost reached the bedroom before speaking. 'Lucifer.'

He turned, startled, and she stepped forward to put herself between him and the balcony; not that she was sure that would stop him leaving, but she had to try. She held her hands out in the gesture she had last used when trying to persuade Pierce not to shoot her; as though Lucifer was a wild animal she was trying to tame. His face was in shadow, and she tried to penetrate the darkness, to see whether his face was back to normal. He stepped back, as though sensing her intentions. 'Detective,' he said, his voice not quite steady. 'What are you doing here?'

'I came to check up on you,' she answered softly. 'Are you okay?'

He shook his head. 'Detective, please leave.' His harsh words made her wince.

'Lucifer, I'm worried about you. And I owe you an apology.'

He gave a short laugh. 'Apology accepted. Now please leave.'

'No.' She stepped towards him, then stopped as he backed away. 'Please don't go, Lucifer. Please stay and talk. We agreed that we'd talk, that you'd tell me the truth.' His fear was palpable, and she felt weak at the knees. This was the devil she was talking to. Who know how powerful he was?

But he was also her Lucifer.

'I've always told you the truth.'

The bitterness penetrated her heart. 'I know that now, and I'm sorry.'

He turned his back to her. 'It's best if you go.'

'Lucifer - that blood. And feathers. Are you hurt?'

Emboldened by the lack of response, she stepped closer, placed her hand on his arm. 'Talk to me, Lucifer. Tell me what's going on.'

She felt him shrug his shoulders. 'My devil face is back. And now I can't get rid of it.'

'Your devil face. Is that what you call it? It's - pretty impressive.' She forced herself to sound casual, to hide the surge of fear she had first felt.

He snorted, and his arm relaxed slightly. 'I killed a human, detective. Angel rules 101. And I broke it.'

She reached up to his shoulder, rubbed it. 'But are you hurt?'

He hesitated, then nodded. 'My wings.'

'Show me.'

Slowly, he turned to face her, and she saw the flames from the fire behind her reflected in his golden eyes. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure. Show me, please.'

He stepped back from her, and she tried to hold his arm, to hold him close, but he shook his head. 'If you want to see my wings, detective, then I'll need space.'

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she couldn't hold back a gasp as a large pair of white wings shot out from his back, filling the room with a soft glow.

White and red wings.

She stepped forward, gingerly holding out a hand, and caressed the feathers, which were sticky with blood. He winced, and she withdrew her hand slightly. 'What happened to them?'

'Pierce and his gunmen.'

A sudden memory flooded her: sitting on the floor, cradled in his arms, while the sound of bullets mingled with a scream. She had opened her eyes, but had seen only a white light, and then she had passed out again. 'You protected me!' she said in sudden wonder.

He nodded. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken you there in the first place. You shouldn't have been in danger. It's all my fault.'

'No! Don't pull that one, Lucifer. It's my job, remember? You're the consultant, and I wasn't even listening to your advice.'

He gave a bitter laugh. 'Well, it's too late to argue over blame, I guess. I'll recover, don't worry. I heal fast. I just need to keep my wings out for a bit.'

'But your face?'

'I can't change it back. I don't know if it's permanent now. There's no angel handbook. I can usually shift into my devil face and back again at will, but I didn't even know it was back - and now it's stuck.'

She reached up, touched his face gingerly, and then with growing confidence. The skin was rough, as though badly scarred, and it was warm to the touch, more so than normal. She caressed it, and felt his tension lift slightly as he leaned into her hand.

He was trembling, and she took his hand and led him to the bedroom. 'You're exhausted,' she said. 'So am I. It's been a tough day. Lie down and sleep. We'll see how things are in the morning.'

Lucifer made no protest, folding his wings down enough to get through the doorway and then almost collapsing onto the bed face down. He was asleep before she could say anything else, and in the end she lifted one wing up to crawl underneath, snuggling up against his side and feeling the wing settle around her. Questions swam in her head, but she pushed them away. Right now, all she wanted to worry about was Lucifer, the man she loved - the devil she loved.

She had been sure that she would lie awake, the events of the day playing through her head, but the soft touch of the wings and the quiet breathing next to her soothed her, and the world slipped away from her before she could even think.

Feedback always welcome. Having got this part out, I need to figure out where to take it next, but promise to keep going on it. And to keep fighting until we get our devil back!