Ahhhh...so you're probably all thinking I was dead, or that I completely forgot this. It was a close encounter with the former, and of course not with the latter. 2018 has been no kinder than the end of 2017, and to avoid lengthy explanations, know that a fair amount of my time has been split between funerals and various hospitals. Also, the delay in this story has honestly been because I have rewritten it enough times I ran out of appendages to count them on. I also thought for whatever reason, I should only work on one fic at a time, and wouldn't you know...that just gave me wicked writer's funk. Anyway - no fear! It has not been abandoned, and if ever I have a story I don't intend to complete, I'll let people know (and probably give like a paragraph about how it would've gone if I wrote it).
Ahem. Enough talk. Onwards!

Chloe fought the urge to pull her hair out by the roots. "How does he keep doing this?" she seethed, tapping her pencil against the map of California she had rolled out across Ella's work table.

Several places were circled, x'ed out, redrawn and x'ed over again as they followed empty lead after false promises.

"Well, he does have an undisclosed amount of wealth at his disposal, and he did manage to completely erase whoever he was before he showed up as Lucifer Morningstar, and he is pretty squirrelly when it comes to vanishing acts," Ella listed, ticking off her fingers as she made valid point after point. "And – I'm going to stop talking now, because this is clearly helping nobody, right? Right. Focus on the facts, Ella."

Chloe dragged her palms over her face, resting her elbows on the table. "Which are what exactly?"

Ella's plastered on grin fell a little. "Well…we know he's not at Lux," she began. "We know that not even his awesome scary bartender-slash-ninja knows where he is. We also know she was the one that came to us asking if we'd seen him, and…" she trailed off. "Wow. We know very little, don't we?"

"It's also a pain in the ass to try and find someone with useful information on him," Dan piped up, tossing yet another dossier onto the table. "I didn't think having everyone know you was a bad thing if you went missing, but apparently – dead wrong. That stupid BOLO has made more problems than it's helped, I think."

Chloe sighed, leaning back in her chair as she tried to stretch the kinks out of her neck. "How was I supposed to know everyone knew the guy? I mean, LA and Vegas I was expecting, but New Orleans?" she said, leaning forwards again to shove the documents across the table. "Saint Louis? Boston? Shanghai? How the hell did they even hear he was missing?"

"YouTube is a blessing and a curse," Ella said sagely. "One minute you're watching puppy adoption stories, you forget to hit the 'cancel' button for next video, and BAM! Suddenly you're watching missing person reports from other countries."

"Happen to you a lot, does it?" Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes I have problems sleeping, okay?" Ella said defensively.

"The problem is that no one has any new sightings of him," Dan pointed out. "Everything is from a couple weeks to a couple years ago. There's even this one from a seventy five year old woman in a nursing home who swears she saw him at Disco 9000."

"Disco 9000?" Chloe echoed. "Wasn't that place closed in the 70's?"

"When did she see him there?" Ella asked.

"1976, apparently," Dan explained. "And she swears it was him because he looks exactly the same. Though, I quote: 'much better dressed now'."

Chloe groaned in exasperation, running her hands through her hair, staring at the completely useless piles of paper in front of her. The problem wasn't just that Lucifer up and vanished several days ago, but that he was such a nuisance to try and establish a pattern of behavior for. Normally, missing persons cases involved talking to friends, family, co-workers, ex-lovers – all of which Lucifer had in spades.

For exactly five years, and five years only.

No bank accounts, no addresses, no hospital records, no nothing. Tracking down his birth certificate was a quest she was sure knights of the round table wouldn't have been eager to tackle. Eventually, in a pure Eureka! moment from Ella, they'd found it, but it turned out to be as useful as lead sails and a paper anchor.

His mother didn't exist, and there was no father listed. The hospital it said he was born at was leveled and made into condos. It listed Cardiff, Wales, as his home city and country, but since he had his United States citizenship, they weren't overly helpful beyond the incredulous 'Lucifer Morningstar? What is this, the X-Files?' and flat denial of any citizen being born with that name because it was illegal. And as it turned out – Lucifer wasn't a pseudonym or a name change, it was his actual birth name. Which of course begged the question of if he wasn't born in Wales like his birth certificate said because his parents wouldn't have been allowed to give him that name in the first place, then where the hell was he from? How were they supposed to find friends or family if they couldn't even track down what country they might be in?

And ugh…trying to get a straight answer out of Amenadiel was like listening to those long, rambling stories that Trixie used to tell that lost the original subject halfway through the answer. Amenadiel didn't even have a last name, and other than being super cagey when they asked him about their parents because if Lucifer was adopted then that would be a whole new avenue to explore for possible hints to where he'd gone, he had nothing to offer.

And Maze…well. No one really wanted to ask her more than once if she knew where Lucifer had gone, and Chloe admitted there wasn't much of a point. Maze was the one who said he'd gone missing in the first place.

"This is ridiculous. Next time I see him, I'm putting a GPS transponder on him. I get one of those 'find a pet' ones, stick it under his skin, and tattoo 'if found, please scan here'."

"Anything from the hospitals?" Dan asked.

"Nope. No new John Doe's, alive or otherwise in the last 48 hours."

"Has Amenadiel seen him? Or Maze?"

"Not since last time you asked."

Chloe grumbled to herself. "Missing persons find anything."

"Nope. But they did mention that if we stopped asking every ten minutes, they might make better headway."

Chloe let her head drop to the table top with an audible thunk. "Maybe I should just get a Ouija board…"

No one said anything for a long few minutes.

Ella cleared her throat. "Um…how serious are you about that?"

"John Constantine, don't you dare," Olivia warned, snapping her fingers to get Brian's attention as soon as the orderly stepped back inside the doors. "I will – oh dammit," she cursed. "Hey, Brian – go get him!"

John was already moving before she even finished her not so idle threat.

This was part of the reason why she was an administrative assistant rather than a nurse. She lacked any form of authoritative air to make anyone listen, and she was too small to be any use if physical restraint was necessary.

In her defense, however, John listened to a grand total of no one, ever.

John skidded to a halt in front of Lucifer, far enough away that Dr. Garner waved off Brian with a slight shake of his head.

Lucifer didn't seem at all bothered by Constantine. Most people, when faced with a man charging up to them, at least flinched or moved away. Lucifer only looked curious.

"Mr. Constantine?" Dr. Garner asked. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Shut it," John snapped, not taking his eyes off of Lucifer. "What are you doing here?"

Lucifer blinked owlishly for a moment. "I was picked up off the highway a few days ago, and this is where they brought me."

"No, not how did you get here, here, I mean what are you doing out of Hell? How did you get out of Hell?"

Even as Olivia fought to roll her eyes at the outlandish question, Lucifer didn't seem to think it that odd, because he answered honestly, and without sarcasm.

"Hell?" he echoed. "No, they picked me up near some place called Silverado." He paused, considering. "Michigan seems like a pretty long walk from here. Wouldn't someone have noticed me before I reached California?"

John blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, which Olivia didn't think was possible.

"Mr. Constantine," Dr. Garner asked, "do you actually know this man?"

John shot the doctor a withering scowl. He knew damn well what Garner was implying. Did he know him, or was he 'projecting his delusions'? He'd never bothered to deny the things he saw, or the things he knew. But after Newcastle, he'd wanted nothing more than to be told they were nothing but delusions. That demons and monsters weren't real, and the world wasn't going to Hell in a handbasket, him along with it.

Life, it seemed, had other plans. And as much as he tried to ignore it, there were some things that would not be ignored.

Even with the supernatural world going haywire with the rising darkness, the return of the Brujerìa, John thought there were at least some constants he could count on.

Things like the Devil staying where he damn well belonged unless the Apocalypse rolled around and the End of Days began.

Maybe…maybe it wasn't Lucifer?

Well, there were a couple ways to test a theory.

"Bagle g-chis-ge ol emna niis?"

Without batting an eye or missing a beat, Lucifer shrugged and answered back in flawless Enochian. "Olani gohvlim ol."

"What language was that?" Dr. Garner asked, looking curious but not sounding surprised that Lucifer answered in a different language. Which meant he'd already known about Lucifer being omnilingual, or, at the very least, multi lingual.

And the plot thickened.

Ignoring the doctor and focusing on Lucifer, who actually seemed interested in the conversation rather than freaked out, he asked him directly. "Do you know what language that is?"

"My first one," he answered, looking surprised. The surprise immediately turned to delight, his lips curving up into a genuine smile. "Ooh, I like you."

In the back of his head, John heard the beginning notes of the Twilight Zone theme. Today was full of 'never thought I would live to see that' surprises. The Devil in the psychiatric hospital. The Devil taking a shine to him, which was surprising anyway because likeable was not how John would describe himself, and neither would any of his friends. And definitely not how his last encounter with 'The Dark One' had gone.

"It's Enochian," he explained. Lucifer didn't seem to understand the significance of that particular revelation, but he seemed to understand that it at least had significance.

"Mr. Constantine," Dr. Garner sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Please tell me that isn't one of your made up things."

"If it was made up, why would he know how to answer in it?" John protested, gesturing towards Lucifer. "And he admitted it's his first language."

"Where is it from?" Lucifer asked eagerly, taking a step forwards. "Do you know where I'm from?"

What the…

"Language of the angels, mate," John explained, a feeling of black dread welling up in the pit of his stomach.

Lucifer was one of the most powerful beings in the universe. He was an archangel. Not just any archangel, either, but the Fallen One. In some circles, people and beings were afraid to even speak his proper name. He'd seen the intake pictures. Someone, or something, had done a serious number on an archangel. The bruises may be faded, but clearly something was still wrong.

"Ipsum revelare," John muttered, holding up his hand, palm out and slightly down so Brian the Bouncer didn't think he was about to slap Lucifer across the face.

Nothing happened.

Less than nothing happened.

Lucifer didn't flinch. No wings, no hellfire eyes, no burned and scarred face used to terrify the denizens of Hell. Lucifer looked like a normal human being. Which was impossible. Scratch that. Not impossible, because clearly that's what John was looking at, but so improbable that John didn't want to consider the ramifications.

Belatedly, the image of the burn on his hand upon admittance came to mind. Something about it looked familiar, yet…he couldn't remember why. Without thinking, John lunged forwards before Brian or Dr. Gardner could stop him and grabbed Lucifer's hand, twisting it so that it was palm up, and Lucifer hissed slightly in protest of the odd angle, and quite probably the way John pushed his fingers back to reveal the mark.

Unlike the rest of his injuries Lucifer had upon intake which were faded or just plain gone, the burn looked worse. The skin around it was puffy and red, cracked and shiny looking. The image was more pronounced than the original pictures, more easily defined from the rest of the painful looking wound. Tendrils of black snaked out from the middle of Lucifer's palm, as if there was some sort of underlying infection spreading from the symbol.

It hadn't been there in the original photo. Which meant something was not only wrong, but it was getting worse instead of better, unlike the other superficial wounds.

"Constantine," Gardner warned, but John paid no attention.

"Sorry, mate," Constantine muttered. "But it's necessary." Before anyone could stop him, he clasped Lucifer's hand between his own, pressing down on the brand with as much force as he could. "Re inter spiritus tenebrarum, et nunc, mitte te umbra coram me. Exercitus praeter revelare."

There was a momentary flash of white light, and John felt the heat between their skin ratchet up to unbearably hot, like he'd placed his hand to the inside of a heated stove, but he kept his grip, repeating the words once more.

Come on, you bloody –

There was the roar of wind in his ears, a gust of frigid air that numbed his face. Thick, inky, oily darkness pressed down upon with like a physical weight and the smell of something left to rot made him gag.

He could hear just barely above the rush of wind – maybe it was just the blood in his ears? – and at first he thought it was just the staff yelling at him.

It wasn't until he actually concentrated on the noise that he realized Lucifer was screaming.

And so was he.

It burned.

Just as suddenly as whatever it was came on, it was gone, leaving such an absence of malice and cold that John felt his knees buckle in relief. Across from him, blood pouring over his lips from his nose, Lucifer collapsed backwards into Dr. Gardner and Olivia's grip, his skin pallid where it wasn't covered in blood and Constantine wasn't sure if he was even still alive, except for the ragged heaving of his chest as he tried to gulp in much needed air past bloodied lips.

It took him a moment to realize he was no longer gripping Lucifer's hand, because the burning heat was still there, like an iron pressing into his skin.

There was another voice he could still hear, above the shouting of the orderlies even as they hauled him to his feet, swearing violently at him. He couldn't find the energy necessary to fight back or even protest. He could only hold his hand out and away from him, afraid to look at it because surely it must've burned itself away by now.

The voice was talking to him. It wasn't in English, but he recognized it, though his brain was slow to translate.

The Morningstar is ours. Do not interfere again, or it will be more than a warning.

John Constantine is pretty sure he manages to tell them to sod off before he passes out.

So you've probably noticed...the time line for this is alllll sorts of hinky. Malcolm is alive, Ella exists, no Cain, yadda, yadda. Welcome to the biggest hurdle I encountered trying to write this - the when factor. So, assume it's like season 2, but without Mum/Charlotte. Mostly because I just wanted an excuse to try writing Ella. So Lucifer has no wings, no one is in the know, Ella exists, and to be honest - I'm pretty sure that the rest of the precinct doesn't know Malcolm isn't dead either. I think I like him better as an unknown fly in the ointment. Anywho. So, SO sorry for the delay - I make no promises about updates because last time I did that, karma promptly bitch slapped the hell out of me and then kicked me down a flight of stairs. As always, if compelled to do so - read and review! (honest though, they give me motivation and ideas).