Devil of a Time

Slipping from down through Hell wasn't something Lucifer did often. Except for punishing Dromos severely and make an example of him and getting back to Tenebrae from the nest, he hadn't done it in a decade. Hell didn't have any pull on him the way it had when he'd killed himself to save the Detective. With his wings, such as they were, and the wrath always simmering beneath the surface these days, Hell worked for him. Not the other way around. Not now. Still, the kingdom he'd left behind was no place he'd choose to spend his time. It never really changed, all constant ash and endless corridors. Screams rose at a fever pitch from the various loops and the snarls of demons echoed against the stones. And the smells.

Viscera always reeked.

And yet, for the second time in as many days, Lucifer used the quiet advantage of flitting down to Hell and back exactly where he wanted on Earth. Technically, Beatrice hadn't asked him for either favor. Although he and Mazikeen both knew that Esmée's nest needed to be torn apart. The rest of the supernatural community had to understand. More than that, it had to be left with roiling nausea and shaking fear at even the thought of crossing the Devil and his ward. This was…less justifiable. Yes, they couldn't afford for the Detective or Daniel to come here either. However, he could have let Michael go in his stead. A little command or two for that old bat, and she wouldn't have been able to call to Austin.

Maybe it made more sense for him to go than his idiot twin since Michael had thoroughly bolloxed everything up already. But that would be a lie, and Lucifer tried never to do that, especially to himself and especially after compartmentalizing in Los Angeles far too long.

As he flapped his wings, grumbling at the ash getting caught in the folds of his skin, he concentrated and slipped into the sorority house. It was mid-day on weekday so at least the odds were decent that most of the girls wouldn't be around. It wasn't wise, but he'd been far from gifted with discretion most of his immortal life. Why start now?

He shifted back into the earthly plane in the middle of a long hall, which was empty. To his brother's point, if it hadn't been, Lucifer would have been left with screaming girls or even more incapacitated ones in his wake. Still, it wasn't hard to figure out where the biddie stayed. She had that mangy feline after all, and he was able to smell that animal and its mess from up the hall. The door was locked when he got there, but it was child's play to Will the locking mechanism to slide around, to make the door open for him. Lucifer eased the knob open and then sat down as best he could in the armchair at the corner of the room.

Now that he'd done so many times before, whether it had been sneaking up on that git who'd taken his acting role far too seriously and murdered to keep his fake family or waited at a house party for that damn smuggler of Carlisle's to be pushed his way. Of course, he'd rarely snuck up on a human as he was now. Then again, the spawn's chemistry professor seemed to be still functional, so it was at least a promising prospect in Lucifer's book.

Although, after everything that had befallen Beatrice, he had little interest in preserving the old bat's sanity. Murchison had clearly spent the year bullying his charge, and that was (as the nest he'd recently shredded could have told her) one hell of a mistake.

It took fifteen minutes before the house mum finally made her way to her room. She was carrying a tray weighed down with a sandwich and some crisps and seemed carefree for a woman who'd spent the better part of last night, apparently, invested in making the urchin cry. Perhaps calling the Detective and the Douche was the scheduled highlight of Murchison's day. She seemed a nasty enough piece of work to revel in the discipline side of her job.

She was concentrating hard on the tray, on ensuring her tall cup of iced tea didn't spill, and hadn't yet looked up to her chair or to him. Murchison finally set her bounty down and made sure her door was shut behind her. Good. That would make this process simpler.

Lucifer coughed politely and as he had with Dr. Pachinsky, at least tried to start everything with a request. Granted, a request made by the Devil in all his so-called glory. But he could try politeness. His twin wasn't wrong; having the old bat go insane and be reduced to a mess ranting about Satan wouldn't help them either.

Murchison finally turned and stilled.

He grinned back, offering a feral smile for the woman before him. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Lucifer Morningstar." He shrugged, his wings struggling to flare out a bit as he did so. Lucifer kept them tucked closely to his back; there was nowhere near enough space to spread them to their full extent. Flapping at all would be a pain to get back out. "I suppose I humor the urchin enough that when she refers to me as 'Luke;' I allow it. My name can shock people quite a bit." He leaned forward and kept his smile firmly planted on his face. "Now, I'd rather prefer it if you and I could have a talk."

Murchison shrieked and started to the door. Lucifer sighed. Of course, nothing would be completely easy.

In a move faster than a human could have perceived, he rushed to the door and leaned heavily against it. Leaning down low, even as the top claws of his wings scraped the ceiling, Lucifer looked Murchison in the eye. He tried not to let the hellfire in his eyes flash more brightly. It was enough what she was taking in. The full press might snap her mind. She was certainly shaking enough before him, her voice a chorus of low, keening noises.

"Now, Mrs. Murchison, you so desperately wanted to meet with Beatrice's townie. I'm here."

"The club…" she finally stuttered. "It's that club with the ridiculous Satanist theme." She still shook but managed to point a long index finger at him belligerently. "This is a costume!"

Lucifer tilted his head towards her. "Is it? I suppose that's possible, but you don't quite believe that, do you? Humans can always tell." He stretched his wings a bit behind him, forcing the claws to scrape against the ceiling, grey paint chips falling on him as surely as Hell's ash had moments before. "I suppose I'm a bit rusty for all of this, but do tell me, Murchison, what is it you desire?"

He felt it as surely as he ever had, that pull, that edge of his power curling out from his gut and permeating the room. Murchison had tried to keep herself from screaming again by focusing on the floor and, for one, small second, Lucifer had worried without eye contact she couldn't reveal her wants to him. He shouldn't have fretted. As soon as he exerted his power-he'd once told the Detective it was a gift from God, and that no longer seemed funny-Murchison's head snapped up, and she stared into his eyes.

"I am tired of chasing after idiot teenagers and watching them waste the best years of their life."

Lucifer frowned. "Then why on Dad's green earth do you stay here, you old bat? What do you actually desire to do?"

"I've been doing this for thirty years. It's the job I can keep, and I have five years before all my retirement and benefits kick in from working for Omega Chi so long. But I can't help being jealous, to see girls with so much ahead of them, and to know that what's left of my time is eventually frozen dinners, my cat, and a modest savings. That life passed me by while I kept these ungrateful children in one piece."

Lucifer nodded. "And is that why you pick out a girl each year? Why you've chosen to make Beatrice Espinoza's life so much more difficult than it already is?"

Murchison still had that far away, unfocused look in her eyes that anyone he desired tended to get, but her voice perked up, emotion and actual excitement coloring her words. "She had the most going for her. I notice the girls who seem to take too many chances, and Miss Espinoza is one of those, but she also has a promising future, and I loathe that. The ego on these children. They deserve to be knocked down a few pegs."

Lucifer couldn't keep the low growl from bleeding into his voice. "So, it was a game?"

"There's always a freshman to poke at. It passes the time. This year it was Miss Espinoza." She blinked, and he knew then that the pull of his power was over. "I…what even are you?"

Lucifer let out a long sigh, and was tempted, so sorely tempted to let his eyes burn at their maximum, to give Murchison a preview of where he knew for certain she was headed. After all, there was a special place in hell reserved for bullies. "You know. If you even dare to call Beatrice's parents, then I'll know it, and I won't be politely asking next time."

The biddie seemed to snap even further out of her shock and dug her fingers into her jeans pocket, pulling out her cell. "I think…I have no idea what's going on in that club of yours or with any of you…you monsters and Miss Espinoza, but I owe her parents a warning."

The growl laced through his voice was enough now to rattle the pictures on her wall when he spoke, "Murchison, I wouldn't do that if I were you." He let his eyes start to truly burn, to let the hellfire rise and the preview of what was to come work to their surface. "In fact-" he started, as the world filled with a crimson gaze.

There was a familiar woosh of feathers, and Michael was between him and the old bat. His twin had shunted his wings away-some angels or whatever he was now had that luxury-so quickly that Murchison wouldn't have spied them. Pity. Maybe the mix of Infernal and Divine would have cracked her fully.

His twin reached for Lucifer's right wrist but thought better of it and held both hands up, palms flat to him. "Sammy, you've done what you came to do. We agreed that you wouldn't drive her nuts."

He narrowed his eyes and glared down at Michael. "You know, not everyone who sees the Hell preview goes mad."

"Don't they?"

"Occasional exceptions," he admitted. "Please, Brother, she's enjoyed it, kicking the urchin."

Michael sighed. "Samael-"

"He is not here."

"Fine, Lucifer," his brother huffed. "You need to let it go. I'll make her promise not to call your detective, and we'll go."

"She set out to tear into Beatrice." Lucifer objected, and the pictures rattled again in his wrath and the power of his voice.

Michael shook his head. "I've got this. We cannot leave a trail. If she starts ranting about the Devil, then you know that Detective Decker will figure this out. If the house mother is left a babbling mess, then Gabriel and Raphael won't be pleased either about ruining our secrecy. Let it go."

"Don't trying commanding me." He said, standing up taller.

"I'm not, but I'm hoping you can grasp that it's better if we get what we need than you terrify her-than you break her-because if the other archangels figure this out, I can't stop Gabriel from doing whatever he'd decree with the miracle."

That stilled Lucifer finally, and he felt the rage abate. While every part of him wanted the old bat to suffer for what she'd done to the urchin, he could tell his brother was genuinely worried. It would be a calamity for the Detective and the Douche to come here. It would be apocalyptically awful if the remaining archangels bothered to pay attention to him, if his brothers figured out that Father had left miracles behind at all. The heat left his eyes, and Lucifer let his wings droop behind him.

"Very well, Mikey. Let us finish this," he replied, suddenly exhausted despite how early it was in his afternoon.

His twin nodded and turned back to the house mum. "Mrs. Murchison, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

She nodded, and it was only with the relative calm of the room now that Lucifer could detect the ammonia in the air. Perhaps he'd at least scared the biddie more than he'd assumed at first. "Are you going to hurt me too?" she asked.

Michael turned back to Lucifer and scowled at him before regarding Murchison again. "You're safe. Neither of us are going to hurt you. Are we, Samael?"

He bunched his hands into fists at his sides. "If you call Beatrice's family or continue to make her miserable, I will make no promises. However, if you listen to Mikey and obey, I suppose then we would have a détente."

She started to shake again, and his twin held her shoulders delicately. "You're going to kill me," Murchison keened.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Assuredly not. Contrary to popular belief, I can learn my lesson. In that regard, you're safe as houses, Murchison. Of course, after you kick the bucket, you're mine, so I'd really try and take extra vitamins or what have you till then."

Michael let out a long-suffering sigh but kept his focus on the house mum. When his twin spoke again, it was with all the authority of the Sword of God. "Be not afraid, Edith Murchison. You will not be harmed now by either of us. However, you will not speak of us ever to anyone, and you will never call the Espinozas. Do you understand me?"

Lucifer swallowed hard at the casual reminder that of course the Detective had remarried. Not that it hadn't happened years ago, or so the urchin had explained. It was now history as far as everything was concerned, and yet…it burned and ached deeply in his chest to think of it. He blamed even overhearing the Detective on a call with Beatrice. Just hearing Chloe's voice had made him wish for things he could never have.

And dear Dad was he suddenly so unbelievably tired.

Murchison nodded and finally stopped trembling. That was the effect of an archangel, at least when they willed humans to relax around their literally awesome presence. Didn't go the same for the Devil. "I promise."

Michael nodded and patted her right shoulder politely as he removed his left hand from her other one. "Very good, Mrs. Murchison. You seem like someone who could use some rest after such a frightful nightmare. Crawl into bed and sleep now. Question no more."

She did as she was commanded and slid into her bed as if the Demiurge wasn't just standing casually in her room. Within a few minutes the low, steady pace of her breath filled the room. Michael, seemingly relieved that she was complying with everything (and why would his brother ever have to fear for that?), turned to him.

"We're done here. All of Trixie's things are back in your apartment. There is literally no reason for you to ever come back here, Sam."

Lucifer's wings twitched, scratching against the paint of the ceiling once more, and he loathed them so much then. Granted, he'd never even be alright with their presence, but he could mostly ignore them. However, some days it felt like the blasted things had a mind of their own. Traitorous demons that they were. Michael had the decency to look away until Lucifer drew the damn abominations tightly against his back again.

"She hurt the urchin," Lucifer pointed out, as if that should excuse everything. Maybe it should have.

"Well, Trixie is physically fine, and you'll find her an apartment permanently anyway. It'll be alright."

"You say that," Lucifer said, mindful to keep his voice quiet in case some sister of Beatrice's found them both. "but you're also the moron who just appeared in the middle of the sorority house bathroom."

"Well, I was expecting to find her in a more solitary arrangement," Michael said, readjusting his glasses on his nose. "Let it go. I…I understand more than anyone else save Father how hard it must be for you to ignore your anger on behalf of the miracles. But she's fine. Inconvenienced, yes, but nothing that justifies driving a terrible-yes-but banally normal human crazy. Just let's go home."

"My home," Lucifer corrected. "You stop in because you're supposed to help me keep the spawn safe. You're not off to a smashing start, Brother." He let his wings out as best he could. They were not even half spread but still enough for him to flap and slip between the planes, which was all he needed.

Michael did the same, and as always, when Lucifer saw those snow white, gleaming wings, a part of him deep in his chest felt like it died just a bit more. Envy…of all the seven sins, clearly his least favorite. His twin nodded and flapped the tiniest bit, just enough in the tight confines of the room to escape and leave Lucifer alone.

The Devil shook his head and sighed. Of course, Michael could take the scenic route back to Tenebrae. In contrast, Lucifer was the lucky one who detoured through the land of sulphur and ash. Oh yes, when Father meted out punishment, it was well and truly biblical. But at least no news would get back to Texas today. That was all that mattered. It was proving beyond difficult to keep one miracle alive and safe in the Big Easy. They didn't need a second.

And he couldn't stand seeing the Detective again anyway.

Even if he wished it could be any other way as he unfurled his wings and slid back to hell.