Hello, Readers,

This is an opening of my new longer story. I should be currently finishing another, shorter one, and I didn't intend to start anything new before I am done with the old one. However, the mood struck and I decided to make myself a birthday present – as I had a round birthday this week.

So, this is kind of a teaser. Writing the next chapters may take some time.

It is in a certain sense a companion piece to "The Dragon on a Leash". The last story was written solely from Chloe's POV, and this will be more from Lucifer. Besides, together they refer to the Chinese motive of Phoenix and Dragon, that – as you know – complete each other.

However, this is not a continuation. Chloe doesn't know and, most probably, does not suspect. For her, Lucifer is a man who tried to date her, kissed her, then disappeared and returned married. In this AU, she didn't forgive him. When she asked him to leave, he went away and stayed away. They didn't reconcile and he didn't return to the LAPD.

That's where the story starts.

Oh, and this story is not going to swerve into darker moods, like "The Dragon". It is going to be mostly romance, cliché and fluffy.

Well, perhaps not at the beginning :)

Prologue: The Douche comes into the bar

You let me down… I don't need you anymore… You should go…

The amber liquid flows, swirling around the walls of the glass. For a moment, he plays observing the minuscule waves, imprisoned in the vessel, changing the angle of the glass or the length of the stream, watching how the movements of the fluid change consequently. Gravity, centrifugal force, density, inertia. Probably he could calculate them if he cared.

You let me down.

He drinks the content of the glass in one swallow and it tastes like water. So, he calculates instead, how much should he drink to feel at least slight buzz in his head and decides, he wouldn't be able to drink so much water.

I don't need you anymore.

That's fine. He doesn't need to be drunk to go through the evening, even if he doesn't enjoy being sober. More out of custom than out of necessity he checks his appearance in the mirror and of course it is perfect, because why shouldn't it be? The days, when his suits and shirts were destroyed during the investigations are gone. Apart from an occasional scuffle with his brother, nothing ruffles his appearance till the very evening, when the clothes are shed and hair is dishevelled in the sweet, sinful struggles while he indulges the pleasures of the flesh. (Which, by the way, recently also all taste like water).

So, he gets into the lift to get down, to his club, where the evening of entertainment and music is about to begin, to reign in the middle of it, because all these people come here for him, to watch him, to listen to him, to let themselves be seduced… And the more hidden are their desires, the more they need someone to draw them out. Like the moths falling for a very dark flame.

Go away, the voice of Chloe Decker chases the devil, when he plunges into the eager, welcoming crowd.

She should have forgiven him.

Fine, she might have been surprised, when he appeared with Candy by his side. Married. She might have feel… discarded. After all, that was one of the aims of this masquerade, of this marriage – to put some distance between them.

It worked as good as he expected, much better than he wanted.

He thought that Candy would help him to have it all. Come when he wanted, take what he wanted. Keep this crime-solving fun, that gave him this precious shrill of excitement, stay close to the detective, enjoying the unique experience of her company – and yet remain independent, with limits clearly drawn, with his walls up. Not invested.

Not manipulated.

However, he didn't calculate the fact, that the detective would make a statement of her own. Since he learnt about her miracle origins, he stopped taking her into account as the independent factor. Perhaps, this was a mistake.

Because the detective didn't accept his terms. In the beginning, she was shocked, writhing with jealousy and disappointment. He would have perhaps found it even flattering if he hadn't felt so… wrecked, seeing that hurt expression in her eyes. However, hours passed, the investigation was progressing and her tension didn't ease, her anger didn't subside. She didn't forgive him. She didn't warm up toward him even a bit and finally, she said these damn words: you should leave.

It hurt.

Wordlessly, he went away.

Oh, he would have returned. He would have returned at her first plea. Bloody Hell, she wouldn't even have to plead. It would be enough if she asked him to come. Or texted him.

Or, asked someone to tell him to come.

But she didn't.

And the only thing he wasn't going to do was to go back to the precinct, unasked. After all, the devil must save some pride. He must, at least, be summoned.

The days passed, turning into weeks, and his hurt turned into steady rancour.

What's worse, he couldn't even freely vent up his emotions, because there was still a Mum's problem to be solved.

Of course, he tried. He tried to dive into music, drugs and sex, his favourite coping mechanism since the orgies of the early Roman Empire (Nero Claudius was a deviant, but his parties were spectacular, even in devil's opinion). He was doing quite well, deafening his sorrows when the news about Mum causing some extraordinary troubles reached him. At that point, he was so high and drank, that he didn't care. However, Amenadiel did. With total disregard to the effort, Lucifer must have taken to intoxicate himself, he pulled him out of the very promising party and worked on sobering him up. It slightly backfired, because the first thing Lucifer recalled when he started getting back to reality, was that his brother lost his supernatural powers, but he – didn't. An angel fallen from grace and the half-drunk devil made for balanced opponents. As a result, they both needed rest and heal for almost a day.

In the meantime, Mum's superpowers started to… leak, leading to another drastic incident, unfortunately involving the customers of the fast-food bar, where also the employees from the precinct used to eat.

No, the detective wasn't there. But she could have been.

Lucifer sobered up and started to act.

He couldn't count on the police resources anymore, but Miss Lopez, the sunny treasure of the precinct, though unwillingly, provided him with the crucial lead to find the piece of Azrael's blade (Dude, what a pity you are not here anymore. You know there is an investigation involving a guy, who says that he is God? Speaks the Bible, and heals, and all! We would get him to talk to you, that would be sooo cool!)

Acting behind the back of his former colleagues from the precinct, he managed to get the buckle from Johnson's belt. No one from the precinct noticed his involvement. The fact, that the detective was distracted by flirting with some doctor, should have helped, but it didn't. On the contrary, it seriously hindered his own concentration.

Oh, he saw her once or twice, from afar. She was so serious and decisive and unbelievably beautiful. And she didn't seem to miss him at all.

He didn't miss her too. The devil does not miss.

Somehow, he managed to put Azrael's blade together, with help of Mazikeen and Amenadiel. He needed to rely more on them, while estranged by his human friends. He even stopped seeing Linda, because Mum was sniffing around his therapy sessions. He didn't want to put the good doctor at risk. As a result, he bonded a bit closer with his… heavenly-hellish companions and distanced himself from the human perspective.

He opened the rift between words and sent Mum away not a moment too soon, saving the Earth, including Lux, Californian beaches, blues music, Trixie Espinoza and – last but not least – her stubborn mother from turning into one huge outburst of energy together with the fickle Goddess.

Once he achieved it, he felt very satisfied with himself. After all, acting against odds, he managed to save both the world and his Mother. The relief made him look at the world through the pink glass and believe again, that everything is possible and he can have it all.

He decided to go to the precinct on the next day and reconcile with Chloe Decker.

However, the next morning, he woke up with a big, white, feathery surprise. No, it was not a torn pillow, neither the stupid Greek god gracing his bed in the shape of the swan. These were his, very own, bloody wings. The sight of these unwanted limbs in the full celestial glory, shining with the glamour of the Heaven lost for him, shattered his optimism into small pieces.

Always manipulated. Always a toy in the hands of his Father. Always played up, like a puppet on strings. Yes, these wings, so glorious, were no more than strings, attached to him limbs, kept by the Great Puppeteer, trying to steer him.

Chloe Decker was no more than a string with the same purpose. Brave and beautiful and oh, so alluring – but just a string.

He didn't go to the precinct only spent the next days on painful and futile trials of getting rid of his wings.

It hurt. And the devil is not a soft-hearted creature. His hurt quickly turns into anger.

The devil does not long and has no regrets. He lives his old life, the one he had before 'the detective's era', enjoying the delights offered by his beloved Lux and the eager, worshipping bodies of humans seeking to discover and sate their desires. And if it all does not enjoy him as before, it is nothing more than the passing decline of mood.

The days pass and Lucifer remains unchanged and uninfluenced, just as he wanted.

And everything tastes plain, like water.

The change came one evening, in the shape of well-build, even if slightly clumsy, Daniel Espinoza. The detective entered the Lux relatively early for a visit in the night club. It was obvious, that he came straight from the precinct. His clothes were dusty and creased after the whole day and he looked around with uncertainty, evidently feeling awkward in the sleek surrounding.

It was embarrassing, how happy Lucifer felt seeing the character form his LAPD past.

Detective Douche, he whispered almost tenderly and immediately strode toward his guest, to spare him further awkwardness. He welcomed him cordially, hiding under the mask of usual bravado the troubling feeling, that was so close to longing.

"Detective Douche! Well, hello," he exclaimed with a flourish. "Long time no see!"

"Hi," Daniel greeted him with a nod "How are you doing? Not missing us, I suppose."

"Of course, I miss you all," replied Lucifer, because he never lied, but adorned the reply with a flashing grin and, to put his answer in the specific context, added mockingly: "even the snacks from your vending machine or this terrible coffee. In fact, if I were to choose, what I miss more, the snacks, or the coffee, I would be in a quandary."

"Riight," Daniel smirked. "Do you… um… have a moment? There is something I'd like to talk with you about."

They sat behind by the counter and the barman took an order from Dan. For Lucifer it was always the usual, all the staff in the Lux knew that. Dan took his beer, and continued to speak, with each word losing the remains of his confidence.

"Look, I know you are living your normal life again and do not work for us anymore, but, there is something…"

Lucifer took the time to observe his guest. He noted the small wrinkles around Dan's red-rimmed eyes, greyish complexion, a sign of sleep deprivation, and small, nervous movements of his fingers over the bar counter… The last days, perhaps even weeks must have not been easy for the Douche. Lucifer knew, that after Palmetto reveal, he was a pushover for the whole precinct, going through the sort of internal purgatory, but he was bearing it with patience. Something else must have happened.

"Something happened and I think I need your help," said Dan, confirming his suspicions. "Or, more precisely, Chloe needs your help."

Lucifer froze, the glass with his drink halfway to his mouth. Hearing Chloe's name was like an electric shock. I didn't get over her yet, realized Lucifer if even mentioning her name takes my breath away. Acknowledging his weakness made him, as usual, withdraw behind his walls.

His overfriendly mood darkened.

"If the detective needs my help," he asked, "why isn't she here?"

"I do not think that Chloe is aware of the scope of her… predicament," sighed Dan, of course, as usual, unaware of the turmoil in Lucifer's soul. "You know, there have been some internal… problems… with the evidence and paperwork…"

"Daniel," Lucifer interrupted him with a snort, "are you seriously asking me to help the detective with the paperwork? I never did that, even when she asked. Why should I do it now, when she is apparently unaware of the fact you are here and most certainly wouldn't welcome my assistance?"

Some tone, that he would perhaps prefer to keep hidden, something unpleasant and even aggressive, sounded in his question and for a moment Dan watched him confused.

"I think that someone is framing her."

"The last time someone was framing her, it was you, Daniel."

"I was never… framing her!" called Dan, jumping at his seat, when Lucifer's words reached him. "What's gotten into you, pal? I wouldn't have come to you if I tried to harm her."

No, he wouldn't, Lucifer knew already so much. Daniel was like an open book, he could read his intentions by the same timbre of his voice. Now, apart from indignation, he noticed slight anxiety appearing in the detective's mind. Some part of him regretted having come here. Probably, Lucifer spoke a bit too sharp, not very much in the style of the light-hearted joker he used to be at the precinct.

This… inconsistency must have troubled Dan, as he shook his head and muttered, obviously trying to find a credible explanation to something he didn't understand: "The marriage does not serve you."

"What marriage?" Lucifer blinked, thrown off-balance.

"What do you mean 'what marriage'? With this exotic…" Dan swirled his hands around his head, probably trying to imitate Candy's tresses. "Was there another one?"

"No," Lucifer shook his head, surprised that Dan still remembered Candy. It was more than a month ago! She was long gone! Ah, but probably no one at the precinct heard about it. After all, he left LAPD before 'the divorce. "Never mind that, do tell what happened."

Daniel hesitated, his trust in Lucifer a bit undermined. To help his decision, Lucifer leant toward him, catching his sight and encouraged him, slightly, just very, very slightly, persuading:

"Spill out, Dan. After all, you came here to tell me. All of it."

"The… piece of evidence is missing," replied slowly Dan. "And in the register, there was Chloe's signature, as the last one who had access. Actually, that's not that strange, you know, evidence got lost from time to time and there is always a mess in the papers," he smirked, with certain self-irony, and spoke further, more freely. "And it was nothing big. So, no one would blame her too much. In the worst case, she could receive a reprimand."

"However?..."

"However, she wasn't sure that it was her signature. Don't get me wrong, she didn't say it was falsified. She simply wasn't sure."

Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows. The thing that was missing wasn't important and the detective herself wasn't entirely sure whether she didn't, in fact, take it. And yet Dan the Douche decided to visit him, the first time in weeks, and was sitting here, all troubled…

"There is something else, isn't it?"

"Yeah. The fact, that it came out," replied Dan immediately. "You know, it was from the closed case. No one should check this particular evidence. Theoretically, it is possible, but still… Do you know what I mean? That's… quite fishy. Look, Chloe ignores it, but I am worried."

Worried? It was something more than that. "You are feeling guilty."

"Right. Perhaps I would like to make up her for… you know," Dan rubbed his face with a weary gesture. Lucifer thought this man was specialized with making bad choices and then tormenting himself with contemplating them. He basically wouldn't need a Hell to create a loop for him he would build it himself. With a frown, Lucifer realized he wouldn't like to see the Douche in Hell. Perhaps he should stay in contact, in case Detective Espinoza would start spiralling down. After all, he knew a few tricks that could help push the soul in the right direction. Through the ages, the King of Hell had a few protégés, whom he did the same service.

Consequently, losing them forever.

"I thought that you could return to the precinct and pretend that you are… consulting me. I would find some suitable case, something with cars, or hookers," continued Dan in blissful unawareness of the fact that the future of his immortal soul in being considered. "Something, that would explain your presence. And that would be undercover allowing us to learn, what is going on in the precinct. I know that if someone is lying. You would be able to learn the truth," he finished and looked at Lucifer expectantly.

Yes, yes, yes!… What a wonderful occasion, to get back what he missed, without having to ask for it. He was the one being asked. He was summoned. He would be solving crime-riddles again. And, he would see her… The exhilaration he felt could be compared perhaps only to the joy of flying at dawn over the seashore.

Flying. Lucifer frowned, suddenly. Damn wings, that wouldn't go away. Damn sentiments he couldn't get rid of. No, he was not going step into the trap so easily.

"The problem is, Daniel," he said coldly, "that, unlike you, I do not have everything to make up for to your ex-wife."

Dan blinked. "Are you kidding? You fucking broke her heart."

Poor, simple-minded Douche. He had no idea how dangerous it was to tease the Devil in his lair. Perhaps, he would have learnt it on this occasion, had it not been for the flashback of the troubled voice of sweet Miss Lopez during one of her phone calls. Luce, why aren't you coming to visit us? We miss you. Just… perhaps without Candy? Your… wife is sweet, really. But you know, Chloe… it is just that… I know it is perhaps not your fault, but, man, you so totally broke her heart!...

He didn't break her heart. He saved her and her freedom of choice.

He sacrificed himself for her.

Though, perhaps, by human's standards, with their limited perception, it might have looked a bit different.

The devil does not feel guilty, so it wasn't the guilt, what he felt, but still, he felt something that made him make his decision.

"I can do, what you want, Daniel," he stated evenly. "However, if detective Decker needs my help, she needs to come and ask me for it. Not that I am making it difficult, I will help, if she wants it," he added quickly seeing how Dan bridled. "However, as you may have noticed, Dan, we didn't part in the best air. I must be sure that she accepts for my interference in her affairs."

"Okay. That sounds fair enough," nodded Dan, even if he looked quite disappointed and voice it, adding: "I do not think that she would come. Told you that… she is not treating it seriously."

She would come. Lucifer was certain of it. And the moment he said 'I will help, if she wants it', he felt the streams of destiny, that so far remained static, swirling around him, changing, waving, like exited snakes…

He has just thrown a stone into the water, and the waves were spreading, wider and wider.