A/N: If you've followed my Bones stories, you might be curious as to why I wrote this story. I enjoy the show Lucifer almost as much as I enjoy Bones, and, as sometimes happens with my Bones stories, this is an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. If you haven't seen the show, there is a lot of information about it on the internet, and that will provide some context.

This story is AU, which may be weird for a fantasy show, but there isn't a lot of extra time between the end of seasons 2 and 3, when this story is set.

This being my first Lucifer story, I'm a little nervous about it. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it. Laura.

"Whaddya think, Alan? Ready to call it a day?" Looking up towards the stage, Greg Lawson grimaced as he ran his hand through his dark red hair. "You know, we've been at it for hours, buddy. It's five and I'm beat, and so is the rest of the cast…and I gotta be somewhere by 6:30..."

Scratching the back of his neck as he pensively paced back and forth across the creaky wooden floor, Alan Dixon thought over the question before shaking his head. "I don't think I'm ready to quit yet, Greg. I'm still not comfortable with that opening solo in the first scene of Act Two...that jump to the seventh in the bridge always seems to give me trouble." Smiling sheepishly at his director, he shrugged, picking at his thumbnail for a few seconds before continuing. "Look, why don't the rest of you go home for the night? There's no reason why everyone else should suffer because of my issues with that song. I want to practice a little while longer, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to listen to me screech as I try to hit that note. I'll stay an hour or so to work on it, and then I'll lock up when I leave."

Greg looked doubtful as he considered his lead performer's idea. "Well...okay, I guess we could do that. Just don't sing yourself hoarse. We open in a couple of weeks, and we'd be in the middle of a huge shitstorm without our star, okay? There's a lot of money riding on this production…we need "The Devil Calls the Tune" to be a big hit here in LA so we can afford to take it to Broadway, and we can't make it work without you as the lead."

Alan nodded in agreement as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I know there's a lot of money involved...that's why I don't want to let everyone down by messing up that song on opening night. It's a pivotal point in the show, right? It sets up the whole second act. So just leave me alone, and let me iron it out by myself." Grinning, he winked at his director. "Anyway, I'll be able to concentrate more if you aren't standing around harassing me about where to stand or what to do with my hands while I sing..."

"If you say so…" Turning to the rest of the cast, the director threw up his hands in resignation. "Okay, everyone…you heard the guy. Let's call it a night. Be here at 8 AM tomorrow morning for a run through...don't be late. We need to brush up on our dance numbers some more before the dress rehearsal."

The tired cast murmured softly as they slowly left the theater in groups of twos and threes. Waving at Alan, Greg turned and exited through the back doors, murmuring to himself. "I hope he knows what he's doing…"

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

The silent theater was dark except for the circle of light surrounding the piano on the left side of the stage. Alan sat down at the keyboard and played a few scales as he hummed to himself. Smiling with pleasure, he ran through a bit of Beethoven's Fur Elise to loosen up his fingers, and then switched to W.C. Handy's St. Louis Blues for a few minutes.

He'd always told people he couldn't play the piano, which wasn't actually a lie. He could play well enough to suit himself, but if someone had asked him to play something really complicated, or in front of an audience, he knew he'd make a fool of himself in the attempt. Better to say I can't play…easier that way...nobody expects too much...

He leafed through the music laying on the top of the instrument until he came to the score he wanted. "The Devil's Jump...that damn seventh...who puts that sort of interval in the middle of a song like that?", he muttered angrily. "It's in the upper part of my range, too...and forte to boot? Jesus…the composer must be some sort of sadist." He picked out the interval and tried to sing it. "A seventh...like Bali Hai from South Pacific…" He cleared his throat and tried to sing what was written. "Ba-li Hai...Ba-li Hai…okay, I think that's it. One more song...one more note...one more verse...one more way I can avoid the curse of anonymity…" Raising an eyebrow at the overwrought sentiment as he sang it again, he chuckled to himself. "God...these lyrics are awful. I'm glad I'm not the guy who wrote this shit. It's bad enough that I have to sing it. I think I still sound kind of pitchy...okay...let's try it one more time." Hearing a soft sound behind him, he turned, calling out into the darkness. "Who's there? Greg, is that you? I thought you went home." Getting no answer, he shrugged as he turned and played the bar again. "Probably just a mouse...One more song...one more note...one more verse...unhhhh…."

A strangled cry escaped Alan's lips as a gloved hand snaked in front of him, wielding a large knife as the attacker reached across to slit the singer's throat. Bleeding profusely, Alan grabbed at his throat before he collapsed with a groaning sigh, sprawling across the piano's keyboard as his life oozed from him.

"Sorry, my friend...I know it wasn't your fault, but I have to stop them from producing this show. The Lord of Hell demands it." The assassin paused, surveying the scene carefully before using a bloody gloved finger to write 666 in large numbers across the pages of the musical score. "Maybe now they'll get the message…or there will be Hell to pay..."

oooooooooo

The next morning, Chloe Decker parked her police car and quickly walked across the parking lot towards the theater that contained their latest crime scene, scanning the crowd that was milling around outside as she looked for her partner's familiar tall, slender figure. Annoyed at his apparent absence, she puffed out an irritated sigh before checking in with the uniformed officers who'd answered the first call for help. Of course, he's not here yet…I wonder if he's even bothered to check his phone this morning...

Her civilian consultant, Lucifer Morningstar, had a notoriously bad sense of time. Arriving late for something important never really bothered him at all, no matter how much she'd tried to impress on him that she valued promptness. She wanted him to make an effort to be punctual, but, apparently, he just didn't care. He rarely made a sincere attempt at an apology for his tardiness, seemingly convinced that everyone would be thrilled to see him whenever he chose to make his appearance. Chloe sighed loudly with frustration, rolling her eyes as she took in the details of the crime scene. He says that not paying attention to time comes from his being immortal...that after so many years of being alive, time doesn't mean much to him any more, and that, anyway, time moves slower in Hell...which is ridiculous. No one is immortal...and he has no idea of what Hell is really like...except for the Hell I may give him for ignoring my calls today. I think his lateness comes from being irresponsible and self centered instead. He's used to doing his own thing, and he's unconcerned about the rest of us...it's like he doesn't even make an effort...

Thoroughly disgusted, Chloe brushed her ponytail over her shoulder as she puffed out another exaggerated sigh. She was rarely, if ever, late to anything. It was a point of pride for her. As a respected detective with the Los Angeles Police Department, she was the consummate professional, always on time and always on task...a highly qualified, intense, no nonsense officer of the law. The fact that her 'consultant' had never figured out how to correctly use a watch annoyed her to no end. Really, if he's lived 'forever' like he says he has, he should've learned how to tell time by now...if nothing else he could check his phone from time to time...but I bet he's otherwise occupied…I wonder who it is this time...probably some beautiful woman he picked up at Lux. Damn him...insufferable man…

She stood with her hands on her hips, trying to take in all the details of the surroundings, but she found it hard to concentrate on the task at hand. Whether she liked it or not, she had to admit the truth to herself...that even as annoying as Lucifer was, she was very fond of him, and she felt that in his own weird way, he was fond of her, too. By most standards, their partnership and their friendship might seem bizarre to outsiders, but the club owner had helped her look at many things in a different way, and because of his quirkiness, she'd often been inspired to take a tiny leap of logic when it came to their cases...enough of those tiny leaps to ferret out several criminals. Their solve rate on murder cases had become the envy of the precinct. She'd also come to realize that she'd miss having Lucifer around if he ever decided to end his stint as her partner. Perhaps she'd be unwilling to admit it out loud, but the truth was that he meant a lot to her. Still...I wish he'd focus more on being 'normal'…but then I guess he wouldn't be Lucifer, would he?

She shook off her thoughts as she walked across the stage. After looking over the body slumped across the piano's keys, she turned to her forensics expert. "What have we got, Ella? Do we have an ID?"

"Alan Dixon, according to his driver's license. It seems he's been a star in various musical theater productions on Broadway over the last few years, and he was set to perform in a new show that's supposed to premiere here in LA sometime in the next few weeks. The show's director found the body when he opened up this morning. Somebody cut our victim's throat with a really sharp blade…it's a clean wound, really deep...made by something like maybe a heavy hunting knife." Ever the demonstrative on, Ella acted out a possible scenario. "Probably the perp crept up behind our vic in the dark...maybe Alan was so involved in his music he didn't hear anyone behind him...and then...GOTCHA!" After making a slashing motion, she clutched at her throat with wild eyes as she pretended to keel over. "I'd say he's been dead over twelve hours...so he was probably killed around 7 o'clock last night. He probably didn't live very long after he was attacked...I'd say he bled out in a couple of minutes. I haven't found a murder weapon, but there are several drops of blood on the floor here and there...and look at this." She held out the bloody sheet music for Chloe to see. "666...the Mark of the Beast, like in that book of the Bible...Revelations."

"So...what? Maybe someone just hated that song he was practicing, right?" Looking over the scene, Dan Espinoza shrugged as he turned to the women. "Come on, Ella...666? Really? I mean, that's just a lot of superstitious nonsense…thinking a number is evil. It has nothing to do with Satan or the Devil..."

"No, it's not nonsense!", Ella exclaimed. "It's in the Bible…read it for yourself."

"Hello, Detective. Sorry I'm late. Have you started without me?" Lucifer flashed a radiant smile as he rushed over to the group of police officers. Smoothing his black suit coat, he chuckled, showing off his dimples as he fidgeted with the cuff links on his spotless white shirt sleeves. "Just back from visiting the Moons of Jupiter. Dearie me, what a view. I was having such a good visit, and I'm afraid I lost track of time...sorry..."

"What are you talking about now? Really? The Moons of Jupiter? I don't get it...how did you...never mind..." Dan scratched the back of his head as he glanced at Chloe, wondering if she knew what her crazy partner was talking about. Shaking her head in confusion, Chloe raised an eyebrow as she looked to her partner for an explanation.

"Oh, yes...they are quite lovely, really." Wearing a naughty smirk, the Devil was extravagantly forthcoming about his adventures from the previous evening as he pretended to brush a bit of lint from his sleeve. "That's the group's name...The Moons of Jupiter...they're an exotic dance troupe from Greece. They cavort on stage almost completely in the nude to some sort of ancient Greek music...it's all very artistic, you know...quite an enjoyable show. I saw their performance at the theater last night, and then later in the evening, after I met them backstage, the dancers were quite willing to personally show me some of their favorite choreography...they invited me to join them in the oldest dance, if you know what I mean…" He paused to arch an eyebrow at the group for emphasis. "All six of them with me, in various combinations, that is, although I must say, I did enjoy being on Amalthea the most...what remarkable topography that woman has…all those lush peaks and valleys...of course, nothing compared to yours, Detective..." Licking his lips, he gave Chloe an appraising glance. "Perhaps later I could show you some of their dance moves, if you'd like…I'm sure you'd find them to be most...stimulating..."

"Stop...never mind. I don't need to hear anything else about it." Briskly holding up her hand to interrupt, Chloe showed her partner the bloodstained sheet music. "It looks like someone left a message here. It seems you have an admirer."

"What...666? Don't be ridiculous. That's all just silly superstition…using a number like that to stand in for my name. That wasn't my idea at all, if you must know.," Lucifer began in a dismissive tone, obviously offended by Chloe's insinuation. "I will admit, though...being locked in a classroom while doing an unending string of algebraic equations is one of the more horrifying sections of Hell. However, for the most part, I have nothing to do with numbers. I mean, really...have you ever tried Calculus? Terrible, infernal stuff, and yet it was invented by a human, you know? I tried to convince Sir Isaac Newton not to go through with it, but he wouldn't listen to me...stubborn man. He said he had to have that new system of torture to do his physics calculations. But you seem to have forgotten, Detective...I'm not actually evil...not like equations are. I just punish evil."

"But it's in the Book of Revelations!" Ella was shocked at Lucifer's dismissive statement. "It must be true…it's the Devil's number...everybody knows that."

"Well, I have news for you, Ms. Lopez." Chuckling softly, Lucifer gave her an indulgent wink. "The only numbers I have are those that are stored on my phone. Anyway, John the Divine must have been severely intoxicated on some fine new wine when he wrote most of that story. Have you read all of it? It's like a random series of wild, crazy dreams, isn't it? Most of it doesn't make sense. I mean, there really was a war in Heaven, of course, and afterwards I was kicked out of the house by dear old Dad, but the whole Mark of the Beast thing? I don't think so. It was just an excuse to pin the blame on me after the war was over. As I'm sure you're aware, the victors in any conflict are the ones who record its history. Someone had to be the patsy, you know…so why not me?"

Ella shook her head at the consultant's crazy ramblings, preferring to collect more evidence at the scene. "Whatever, Lucifer. You're still deep into that part, huh? So method of you…"

Their discussion was interrupted as Greg Lawson hurried toward them. "Chloe? Oh, Chloe...am I ever glad to see you. It was so awful…" He embraced the Detective tenderly and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I found him, you know...Alan...when I called you this morning, I'd just found him here…" Sighing heavily, Greg sniffled slightly as he wiped his eyes. "Thanks so much for coming as quickly as you did." Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, he grimaced slightly. "Detective Monaghan says he has to work the case instead of you, though, because of our relationship...what with us being so close and all."

"I know…he called me this morning to confirm that." Chloe offered a shy grin to the handsome, blond, broad shouldered detective standing behind Greg, admiring his sparkling green eyes and his well muscled physique. "Hello, Sean…"

Detective Sean Monaghan gave her a sly wink before moving to inspect the victim. "Hey, Chloe...long time, no see...maybe we can fix that now that you and Dan are no longer an item…" He hesitated as he saw Dan's snarling expression. "That is...if you're not too busy…"

"Maybe...if we have time...when we get this case all wrapped up." She smirked slightly at the man before turning to pat Greg's arm to console him. "Why don't you tell me what happened, okay, Greg? So you came in early this morning…"

"Yeah...I mean, Alan was gonna stay an extra hour or so to practice his solos last night...he said he'd lock up when he left. When I got here this morning, nothing was out of place...the door was locked like usual." Exhaling slowly, Greg shook his head. "I walked out here to get ready for the morning rehearsal...we were gonna run through our dance numbers again...and I thought he was asleep...but, he was…" Fresh tears ran down his face as he remembered what had happened. "He was...dead…and there was so much blood...it was everywhere. It's terrible...in more ways than one, okay? I mean, he was a nice guy, but he was also the star of the show, and now we may not be able to open on time. And with all the money that was invested to put this show on...this is a financial disaster as well as a personal tragedy..." He wept openly as he embraced Chloe again. "What are we going to do?"

Clearing his throat loudly to get everyone's attention, Lucifer was suddenly much more interested in the crime scene, or to be more precise, he was suddenly quite interested in getting rid of the two interlopers who both seemed to be very interested in his beautiful partner in a completely unprofessional sort of way. He glared at Greg with tremendous disdain. "A likely story. Hah! I know your type. You theater directors are all the same. Bossy and pushy...wearing your performers down to exhaustion to appease your ego...and it's a musical you're preparing, correct? That makes it even worse…hideous things, musicals…"

Moving between the two detectives, Lucifer scowled at Sean, shaking his finger in the man's face. "...And as for you, Detective Shamrock, I'm sure you must realize that this man's story is a complete fabrication. He must be the killer. He had opportunity and probably motive. Surely you're going to arrest him and take him to the precinct immediately…"

"You need to back off, pal." Scowling at Lucifer, Detective Monaghan was annoyed as he turned to Chloe. "Who the hell is this clown, and how does he get off telling me how to do my job?"

"Lucifer Morningstar. Mr. Morningstar is a civilian consultant for the LAPD...and my partner.," the Detective explained, rolling her eyes at the overt display of male histrionics. "Anyway, I happen to know Greg didn't kill Alan Dixon, Lucifer."

Looking down his nose at the man in question, the Devil huffed an exasperated sigh. "How could you possibly know that, Detective? It's quite obvious that the man is completely untrustworthy. After all, he is a ginger, and just look at those beady little director eyes! Believe me, I know evil, and it's just oozing out of him in buckets..."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Chloe studied her nails as she explained her reasoning. "I know it wasn't him, because I was with Greg last night from about 6:30 until late in the evening. I never left his side the whole time we were together, so I'm his alibi. He was occupied with me while this murder was being committed." She grinned happily at the director. "We had a good time last night, didn't we, Greg? We closed that place down...and then later, at my apartment...it was so crazy that Maze decided to leave."

"You're right...we sure did have a lot of fun. It was really great. We need to do that more often." Greg smiled weakly as he remembered the previous evening, but then he sighed softly as he glanced toward the piano. "As it is, I'm glad I have you to back me up with an alibi, Chloe. Thanks. Poor Alan..."

"Oh…I see." For some reason he didn't fully understand, Lucifer was horrified by the idea that his detective had spent time with that disgusting man Greg. Disbelief creased his handsome face as he shook his head. "I don't believe it...why would you want to hang out with a musical theater director, of all people?"

"Oh, you know…", Chloe began in a teasing tone as she arched an eyebrow at her partner. "...probably for the same reason you spent the evening visiting the Moons of Jupiter…because it's fun." Turning back to Greg, she took his arm. "Let's go...I'll give you a ride to the station. They'll need to take your statement, even though you have an ironclad alibi. See ya later, Lucifer."

"Well…", Lucifer growled in irritation at Chloe's brusque dismissal. "I guess I know when I'm not needed."

Chuckling to himself, Dan gave the Devil a knowing grin as they watched Chloe chat with both Greg and Sean as they prepared to leave. "You should know better by now, man...if you piss her off, you're gonna pay for it…"

Grimacing sadly as his partner and her friend strolled away with Detective Monaghan close on their heels, Lucifer briefly contemplated Dan's statement. "Yes, of course...you're right. It seems all I ever do is 'piss her off'. I suppose I should work on that aspect of my personality if I want to continue to be her partner."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Dan pointed to the piano. "Okay, let's check with Ella and see if there's anything else she can tell us."

Only half way listening, Lucifer sighed softly as he pondered how to get back into his partner's good graces. "Sorry...I can't stay. I have an appointment. I'll meet you at the precinct later." Offering a slight wave, he brushed past Dan and left the stage, quickly walking up the aisle that led to the doors at the rear of the theater.

He sat in his Corvette for a few minutes, pondering the new wrinkle in his dealings with the detective. Finally he nodded to himself. He needed a second opinion on how to handle things.

"I need to talk to Linda."