Work Text:
("You went too far this time, Lucifer. You questioned Her, you acted against Her, and that's- that's not forgivable."
"You- you can't be serious."
"I am."
"Sera-"
"Lucifer.")
Lucifer remembers falling.
("Sera- Speaker- guys, please. Almighty, I just thought-"
"Your purpose here isn't to think Lucifer, it's not to act, it's to-"
"To what, exactly?! Why make anything at all if it isn't allowed to act for itself?! Free will-")
It seems like a pretty obvious statement, falling is what Lucifer is known for. Right after giving Eve the apple and bringing evil into the world. For him to be able to forget would be too merciful of Heaven for what he’s done.
(Which was what? Questioning things? Thinking he could make things better? Thinking himself right in a world where everyone was telling him he was wrong?)
("It's not your place, Lucifer. Free will is a dangerous concept. When people start thinking and making decisions for themselves, they start thinking they know better, just like you have Lucifer, and with that arrogance comes ignorance. Ignorance that can hurt people. Just as you have hurt us."
"I- I didn't think-"
"That's the problem, Lucy. You don't think. You just dream. And dreams aren't reality. And at a certain point you can't keep living inside of them.")
He remembers the blindingly hot heat of holy light and hellfire. The way it seared into the open wounds left by the angelic weapons his kin used to cast him down. The agony as each of his feathers was singed off as he was cast down from Heaven and catapulted into the pit that would later be known as Hell.
("Sera- Michael- Speaker- Almighty- just-"
"Goodbye, little duckling."
"No- no- stop!")
He remembers every nerve in his body burning, screaming, as the divinity flowing through his entire being was cut off from Her. No longer was he her Morningstar, her most beautiful angel, her duckling. Instead he was-
He was just empty. Hollow. What used to be a vessel for Her divinity now having had its inside scraped out of it, only to have things halfhazardly thrown back inside in an attempt to return functionality while still removing something critical to her being from him.
(Because here is the thing: Lucifer is still an angel. He just isn't Hers anymore. And what is an angel without a divine being to serve?)
Having her essence stripped from him was part of his punishment. Because he had foolishly thought he knew better, that he could make change on his own, and now he was forever to be alone-
He remembers his skin melting off, muscle in his arms and legs disintegrating under the intense heat until nothing remained of his limbs but bone. He remembers each and every one of his divine eyes feeling a blinding pain, almost as if they were being melted off too. He remembers his very vessel being warped and constructed into a form that felt too tight.
He remembers the agony in his back as each pair of wings, each individual feather upon them was scorched under the unforgiving weight of his sins. He remembers the feeling of falling, falling, falling and not being able to stop because his beautiful, white wings were on fire and now they were disintegrated and gone and-
And he remembers hitting the ground.
He remembers waking up in a haphazard made shelter, arms, legs, and back all encased in bandages as a familiar but changed blonde looked down at him with a comforting smile.
He remembers looking in the mirror and being confused by the image he was because that wasn't him. His blue eyes replaced with red slits, his tongue now forked (a reminder. A reminder of what he'd done.) His wings gone and his form too tight, too fragile looking. (And Lucifer had always been beautiful, always resembled a porcelain doll, but the difference was back when he was an angel he wasn't aware how easy it was for the porcelain to crack.)
It took him decades before he gained the energy to manifest his wings, forever changed by his fall, and even then he couldn't keep them out for too long, he couldn't constantly fly around like he used to, it hurt too much. (And being in the air too long reminded him too much of falling. The burning pain in his back only making it harder to separate the past from reality.)
And his true divine form was too far out of reach. He was forever confined in a small, humanoid vessel, able to momentarily shapeshift into another of Her creations but always ending up back in a form that felt too tight, too constricting.
(And then there were his demonic features, which came out instinctively, so different to everything he was before, but so similar to his wife and darling daughter's that it was hard to feel anyone one way about them.)
The one thing that kept him going despite the fact he was surrounded by reminders of his mistake. Despite the fact he couldn't do anything to them as part of his divine punishment. Despite the fact he constantly lived in fear of being called out for the fraud he was, of a Sinner asking him to prove himself (and why should he have to prove himself? He's fucking Lucifer Morningstar.) Despite the constant ache of Her absence. Despite the weight of failure was—
Was the fact he wasn't alone.
Lilith. Beautiful, amazing, strong Lilith. Lilith, who was there with him for every step as he struggled to pull himself out of the pit he found himself in. Lilith, who was just as lost as he was but took things with stride.
Lilith, who despite everything still had the capacity to care. To care for the Sinners, for the very people Lucifer couldn't help but feel emptiness and disdain for (disdain because this was such clear evidence of his naiveté, of his hubris. Disdain because if he didn't hate them for the choices they made with free will, he would have to hate himself for giving it to them.)
Lilith. Lilith and Charlie.
His little girl. His little duckling. Who lit up every room she was in with her smile. Who reminded Lucifer too much of who he used to be, of all the hopes and dreams he once held, that he needed to keep her safe. Needed to make sure she could never be hurt by reality like it had hurt him.
But, like every other good thing in his life, his hold on them faded. Lilith and him began to argue more. She expressed her resentment for his apathy, for his inaction, and he didn't know how to explain that he couldn't care. Because if he did he would care too much (and wasn't that always his problem in the past? He cares too much and gets too involved and tries to fix things and he just makes everything worse because he can never stop-)
Where he saw what happened in Eden as his ultimate failure, she saw it as a chance, a start of something, and Lucifer just didn't have that same spark of hope he used to. He knew better than to hope things could truly be changed. He knew better than to try and be the hero when history was intent on making him the villain (unless it was for his daughter, for his daughter he would always try to be the hero, he would always try to protect her, because she was one of the few things he had left worth protecting.)
So she left. She left and took Charlie and he couldn't even blame her because he'd already failed Heaven, failed her, and he'd be double-damned if he would fail his daughter too. If Lilith had her, there wasn't a chance for him to ruin things.
(Except that wasn't true, because Charlie took his distance for lack of interest, lack of caring, as if there was anything he could care about more.)
Most of his existence was then spent in his workshop, creating. One of the things he had kept in the fall, even if just so he could have the reminder that just because he could create didn't mean he was the Creator.
(And there was something invigorating and therapeutic about making something with his own hands, especially something as harmless and adorable as rubber ducks. Because rubber ducks couldn't hurt anyone. Rubber ducks couldn't make mistakes. They could just exist. (Why couldn't have Lucifer just been a rubber duck?))
His other duties fell to the wayside, but well… other people could handle that. That's what the Sins were for (Lucifer knows from letter from Asmodeus and Bee and even Mammon that Satan was more than happy to take the head seat in his absence.) That's what he made the Ars Goetia for. And as for the Sinners and the Pride Ring…
Well, free will and all that. They could handle things for themselves. He gave them free will and now it was their choice what they did with it, he couldn't be faulted for that (even if that was always the biggest thing he was faulted for). In the end, the only thing he could do was ignore and let them do as they pleased, because they were just awful and it was his fault and in the end he couldn't even do anything except wait for the exterminations and-
And, oh, yeah, the exterminations were probably another reason why his wife left him. He did like, allow a genocide and all that.
(Although, if you want to be technical, if every bad thing done was due to Lucifer giving people access to free will, then this was far from the first genocide he was responsible for.)
And then things started changing. Because his wife disappeared, not just from him but from all of Hell, and the exterminations got worse and then next thing he knows his daughter is calling about a hotel to redeem Sinners and-
And he tried. He tried so hard to caution her against it, to make sure she didn't get her hopes up, but as he looked into her eyes all he could see was his own youthful hope looking back at him and he would not be the one responsible for squashing that.
(And maybe that made him weak, because he got her a meeting with Heaven, gave them the possibility to be the ones to destroy her spirit, but that was because he hoped maybe she could do better than him, change their minds where he and Lilith couldn't.)
Before long, his daughter ended up leading a charge against the angels. And he doesn't know how things would have worked out if Adam hadn't gotten too cocky and decided to forgo the deal Lucifer made with Heaven to protect Hellborn, making it so Lucifer was (for once) actually able to get involved and do something.
And… the janitor killed Adam, which was kind of just fun to watch (and Lucifer doesn't even know if he could have smited Adam anyways, either because he was too out of practice or because in the end, Adam was still a human soul, and maybe Lucifer's punishment extended to not being able to use his divinity on any human soul, not just Sinner's.)
And they rebuilt the hotel and his daughter let him stay and he got to walk around while Hell replayed Lucifer beating Adam's ass up and he got to rub into Bambi's face that he actually contributed something while the red-cladded freak just disappearing and hid, licking his wounds after the battle.
And- and-
And things were great!
Actually!
Depression could suck it!
It could get fucked like how the strawberry pimp (thanks Angel Dirt for that one) got fucked by Adam in the battle!
(Ha!)
Things were great!
Until—
Until—
"He ruined everything is what happened. The angels were here to set things right, but thanks to him— and, apparently, you— Vox was able to spin it, again!"
"Because he’s hurting the hotel, he is ruining—"
"I think you should leave, Dad. You have fucked things up for me enough."
He was kicked out (again) because he had ruined things (again.)
And that wasn't what he wanted. That was never what he wanted. He had already fucked up so many things: humanity, his position in Heaven, his relationship with Lilith.
He had tried so hard not to fuck things up with Charlie too.
Except- except no matter what he did, fucking up was all he could do. When he didn't get involved, she thought she didn't care. And when he did-
("You're the most hated being in all of existence!")
Things had been going so well, he was able to stay at the hotel and see his daughter regularly, able to be there to support her if she needed it (which, hey, wasn't too often because she and Vavnu had most things handled.)
("I'm grateful you're my father more than anything!")
("You've fucked things up for me enough.")
Except things couldn't stay good. Because apparently that Box guy had declared war on Heaven (Heaven, who had just sent angels down to visit, angels including Sera who had been hovering in the promenade, and Lucifer had been too scared to see if she was looking back at him, to see what expression she was making (and he didn't know if her not looking back would hurt more or less.) And Lucifer had given him ammo to anger to masses, because hey, Cox was right about some things.
("Your wife knew it was wrong Lu! Maybe that's why she's not around anymore.")
Everything was shit, which seems to be the running theme here, and all Lucifer could do (all he could ever do) was turn tail and run. Go back to his too empty, too dark, too sad palace. Hide and watch season 5 of Infernal Duckwives (which was always a tearjerker— he would know, he wrote and produced it.)
Hide while the world fell apart around him and everyone else had to deal with his mistakes.
(He didn't know what he could do though, because every choice he had seemed likely to make things worse or was just impossible. Anything he did would be propaganda fuel, and if Charlie is working the angels his presence would likely only make things wayyyy too tense.)
Charlie would work things out though, she may be a dreamer like him, but she had Lilith's drive to see things through. She didn't just screw things up and run (slither) away.
And he didn't want to keep slithering away. But he didn't know how to stand there while everything fell apart around him and he was left feeling the pain of failure and abandonment again and again and again.
(As if he didn't feel that anyways.)
Lucifer was a prideful creature. He knew that. The world knew that. It shouldn't be a surprised that he would find the quickest and safest exit whenever his pride took a hit, because even if fleeing made him be seen as a coward, it was better than the alternative. Better than losing. Again.
("Smite me! Silence me! That's all you angels know how to do!")
(Maybe that's because they were never taught any different.)
But that's one of the things about having too much pride, you never learn your lesson.
So when he got the call from Charlie, he didn't think. All he could feel was relief and joy. Joy because he maybe hadn't ruined everything. Relief because he had already started to become afraid Charlie's number would join the long list of outgoing calls that never went unanswered.
He didn't think. ("That's the problem, Lucy. You don't think.") He didn't think, because it was so easy for him to see himself as untouchable (as if Heaven hadn't hurt him, as if every moment he spent away from Lilith wasn't hurting him—) So easy for him to think of himself as above consequences (as if that's not the whole purpose for his existence in Hell.)
(Maybe it was a trait he had picked up from growing up in Heaven, and maybe it was a trait his daughter picked up from him, or maybe it was Lucifer just having his head too much in the clouds and not enough on the ground.)
He didn't think. And when he teleported to the location he received from his daughter (and come on, Lucifer, why would Charlie just send you her location? Why wouldn't she just tell you where she is?), he immediately found himself bound tightly by some kind of angelic chain, the pure divinity coming off of it being enough to burn his skin from beneath his clothes, and forced into a chair.
And standing before him TV Demon Sox, and all Lucifer felt was confusion. Confusion and anger because where the fuck was—
"Wow! Woooooow! I wasn't even completely sure this was going to work! Sure, I was banking on your stupidity, but I didn't realize how easy this would be!"
And has Jox laughed, all Lucifer could do was wriggle his arms in an attempt to get free, an attempt to summon something, to teleport or—
Nothing.
As long as he was bound by these angelic chains, every inch of his power was contained within his body, and he wasn't even unfamiliar with the concept because it had been just like this ten thousand years ago—
(The chains didn't burn him as much then though. Is this a testament to how much he's changed since falling from Heaven? How far from Her he's drifted?)
He was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"Where's Charlie?" He bites out, ignoring the way the chains shifted and burned his chest through the very act of speaking alone. He couldn't care about that right now. All he needed to know was Charlie. Where was she? Because he got the call from her and her location sent him here and where was she?
Rox has to have held her captive somewhere here, right? The same way Bambi and Angel Must appear to be (although Angel Must seems to just be standing there with weird looking eyes (oh, didn't Charlie say he used to do drugs?) while Mr. Asshole was tied to a chair looking just assholey and unimpressed (shut up, as if he wasn't also captured. Lucifer wasn't captured before him, so he has that at least. Ha!)
Charlie had to be somewhere. And what about her girlfriend? (Oh gosh, they had been fighting when Lucifer had left because of the whole "Vanny-siccing-him-on-Mox" thing, did Lucifer destroy his daughter's relationship? Is that when Xox was able to capture her?) There was no way the ex-exterminator would have let this sentient television land a claw on Charlie without a fight.
(Or… or maybe Charlie just wasn't here. Maybe she sent him this location as part of a trap, to get rid of him. Maybe this was a deal she had come to with Heaven, given Lox him in exchange for peace— no, stop, that didn't make sense. Charlie wouldn't do that!)
(Then again, he didn't think Sera would ever turn her back on him either.)
(But Charlie is good!)
(So was Heaven. Heaven was good. Lucifer was just bad. Too bad.)
(Hey, maybe that's why he was against Charlie redeeming Sinners— he was jealous. Jealous that they possibly had the capacity to be better, to change, to be good, while Lucifer was just stuck, stuck, stuck.)
The nauseatingly arrogant laugh the insolent Sinner gave in response only made Lucifer's blood boil more. Because to this ignorant child, this bratty creation that was probably not even a century old, that could barely comprehend the worlds and powers that lay outside of this prison of a city, this was funny.
Funny.
"WHERE IS SHE?!" Lucifer repeats, magic pulsing and the chains burning into him in response. He can feel his tail and horns make an appearance, he can feel it because the angelic bindings around him seem to almost scream in response, too confused of what to do.
"Now, now, Lu." The flat-faced bastard says (and Lucifer hates it. He hates how Pox calls him "Lu", as if he knows him, as if he's anywhere close to deserving of calling Lucifer that.) "I'd calm down if I were you," and it's then that Lucifer realizes that one of the other demons in the room, the dark skinned one with red hair and fashionable attire, appears to be filming all of this on her phone. "We're just having a conversation."
"I was here to talk to my daughter."
"And do you actually think she wants to talk to you?!" The Sinner laughs, and the burn Lucifer is feeling now isn't just from his bindings. "I'd be surprised given how you always seem to… what's the word? 'Fuck things up.'"
Lucifer's breath catches with the final words, and he tries hard to not let the pain show. He's already in a weak enough position as it is.
(Besides, how could Tox know about Charlie's fight with him?)
Flox looks back at him with a grin, seeming just as aware as Lucifer that anything he says will be the wrong thing.
"I- I just- I just wanted to try and fix things."
It's weak. He knows that. He knows it the moment he says it. And the laugh Chox gives shows he knows it too
"Fix things?! Wow- okay, fix what exactly? For creating damnation in the first place?" He didn't— "For allowing the angels to kill us year after year? Or does that not matter to 'your royal highness' at all, and all you care about is fixing things with your precious family. Because fuck whoever else you screwed over."
"You screwed yourselves over, bud."
There is a weird buzz that goes through his body now, and it hits Lucifer after a moment that Slox seems to be trying to electrocute him or something.
Cute.
(He wonders how much it would piss this wannabe to know it's barely even noticeable in comparison to the sing of divine metal.)
"Really?! You think we all deserve this, Lu? Every last one of us. Because here I was thinking your daughter was pretty convinced she could redeem every Sinner. Even me."
Oh, Charlie.
"Are you saying she was wrong?"
Feelings of redemption aside, he cannot disparage his daughter's belief system on camera, especially not to him. His job as a father is to support his daughter, to be there in case they fall, he's never meant to be the one pushing them down. He can't—
"I think to get redemption, flat-face, you have to want it. Free will and all that. And I don't think that's the case for everyone here."
Because despite Lucifer's initial lack of faith, despite the disgust he holds for Sinners, one of Charlie's friends did appear to have done it (even if it did take getting killed by Adam.) And some of her other friends don't seem like too bad of people (well, the tiny cyclops is kind of scary.)
Lucifer's proud of himself for a moment, because his answer seems to actually surprise Crocs for a second.
Then there is a new expression that lights up the TV's face as he asks something that causes Lucifer to freeze.
"Do you think you could be redeemed?"
"I can't." Lucifer says stiffly, ignoring any and all emotions the demon seems so eager to bring up. "I'm not a human soul. I-"
"No, right." Slocks says with a knowing sigh, walking in a circle around Lucifer. "You were an angel and all that. So much higher than us lowly mortals. That doesn't change the fact you were thrown down here. Your own eternal punishment."
Just stop walking you dick.
"So I'm curious, do you think Heaven could ever forgive you?"
("I get it. I screwed up. But are you really just going to leave us down here? We don't— Lilith doesn't deserve this.")
"Did you think if you offered enough Sinners up for the extermination Heaven would let you back in?"
"No!" The idea hadn't even crossed his mind—
("SERA COME ON! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!")
"Is this why you never gathered Hell to rise up against Heaven? You were hoping with enough time you'd get your old, golden throne back to yourself?"
"That wasn't—" As if they'd ever welcome him back.
"Is this why you never let demons know angels could be hurt? Could be killed? You wanted to keep that choice from us? Oh, what happened to free will, Lu?" The demon asks, throwing Lucifer's own words back at him.
"I-"
"Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven, Lu?"
Hurt?
Painagonyburningemptinesshisinsidesbeingscoopedouteachfeatherbeingpluckedandeachnervesetonfireand—
"Wh-what?" Ignore it. Ignore the ever familiar burn. Ignore the fact that he's being tied up and asked questions again. Ignore the fact the last time this happened—
"Did it? Did they turn their weapons on you? Is that why angelic weapons exist? Not to kill demons to fight against angels like you?"
And why did angelic weapons exist if Lucifer was the first offender? Was the Almighty prepared for something like this? Was it fated? Was it designed? Did Lucifer ever even have a choice or was this always what he was made to do?
"Were you even a little surprised when it came out that angels could be killed with their own weapons? Or did you know that the whole time?"
"I—"
(Hurting the angels was never something Lucifer even considered because he never thought about fighting back. That's just not how things work. Breaking the status quo just means ending up down here, and any attempt to fight it just pushes you further down—)
"Did you know it would hurt if someone ever had the chance to do this!"
And nothing prepared Lucifer for the pain that would then stab right through the palm of his left hand, leaving it fixed in place against the arm of the chair he was stuck in.
An involuntary scream leaves his throat, and he tries to ignore the golden blood dripping from the wound, from the very present knife that had been stabbed through his hand.
(Is that the same knife that the janitor killed Adam with?)
Lucifer clenches his teeth and forces his body to make no reaction, because Clocks is filming this. Stocks is filming this and Charlie is probably going to see and he doesn't want her thinking—
"Oh, sorry, did that hurt?"
Lucifer wants to crush this guy until he is the size of a subatomic particle. He wants to throw him into the deepest corner of space. He wants to hurl him to the darkest part of the ocean where the pressure alone would rip him to shreds in an instant.
Lucifer breathes and remains silent, continuing to just look at the rectangular shaped menace. Lucifer may not have much right now but he does have this.
Then… after a moment, Toks seems to get bored.
"Right." The man says, quickly retrieving the dagger he had just left in Lucifer's hand, blue claws skimming over the angelic blood that came with it (and Lucifer bets if Bambi was in this guys' place, the freak would have licked the dagger clean.)
Lucifer barely has time to hold his breath before it's removed, stuck between the present and the past. Because he knows where his mind will go if it starts to drift, but this also just fucking hurts.
(Still, how many stab wounds did Adam take before dying? Maybe just trying to beat that will keep Lucifer sane.)
"Here's the deal." And Lucifer fucking hates all these overlords and how they've co-opted the word. Deals, even soul deals, were a thing even outside of overlords, but those kind of Sinners loved to make it all about themselves. "I, as you know, am attempting to wage war on Heaven." No shit, really? "And well, we have the numbers, the fury, we have angelic weapons on our side, but I want something that can really assure our win. And that's where you come in, Lu."
Is he serious?
"I'm not fighting for you." Lucifer spits out, because the idea is just insulting. He's no one's attack dog.
"No, I figured not. After all the years down here, you're still somehow more loyal to the people that cast you out than your own." Shut up. "Besides, given your… recent display at my rally, I don't know how effective that would be. You seem pretty… out of practice."
Is he fucking—
"Do you have ANY idea who the FUCK I am? I'm Lucifer Morningstar. I'm the fucking de—"
"You're the guy who got cowed in front of a live audience by a lowly mortal. You're the guy who snuck out the back and hid from his daughter when she started getting mad at him."
And fuck. Lucifer fucking hates this guy.
"But you're also an angel, albeit a fallen one. And a powerful one at that. And I figured it's would be in your… I don't know angelic nature to offer up some of your power for the greater good?"
Is this guy fucking insane?
Actually, wait, yes, he is. Likely in both senses of the word.
"What? And you're the greater good?" Lucifer laughs, and he really shouldn't because he's the one tied up with a gaping hole in his hand and a megalomanial television circling him like a shark.
"I just want the denizens of Hell to have happiness. Tranquility. To not live in fear."
It's sickening because Lilith said the same thing. Except Lucifer knows she actually meant it.
"You just want power."
"I just want to return what you angels have kept from us for thousands of years."
Right, because this is clearly suuuuch a great argument for them to start reconsidering things. Now Heaven will surely be right on board with visiting days.
"Fuck yourself."
The stab into his right hand isn't even a surprise this time, but at this point Lucifer is just buying for time. Time to figure something out. Time for things to spiral out of control or the TV-man's head to catch on fire or someone to dunk a bucket of water on him.
(He also just likes being an asshole, screw him.)
"Lu, you don't need to be so difficult now." Yes, yes he does. "I'm offering you the chance to make a better world." Please. "I'm offering a chance for you to have your daughter live."
…what?
The grin and the growing confidence in the Sinner's voice makes it clear he knows he's struck gold, but Lucifer can't even care because Charlie.
He still doesn't know where Charlie is.
Is she okay? Is she chained up somewhere too?
"If Hell goes to war against Heaven," And no, no, stop. Just tell him where Charlie is— "you don't think Little Miss Princess Morningstar won't be one of the first targets? Lucifer's daughter? The leader in the battle that killed their precious Adam?"
No. No, she was just trying to help people, just trying to do the right thing. She-
"I-"
"And besides, Lu." Blocks continues, throwing the nickname out like a dagger this time. "If I end up not being able to use you for a divine power source, I guess I'll have to go for the next best thing." What… "What do you think would be better? The spawn of the King of Hell himself? Or a lesser ranking fallen angel?"
"No."
Charlie. Valer— Victori— Charlie's girlfriend (wow, he's really bad at names.) He wouldn't—
"If one isn't enough I supposed we could always try using both."
"Stop!" Lucifer screams, and he doesn't even fucking care if he sounds desperate anymore. That Sinner is not touching his little girl or anyone she cares about. V-something has clearly made Charlie so happy and been there for her when he couldn't, so even Flocks is not laying a fucking hand on her (and don't think about how she's a fallen angel too. Don't think about how even if they've only had a few conversations and he can't even remember her name, there is a mutual understanding between them as both people from Heaven and people who love Charlie more than anything.)
And the idea of Charlie being in his position. Tied up with chains that make his skin feel like it's sizzling. Get stabbed with an angelic knife. Listening to this fuck talk.
"Where is Charlie?" Lucifer finally asks, and maybe he's begging but whatever. He needs to know.
Rocks laughs, and Lucifer leans forward in his chair, jostling and burning in his chains because this has gone on long enough and if this mortal doesn't tell him where his DAMN DAUGHTER IS—
"Probably back at her little hotel somewhere," Docks says casually, as if he doesn't know how badly Lucifer wishes he could just teleport over there right now. "Oblivious to everything. Unaware of the fact the father she so roughly brushed off is tied up and seemingly begging for her life. It's crazy to me you didn't check there first! You just came straight here, like-"
"Don't hurt her." Lucifer whispers, because he knows Cocks is right. He was an idiot. But the fact that his duckling is seemingly safe is enough to drain the rest of the fight out of him. Fox apparently needs a divine power supply, and with Lucifer he won't have to look anywhere else. He doesn't quite know how much angelic power he has inside of him, but it should be enough.
(Except how long has Lucifer spent away from her? How often has he had to use stools and climb shelves to reach higher up because the idea of manifesting his wings and using them to fly was just too exhausting? When was the last time he did anything close to what he was doing pre-Eden? He did shows of power, sure, but how much 'divinity' is really left in him? How much of that has been corrupted by his imprisonment here? How much of an 'angel' is he?)
(It's enough. It has to be enough, for Charlie.)
"Wouldn't dream of it, your highness." Zoks says, before one of his eyes start doing a weird loopy pattern thing and huh that's kind of cool—
Okay, why are they just staring at each other now?
Is something supposed to happen?
Staring at a TV this much is going to start to give Lucifer a headache.
Circles and circles and—
Yeah, just a lot of circles.
Wait…
Those look kind of familiar…
Eyes darting behind Clorox, Lucifer sees they still have an audience. The tall, purple demon that had kept shaking his behind in front of him, the shorter demon with what seemed like a new outfit on (and her phone is now on some fancy stand?), hands in the hair of Bambi who looks like he has new curls (???), and a stock-still Angel Musk in a dress with super out-of-it eyes.
Wait…
Is he-
Is Crocs trying to—
Lucifer looks back at the TV-man who has begun to look constipated, and bursts out laughing.
He was right! TV did scramble the brain!
"Are you— are you trying to mind control me?! You do realize I'm the King of Hell, right? You had to use angelic weapons to keep me here. You really think your little powers—"
Lucifer's face is forced back with a hard slap and he involuntarily twists himself into the chain, chin briefly making contact with the chain wrapping over his shoulder, which makes him quickly pull his face back with a hiss.
Jocks looks down at his own hand with what appears to be impassive disgust, and Lucifer wants to comment on how even here, it was the angelic steel doing the damage, not the Sinner's puny powers or fists.
He wants to. But next thing he knows Mocks is holding his angelic knife and cutting into the back of Lucifer's clothes, working with whatever is accessible with the chains he's wrapped around him, moving quick and cutting through all the layers, sometimes even into Lucifer's skin.
And Lucifer can't help but struggle against him, because what the fuck is happening.
And then a split second later all the clothes on Lucifer's upper half of his body are gone, leaving him only in his pants and shoes (and when did he lose his hat?)
Plox's hands stop for a split second as there is a crisp but fake "thank you, Velvet" that he mutters, to which the demon in question (Velvet?) gives a muttered "yeah, whatever."
But then Snox's hands are back, and he can feel the sharp nails of one running over the skin of his back, some parts forever singed and scarred from his Fall while the others remain a perfect porcelain.
And Lucifer wants him to just stop. He's the fucking King of Hell. This is just a lowly Sinner. He shouldn't be in a position like this. He can't—
Oh, Almighty, what is Charlie going to watch?
"Since you seem so… resistant to my attempts." The Sinner whispers, and why does Lucifer's neck feel as if it's being tickled by his breath? The man has a TV for a face, he doesn't have at mouth.
(…right?)
"Maybe we need to… soften you up a bit, first."
There are cords wrapping around his hands and feet, removing Lucifer from the chair and leaving him hovering in the air, arms and legs spread wide apart.
(It's not Charlie that he's doing this to. It's not Charlie that he's doing this to.)
A sharp nail wanders down Lucifer's back again, running over long healed scars and brand new wounds. Tracing the burn marks and indent the angelic chains seem to be leaving with each moment they're on longer (and fuck if it hurts now that he doesn't have his shirt or coat as a barrier.)
"Vox." A snappy male voice says, but Lucifer can't even tell where it's coming from, it seems so far away.
The demon caressing Lucifer doesn't stop, only waving the voice off.
"Come now, Val. You can have your fun once we've seen all this through."
What the fuck does that mean?
"Really, Vox?" Ohhhh Vox, is that this guy's name? Should he try to remember that? "Because it seems like we're just doing whatever you want to do. First you capture the Radio Demon, then you take my Angel, and now you're the only one allowed to play with this angel!"
"Val, I told you already. It's part of my vision."
"Your vision to do what exactly?" Oh gosh, not this asshole. "Peacock for all of Hell to see? Because trust me, I think you've succeeded."
"No." And Glocks' hands have stopped moving now, which should be a relief except with the Sinner behind him, Lucifer has no idea what the other is doing. "To prove a point. That I'm the one with the power here and anyone who doubts that is a fool."
And then something sharp and holy stabs into the left side of Lucifer's back.
Fuck!
The pain is blinding. It radiates through every part of his body. It's like he was just stabbed with hellfire itself and—
And he's in the air and he can't stop himself from falling down.
And every attempted flap of his wings fail because his wings are becoming a smoldering blur of ash.
And every nerve of his body, every inch Her Light once reached is erupting like a supernova only to start anew, this time with something once critical to his very essence absent.
And his eyes burn and he feels the marks from their weapons on fire and he doesn't get why She—
And all he can see in his mind's eye is the disappointed eyes of his fellow angels before he's cast down.
And he can't open his eyes. Because it's too bright. It's too bright and too dark and he doesn't want to see the carnage and—
And a new bolt of pain stabs through him, tearing through his back, forcing a scream out of him, and he opens his eyes and—
And he's not falling. He's on the ground. Barely standing but being held up by something pulling at his arms. He's in a penthouse and there is golden blood everywhere and on the ground there are white and red feathers.
Feathers.
The pain alone makes him not want to move, neck and back on fire so intensely it's hard to believe he's still breathing (although maybe he isn't. He doesn't need to breathe, right?)
His mind screams against him as well, but he has to look. He has to because he can hear someone talking but his ears can't make anything out. Everything sounds like he's listening from deep underwater. He has to because he has to know— he can't be left imagining.
On the ground resting just to the right of him is a severed red-and-white feathered wing, nerve endings and muscle from where it used to be attached to his back still visible. Some delicate bones extruding due to the force it must have been removed with.
Lucifer wants to throw up.
He can't. He can't because all he feels is pain and burning and nothing and numb. And how can he feel numb when his fucking wing is on the ground.
There is a ringing in his ears. And Lucifer doesn't remember taking his wings out except he must have, because now one is on the ground and his mind can't think and he can't retract them and there is something moving close to his ear.
And through the nearly deafening scream of sounds come a clear voice.
"One down. Five to go."
And then all Lucifer can feel is fire again as the joint between his back and the wing on the ground's partner starts to get sawed through.
Lucifer can't help but scream for Her as he falls again.
(And She still doesn't answer.)
It hurts.
That's all he knows. It hurts. And there is probably other important stuff somewhere but—
Charlie.
Lucifer eyes shoot open and he has to hold back a scream as reality and pain all hits him at once.
He's somewhere else. In some kind of chamber. Blue-tinted glass acting as a barrier between him and what appears to be some kind of garage or factory.
He's bound to some kind of cot, back pressed tightly against it's hard surface, making every single one of his wounds—
His wounds.
Fuck.
Lucifer almost wants to laugh at the irony of it all. Of the fact that here he is, wings lost a second time. First time by the angels that he tried too hard to impression, and now by the demons he hadn't been bothered to try and save.
(At least last time he woke up, Lilith was there. Who knows where she is now. And Charlie—)
(Fuck, why would Charlie want anything to do with him? He walked into this trap. He gave Shlocks the power he needed for whatever he wanted to do for the war. He's the one who fucked things up for her time after time after time—)
"You know, I really just thought there was some kind of poetic beauty in it." A voice says from the speaker, and it's then that Lucifer notices that in this some chamber is a monitor, now with Docks' face on it. And Lucifer vows if he ever breaks out of here he'll make it one of his missions to destroy every TV that exists in this plane of existence. "I talked all about Heaven clipping your wings the first time we met, I figured I might as well finish the job."
(He wonders if Charlie's girlfriend's pain was like this too. He could sense from the moment they met the absence of her wings and halo, forcefully removed by the people that would supposed to support her, but she had eventually earned her wings back. He didn't know if he ever could.)
(He should have talked to her more. Checked in about how she was with her fall. But he didn't want to overstep. And he was never good with conversations like that.)
"But I wonder if it will be quite as poetic as finally putting an end to what you started."
And then his eyes begin to change again, growing to fill the entire screen. Red within a hypnotizingly rippling circle.
No.
No. He won't.
Except it's hard to even remember where he is, much less why he should resist.
He's in so much pain, but even moment he stares into the screen it starts to fade away.
But he can't.
Charlie.
Charlie.
He can't fail Charlie.
("Lucifer, be careful."
"Come on, Sera, when am I not?")
…But—
("They didn't banish you! They clipped your wings and chained you down here!")
…But—
("Smite me! Silence me! That's all you angels know how to do!")
…But—
("I think you should leave, Dad. You have fucked things up for me enough.")
But he already had.
("Goodbye, little duckling.")