Dan's thoughts were racing. The man he had been working with for the past three years was the actual Devil. His face. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was like something out of his worst nightmares. And yet – this was the same guy who called him "Detective Douche" and stole his pudding just for kicks. How could he be the root of all evil? Or was that the biggest con of all?
Dan mentally shook his head at that.
No, he knew that Lucifer didn't lie. Of that, he was certain. He may hold vital information to himself like Pierce actually being the Sinnerman. But he didn't lie. If only he had shared that factoid with the rest of them sooner, maybe Charlotte wouldn't-
He quickly rejected that train of thought. He couldn't allow himself go down that rabbit hole. Right now, Lucifer needed his help. That's why he found himself driving an unconscious Devil back to his penthouse while Ella held said unconscious Devil in the backseat. He drove as carefully as possible to not jostle the wounded Archangel too much.
The rest of the journey to Lux was a blur. Before long, Dan found himself hauling Lucifer up the elevator with Ella. The forensic scientist held his legs while Dan had his arms wrapped around Lucifer's torso so his hands were locked over Lucifer's chest. The back of Lucifer's head rested against his own chest.
"You know, he's a lot heavier than I thought he'd be," Ella huffed as the elevator doors opened. She readjusted her hold on Lucifer's legs and walked backward toward Lucifer's bedroom, Dan leading the way.
"I'm just glad that the club's not open yet," Dan said as he turned so he would step up backwards towards Lucifer's bed while Ella now led the way, "It would've been pretty hard to explain why we were carrying their unconscious boss up to his penthouse."
"Run into some trouble?" Barrow was still tied to the chair. The smug in his tone was palpable.
"Shut up!" Ella and Dan retorted in unison.
After some careful maneuvering, Ella and Dan managed to get Lucifer safely lying on his bed. Dan let out a deep breath, hands on his hips, as he and Ella surveyed their work. Lucifer was lying on his back, spread-eagle in the middle of the bed, his head and neck rested at an awkward angle. It didn't look too comfortable. Dan cocked his head and winced. Lucifer had already collapsed from (assumingly) excruciating pain from being shot in his wings. He was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate a stiff neck on top of that. Dan climbed into the bed and after some more strategic maneuvers and straddling Lucifer (thank Go- someone he was unconscious), he managed to get Lucifer into a more comfortable position – prone in the bed instead, on top of the covers with his head lying on his pillow more to what Dan thought was probably the Devil's side of the bed.
"He should be okay for now," Ella told Dan while he crawled backwards out of the bed to join her by her side.
"Why don't you take our friend here down to the station?" Ella suggested in a low voice and then nodded toward Lucifer, "I'll watch over him while you're gone."
Could he really leave Ella alone with the Devil? Dan looked back and forth between the unconscious man on the bed and the bored, smug thug currently tied to a chair. It was clear to him who was the real monster. With a nod, Dan dug into his pocket to pull out his switchblade and released the blade. He headed over to the thug and cut the zip-ties before swiftly cuffing him.
"Come on," Dan shoved the witty retort away from Barrow's lips as he roughly led him to the elevator and they headed to the station.
~*~
Hushed voices filtered into Lucifer's awareness. He blearily blinked his eyes open only to realize most of his vision was blocked by the black pillowcase on his pillow. He was lying face down in his bed. How did he get there? Lucifer lifted his head slightly so he could look over his pillow. That didn't help much as he found himself staring at one of his globe lamps. With a pained effort, he turned to partially curve himself up so he could look outside his bedroom. Thankfully, he was lying on top of his comforter so his line of sight wasn't obscured in another way.
At his bedroom's entryway, closer to his lounge area, he could spot two blurry figures standing face to face, quietly conversing with one another. That explained the hushed voices. With another blink, those blurred figures formed into Ella and Dan.
The events of the last hour slowly filtered back into Lucifer's brain. Was it an hour? How long had he been unconscious for?
He had killed Pierce. His Devil Face had returned. The Detective was at the crime scene cleaning up after his mess and had blessedly missed seeing definitive proof that he was the Devil. Detective Douche and Miss Lopez weren't so lucky. What were they doing in his penthouse? What was he doing in his penthouse? He didn't remember driving back here. In fact, the last thing he remembered was a searing pain in his back before blackness. Come to think of it, that searing pain was currently a dull throb. Funny how unconsciousness can temporarily help alleviate pain.
Their hushed voices went silent. He must've made a noise to draw their attention.
"Lucifer? Buddy, you awake?" Ella called over. She was now on the bottom step leading up to his bedroom. Dan was right behind her, peeking around her side.
"What are you doing here?" Lucifer's voice was raspy and muffled – half in his pillow and half in his chest.
"You don't remember what happened?" It was Dan's turn to ask. They both came further into his bedroom.
Lucifer slowly pushed himself up and situated himself so he was sitting mostly upright in bed. That dull throb of pain in his back escalated a little, but not much.
"You collapsed," Ella didn't wait for Lucifer to answer, "Dan drove us all back here. We carried you up here and Dan and I put you into your bed. You've been out for a few hours. We weren't sure how to help you."
They knew he was the Devil and they still wanted to help him?
"Yes, well, thank you for not leaving me unconscious in the street," Lucifer slowly scooted backward so he could try and rest against his headboard. He did so, with a wince.
"We wouldn't do that to you," Ella stepped closer to the end of his bed. She noticed Lucifer's wince once he settled against his headboard, "How do we help you?"
"You've already done far more than I expected, Miss Lopez," Lucifer gave her a small, sad smile, "You don't have to stay."
"I know we don't have to stay," Ella replied. The 'duh' was implied, "We want to."
"Both of you?" Lucifer looked toward Dan.
"Yeah, man," Dan surprised him.
Now that Lucifer was a little more lucid, he took the time to slowly look around his bedroom. He spotted one of his chairs still had zip-ties attached to the armrests, albeit sliced ones.
"Where's our prisoner?" Lucifer nodded subtly to the empty chair.
"At the station," Dan said, one hand on his hip, his fingers resting near his badge, "I just got back from bringing Barrow in."
"And you returned to the Devil's lair…" Lucifer let the statement hang in the air.
"Quit the "I'm the scary, big, bad Devil" bit and just tell us how to help you, Lucifer. You're clearly in pain," Ella cut to the chase, gesturing to his back before her hand fell back to her thigh with a light, frustrated slap.
"I'll heal eventually, Miss Lopez," Lucifer waved her off, "You two really don't have to do anything more. Quite frankly, I'm most grateful for what you have already done, just by bringing me home."
Ella carefully sat on the edge of his bed and reached out one of her hands toward Lucifer's foot.
"Lucifer, you were shot… You were shot in the line of duty – protecting Chloe. Those bullets are still in you. I may not know a ton about Devil physiology, but I know that can't be good for you," Ella moved her hand to grasp his ankle in a supportive gesture, "The slash on your arm is starting to scab up. Now, I'm guessing the same will happen to the wounds in your wings and those bullets will get trapped inside you. You already collapsed into unconsciousness once from excruciating pain…"
Lucifer opened his mouth to protest, but Ella cut him off again, punctuating each word with a squeeze to his ankle.
"Let. Us. Help. You."
"Why?" Lucifer cocked his head to the side. Ella gave him a look, ready to read him the riot act for his stubbornness, but Lucifer stopped her by putting up a placating hand and elaborated.
"Why do you two wish to help me? You've seen my face. You know I'm the actual Devil and yet you're both still here – desiring to assist me by helping me tend to my injuries… Why?"
"Because even though you're the Devil, you're still one of us, Lucifer. You protected Chloe. We're protecting you," Dan stepped up closer to the bed on Lucifer's other side, "You're family, dude."
Lucifer sniffed, clearly touched by Dan's words but determined not to let it show.
"Yes, well, I'm not entirely certain how much help you'll be able to be with my wings," Lucifer said instead.
"Dude, if we could handle your scarred red face, I think we can handle some Archangel wings," Ella said deadpan.
"How many bullets are we talking about anyway?" Dan asked as he folded his arms.
"Wasn't really counting as they barreled into my body," Lucifer sat forward and twitched his shoulders with a wince in pain, "But I'd gather the number would be somewhere around several dozen."
"You've got over a hundred bullets in you?!" Ella shrieked causing both Lucifer and her to bounce slightly in his bed from her outburst.
"That's it, I'm grabbing every first aid kit I can get my hands on," Ella crawled out of the bed and rushed out of the room in search of said first aid.
Dan took Ella's vacated seat at the edge of the bed by Lucifer's feet.
"You're taking this Devilish bombshell a lot better than I expected, Daniel," Lucifer nudged Dan with his foot.
"To be honest, it makes a strange amount of sense," Dan laced his fingers together, his forearms resting on his thighs.
"You're the Devil… but you're also the same Dick I've come to… respect."
"Likewise… Douche."
"Plus, you're wounded," Dan shrugged, "Wouldn't really be right to kick you while you're down."
The two men shared a smile. Dan shifted so he could put one folded leg up on the bed. He gave Lucifer an expectant look.
"What?" Lucifer didn't understand Dan's look, "Did your brain melt? Having a delayed reaction?"
"Spread 'em, Lucifer," Dan raised a hand toward him.
"Dan-iel," a salacious grin spread over his lips, "I had no idea."
"Knock it off, man, I meant your wings," Dan gave him a look.
"Good to know this new Celestial worldview for you hasn't diminished your Party Pooper tendencies," Lucifer bent his knees to slowly scoot away from the headboard with a pained effort in attempt to make room to unfurl his wings.
He shrugged his shoulders and… nothing happened. Lucifer looked behind him left and right but the space behind him was still void of any feathery appendages.
"Something wrong?" Dan asked.
"They won't come out," Lucifer answered worriedly, looking back and forth behind him in a slight panic, as if his wings would just pop out from a glance.
"Why not? Is it because of all the bullets?" Dan wondered, trying to peer over Lucifer's shoulders as if his wings would just spontaneously appear.
"Well, I don't know, Daniel," Lucifer's tone oozed with sarcasm, "I don't have that much experience with shot-up wings. Do you?"
"Don't get mad at me, man. I'm new at this," Dan countered.
Lucifer took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He calmly shrugged his shoulders one more time and then Dan's vision was full of red and white feathers.
Lucifer let out a cry and scrunched his face up in pain with heaving breaths. One of his wings had to be broken or very nearly.
"Whoa," Dan breathed.
Hurried footsteps rushed into the bedroom.
"I heard yelling," Ella ran into the room, her arms full of medical supplies, "Is everything-"
"Whoa," Ella stopped short when she saw Lucifer's wings. They spanned out on either side of him. The feathers were a mix of white and red, no doubt from all the blood. She had to admit, he had quite an impressive wingspan – longer than he was tall.
"Miss Lopez, are you all right?" Lucifer looked to the forensic scientist with concern, trying his best to mask the pain he was in.
"Dios mío," Ella breathed, eyes never leaving Lucifer's wings. She unconsciously dropped all the medical supplies (thankfully) on the bed next to Dan.
"Wrong deity," Lucifer quipped. He let out short, pained breaths as he sat tensely straight. Who knew once the adrenaline of taking down armed thugs and an immortal crime boss wore off that being shot with rounds and rounds of bullets would be this painful? Especially with the Detective out of range.
Lucifer's words seemed to snap Ella out of whatever stunned trance she was in. She went straight into professional mode. She reached for the dropped medical supplies on the bed and began taking out what they needed. She started handing some of them to Dan. They had a job to do. They had to tend to their friend's injuries.
Their friend – the Devil.
~*~
Lucifer eyed the tweezers and piles of gauze and various other sharp medical supplies he didn't wish to dwell on what their use was for that Ella divvied up between herself and Dan with trepidation. By some sort of luck, the bullet wounds hadn't scabbed over quite yet. That was good, as his invulnerability was once again in effect with the Detective so far away. And he would much rather them dig the bullets out of his person with proper tools than one of Maze's blades. He shuddered at the thought. A downside to this choice of operating theater was he would no doubt have to dispose of his bedspread. Bloodstains were notoriously difficult to get out in the laundry. It was a pity. He rather liked this comforter.
He thoughtfully observed his friends while Ella quietly explained to Dan what to do with each tool. He still couldn't quite believe that they were choosing to stay by his side. They both had seen proof that he was indeed the Devil and yet they didn't alter how they treated him… yet. They did have rather sharp tools in their hands. What if it was all a ploy? To hurt him?
No. He was being ridiculous. Miss Lopez wasn't capable of that. Was Daniel? The douche did seem genuine in his reaction. He was surprisingly reacting rather well.
What if this was just a dream though? A pain-induced hallucination? What if he was really still in that loft and his brain cooked all this up? What if the Detective was actually hurt or worse…?
No.
No. This was real. The spasms and shooting stabs of pain he felt in his back were quite real – of that he was sure. His wings gently moved up and down with each breath.
"Okay, Lucifer, now comes the tough part," Ella cut through the Devil's thoughts, a pair of tweezers in her gloved hand, "You're going to have to roll over."
Lucifer grinned, tongue in cheek, slipping back to his much-used defense mechanism: innuendo-filled remarks – a mask he wore often, "I thought you'd never ask."
"I'm serious, Lucifer," Ella couldn't help but let out a sliver of a huffed laugh.
Her eyes turned soft, "This is gonna really hurt."
Lucifer's features turned serious. He knew what she meant. Each breath as he had been sitting there was pained. He could practically feel each bullet embedded in his wings' flesh. With a nod, he took a deep breath and slowly crawled up on to his knees so he was on all fours.
"You two may want to step back for a moment," Lucifer said with his head bowed from his position, "I'd hate to whack you two with these feathery nuisances."
Ella and Dan didn't need to be told twice. They quickly got up and stepped far out of the way until Lucifer positioned himself back down as comfortably as he could. He positioned himself so he was lying on his stomach with his wings spread out behind him, each one draping far off either side of the bed. He folded his arms and rested his head on them, head turned to the side.
"How does that even work?" Dan gestured to Lucifer's back with a nod of his head. He stepped up to Lucifer's right side and Ella stepped up to his left.
"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that in your questions, Daniel. Dearie me, it's no wonder your interrogations don't bear much fruit," Lucifer quipped.
"Your wings," Dan clarified with an eye roll, "They've gone right through your shirt and jacket… Or are there holes in all the backs of your shirts?"
Dan stepped closer and tried to get a closer look.
"Pocket dimension," Lucifer stated, "I'd get into the physics of it all, but I wouldn't want your brain to melt any more than it already has – there's not much to start with as it is."
"You really want to go there, Lucifer?" Dan sniped back, "When I'm about to help dig bullets out of your body?"
"Stop it, you two," Ella played referee and got straight to the matter at hand, "Dan, you take his right wing and I'll take his left."
With that, the two of them sat on either side of the Devil and got to work. Soon, the only sounds in the penthouse were Lucifer's attempts to stifle his groans of pain and the clinks of discarded bullets in the acquired bowls by Dan and Ella's feet as they pulled bullets out of him. The water in the bowls soon grew crimson with Lucifer's blood.
"You know," Lucifer broke the silence, "This is the longest I've been in bed with a man and woman and not had a threesome."
"Gross, man."
"Ew, Lucifer."
Dan and Ella groaned out in disgust. Though Lucifer's lewd comment didn't slow them down in their task.
"So, Lucifer…" Ella started.
Lucifer hummed in acknowledgement.
"What was Chloe talking about before? Back in the loft when she said she wanted to continue your conversation?" Ella asked as she grasped a particularly difficult bullet. There was a playful glint in her eye. Was love finally in the air between Deckerstar? A girl could dream.
"A conversation that might be moot now, Miss Lopez," Lucifer replied cryptically, a trace of sadness in his tone.
Right. There was a time and a place for gossiping. Essentially performing awake surgery on her friend in his bedroom turned operating room was not the best time.
With another grunt of pain from Lucifer, the trio lapsed back into silence as forensic scientist and detective continued to retrieve bullets from Lucifer's body. Every so often, they would pull out broken feathers with a "Sorry" when Lucifer would grunt out in pain. The number of broken feathers was only slightly less than the number of bullets they had extracted from him so far. He assured them his feathers would grow back properly – no harm, no foul.
"Oh my God, Lucifer," Ella whispered as she took out bullet number who-the-hell-knows out of his left wing.
"There's an oxymoron," Lucifer winced again as Dan dug out a particularly deep bullet. Dan mumbled another "sorry" before plopping it into the bowl of red water. Now seemed like a good time as any for a break. They had to have pulled out at least fifty bullets or more already.
Each.
"This is unreal," Dan commented. He looked down at his gloved hand. There was far too much blood on it.
"Which part? The fact that we've pulled out more bullets than I can count from one of my best friends? Or how he should be dead with the amount of blood he's lost? Or that we're digging the bullets out of wings?!" Ella ran a panicking, dried blood-caked gloved hand through her hair. A tiny bit of Lucifer's blood had even ended up on the cuff of the sleeve of her denim jacket. Ella's smooth ponytail now had strands of hair sticking out in every direction. She was a mess.
She stood from the bed and blew out a calming, long exhale.
"Miss Lopez," Lucifer started and slowly rose up on his elbows and knees to turn around so he could face her, narrowly missing Dan's face with one of his retracted wings. Dan let out a "hey" but Lucifer ignored it.
"I'm truly sorry," Lucifer said.
"Why are you sorry?" Ella turned around, "Did you shoot yourself hundreds of times in the back?"
Lucifer opened his mouth to reply but Ella quickly cut him off.
"No, I didn't think you did. You have nothing to be sorry for, Lucifer."
"If anyone should be sorry, it should be me," Ella said.
"What would you have to be sorry about?" Dan looked just as confused as Lucifer.
"I was the one singing praises about Pierce," Ella held back tears, "And the whole time he was a world-class asshole and criminal mastermind. He killed Charlotte and he tried to kill you and Chloe, Lucifer."
"Still not seeing the connection between you apologizing unnecessarily and that pathetic excuse for a human being," Lucifer said.
"Nothing," Ella shook her head, wiping away a tear that managed to escape with the back of her gloved hand. Sometimes her mouth was ahead of her brain, "Never mind. Forget I said anything… How are you doing, Lucifer? You've lost quite a lot of blood. Good news though, I think there are only a couple more bullets left in you."
Lucifer recognized the need to change the subject.
"Mmm, a bit tired. I've had worse," Lucifer replied with a small shrug. He winced. That was a mistake.
"To be honest, I think I'd feel much better if I could set my right wing. I think it's either dislocated or broken."
"What?! Why didn't you say something from the start?" Ella joined Dan on Lucifer's right side to get a better look at his wing.
She smacked Dan in the shoulder, "Why didn't you say anything? You've been working on this wing for a few hours."
"I didn't know," Dan defended himself while rubbing the spot where Ella just smacked him.
Ella reached out to Lucifer's right wing where it joined his back, her hand hovering over the area, but not quite touching.
Lucifer turned his head as much as he could to look back at Ella.
"You quite all right there, Miss Lopez?"
"They're attached to you," Ella stated.
"You've actually got wings. You have two extra appendages than a human. You're an actual Archangel. God is your Dad. You're not an actor. You're really the Devil."
She might have spent the last few hours digging bullets out of said wings, but everything hadn't truly set in until she readied herself to set his wing. Ella had set plenty of dislocated shoulders. Growing up with four roughhousing brothers, she had to learn that particular skill set. It was such a normal task for her. But faced with setting a wing? A wing that was attached to one of her best friends. It was unreal. This was a wing and it wasn't attached to a chicken (like the one she was thinking about adopting). Should she name her Margaret?
Getting off track, Ella.
No, this wing was attached to Lucifer Morningstar. He had wings because he was truly a Fallen Angel. The Fallen Angel. And he had dislocated (or possibly broke) his wing because he was shielding Chloe from a barrage of gunfire ordered by their now-dead Lieutenant who was the real Sinnerman.
Everything was fine.
"Miss Lopez?"
"Ella?"
Ella blinked at the two men addressing her. Lucifer had moved. Or was she the one that had moved?
"I can set it if you want, Ella," Dan's eyes were gentle.
Lucifer made a displeased noise.
"Oh, don't get like that, man," Dan said, "I've been closer to you in the past few hours than I ever wanted to get to you."
Ella started laughing.
Lucifer and Dan exchanged confused looks and then looked back to Ella. Her laughter slowly tapered off.
"Thanks, guys," Ella smiled.
"For what?" Lucifer and Dan asked at the same time.
"For still being you," Ella said and left it at that. She gently nudged Dan back so she could come around to Lucifer's back to set the wing. She let Lucifer know she was about to touch him, then she set it swiftly and cleanly.
"Thank you," Lucifer let out a relieved sigh and reflexively flexed his wing. She gently patted his back in the area between where his wings sprouted out in a silent "You're welcome."
"Now, let's get those last few bullets out of you and clean you up," Ella smiled.