Ella had left Alexander alone after half an hour so that he could close his eyes for a while. She knew what was likely to follow, so she kept that in mind as much as possible, regardless of the myriad questions that still haunted her brain. It had been a damn long day that had taken a lot of energy and brought a few surprises. He lay on his couch in a kind of waking sleep. Waiting for the inevitable, for Lucifer to reach the point that threatened to derail him. Something he had no intention of letting happen. Not so much because he needed the Lightbringer immediately, but more because he had decided that Lucifer had gotten enough on his plate over the past millennia that he absolutely did not deserve. What began as a nagging feeling he'd tried to avoid as long as possible in exchange for a few extra minutes of half-sleep grew stronger and stronger until he couldn't put it off any longer. With a sigh, he opened his eyes, sat up straight, and muttered:
"Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't it be the father keeping the son on track? Or is everything upside down in this universe?"
With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared from his loft and appeared in the doorway of the rooftop terrace of the Lux penthouse. He immediately saw that every fiber in the Devil's body was more than tense and that the Devil was about to throw a glass rock hard in the direction of the bar and his own reflection behind it. Alexander's soft words startled Lucifer, who turned with a jerk.
"Isn't it a shame you're the Devil and not a vampire? Imagine never having to look at yourself in the mirror and throw glasses at your own head again."
"Alexander? What are you doing here?"
"Ah, you know, I couldn't sleep and thought I'd have a chat with my favorite Diablo."
The young Antichrist sauntered over to the bar and sat down on a stool. Although Lucifer didn't really seem to understand what was happening, he was distracted enough to forget his anger for a moment. Alex said:
"Do you happen to have any tomato juice? I saw earlier that you have a bottle of Stoli limited edition vodka in your fridge. I'd actually like a shot."
Now Lucifer understood even less what was happening, but he went behind the bar and filled a glass of tomato juice with a generous splash of the very expensive vodka. Curious, he said:
"The detective would not appreciate me serving alcohol to a boy your age."
Alexander chuckled and replied:
"Celestial, you know, this stuff hardly affects us, as you prove to these people every day. Besides, it was your sister, Rae Rae, who introduced me to the taste. Not that I'm in the habit of starting my day with a glass or two like you. Drinking a glass is an exception rather than the norm. If it happens a few times a year, it will be a lot."
The look in Lucifer's eyes brightened a bit; a smile appeared around his lips, and he said:
"Oh, please do tell. How did my little sister tempt you, then? I didn't know she was in the temptation business. I thought that was more my area."
Alexander nodded:
"Yes, it seems that a bit of the revolutionary you have been was passed on to her."
Alex smiled broadly, and his eyes lit up with pleasure as he said:
"It was Cas's and my twelfth birthday when Rae Rae showed up with two large baskets and pulled out and displayed an arsenal of bottles. She had a simple message: pick your favorite. Cas replied that we were only twelve and alcohol was very inappropriate. Rae Rae's argument was that we were Celestials and therefore more or less immune. After a while, I understood her emphasis on "more or less." Man, what a buzz I had for a few hours."
Lucifer laughed out loud and pointed to the bottle of vodka.
"And this turns out to be your favorite?"
The boy nodded vigorously:
"Yes, the stuff you drink, or the cognac Pap drinks, is too pure for me. I prefer a mix, and since tomato juice is my favorite drink, the choice was pretty limited. So it became vodka. Apparently I inherited your taste buds, because I only go for the top brands and the more exclusive bottlings."
Lucifer replied playfully:
"Good thing you inherited something from me, boy, because it's definitely not your choice of clothing."
The boy grinned and landed a small jab with his words:
"Oh, make no mistake, Diablo Mio, I too wear three-piece suits from time to time. The difference between us? The suits make you look better when you wear them, while I simply make the suits look better by wearing them."
With an almost perfect imitation of Lucifer's accent, he finished perfectly:
"I am simply the divine muse for the designers; Versace would have sold his soul to have me as a model."
This last one made Lucifer laugh out loud, and Alexander felt that his burning fuse was almost extinguished. He thought this was the perfect time to move on to the more serious reason for his visit. He asked:
"I was under the impression that this bar had to be replaced a few times in the past due to, hmmm, let's say, minor family disagreements."
Lucifer, a little serious again, poured himself another whiskey and said:
"The bar, the piano, the whole penthouse, yes. I can't seem to stop pushing Amenadiel's buttons during discussions, and it usually ends with a phone call I have to make the next morning to get everything back in order."
Alex nodded and said:
"I heard something like that, yes. What was it? Just getting rid of some stress when you were fighting, because we both know that if you really wanted to, Amenadiel wouldn't have a chance and would get the beating of his life."
The Devil thought for a moment, nodded, and said:
"Mostly, yes. Either he was irritating me by endlessly discussing Father and the boundless goodness of his intentions. Or I was frustrated even before he started because of the things that were happening in my existence here that I couldn't make sense of. It was a kind of outlet—an expensive but effective outlet."
Now it was Alexander who nodded and asked:
"Why did you want to destroy your bar now? More specifically, your mirror. So frustrated with yourself?"
The look in Lucifer's eyes darkened; he said nothing for a while, and the Antichrist remained silent. Patiently waiting for the high word to come out. After taking a few sips from his glass, Lucifer finally said:
"The detective saw my devil face and fled. She came back with a priest and plans to send me to Hell because that's where she thinks I belong. Mankind is afraid of me because I am a monster. I think I belong in hell. Father thought so, many of my brothers and sisters thought so and still think so. Maybe they are right."
Alexander was silent for a few seconds and then asked:
"Remember how I said I was incredibly angry with you when I was seven?"
The devil looked at him, not understanding, and nodded.
"That was because I believed you were an idiot, and I still do, in some way."
Lucifer frowned, but Alexander continued:
"The Lightbringer, if the stories are to be believed, which I have come to very seriously doubt. Are you sure your little brother Vaol, Heaven's version of Shakespeare, did not take some poetic liberties by writing about you? He wrote that you were supposed to be the smartest, most beautiful, most perfect angel Grandpa and Grandma ever created, the heir apparent, the original rebel. The angel who had no qualms about telling God to His face that He was not perfect because He had made mistakes in His design of man. But also the perfection of heavenly justice. You cannot tolerate injustice when you see it, no matter who is the subject of that injustice: man, woman, child, or Angel. Of course, that made you unable to restrain yourself from demanding that Angels be given the same freedoms as humans instead of being some sort of half-free slaves to the throne in heaven. And why wouldn't you do that, Lightbringer? Where is the equality, the fairness, the justice in elevating one species over another? You know the result all too well, for you have been in hell almost since the beginning of mankind. When one race thinks it is better than another race and sees that race as a commodity, useful as merchandise and free labor, where is the justice? Even if you had wanted to keep your mouth shut, you would not have been able to, because this is the nature in which you were created. In your case, it was the Angels who were disadvantaged by Grandfather's new project, humanity. You stood up not only for yourself but also for all your brothers and sisters because you wanted equality. Probably more for them than for yourself. You may think otherwise, Diablo Mio, but you are as see-through as a window. You have put on the show, the persona of a selfish guy always looking out to get the better and amuse yourself at all costs. In reality, you always have others in your mind who come first. Over the millennia, people ended up in hell with stories about the devil. Stories that became more and more insane. The origins of the stories were whispered to people by zealots like Amenadiel and especially Uriel, who, by the way, came up with the idea and pushed the others to do the same. Man himself made these stories stronger, more powerful, and more horrifying. And why? Because man needs a scapegoat on which to hang all his unfortunate doings. All the bad things that happen are suddenly the Devil's fault. The icing on the cake is that the Devil becomes an excuse for their unsavory behavior and unspeakable sins. The devil made me do it. The more of these stories you heard over the millennia in the various cells of hell, the more you came to believe that you were the Devil. How many times did you enter a cell of one of those vile souls who are rightfully in Hell to be accused of being the cause of his or her stay in Hell?"
Alexander drained his glass and held it out to Lucifer for a refill, and as he did so, the Antichrist came to the point of his story:
"You believe in the devil as humans do, and you have identified yourself with this idea. The problem is, Lucifer, you do not believe in a person, the Devil, but in an idea built on innumerable lies. You believe in a personification; you have made yourself into a personification. I cannot imagine that you, who are so eager to have intelligent conversations, have never talked in Hell to some of the greatest thinkers history has known. If only to break the daily grind of existence in Hell as much as possible. And yet you cannot distinguish between the fallen archangel, the King of Hell, and the Devil. To you, the King of Hell is synonymous with the Devil. The problem is that the Devil does not exist, that the Devil is a personification, as has been said. People are not afraid of the fallen angel. People are afraid of the legend of the devil. So you cannot make the distinction that people are not afraid of you. They are afraid of the myth that you represent, the Devil, Satan, Baba Yaga, the Boogeyman. But you are not a personification, Lucifer. Take Chloe as an example. She is not afraid of Lucifer Morningstar; she is afraid of Satan, Beelzebul, Old Scratch. After her return from Rome, when you began to work together again, she began to see the difference between the person Lucifer and the legends that are circulating."
"But why did she go through with it? Why did she show up for our first date with a priest and a vial of poison by her side?"
Lucifer asked, the heartbreak clearly evident in his voice. Alex shook his head gently and said:
"I really have no idea, Diablo Mio. She's intelligent enough to know the difference, so we can't blame everything on fear or simple stupidity. All I would dare suggest is to let some time pass and then talk to her again when things have calmed down."
The Devil was silent for a while, and Alexander knew that this conversation was not over. After several minutes, Lucifer said:
"This was not the only betrayal in the time we have worked together. She herself once accused me of lying. Me and lying, imagine! But I've thought about it, and from the beginning she wanted to change me. She wants me to become someone I'm not."
All Alex said was:
"Yep..."
He wanted Lucifer to put the rest of the story and the conclusions he had drawn into words himself.
"She thinks I am irresponsible. Yes, in some ways she is right. She wants me to act like what she sees as a grown man. But I am mature; I am older than this bloody universe! I act the way I do because I just want to have fun. Because I want the people around me to have fun. Her dislike of my copious drug use and my, you know... lifestyle, I can understand when I see it in the context of her being an LAPD detective and a woman who wants to be in a monogamous relationship. But I don't hurt anyone with my behavior. At least not intentionally. I know I have hurt her a few times with my idiotic and premature behavior."
There was a moment of silence, and Alex asked quietly:
"Do you think that is reason enough to send you to hell? Do you think that if you walked into a cell in Hell and met a murderess who told you a similar story—that she had killed her boyfriend because he had allegedly hurt her a few times—that you would show compassion, call Azrael, and tell her to take that soul to Heaven immediately because she is innocent? Why don't you immediately have Rae Rae temporarily bring in half of Michael's warriors and have them bring up the souls of Vlad Tepes, an army of drug dealers, a bunch of dictators, and most of the serial killers, because they too were victims of hurt by their family and friends, betrayal, and much worse, like torture and sexual abuse? So are they instantly innocent, or are all their later wrongdoings swept under the rug because they were hurt first?"
Lucifer shook his head gently, but Alexander was obviously not finished.
"What makes you think you love her?"
The father looked at his son and said doubtfully:
"Love her? I don't know if I love her; I don't know if I'm capable of loving anyone."
Alex took a sip from the glass the Devil handed him and said brusquely:
"Like I said, an idiot who doesn't see what's in front of him, who doesn't see that there have been people throughout history who have loved you exactly as you are, who have never wanted to change you. Oscar Wilde, Leonardo, Rae Rae, and many of your siblings, your little brother J, even my mother, were in love with Lucifer Morningstar. I can give you the names of three people today who love Lucifer Morningstar for who he is. But you don't see it because you are blinded by your belief that you are the devil, a monster. Unworthy of the love of others and incapable of returning that love."
Lucifer looked at him without understanding. Alexander sighed deeply and said:
"May Grandma help me to keep me from hitting you over the head with a frying pan! Do you recognize Linda, Ella, and Bee for what they are and not for who they are? Do you think they see you as an acquaintance who they only befriend because you are someone who might do them a favor if they need it? Take Ella, for example. She left Detroit to come to life here in LA. Okay, Rae Rae had a bit to do with that because Ella needed a little push away from the darkness and into the light. She lives here in a tiny godforsaken apartment, with a chicken no less, and drives a deathtrap on wheels; she cannot afford more because this damn city is that expensive. She knows that you are loaded, but did she ever ask you to help her out? To find her a better, safer place to live and a nicer set of wheels? She knows all you would need to do that was make one simple call, and all her problems, the material ones, would be history, and it would cost you not a dime to get it done. No, she did not because she likes you as a friend and she loves you as you are. She would never consider jeopardizing your friendship over something as trivial as money. And she definitely does not want to make a deal with you because you are her friend and not because you are the Devil. If you think otherwise, you are even more lost than I thought. These three love you, Lucifer, in their own way, and they care about you more than you ever imagined, because in that bulbous head of yours, no one can love Lucifer Morningstar the Devil. They don't care that you're the King of Hell; they don't care what the world thinks of the Devil. They don't see the Devil; they see Lucifer, a friend they love. You make a double mistake. The mistake of seeing yourself as an imaginary personification created by people looking for something to blame for all their own sins and misdeeds. Your second and more unforgivable mistake is to see them as all the other people who see you as that crappy personification without giving them a single chance to prove you otherwise."
Alex took another sip and said:
"Tell me, diablo mio. Let's say for a moment that things between you and Chloe had worked out the way you'd hoped and the whole Cain debacle never came to pass. Would you have ever told her the truth about yourself, and I don't mean in that superficial way that people here in LA have come to personalize with your stick as the devil? Or would you have let her figure it out for herself by noticing that she was getting older and you weren't aging a day? And when you were with her, did it ever occur to you that this would make you Bee's stepfather, and what that would mean? That the role of father, or in this case stepfather, would not be limited to playing board games a few hours a week and throwing some of that pile of money of yours at every problem in her life. Have you ever considered that if Chloe wanted to be with you, Bee definitely would be part of that package, and that Chloe would expect you to take on the role of a father figure? Not just the fun aspects, but also the serious aspects that come with raising a child?"
Lucifer looked at him wide-eyed. The idea that he should be Beatrice's father on all fronts had never occurred to him before. Yes, he was willing to do everything in his power for the girl, but that was the material side. He had never thought about the emotional side. He put his head in his hands and mumbled:
"Oh dear, what am I going to do? I really have no idea anymore. My head is spinning, and I can't control it."
Alexander got up and walked to the terrace. Just before he reached the door, he turned and said:
"This is why I said go home, Lucifer, and think without distractions. Start with the most important question and work your way down the list."
Lucifer looked at him and asked, almost pleadingly:
"And what is that question?"
"Do you want to continue this foolishness and pursue something that clearly doesn't exist on her side? No matter how much Chloe will ever do her best and how normal she will ever be again, in her mind you are Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil in his human disguise, and the Devil is your real self. Do you really want to continue working with her, pretending that nothing has happened and torturing yourself day after day with the thought that you are chasing a mirage? Or are you really going to accept that you're still the Morning Star and start surrounding yourself with people who see Lucifer as your real self and the Devil as some kind of uniform you've been wearing for millennia in Hell?"
The Devil squeezed his eyes shut and said quietly:
"I don't know if I can ever work with her again, but my work for the LAPD has given me so much satisfaction, and the bond I have there with so many officers... euch... lights up my soul. How can I leave that behind?"
Alexander winked at Lucifer and said:
"You don't have to, idiot devil. You just have to change your perspective. Ask for a new partner, and you can continue to do your job and stay surrounded by the people you care about."
Without saying another word or expecting a response from Lucifer, Alexander disappeared from the balcony and immediately fell onto his bed. All the energy had drained out of him, and he couldn't even bring himself to undress and crawl under the covers. He simply fell on top of the covers and fell into a deep sleep. Lucifer, meanwhile, had quietly sat down on a bar stool and pondered his son's words into the wee hours of the morning. Then he also made his way to the beach house. He hoped that Doc Linda had recovered a bit and could shed some light on an idea that had been slowly growing in his brain.