AN: 3.4k words. Let me know if there are any mistakes.
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Lucifer stood outside Lux beneath the glow of the club’s sign, spinning his Pentecostal Coin over his palm using telekinesis while the line of waiting guests stretched along the sidewalk.
Camera flashes sparked occasionally from the crowd, mostly aimed at wealthy idiots, minor celebrities, and people who had convinced themselves that being photographed outside a nightclub counted as achievement.
Lucifer barely paid attention to them.
His gaze remained on the coin moving between his fingers. His thoughts were nowhere near as relaxed as his face suggested.
The butterfly effect had already started.
Maze had changed her behavior. Amenadiel had felt his strength and left more shaken than he should have been. The original chain of events was already bending out of shape, which meant his future knowledge might become unreliable sooner than expected.
That was dangerous.
Knowing what came next had been his biggest advantage. If the timeline kept changing, then soon he would be standing inside a world that only looked familiar, while the real dangers moved in directions he could no longer predict.
Lucifer caught the coin and closed his fist around it.
“Well,” he muttered beneath his breath, “that’s mildly inconvenient.”
A taxi slowed near the curb in front of Lux.
Lucifer’s eyes shifted toward it at once.
The rear window rolled down, and a familiar face appeared beneath the soft spill of streetlight. Blonde hair, tired eyes, expensive makeup trying to hide exhaustion, and the kind of smile people wore when they were either about to charm the room or collapse in the middle of it.
Delilah.
The line outside Lux reacted instantly. People turned, whispered, gasped, and lifted their phones like worshippers raising candles before a fallen saint. A few called her name. Someone near the front tried to take a picture, while another person started recording as if tragedy had become entertainment with better lighting.
Delilah ignored all of them.
Her eyes found Lucifer, and for one second, the noise around the entrance seemed to fade behind her.
“Remember me?” she asked, her voice carrying a playful edge that could not completely hide the cracks underneath.
Lucifer smiled as he stepped closer to the taxi, polished and charming enough to make half the crowd lean in just to hear him better.
“Of course I do,” he said lightly. “You’re famous. Delilah, isn’t it? Tremendous voice, questionable taste in men, and I believe you still owe me an autograph.”
Delilah laughed softly, though it sounded fragile enough to break if anyone touched it too roughly.
“I’ll sign whatever you want if you buy me a drink.”
"That can be arranged." He walked over and opened the taxi door and offered her his hand. “Well then, my dear, I suppose we’d better get you inside before the vultures mistake themselves for journalists.”
Delilah took his hand and stepped out, flashing the crowd a tired little smile as Lucifer guided her past the velvet rope. People shouted her name, phones followed her movement, and Lucifer resisted the urge to knock every camera into the gutter.
...
Inside Lux, the music wrapped around them instantly.
Lucifer led Delilah through the crowd toward a private booth near the side.
Maze watched from near the bar.
Her eyes moved from Delilah to Lucifer, and Lucifer could practically feel the question forming inside her head. He gave her the smallest glance, nothing obvious enough for Delilah to notice, but enough for Maze to understand that he didn't wish to be disturbed right now.
Maze’s posture shifted slightly. 'A threesome? Even better.'
Delilah slid into the booth and leaned back with a sigh, as if the simple act of sitting somewhere familiar had removed a weight from her shoulders. Lucifer sat across from her and signaled for drinks without looking away.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Delilah stared at the table, tracing one finger along the edge of the polished wood while the smile slowly faded from her face.
Lucifer let the silence breathe before tilting his head.
“So,” he said gently, “why come back tonight?”
Delilah looked up at him, and the confidence she carried for the cameras slipped enough to reveal the frightened woman underneath.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Feel safe here, I guess. Reminds me of how it was before everything got so big and messy."
Lucifer’s expression softened slightly.
Delilah swallowed and forced a small laugh that never really reached her eyes.
"And you... sometimes I feel like you were the only one who was ever really honest with me.”
“Careful,” Lucifer said with a faint smile. “Keep complimenting me like that, and I may start blushing.”
She smiled for half a second, then it disappeared again.
"But... I need to ask something."
Lucifer leaned back, watching her carefully. “Ask away.”
Delilah looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. Then she looked up at his face and asked, “Did I sell my soul to the Devil?”
The question landed heavier than she probably intended.
Lucifer’s smile thinned.
In his memory, this conversation had been playful at first, wrapped in sarcasm and theatrical charm. Now, sitting across from her with the knowledge of what almost happened next, he found it much harder to laugh.
He still did, just softly.
“That would require the Devil to be interested in owning your soul,” Lucifer said. “I know the films and tabloids love that sort of nonsense, but they do tend to get the details wildly wrong.”
Delilah studied him closely before saying, "Come on, you took me in off the street, let me sing up there anytime I wanted. I told you I wanted to be a star and that’s when things started happening for me. And you do call yourself Lucifer."
Lucifer rested one arm along the back of the booth.
“Call me whatever you want, but I’m really just a patron of the arts. Honestly, I introduced you to people who owed me favors. A few musicians, one label executive, three promoters, and a man who once lost a very embarrassing poker game against me in Monaco.”
Delilah blinked at him.
“Monaco?”
“Long story. Beautiful view. Terrible trousers.”
Despite herself, Delilah laughed again.
Lucifer let her have that little breath of amusement before speaking more softly. “I did not take your soul, Delilah. I helped the world notice what was already there.”
Her eyes glistened, and she leaned forward a little, suddenly looking much younger than the woman whose face had been plastered across magazines and gossip sites.
“Do you really think I’m talented?”
Lucifer did not hesitate. "Of course. You have one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard. It’s sweet, dirty, sexy, soulful..."
Delilah’s lips trembled into a tiny smile.
Lucifer continued, keeping his tone steady while his gaze stayed on her face. “You were already a star when you walked onto my stage. I merely helped the rest of humanity catch up.”
For a moment, Delilah looked like she might cry right there in the booth.
Then she looked away and rubbed carefully beneath one eye, saving her makeup through sheer stubbornness.
“It doesn’t feel that simple,” she said. “Because along with the good came a hell of a lot of bad."
Lucifer leaned back in his seat. "Oh, so the Devil made you do it? The alcohol, the drugs, the topless selfies? Your choices are on you, my dear."
She agreed, "You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But the toxic relationships were my biggest screw-up. God, I really do have the worst taste in men..."
Lucifer gave her a pointed look.
“Yes, your romantic decision-making has been a genuine crime against taste.”
Delilah let out a wet little laugh. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
“Jimmy produced my album,” she said, her voice tightening around the name. “You introduced me to him.”
“I suggested you work with him,” Lucifer replied, lifting one finger. “At no point did I recommend inviting that sweaty little goblin into your bed, your life, or any wedding-related decision.”
Delilah groaned and covered part of her face with one hand.
“I got confused.”
“Yes,” Lucifer said smoothly. “That does appear to be a recurring theme.”
She lowered her hand and looked at him with tired frustration.
“I left him at the altar.”
“An excellent choice, though the timing lacked elegance.”
"Yeah, that was pretty rude of me," Delilah said after remembering the past. "He trapped me in the bathroom at the Grammys a month ago. Cried. Said he wanted to get back together. Then I hear he’s marrying some supermodel this weekend."
Lucifer’s gaze sharpened.
Jimmy Barnes.
His name was already starting to taste like punishment.
Delilah laughed again, but this time it almost cracked into something uglier.
“I’m such a mess.”
Lucifer leaned forward, the playful mask fading just enough for her to notice the man beneath it.
“You're a mess,” he said.
Delilah’s face fell slightly.
Lucifer held her gaze. “But you're not a lost cause, and you're not some tragic little headline waiting to be written by parasites with cameras.”
She stared at him, caught between hurt and hope.
Lucifer lowered his voice. “You did not sell your soul. You made choices. Some were foolish, some were reckless, and some were made while surrounded by people who should have protected you instead of profiting from your collapse.”
Delilah’s breathing became uneven.
“But the choices are still yours,” Lucifer continued. “That means you can make different ones.”
Her eyes filled properly now, though she tried to blink the tears back.
“I let you down.”
Something inside Lucifer twisted.
The old Lucifer might have deflected. He might have turned it into a joke, poured another drink, and hidden any real feeling behind charm. Karl could feel that instinct still sitting inside him, polished and familiar.
This time, he ignored it.
“Yes,” Lucifer said quietly. “You did.”
Delilah flinched.
Lucifer reached across the table and gently tapped two fingers against the back of her hand, enough to pull her attention back without making the moment too soft.
“So fix it.”
Delilah stared at him.
Lucifer’s expression warmed slightly, though his voice stayed firm.
“You owe me a favor, Delilah. I think it is time to collect.”
She gave him a nervous little smile through the tears.
“Should I be scared?” She asked.
“Terrified,” Lucifer said at once. “Because what I am about to ask will require discipline, honesty, and far fewer disastrous men with recording equipment.”
That earned him another broken laugh.
Lucifer leaned closer, letting each word land clearly.
“Pull yourself together. Get clean. Get away from the people feeding off your worst habits. Sing because you love it, not because a room full of vultures needs another corpse with a platinum record.”
Delilah went still.
The words struck harder than he intended, but Lucifer did not take them back.
He could still see the street outside Lux in his memory. The gunfire and blood. Then the screaming. The stupid, senseless waste of a woman who had come to him for help just a few minutes too late.
Not this time.
Delilah wiped at her face again and took a shaky breath.
“You make it sound easy.”
“It'll be awful,” Lucifer replied honestly. “You'll hate half of it, avoid most of it, and almost certainly throw at least one expensive object at someone who deserves worse.”
A small smile appeared on her face.
Lucifer smiled back.
“But you'll survive it. And once you do, you'll still have that voice and your life. Both are worth far more than another scandal or another man who mistakes access for love.”
Delilah looked down at his hand near hers.
For the first time since she arrived, the panic in her face loosened.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll try.”
Lucifer’s eyes softened.
“No, darling. Trying is what people say when they are already negotiating with failure.”
Delilah looked up again.
Lucifer’s smile returned, gentle but sharp at the edges.
“You will do it.”
She let out a trembling breath, then nodded.
“I’ll do it.”
“There we are,” Lucifer said, leaning back with satisfaction. “Much better. Personal growth with a drink nearby. Practically civilized.”
Delilah laughed quietly, and this time the sound carried something real inside it.
Hope.
Maze watched from the background, her eyes narrowed slightly.
She had seen Lucifer charm people before. She had seen him seduce, mock, manipulate, punish, entertain, and destroy boredom with the same reckless brilliance he brought to everything else. This was different.
He was still Lucifer.
But for one strange moment, Maze saw something in him that looked almost protective.
That made her curious.
It also made her slightly uncomfortable, which annoyed her more than anything else that had happened tonight.
Delilah sat back in the booth and looked around Lux, her eyes moving across the lights, the stage, and the crowd that had once made her feel invincible.
“I missed this place,” she said softly.
Lucifer followed her gaze toward the stage.
“It missed you too. Though in fairness, the stage has terrible standards. It allows almost anyone up there after midnight.”
Delilah smiled properly this time.
Lucifer returned the smile, though his attention had already shifted.
....
[15 minutes later] [Outside Lux]
Lucifer walked beside Delilah along the side street outside Lux.
Delilah kept close to him, calmer now than she had been earlier. The fear in her eyes had not completely disappeared, but the conversation inside had helped enough for her to breathe without looking like she was about to fall apart.
She glanced back toward the club doors, then toward the stage lights flashing through the windows.
“Can I come back sometimes?” Delilah asked. “Sing on the stage like old times?”
Lucifer looked at her with a small smile.
“Anytime,” he said. “That stage is yours whenever you want it.”
Delilah nodded slowly.
For a second, she only stared at him, as if she wanted to say something more but could not find the right words. Then she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug.
Lucifer froze for the briefest moment before his arms settled around her.
Delilah held onto him with more strength than he expected. It wasn't glamorous or polished like the version of herself she showed the public. It was desperate, grateful, and painfully human.
Lucifer’s expression softened slightly as he looked over her shoulder toward the street.
Then his eyes sharpened. 'Here we go.'
A piece-of-shit car slowed to a stop in front of them.
Lucifer noticed the sounds before anyone else did. He heard the engine and noticed the window go down. He saw the weapon being raised. His body moved before Delilah could respond.
The first shot rang out.
Lucifer turned her around instantly, putting himself between Delilah and the shooter. He wanted to use his speed to get her away, but she was human. If he moved too fast with her in his arms, he might injure her worse than the bullets would.
So he took the shots instead.
Bullets slammed into him one after another, tearing through his clothes and leaving smoking holes across his suit. The force pushed him back slightly, but nothing pierced his skin. 'Arg! It stings.'
Delilah cried out as two bullets grazed her right palm, which was on Lucifer's back and shoulder.
Lucifer tightened his hold around her and kept his body in front of hers until the shooting stopped.
Before the shooter could fire again, a city bus came barreling into the street and smashed into the side of the car with brutal force. The impact threw the vehicle across the road, crushing metal and scattering glass across the pavement.
For one breathless second, everything went still.
Then the screaming began.
People outside Lux shouted and scattered. Phones lifted. The bus hissed as it stopped. The wrecked car sat twisted near the curb, smoke rising from its broken frame.
Lucifer let out an unholy groan as he pushed himself upright. His clothes were torn open with smoking bullet holes, but there were no entry wounds. Not a single mark sat beneath the ruined fabric.
He looked down at Delilah.
She was alive.
Her eyes were wide with terror as she stared up at him, breathing fast and unevenly. Her right palm was bleeding, and blood stained the fabric near her shoulder.
Lucifer’s jaw tightened.
“Wait here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
Delilah stared at him, too shocked to answer properly or feel the pain.
Lucifer stood and walked toward the wrecked car, anger burning beneath every step.
The shooter’s body had been thrown from the crumpled vehicle and lay among broken glass near the curb. He was badly injured, but still alive, his breathing shallow and uneven as Lucifer stopped in front of him.
Lucifer looked down at him with cold fury.
“You shouldn’t have done that. Now, look at you... Ever heard of Karma?” His devil face flickered for a moment, just long enough for the shooter to realize who he was dealing with, right before his death.
The shooter's voice came out broken and terrified. He knew the devil had come to claim his soul, and he was going to hell. So, he wanted to give the devil a clue or something so that he'll take it easy on him in hell.
“I... I’m sorry... I just pulled the trigger for money...”
He coughed hard, his body shaking once before going still.
He was dead.
Lucifer turned away and walked back to Delilah while pulling out his phone. She was still on the ground, holding her injured palm close to her chest as her shoulder continued bleeding. He crouched beside her and called for an ambulance.
“I need an ambulance outside Lux,” Lucifer said, his voice controlled despite the anger in his eyes. “Female victim, bullet wounds to the right palm and right shoulder. She’s alive and conscious.”
He ended the call and looked at Delilah.
She stared at the smoking holes in his clothes, then at his face, unable to understand what she had just seen.
Lucifer pressed one hand gently near her shoulder to slow the bleeding.
For a moment, his thoughts turned inward.
'I should’ve seduced her and kept her inside the club. If he had done that, maybe she wouldn't have been hurt at all.'
But if he had changed too much, he might not have met Chloe tonight. He might not have met Linda the same way either. The whole chain could have shifted into something worse.
His gaze dropped to the blood on Delilah’s hand.
'Tsk. She still got hurt.'
Sirens began to rise in the distance.
"You got shot! Then how...?" Delilah whispered, still in shock.
"Because I'm immortal," Lucifer said with his classic smile.
...
Up on top of a building stood Amenadiel. He was glaring at Lucifer so ominously that if anyone saw his expression, they'd wonder: is he observing this moment? Or did he cause it?
...
[Approx. 10 minutes later]
The cops and ambulance arrived at the same time. The medics took Delilah to the hospital. Meanwhile, Lucifer went to his penthouse and changed his clothes.
Maze walked out of the elevator. She went straight to him and asked, "You saved a human?"
Lucifer put on his coat and said, "Yes. Maze. I did. She owed me a favor. So, I couldn't let her die yet."
Then he turned toward her. She was still in her party dress. He walked closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to an intimate hug. Maze didn't resist; instead, she was enjoying the moment. She lifted her face with a smile. Their lips were almost touching.
"Stop thinking about what I did... instead, think about what I'm gonna do with you after I talk to those cops," He whispered against her lips.
"Should I get a couple of dancers?" Maze asked softly.
"No," Lucifer's hand slowly shifted lower. He cupped her butt cheeks and gave them a nice squeeze. "I want to ravish you... only you, tonight."
Maze was about to cup his cheeks and just kiss him, but to her disappointment, he pulled back like a fucking tease. He then winked at her before walking toward the elevator.
"By the way, you look beautiful tonight."
...
[Back at the crime scene]
The cops were swarming around the place. An unmarked cop car pulled up. The door opened... LAPD homicide detective Chloe Decker got out.
--