Watching over you ✔ (Lucifer fanfiction/Deckerstar)

Forty-one years since Lucifer went back to Hell

My dear readers,

this is already the last chapter of this story, and by far the longest. I hope it won't leave you too depressed, I kind of had this in my head and had to write it down. (I'd say "The devil made me do it", but he wouldn't approve :-)). I'm sure I'll write something else for Deckerstar in the future, and I promise it's going to be happier than this one.

Anyway, thanks for reading this story and for leaving votes or comments. That always makes my day.

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It took three years until Azrael showed up in Hell to let Lucifer know there wasn't much time left for his Detective.

"And exactly how much is 'not much'?" Lucifer asked with a snarl.

He knew it was wrong, wasn't fair. It wasn't Azrael's decision to make, she was only doing what she had to do, what she had been doing since the beginning of time. Yet still, he couldn't stop himself from blaming her for not rebelling against their Father's orders just this once. He had been dreading her visit ever since their last encounter on the roof, and now that she was here, a part of him refused to believe it was real.

Azrael looked down at her feet or at the lava rock she was standing on, he wouldn't know.

He apprehended the answer to his question.

"A few days. Maybe," she eventually admitted.

"I see."

His voice was hard, free of emotions, because he couldn't allow himself to give in to them now. Not yet. He pushed them aside, and although they didn't go away, he managed to ignore them somehow with the force of stubborn willpower, no matter what Linda had said about facing them.

Instead, he gathered all his courage for the most difficult trip to Earth he would ever have to take. He had to go up, and fast. If there was little time left, he wanted to make the most of it. What had he been doing down in Hell, waiting for Azrael's message to arrive? He could have gone up earlier. However, he had been paralysed by his fear of seeing the Detective die.

But he wouldn't be a coward any longer. He pushed Azrael's silver feather in between his white ones and, casting one last look at his sister and his doomed kingdom that expanded around them, steadied himself and took flight.

This time, Lucifer didn't immediately track down the Detective. First, he stopped by the place he had once used to call his home. Landing swiftly on the balcony overlooking the city, he folded away his wings and swung the glass doors aside. At first glance, the penthouse looked as he had left it, except for some items that appeared to have been moved. While the bar and his piano looked untouched, someone had to have searched his bookshelf, as the books were not sorted the same way he had left them. After a brief tour of the rest of his apartment, Lucifer ended up at the bar and grabbed the most expensive whiskey from the top shelf. He didn't bother to pour it into a glass, he drank straight from the bottle. Oh, how much he had missed the smoky taste in his mouth and the burn in his throat that followed it.

After emptying both the best and the second best bottle, he felt the closest he'd ever be to calling himself prepared for visiting the Detective. He could have flown there in the blink of an eye, but he preferred to walk and take in the scenes playing out in the streets around him. And just maybe, he was also procrastinating, though he'd never admit it.

Darkness had already fallen when he arrived at an apartment building he had never seen before. With a stroke of wing he got up to the third floor. He listened carefully for any sounds from outside her apartment, but all was quiet. With his heart pounding in his ears, he unlocked the door and opened it to slip inside. All lights were turned out, and Lucifer held his breath. He was more than a little relieved when he heard a soft snoring from one of the rooms.