Six weeks. That’s how long he had been staying in the quiet safety of his mother’s old sanctuary. Time passed differently here — gently. But no amount of time softened the pain in his chest. The nightmares. The aching guilt. The way his hands shook when Anya cried too long. Or when he looked at his reflection and didn’t recognize the man he saw.
Lucifer sat hunched on a velvet-cushioned bench, swaddled in a silk robe. Virgil was asleep, nestled in his bassinet. Anya was curled in his arms, fussing softly. And Dawn stood nearby — stirring honey into tea — waiting, watching her son fall apart in slow motion.
Dawn: You’re not talking, Luci.
Lucifer: There’s nothing left to say.
Dawn: There’s always something left. Especially when you’re still bleeding from it.
Lucifer doesn’t answer at first. His eyes are hollow. The tears haven’t come yet — they never do until he’s completely shattered.
Dawn: *sits beside him* What happened… that day?”
Lucifer swallows. The air feels heavier. Like grief has crawled into his lungs.
Lucifer: I wasn’t going into labor. I waited. A week past my due date. I thought I could handle it. I’ve handled worse. *scoffs bitterly* But then… Vox just… cut me open like I was nothing.
He shakes his head. He remembers the blade. The cold. The betrayal.
Lucifer: He violated me, Mama.”
Dawn doesn’t react with rage. No fire in her eyes. Just calm… and something older. Wiser.
Dawn: Would you like to see what he saw?
Lucifer: *flinches* No.
Dawn: Then you’ll keep living inside only your pain.
She doesn’t wait for his consent. She raises a glowing orb — warm and pulsing with golden memory — and it hovers in the air between them. Lucifer looks away… but curiosity, that cruel trait he inherited from her, finally wins. He watches.
🍎📺 🍎📺 🍎📺
Vox appears. Hunched over. Nervous. Pacing.
Vox: *on the projection* Lucifer, please. Just go get scanned. I’ll take you. I’ll hold your hand the whole damn time. Just—just let someone look at you.
Lucifer: *in the past, dismissive* I’m fine, Vox. It’s Hell. Everything hurts.
Scene after scene plays out — Vox begging, Lucifer brushing him off. Then…
Dawn: Watch closer.
Lucifer sees it: how pale he was. The bags under his eyes. The sway in his walk. The fainting spell he forgot about. The way Vox had caught him — trembling, eyes wide with panic — and had quietly carried him to bed. He sees Vox crying. Clearly worried. Clearly scared.
Then the day itself: Vox calling in angelic-steel tools. Shouting at the nurses. Covered in blood. Begging Lucifer to stay awake after he’d awoken during surgery.
Vox: *whispering* Don’t you dare leave me. Please. I love you.
Lucifer: *trembles, seeing Vox terrified, not triumphant*
The orb dims… but Dawn isn’t done.
Dawn: There’s more.
One year ago. Christmas. Vox — 10 months pregnant, how miserable he’d been. And Lucifer doing everything that went against Vox’s wishes.
The orb fades. Silence.
Lucifer: voice cracking* I didn’t… I didn’t realize…
His fingers dig into the edge of the bench. His wings shake violently. Anya whimpers in his arms.
Lucifer: *shattered* I thought he just wanted to control me. I didn’t see… I didn’t see anything.
Dawn: *pulls him into her arms like when he was young* Grief blinds us. But the truth has always been there, my son.
Lucifer lets out a broken sob and finally the flood comes. He cries so hard it knocks the air out of him. He curls into her lap like a child, shaking. The pain of betrayal replaced now with something worse: the pain of his own misunderstanding. The weight of it buries him.