Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What a productive week!” Charlie smiled brightly as she sat up from her slouch on the couch between Lucifer and her girlfriend (damn it, he could have sworn he still knew her name a second ago) in the new Hazbin Hotel parlour. “We got everything done so fast, I was sure it would be months before we got the hotel even remotely back up and running!” Her eyes began to water. “I am so so grateful for all of your help rebuilding, you have no idea—”

The bartender demon (oh looky there, another name gone Lucifer was sure he had known at the beginning of the night) lowered his however many^th bottle. “We got this far Princess, you’re stuck with us for the long haul.” His speech wasn’t even slightly slurred, Lucifer had no idea where the cat put all that alcohol.

Next to the guy... Pinky let out an over the top “Yeah!!” stretching all of his limbs wide. Lucifer might not know these people well yet, but it seemed significant even to him that the bartender remained completely unbothered by two arms brushing past his wings.

Alastor (because of course the name of that waste of space he could remember) nodded from his armchair, his ever present smile completely unmoved ever since he had sat down. Which Lucifer knew, because that creepy smile had been repeatedly pulling Lucifer’s eye during the past hour of relaxing conversation that neither Alastor, nor him, had actively participated in. And Lucifer had allowed his attention to be pulled into Alastor’s direction, because he knew that smile should be long gone by now. He could smell it, even while having the seat furthest away from Alastor.

The Radio Demon reeked of blood. Which usually Lucifer wouldn’t bother thinking about twice; most Sinners, especially the Overlords, had a certain tinge of blood in their scents, what with all the owning of souls and general volatile shows of power. But to Lucifer, King of Hell, it was an easy task to determine when demons reeked of their own blood. It inadvertently drew his attention. Maybe it was the remainder of his angelic self that longed to heal the hurting; maybe it was the corrupted, fallen part of his demonic self that longed to destroy the ones found weak and lacking; maybe it was just a father’s need to eradicate those posing a threat to his daughter. As much as Lucifer intended to respect Charlie’s choice of friends, he was very aware that Alastor had an agenda of his own.

Of course, all that would become a non-issue if Alastor simply bled out and died. Lucifer could let him. Pretend he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t caught the much more worrying scent of festering angelic power eating into the Sinner. None of Charlie’s other friends seemed to have noticed anything amiss, and Alastor’s behaviour and posture had been nothing but perfectly in character. The smile plastered in place, despite the excruciating amounts of pain he must be in.

The problem was that Lucifer had noticed. Had noticed immediately too, attention drawn in to Alastor the second he had reappeared. Most human-born demons did only have a surface level grasp of the metaphysical, but Lucifer had existed as a metaphysical being much much longer than corporal forms even were a thing, so of course he had immediately sensed that Alastor’s injury was eating him up from the inside, festering with a remainder of Adam’s radiance.

The part of him that was the King of Hell wanted to ignore it. But the King of Hell would never win over Charlie’s Father, a fact he had been intimately aware of since the very second he first sensed her growing little soul. And Charlie had decided that Alastor was a dear friend, an important part of the Hazbin Hotel family. So it didn’t matter how much Lucifer mistrusted and disliked him (though he had to give Alastor credit for having a good crack at fighting Adam, that wasn’t something he expected any demon, much less the Radio Demon, to do; unless he did actually care somewhat about Charlie’s endeavours here). Charlie had determined Alastor worth her love, so Lucifer couldn’t stand by and let him die an agonising slow death of radiant poisoning.

His staring at Alastor was interrupted by Charlie appearing in front of his face, a slightly teary-eyed “Thank you, dad!” falling from her lips before she hugged him tight. Lucifer hugged her back even tighter. Anything for his baby girl. Even if it meant saving the damn Radio Demon’s after-life. Charlie let him go after a long moment, turning back to her friends, tears finally spilling over as she said: “I love you guys so so much, you have no idea, just so so so so so so—”

“Alright, that is sleepy time for us,” her girlfriend spoke over Charlie, getting up and pulling Charlie with her by her hand. “We’ll be seeing all of you in the morning.” She met Lucifer’s eyes for a moment, a silent question whether he was going to stay or disappear again. He couldn’t blame her, it was reasonable for her to ask. Lucifer gave a tiny nod and she returned it, and then proceeded to gather a quietly sobbing Charlie into her arms and carried her off to their room.

Lucifer would still be here in the morning. And so would the Radio Demon, whether he wanted his help or not.

“Not sure I expected to be alive at this point,” Many Arms Chest Fluff drawled, another big stretch that ended with his legs thrown across the bartender’s lap this time, “but I definitely need another drink.”

“Well I can’t get up to make you one like this,” the bartender grumbled back, which had Fluff chuckling and tipping his head back over the armrest of the couch so he could smile at the other girl whose name Lucifer at least was 95% sure he had never known in the first place on account of never having seen her before the battle and not having been introduced in the week since.

“Cherri, darlin’, would you—”

“Fuck you!” She shot back, but got up. “I’m only going because I need another one myself!”

Lucifer couldn’t help the chuckle escaping him, aware it immediately drew all the attention to himself. Even Keekee jumped up onto the couch next to him, bumping her little head against his hand for pets. Lucifer obliged. “My daughter does pick the most interesting friends, doesn’t she?” He asked in Keekee’s direction, who happily flopped onto her back for some belly scritches. “Guess I really do have to stick around to see what other trouble she will get herself into.”

He knew exactly what kinds of looks he was getting without having to look up to see them. The guys lounging on the couch were surprised, but overall weren’t bothered by the thought; Cherry (?) was filled with a sudden rush of not quite fear, but certainly something stronger than worry; the little maid appeared from... somewhere, all overly excited and happy; and Alastor— for the fragment of a second that Lucifer would have missed if he hadn’t been paying attention, his smile pinched.

“Well then,” Alastor said, the radio static crackling over his voice a little stronger than usual, “I too shall turn in for the evening.”

“Not yet.” The entire atmosphere shifted in response to Lucifer’s words. The lights flickered and dimmed, the shadows in the corners of the room growing darker as the temperature dropped. Alastor’s eyes snapped to him, and Lucifer met his icy stare with a cold determination of his own, ignoring the pressure of Alastor’s power against his and continued: “We shall have a couple words first. In private.”

(Pinky Fluff’s “uuuhuuh~” went pointedly ignored.)

The harsh cracking of radio static was uncomfortable in Lucifer’s ears. “I do not think so,” Alastor ground out through his teeth, his smile straining into more of a sneer.

Lucifer felt the reaching of Alastor’s shadow more than he saw it, but a swirl of his own red and gold power had him across the room in an instant, Alastor’s wrist tight in his grip before he could slip away through the shadows. He could feel Alastor’s entire body tense up as Lucifer leaned forward, bracing his free hand on the back of the armchair next to Alastor’s head. Even with Alastor sitting, their height difference meant they were still almost on eye level, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from looming over him. He was the King of Hell, and even with how little respect was extended to him, the knowledge of his power alone afforded him Authority to Command as he levelled his stare onto the Radio Demon.

Lucifer could feel the thrum of Alastor’s power through the single point of contact. Just like he could feel the angelic infection beneath it. Alastor had yet to turn his power actively against him, but with the progression of the holy radiance eating away at his being, Lucifer wasn’t sure how much control Alastor had over his powers at this moment in the first place.

Still, Alastor’s power was flooding the room, dark and oppressing as his antlers began to grow and his eyes turned black, making the other Sinners present shrink in on themselves; but Lucifer was neither intimidated nor otherwise particularly bothered by the display. If Alastor wanted to do the power play, they both knew who would win.

“Do not forget that all of Hell is my domain,” Lucifer dropped his voice low, cheerful disposition of just a minute ago wiped away into distant memory. “I am attempting to be cordial with you because I respect my daughter, but I can Command you to do as I say. I will only ask nicely once.”

To anyone else it probably would be immensely unsettling, the way Alastor’s neck cracked as he tilted his head into a truly unnatural angle, all while his eyes burned into Lucifer’s and his power tried its best to weigh him down without actively attacking him. They both knew Alastor wouldn’t win the fight. Especially not right now. Lucifer didn’t move by even a single hair where he stood over Alastor, pinning him in place with nothing more than his presence, no power or Authority required.

Not that it stopped Alastor from pushing his power harder down on Lucifer, his voice covered with static as he practically growled at him, a grand display of barely contained rage. “You may stop touching me now.”

Lucifer let out a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. “And let you slink off into the shadows? I do not think so.” He revelled in the twitch of Alastor’s eye at having his own words quoted back to him.

He could feel the moment the rage boiled over. Alastor had barely moved since Lucifer had grabbed his wrist, but one moment to the next, his power pulsed even higher, static cracking loudly through the room, his sentient shadow looming tall above them, Alastor’s form beginning to grow and shift into his full demonic self as black tentacles burst forth all around Lucifer. The angelic power in the wound pulsed in Alastor’s chest, going ignored in his rage as Alastor pushed forward and up from his chair.

As much as Lucifer itched for a proper brawl, if just pulling up his powers was already worsening Alastor’s injury, he didn’t want to imagine how much worse an actual fight would leave it. Alastor was obviously able to push through the pain, but that was very much counterproductive to Lucifer’s goal here.

So Lucifer snapped his fingers and let go of Alastor’s wrist.

The room fell into deafening silence as the static noise cut off one blink to the next. Alastor stumbled back into his chair as his power vanished as if it had never existed in the first place. Lucifer could read the confusion and sudden onset of fear in his eyes as he looked down at his wrist, finding the pressure of Lucifer’s grip replaced with a single golden shackle.

“There you go,” Lucifer chuckled, not bothering to purge the patronising tone from his voice, “tame as a pussycat.” And just because he knew it would piss the jerk off like nothing else, he brought up his hand to give Alastor a couple pats on his head. The tufts of hair flicked away from his hand, which oh, isn’t that delightful, those really are soft fluffy ears—

Alastor flinched back from his touch. Full, proper flinch, so sharp that it actually had Lucifer blink in confusion, only to immediately have to jump to the side when Alastor lunged at him, armed with nothing but his claws aimed at Lucifer’s throat.

“Ha! Spicy kitten!” Lucifer just couldn’t help himself, presenting a sharp toothy smile of his own as he spun around from his sidestep. Alastor’s lunge had actually taken him quite a distance away, the strength in his body clearly of note even without his powers. He was crouched low now, facing Lucifer with one knee on the ground, claws brandished and the entirety of his body ready to strike again.

Lucifer let out a short laugh and adjusted his hat before casually sticking his hands in his pockets, posture fully relaxed, as if Alastor wasn’t screaming absolute bloody murder with everything but his voice. “I do have to appreciate the tenaciousness, not many have ever had the courage to have a go at me with nothing but their physical strength. I’m impressed, little kitten.” And also seeing right through you, because Alastor’s permanent smile was now nothing but a forced grimace, his breathing too heavy, his usually completely expressionless ears flattened back against his head and twitching every time the radiant energy in his injury pulsed.

Regardless of the pain or lack of power, Alastor crouched even lower, teeth grinding, eyes piercing, but not a single noise passing through his lips.

“Look, kitten,” Lucifer started, only to cut himself off and course correct, “Or rather fawn I should say, that is more accurate to what you are, isn’t it?”

It probably would be immensely entertaining to analyse all the micro expressions crossing over Alastor’s face, if only Lucifer wasn’t beginning to worry about the usually so very talkative Radio Demon going non-verbal. Well, at least he’d get to finish his sentences without interruption for once.

“Look, little fawn, here’s the deal:” his own power flared at the charged word, and Lucifer allowed it, leaning forward a little and continuing conversationally, as if he wasn’t enveloped by the red golden glow, “I shall unshackle your powers, and then we go and have a, hm, mostly civil conversation. I’ll even throw in the promise to not touch you again unless necessary, not like the pot needs any sweetening.”

Everything was at a total standstill for a long couple seconds. Lucifer was aware their audience was fully frozen in place, desperately wishing to be elsewhere, but doomed to watch this confrontation unfold before them. Alastor remained utterly unmoving, half crouching, half kneeling, claws brandished. It only now occurred to Lucifer that maybe Alastor simply couldn’t move any further without his powers; not without giving away his injury.

And then, ever so slowly, Alastor shifted. His body was still tense, not letting go of the will to fight in case he still needed it. But eventually he was holding out his hand for Lucifer to shake.

That was interesting. For two reasons. The first of which being Alastor’s continued silence, Lucifer would have expected a Deal Maker of Alastor’s renown to jump at the opportunity to haggle, get as much out of the deal as possible even while not owning it. The silence was... unusual. So much so that it was actually a little unsettling, Alastor was almost always surrounded by faint static noise and various radio sound effects augmenting his voice and— oh. Oh. The voice augmentation is part of his powers. His powers which Lucifer had thoroughly switched off at the moment. Alastor didn’t want anyone to hear his natural voice. Which, okay, he had his style, but it was an interesting hill to pick to die on.

The second fact that had Lucifer wondering, was that Alastor wanted to shake on the deal at all. This was such a trivial deal in the first place, it wasn’t even worth the paper that it would never be written down on. No demon in their right mind would commit to it, especially not the Deal Makers, especially not when the owner of the deal is Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, the literal Devil, whose powers didn’t have to obey to the ruleset in quite the same way as everyone else was bound to. The fact that Alastor wanted to formalise the deal could only mean that the not touching thing was really and truly important to his comfort and not just a thought that had lit up in Lucifer’s brain at the force of Alastor’s flinch.

... Why exactly was Lucifer caring about this daughter stealing Sinner’s comfort again?

Lucifer disguised his sigh as a huff. “You don’t truly believe I will shake on a deal like that. Or any deal with you.” He let his powers dissipate, the glow vanishing as he grinned down at Alastor. “You will just have to keep your end and trust that I will do the same.”

With a snap of his fingers the golden shackle fell away from Alastor’s wrist just as easily as he had put it there. Immediately the room was filled with static noise again, the lights flickering as the shadows deepened.

“Very well,” Alastor said, radio filter securely layering over his voice, and within the same breath his power vanished from the room again as if it had never returned at all. He stood from his crouch in a fluid motion, adjusted the sleeves of his coat, brushed off some imaginary dust, made a gesture that Lucifer interpreted as an aborted summon of his microphone cane that was adjusted into a stretch of his wrist a moment too late. Come to think of it, the microphone had been suspiciously absent ever since Alastor had popped up again.

Regardless, it was fascinating to watch just how easily Alastor could completely code switch like that as he tucked his hands behind his back. Boiling rage replaced with a pleasant disposition in a heartbeat. Lucifer knew a thing or two about heavy mood swings (yay for mental illness) but this was something else. Refined. Controlled. Powerful, in a way.

Lucifer turned a little and tipped his hat at Charlie’s remaining friends, who were very much mentally scrambling to gather their bearings about what just happened, and unilaterally deciding that they will simply never mention any of this ever again for fear of being ripped apart limb by limb.

Lucifer reached out to the side, a golden glittering gate shimmering into existence under his fingertips.

“One important thing for you to remember:” His words were directed at Alastor, but they all knew he was addressing the room at large, his expression deadly serious as Lucifer allowed his voice to drop low, welcoming the hint of his demonic power that immediately crept in. “Everything I do is for my daughter. Everything.”

The room was silent, completely undisturbed in a clear understanding of the underlying message until Lucifer nodded to himself, put his own pleasant smile back on and turned.

“Off we go then, little fawn!” Without a look back at the others, Lucifer marched himself through the portal, chuckling at the displeased crackle in Alastor’s static as he followed behind him.

Angel, Husk and Cherri let out the breaths they had been holding for way too long now all at once.

“What the fuck did I just witness—?” Cherri breathed out, rubbing her arms to chase away the lingering feeling of both Alastor and Lucifer’s powers that had laid over them like an almost suffocating blanket.

Husk only huffed, set his bottle against his lips and downed its contents in one go. He was pretty sure there wasn’t enough alcohol available to have him forget all of this, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying.

“Well, they’ve been at each other’s throats from the very first time they met,” Angel explained, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to self-soothe. “We obviously know who has the bigger dick between them, but I swear we are gonna die in the crossfire at some point.”

Niffty giggled from under the table. “It’s going to be so painful!”

They all elected to ignore her.

Chapter Text

“Interesting choice of venue, your Majesty.” Alastor’s augmented voice reverberated loudly in Lucifer’s ears. He had obviously regained at least a healthy piece of his confidence and gleefully took upon his turn to invade Lucifer’s personal space, having stepped close to his back as the portal flickered out of existence, his head unnaturally tilted down so he could speak right into Lucifer’s ear. “Bringing me into my own domain seems rather... unwise.”

The new radio tower was much less rickety than the old one. Still an addendum to the overall hotel (Charlie had insisted on Alastor’s behalf in his absence), but it was a properly built tower now, complete with a small sky bridge connecting it to the rest of the building. Lucifer hadn’t actually bothered to take a look at the inside of it before, having let his power and Keekee’s memory take charge during the rebuild, but he wasn’t surprised to find himself surrounded by all kinds of early 1930s radio equipment, all slowly coming to life as the Radio Demon stepped into his domain. The windows all around gave him a beautiful view of the city below. The ‘On Air’ sign remained unlit.

Lucifer let out another huff that again failed to be a proper scoff. “My sincerest apologies for attempting to make this as comfortable as possible for you,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He stepped over to one of the windows opposite to the broadcast station, but while the view was nice, he wasn’t actually looking outside. He studied Alastor’s reflection in the glass, the everlasting smile completely unmoved, but Lucifer was quickly gaining the understanding that all the hints to his emotions were found in his eyes rather than anywhere else on his face.

“Whatever could this conversation possibly be about to require tending to the comfort of a lowly Sinner by a being of such royal importance as yourself?” Alastor’s voice was dripping with obvious fake politeness.

Lucifer allowed himself a sigh in the privacy of his mind. No use in beating around the bush. “Take off your coat and shirt and sit your ass back down so I can look at the wound you let fester.”

The static pitched higher, and Lucifer thought he could spot a hint of surprise in the reflection of Alastor’s eyes, but if it was there it was gone as quickly as it came, Alastor’s entire body still as a statue. “Beg your pardon? I am in perfectly adequate health—”

“Shut the fuck up, I may be Fallen but you’re still talking to a former Archangel. Though honestly, at this point I am actually surprised how everyone else has failed to notice the radiance that will drop you dead before morning.”

There was a long bout of staticy silence.

“Even if such was the case...” Alastor didn’t really speak quieter, but the crackle of the radio tingeing his voice grew louder to almost make the words unintelligible, “Why would the Fallen Morning Star bother with the health of a Sinner like myself?”

Lucifer turned on his heels, met Alastor’s eyes directly again. “I already told you. I am doing this because for some reason beyond my understanding my daughter has decided that apparently the Radio Demon is worth saving.”

A laugh burst from Alastor’s throat, a short sound utterly devoid of actual amusement. His grin grew around his laugh, but it didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “You do not share your daughter’s opinion.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lucifer answered anyway. “Obviously not, we both know you couldn’t care less about actual redemption. But my daughter has already lost one friend in this battle while I was still bound to stand aside. If it is in my power to help the rest of her... colourful group of friends to make up for that, I shall do so.”

Lucifer turned his palm up, the remainder of his own celestial power coming to life immediately, a bright ball of golden angelic radiance burning in his hand. He hadn’t healed a wound this significant in ages, but it wasn’t like he could forget a skill that had been woven into his intrinsic being at his creation.

He probably should lend a little more attention to the weight of the fact that Alastor was still here in the first place. There was no formal deal, nothing compelling him to stay, he could have vanished the moment Lucifer unshackled his powers, teleporting or shadowstepping or whatever it was he did. Or, given that the radio tower indeed was his domain and therefore adding to his power, he could probably have mustered enough energy to banish Lucifer from his domain instead. And yet he had done neither.

Lucifer got the distinct feeling that a secret piece of Alastor, hidden deep down behind the eternal smile, was afraid to die again. Forever.

Alastor scrutinised the holy power dancing in Lucifer’s palm, the tilt of his head the only movement he had made, still glued to his spot. He was obviously thinking, if the lack of sharp remarks was any indication. When he spoke next, his voice was a little easier to understand, but Lucifer still had to listen closely. “I do not think any demonic being would appreciate coming into contact with that.” He unclasped his hands from behind his back to vaguely gesture at him, the first indication of loosening his frozen stance.

Lucifer let out a low chuckle, allowing a dangerous grin of his own. “Oh not to worry, my divinity has been thoroughly tainted.” At his words the golden holy power in his hand flickered blood red.

To his surprise Alastor answered with a small chuckle of his own. And then he began to move across the room, shrugged off his coat as he walked towards the door and hung it on a coat rack next to it (coat rack fashioned from an antlered deer skull, that freak), moving on to undoing his bow tie.

Lucifer found himself completely stunned, his eyes following Alastor as he walked over to the broadcast station while unclipping his suspenders before untucking his dress shirt and starting to undo the buttons. Lucifer didn’t even have the wherewithal to take proper note of the cute little deer tail being revealed at the removal of the ever present coat.

This had been his goal, obviously, but Lucifer found that a rather significant part of him had been utterly convinced Alastor wouldn’t allow himself to be helped. He already had come up with at least three half baked plans as to how he could clean up bubbly steaming demon goop infested with latent radiant power from the floor come morning. He would have insisted to do it himself, citing his immunity to corruption by either source of power—

Alastor turned his chair to face the room and sat himself down, letting his dress shirt fall open, a fluid movement that ended with his arms spread wide, laid across the arm rests in a ‘here you go’ gesture.

“Fuck,” Lucifer said, eloquently.

“Fuck indeed,” Alastor agreed, and Lucifer couldn’t recall if he’d ever heard his voice this close to free of augmentation.

Lucifer allowed himself another sigh, out loud this time. “I should have insisted on this hours ago,” he grumbled quietly, took off his hat and let it vanish into a puff of golden sparks as he closed the distance between them with a couple big steps. He didn’t miss Alastor’s barely hidden flinch. “The physical wound isn’t the problem,” he started explaining, not because he needed or wanted to, but rather because he preferred if Alastor didn’t try to take a bite out of him.

Indeed the wound was grisly, but he’d seen worse. A gaping slash across the chest, steadily oozing blood into Alastor’s thin layer of fur? Pretty average for a day in Hell, really. Even the fact that the cut open skin revealed black rotting flesh beneath. Technically not good, but most demons, and especially Sinners, could come back from that themselves eventually.

The problem was found in the glow emitting from the depth of the wound, and Lucifer pinched his temples in an attempt to ward off his oncoming headache. “I can see the radiance eating away at you, do you even know how bad it needs to be for me to be able to see the radiance on your physical body?”

“I am gathering an understanding.”

Lucifer scoffed, properly (finally). “I need to fix this on the metaphysical level. It’ll take me ages. At least I can be content in the knowledge that you will be in agony until I’m done.”

There was a movement in Alastor’s throat, the only hint at an abandoned response. Standing right in front of him, Lucifer hadn’t missed the tension running through his body and making Alastor curl his fingers into fists for a moment at the word ‘metaphysical’. But he assumed Alastor had calculated his chances for survival and come to the conclusion that accepting Lucifer’s help was the only way to actually see the next daybreak.

Lucifer made an educated guess at Alastor’s possible worry. “Oh, believe me, I don’t like the thought of taking a dive into the essence of your twisted being either. If it is any consolation, I will do my best to avoid coming on contact with any of your memories or knowledge. I don’t care enough to invade your privacy, but you can help yourself by letting me focus and not projecting whatever goes on in your mind. Now, unfortunately this also necessitates me to touch you.”

Lucifer stood still where he was, made eye contact with Alastor and waited. Technically this touch was exempt from his promise, given the whole ‘if necessary’-clause, but if he had the moment to wait for consent, he would. Alastor’s reactions had been too strong to dismiss on a whim, even if he couldn’t stand the guy. Lucifer may be the King of Hell, but that didn’t mean he was inherently cruel.

“Obviously,” Alastor huffed after a moment that was definitely longer than a natural pause in conversation would have been, and they both knew it.

With that said, Lucifer pushed his celestial power right into Alastor’s chest and unfurled his metaphysical self from the constraints of his physical body.

Usually, the first thing Lucifer would do every time he left his physical body behind was to stretch. Let his being reach as far and wide as he could in the metaphysical space, finally free of the cramped prison that was his corporal form. Really, if dear old Dad hadn’t made the body a mandatory thing, Lucifer probably would never have bothered to keep one full time.

Right now however, his moment of content stretching was sharply interrupted by Alastor’s presence pressing back against his own. Lucifer probably should have expected a demon of Alastor’s power to have a much better grasp of their metaphysical selves than most others, but Alastor seemed to be especially aware. It honestly was quite impressive, especially for a human-born demon.

Lucifer focused himself. His more deliberate touch against Alastor’s being was met with more bristling resistance, but it didn’t take much more pressure for Lucifer to push through and slip inside the bounds of Alastor’s self.

Almost immediately Lucifer’s mind was flooded with noisy static, as if he had tuned between two radio stations’ frequencies and turned the volume all the way up to max. It uncomfortably reverberated through him, made it almost impossible to keep a grasp even on the simplest of thoughts. Lucifer tried to push the static out of his mind and soldier on, but it proved rather futile while he was surrounded by the Radio Demon’s being on all sides. As grating as the noise was, he had to give it to him, it was a rather effective method of self-defence.

I can’t help you if you try your damnedest to drown me out, he projected at Alastor.

It took a long moment, time impossible to measure here, even if Lucifer’s grasp of time wasn’t absolute trash, but eventually, very slowly, the static quieted down. It didn’t vanish, Lucifer didn’t expect it to, but eventually it left him with enough free capacity to actually perceive his surroundings.

Alastor’s metaphysical being was very reminiscent of his full demonic and empowered form, a trait he shared with most human-born demons. Lucifer was grateful for it, because he really couldn’t be assed to unravel a mind breaking angelical form like his own right now, all wheels and wings and eyes. A part of his mind revelled in the fact that while Alastor was able to perceive his presence and actions here, he simply wouldn’t be able to ever properly comprehend his form, his mind bound to replace the actual impressions with some approximation that was nothing like the real thing.

Anyway, time to get to work.

It wasn’t difficult to find the radiant infection eating away on Alastor’s self. Really Lucifer just needed to follow the path of destruction to its end while doing the metaphysical equivalent of a sigh at all the damage he’d have to stitch up. The static noise remained with him at all times, not like he couldn’t feel Alastor’s attention focused on him already.

He’d definitely have a headache later.

It took more control than he had expected to simply pass by the endless chains that tied Alastor to all the souls he owned without comment, but he got there. He only slowed once as he brushed past a chain that wasn’t Alastor’s own. Immediately the static noise swelled up again and Lucifer picked up his pace, projecting a shrug and an equivalent of what Alastor would understand as an eye roll at him. Deal Makers made deals all the time. Plenty of them made deals among themselves as well, so why would he care?

At the end of the path of destruction Lucifer found the remainder of Adam’s radiance, as well as his own holy power he had put here on the physical plane. It surged, drawn towards his being. Lucifer reshaped it, creating something Alastor would understand as a needle and suture, just on a metaphysical level, while remaining interlinked with physical reality in the most complex of ways.

This will hurt, Lucifer projected and promptly set the first stitch.

The static noise in his mind cracked loudly as the wave of pain crashed over Alastor and threatened to sweep Lucifer right along with it. The pain wasn’t a problem to him, he has had much worse, but this wouldn’t work. Maybe a distraction would help.

You need to let me focus if you want this done before you’re dead. Lucifer dug into his own mind, grabbed a bunch of memories and pushed them to the surface and against Alastor’s being. You can laugh at those while I work.

There was a long moment of stillness as Alastor seemed to decide if his curiosity would win out. Lucifer didn’t care. He wasn’t particularly attached to the memories of this latest who-knows-how-many years long depressive spiral, but surely Alastor would eat them up like they were the tastiest treat. Plenty of rubber ducks and Lucifer trying and failing not to cry. In another universe it would probably have been excellent blackmail material, but in this one Lucifer didn’t hold much of a reputation of respect in the first place. He was only unopposed as King of Hell because of the power everyone knew he has. And hey, if Alastor decided to dig deep enough, he could find the alarm that went off every six months on the dot and Lucifer working himself into a panic attack as he tells himself that he isn’t overbearing on his daughter by calling her once every half year, it’s all fine—

So all in all, plenty of memories of his personal suffering to entertain the Radio Demon so he could leave him to do the damn work.

The static in Lucifer’s mind decreased further. Even Alastor’s attention on him lessened, but only in the way it might feel to have a person sitting with him in the same room, leafing through a book, but really only halfway paying attention to what was on the pages while they kept a careful eye on him.

Good enough. Lucifer continued stitching.

He settled into a rhythm easily enough. He had sewn up plenty of things before, plenty of beings too. Before this kind of angelic interference was forbidden. Can’t dream if they’re dead after all. The implications of the fact that this particular rule and his banishment to Hell went hand in hand weren’t lost on him.

Stitch, pull, wave of pain. Stitch, pull, wave of pain. On and on. Really if the static wasn’t still uncomfortably cracking in his mind every time, he would be able to settle into an almost meditative state. Not that Alastor would appreciate or allow that. Lucifer projected his grumbling at him anyway. And then proceeded to simply absorb the waves of pain once they touched his own being. Anything to keep the cracking to a minimum. And it wasn’t like a little hot simmering pain could do much to him after all these millennia.

He simply kept on stitching.

Lucifer didn’t really realise the static noise was shifting at first.

He had taken note when Alastor had pulled away from the memories Lucifer had offered for his distraction, a little surprised that he hadn’t taken the chance to try and dig deeper into Lucifer’s mind, there was plenty of interesting information to be found there after all.

But then he had realised that there was something else beneath the static. It had taken Lucifer a couple dozen more stitches to realise it was music. Like the frequency was slowly being shifted until he was almost tuned in to the right station.

Lucifer couldn’t help himself from projecting a little of his amusement back at Alastor. Of course the Radio Demon would run his own show even in the metaphysical depths of his self.

He didn’t recognise the songs Alastor played. There had been a time in his immortal existence where Lucifer had intrinsically known the names of every single song the humans had dreamed up, but those times were long since gone.

He only realised he had kept his mind open for Alastor to read his surface thoughts when Alastor’s voice filtered through between the next set of songs, announcing the names and artists like any radio host would. Part of Lucifer was sure that usually there’d be a couple of jokes and other funny and/or mocking asides, but Alastor kept those out of this particular broadcast, probably to let Lucifer keep his focus.

There was still a tiny hint of static overlaying everything, and Lucifer could still feel Alastor’s scrutinising attention on him, but it was almost... nice.

Now that’s an unexpected thought. Who knew respect was a thing they potentially could do for each other.

Lucifer let the music and the repetitive work settle him into something much closer to meditation than he would ever have expected.

Well, that’s the repair done. Lucifer projected, inspecting his handiwork from the outer layers of Alastor’s metaphysical being.

It had indeed taken him ages to stitch up all the damage, but it definitely was one of his better mending jobs.

“We would like to thank the crew of Morning Star Repairs for their service,” Alastor’s voice said on the radio broadcast, “we are just overjoyed to see them leave. Forever.”

Of course the little shit was able to talk to him like this. Lucifer truly didn’t know why he hadn’t expected that.

Don’t be too happy yet, still got the holy clean-up to go.

Lucifer leaned forward. It was always weird to control his physical body while he wasn’t actively inhabiting it, but he needed a couple more points of physical contact than just his hand on Alastor’s chest for this. He braced his free hand on Alastor’s shoulder for balance as he touched their foreheads together.

This will hurt, he projected and then reached right into the core of Alastor’s being and ripped Adam’s radiance out.

Alastor screamed. Metaphysically and physically. It resonated through Lucifer, the static noise returning with a vengeance that had him almost lose his grip on Adam’s radiance. It drowned out everything.

Lucifer lost total track of how he managed to untangle himself from Alastor’s being and shove his metaphysical form back into his body, pure instinct kicking in and taking over.

His first proper perception found him leaning over Alastor’s body, who was frozen in his silent scream of agonising pain.

Lucifer blinked, breaking their eye contact, and forced himself to pull back with a grunt, clawing Adam’s radiance out of Alastor’s chest as he went. Alastor immediately collapsed forward, hiding his face against his arms braced on his knees, desperately heaving for breath. Breathing through the pain, Lucifer remembered the old phrase.

“Deep breaths,” he heard himself saying, the definitely angelic need to soothe breaking through, “it’s done, the pain will fade in a minute. You’ll be fine now.”

Lucifer’s turn.

He didn’t particularly know where he was going as he let his body stumble backwards, but the radio tower wasn’t that big, he’d hit a wall soon enough. Instead he focused on Adam’s radiance squirming in his hands, the last remainder of the little shit in all of Heaven and Hell.

Fucking farewell forever. Lucifer crushed the radiance between his palms, felt it strain and then shatter, thousands of shards cutting into him as his own tainted holy powers absorbed them, damn near devouring them.

“Shit—” Lucifer’s back hit the wall and he didn’t bother fighting the pull of gravity as his legs gave out beneath him, only catching himself on his hands so he at least wouldn’t face-plant right into the floor.

It fucking hurt. Adam’s power threatened to burn him from the inside out, much like it had eaten away on Alastor, just much faster, much hotter, and much more opposed.

“Come on Adam, you piece of shit!” Lucifer growled out between gritted teeth, “Welcome to your final resting place, you will fucking hate it!”

Lucifer felt feverish, hot near to burning, he knew his wings had manifested along with the horns and the other traits of his demonic form as his power glowed brightly around him, but it didn’t matter. His own power will win out. It was not even a question.

He let a long litany of curses fall from his lips, the only way available to him to hope to manage the pain even a little.

He didn’t know how much time passed. Not how long he had worked on healing Alastor, not how long he was sitting on the floor, claws digging into his palms and drawing golden blood, blind and deaf to anything around him as his power waged war with the last remnant of Adam.

It must have been quite a while. By the time Lucifer began to come back to himself he didn’t just have the headache of the millennium, but also felt exhausted all the way down to his core.

“Welcome back,” said a heavily radio augmented voice right next to him.

Lucifer hissed, brought his hands up to uselessly massage his temples, heedless of the blood drying in his palms.

“Would you like some further tips on pain management?” Alastor continued, though his voice sounded much clearer, the augmentation reduced to a minimum that didn’t threaten to make his ears bleed. “I can offer some guided breathing exercises.”

Lucifer honestly couldn’t tell if Alastor was serious or just being a little shit like usual. Still, as he forced his body into a more upright position and realised Alastor was actually right here next to him and not just projecting his voice, he felt the need to answer.

“I do not think I will gain any physical or psychological benefit from breathing exercises, given my nature as a being that has never taken a single breath that wasn’t in order to vocalise even once in my life.”

“Hm. However you do an awful lot of speaking, so who knows!”

Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh, even though it was cut short by a growl at another flare of boiling pain. But once that died down, he found himself smiling, throwing a “likewise, you prick” in the vague direction he suspected Alastor’s ankles to be.

It was only as his sight began to clear and he spotted Alastor’s knees in his periphery, that Lucifer realised Alastor was actually down here with him kind of with him. Sitting on the floor with him, rather than just standing aside next to him.

He blinked his eyes back into focus, a lengthy process interrupted twice by more blinding pain, but once he did and managed to lift his head to properly look into Alastor’s direction, he found him cross legged on the floor right next to him, angled in a way so he could technically reach out (oh now that was an interesting potential explanation for the ghosts of gentle touches Lucifer was convinced he had hallucinated during the worst of the pain), his hands resting on his thighs in lieu of the microphone to hold on to. Properly buttoned up again, of course, though he had not yet reclaimed his coat.

The smile was on his face, as always, though Lucifer allowed himself the illusion of believing that it looked a little less forced now. Alastor studied him just as closely in turn, the small movements with which he tilted his head indicating to Lucifer that Alastor seemed to have decided to leave at least the total stillness aspect of his refined character presentation in the pockets of his coat.

Deciding that Lucifer apparently was lucid enough for proper conversation again, Alastor’s expression shifted slightly, eyes narrowing and adopting more of an aura of seriousness, despite the everlasting smile.

“What did you do?” He demanded, the augmentation of his voice just short before painful to Lucifer’s throbbing headache.

Lucifer bristled at his tone, felt his wings flaring just a little. “What I said I would. One healed up Radio Demon to see another day, you are welcome.”

“That is not what I am asking, and you know it.”

Lucifer sighed. “You don’t really think I can just snap my fingers and make a piece of grace cease existing that was created by my forever holier than thou waste of sentience Father, do you?”

Alastor blinked at him. Not sure if it was about the technicality of radiant existences or the blasphemy. Probably both.

Did he want to explain? Not really. But Lucifer was also aware that Alastor wouldn’t willingly let him go without an explanation, and right now he really wasn’t up for another show of power. Not when he felt two steps away from unconsciousness. “Holy power disperses after an angel is killed. But just like me, Adam was of the Original Stock, created by our behated God Himself and granted a tiny piece of His grace. That grace remains, even after death. It’s why Lute took the halo... No, wait, you weren’t around to see that...” Lucifer shook his head to get his thoughts into the right order and regretted it immediately, hissing at another wave of pain washing through him. At least those were growing further apart in frequency. “Either way, radiance born of God’s grace can’t be destroyed. The only way to neutralise it and make sure it can’t be of more danger to other demons is by having another angel absorb it. Therefore,” Lucifer gestured to himself, “me. Again, you’re welcome.”

Alastor continued to blink at him for a long minute. Another human body thing Lucifer had taken a long time to understand. He had only really started blinking with any regularity after it became obvious baby Charlie was creeped out by his unblinking eyes, and even now, Lucifer by far didn’t blink as much as even Hell-born demons.

Alastor surprised them both when eventually he said: “You have my gratitude.”

Just that. No joke, no over the top show of appreciation dripping of sarcasm. Just a genuine thank you.

Lucifer nodded.

“However, I do not appreciate being in your debt.”

Lucifer frowned. “You aren’t. I already told you I am doing this for my daughter. If you hadn’t agreed I’d have probably ended up Commanding you, just so Charlie won’t lose another friend. You owe me nothing.”

Alastor’s hands on his thighs tensed, gripping the fabric of his slacks tightly, the interference in his voice augmentation growing stronger and threatening to overtake his words again. “That is not how debts work for Deal Makers like myself and you know it. I now owe you a life debt and I do not like it.”

Indeed. The power of the Deal Makers came with its own set of drawbacks. As if Lucifer didn’t know that all too well.

He would love to come up with something smart right now. A nice little loophole, or a simple demand he could make to satisfy a life debt. Those were his thing, he was good at those. Usually. Right now, not so much, with his consciousness continuously slipping further and further out of his own grasp.

Lucifer managed a small hum. “How about you pay me back by not killing me when I pass out in a second?”

“That is not how it works, either,” Alastor said, but his voice was already pleasantly far away as the world went dark.

Lucifer was blissfully unconscious by the time clawed fingers caught his shoulders before he could knock his head onto the floor.

Chapter Text

The radio tower was quiet, not even the white noise of the static Alastor surrounded himself with at all times willing to break the silence.

If Alastor was a betting man, he would have absolutely lost the prediction of how today’s evening would end. Well, he was a betting man, just not quite like that. And he was absolutely certain Husker would have lost this one too.

There were just way too many inconceivable details about this situation that no one, Alastor included, would ever picture the powerful and dangerous Radio Demon to find himself in.

Alastor was sitting, which, obviously normal enough, but he was sitting on the floor, out of his own volition though he couldn’t remember making the conscious choice, which meant that he hadn’t even thought about it and just gotten right down there, no heading of his previously perfectly pristine slacks. They were still clean now, obviously, Niffty took her job very seriously and her floors were sparkling, but that didn’t change the fact that Alastor was sitting cross-legged on the floor and he hadn’t even begun to think about the unconscious King of Hell in his lap—

Alastor clicked his tongue, hands awkwardly hovering in the air, completely out of his depth and appropriately pissed about that.

His intention had been to catch Lucifer so he wouldn’t bust his head open and spill golden blood and brain matter all over Niffty’s nice clean floors in Alastor’s radio tower. Obviously that was why he had reached out, even if the thought only finished properly forming after his hands had already caught the lapels of the man’s ridiculous tailcoat.

He also knew that bodies lacking consciousness (or life) usually didn’t remain sitting upright by themselves. He had handled plenty of corpses to be all too familiar with that fact. So why the fucking Hell had he not bothered stabilising Lucifer when he knew the pull would see him swaying in the other direction which was currently occupied by Alastor himself??

Alastor clicked his tongue again. Lap full of Demon King absolutely would have lost him the prediction game, if the whole ‘getting fatal wound healed by the King of Hell himself’-matter hadn’t already done that.

Lucifer looked so... tiny. Not in the small way, though Alastor already had plenty of short jokes cued up waiting for their appropriate moments, given that Lucifer was apparently Hell-bent on sticking around for his daughter. Right now, he was the opposite of small, what with his six wings still splayed wide across the floor around him, horns elongating the structure of his face. For all intents and purposes Lucifer was the Devil right now, but while his full demonic form was usually (admittedly) rather intimidating, in this moment, without the red of his eyes burning with rage threatening to incinerate all of Hell if he was provoked?

He looked tiny. Vulnerable.

He wasn’t, of course, Alastor knew that just as intimately as he knew the limits of his own power, the phantom touch of the golden shackle that had simply sealed his power away with a nothing but a single of Lucifer’s thoughts still prickling on his wrist. And yet, a part of him felt that he probably could cut off at least two of those wings before getting incinerated. Maybe three.

It was such a contrast to just the scale of incomprehensible Alastor had spent the past – he looked at the clock – five hours trying and failing to grasp as Lucifer had been sitting right in the middle of the essence of Alastor’s self, healing him with determined focus.

It was a sobering reminder that Lucifer existed on a whole different scale to Alastor. Not just the King of Hell, not just a Fallen Angel, but a being of the Original Stock, shaped and given life and power by God Himself.

But oh it was exhilarating too. Because Alastor didn’t just know Lucifer’s weakness, he had active sway over her. If Charlie was to ask anything of him, Lucifer would see it done. And Alastor held the most precious carte blanche over her. With a little careful manoeuvring he would have the power of the King of Hell at his fingertips.

Alastor found himself laughing lowly.

The life debt was very much in the way, and he found himself a little confused that Lucifer hadn’t immediately demanded upon it, had in fact even tried to not accept it. As if his actions here could have been serving anything other than to get a leg up on Alastor. No one would expend this much power to aid an enemy.

Charlie’s tearful expression when he had returned came back to the forefront of Alastor’s mind. She had hugged him tight, and he had allowed it, swallowing the pain and hugged back tightly too, especially as it made Lucifer standing aside frown even deeper.

... There was no way Lucifer had actually just done this because Alastor’s death would have made Charlie sad, right? The man was utterly wrapped around his daughter’s fingers, but he wasn’t that blinded, right?

Alastor’s smile shrunk down, until there was just the slightest upturn of lips left. Because Lucifer was exactly that gone for his little princess. And if he hadn’t even planned to strong-arm Alastor into owing him a life debt, then— No, this didn’t make any sense.

Lucifer would cash in on the debt. There was not a single shred of doubt in Alastor’s mind. Even Zestial only barely remembered the last time someone had struck a Deal with the literal Devil, and according to his retelling it had ended predictably badly for that unfortunate soul. Zestial had painted Lucifer’s picture as a being shaped of pure rage and ruthlessness, fuelled by raw power unrivalled in all of Hell and even most of Heaven.

And Alastor was sure that Lucifer was still all that. He was just also a father now, a man who loved his daughter above all else. Also a man who leaned entirely too far into that ridiculous circus theme. A man who had done an important thing involving apples once in his life and now had invested way too deeply into that branding. A man who despite being a shapeshifter, kept a short stature. A man who, for that one damning heartbeat Alastor wished he hadn’t noticed, had enjoyed their little musical duel before Mimzy had so rudely interrupted.

Lucifer was much more complex than the version of him Zestial had seen all that time ago. More complex than the version of his self he presented to Charlie, or any of her friends. Just as big of a question-mark re-emerging from his prolonged absence as before.

Lucifer would cash in on the life debt. But Alastor had absolutely not a single inkling of an idea as to how.

Alastor continued to sit in silence, with the King of Hell passed out in his lap. True to his word, Lucifer wasn’t breathing. Alastor could probably find a pulse on him if he was so inclined, feel the thrum of golden blood flowing through his veins against the tips of his fingers. It would be so easy to cut, so easy to taste—

Focus.

What to do... He could attempt to bank on Charlie’s overbearing compassion and hope it was a trait inherited from her father rather than her mother. It didn’t seem unlikely with how similar they were. Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Dreamer. During that initial meeting he had mentioned that he had attempted what Charlie was doing before and had failed. A lofty dream shattered. Just as easily moved to tears as his daughter if the memories Alastor had rifled through were any indication. Yes, the compassion was definitely his. The only question was how much of it had been consumed by blind rage during the millennia of imprisonment in Hell.

Alastor could attempt to get on his good side, play up the charm, it worked with everyone eventually. But they were on Lucifer’s playing field here. No matter where in Hell he went, it was all under Lucifer’s domain. And a fact Zestial had jokingly pointed out as Alastor having in common with the King of Hell was that he loathed liars. Nothing wrong with a little subterfuge, with omitting parts of the story until the moral sounds entirely different, but straight up lying? It was so uninspired. Boring. And Lucifer apparently had a knack for spotting the dishonest just as good as Alastor’s own.

So trying to play an angle probably wouldn’t do him any favours. Especially not with Lucifer already knowing that Alastor had an agenda of his own in being at the hotel. If anything, a little selective honesty would probably put him into Lucifer’s good, well, better, books much faster.

Which left Alastor in a rather tricky situation. If he wanted to come out on top of this debt, he needed to be genuine with Lucifer. And being genuine with Lucifer was a sure fire way to addressing the nagging thought that while he had started to rile Lucifer up in a competition for Charlie’s affection because he needed to keep a tight hold of his influence over her, he had spotted the heartbeat of Lucifer having fun at going head to head against him and he had noticed his own displeasure at Mimzy interrupting, because he also had felt just this tantalising spark of ‘oh he’s interesting’ and—

Alastor clicked his tongue. Again.

He was playing with fire. Figuratively and literally. Being genuine with Lucifer set him up for genuinely caring about Lucifer. And whatever tiny amount of care would sneak in could have him hesitate in the deciding moment. He was already going to have to face that struggle with Charlie, and—

Alastor took a deep breath, raised his eyes that had been staring at Lucifer’s profile to the ceiling, letting his breath out as a deep sigh.

“Fuck,” he told the radio studio.

The studio agreed in its silence.

Alastor had transported plenty of bodies, during his life time just like his afterlife time. He had a whole system, plenty of experience controlling flopping limbs while being under significant time pressure that didn’t allow for mistakes.

He had handled plenty of winged bodies too, after his death. Though usually, given that he’s already in Hell, he had bothered a little less with avoiding messes and blood evidence. Cutting the wings off was just so much less of a hassle, and he’d need to do that later anyway.

So while he had transported bodies of winged demons much bigger than Lucifer before, he had never needed to handle them delicately. Not like Lucifer would break or even bruise easily; it was the principle of the matter now. Alastor had also never handled a demon with three sets of wings and Jesus fucking Christ it was annoying.

Gathering Lucifer up from the floor would have been so easy, he wouldn’t have even noticed the weight, but those wings were making it their one and only mission to strip Alastor of his every last nerve.

He eventually managed to fold them around Lucifer securely enough so they were trapped against Alastor’s body when he lifted Lucifer, but it had taken him way too long and way too much touching of stupidly soft red and white feathers to get there.

Lucifer hadn’t even as much as stirred throughout the entire endeavour, utterly dead to the world and Alastor’s struggle.

There was no way Alastor would spend the time and effort to figure out where Lucifer’s own suite was after all that. He knew there was one, somewhere, at the completely other side of the hotel, he had seen the stupid apple shaped extension mirroring his beautiful radio tower from the outside. But the new hallways were just as twisted as the old ones and also Lucifer’s suite was on the other end of the hotel, so no, Alastor couldn’t be assed to carry him all the way over there, even with the wings not adding to his weight at all that clocked in at somewhere barely above nothing. There was no way he was going to risk crossing paths with any of the other residents either, no siree.

So Alastor kicked open his own thankfully red door to his own thankfully tastefully decorated room, and gently laid Lucifer into the middle of his own bed because it was a matter of principle now, and where the fuck was his bayou, if Lucifer already went to the lengths of restoring the staff’s personal rooms to their former state, he could have also reincorporated his bayou that prick—

The radio static was hissing in his ears and Alastor didn’t bother to turn it down. Lucifer obviously wouldn’t be woken by it.

Lucifer, who should have looked tiny in the middle of Alastor’s bed, but with the wings that immediately spread themselves out again it was the bed that looked tiny instead. The top set of wings was significantly extending over the edge. Lucifer better be grateful Alastor chose to relinquish his bed for him.

And he definitely only did it because he didn’t feel like carrying Lucifer further, and not because there had been this worrying spike in Lucifer’s power that had created a flash of heat so strong Alastor could feel it through all the layers of clothes between them. Lucifer himself was hot to the touch, which Alastor knew wasn’t normal because at the beginning of the evening Lucifer’s grip on his wrist had been cold, as if body heat was a completely foreign concept to the fallen angel.

Alastor shook out his hands, nose wrinkled in distaste. Entirely too much touching today. And it was just his luck that King Soft Feathers had noticed Alastor despised it and in his panic without his power Alastor had been willing to agree to a proper Deal just for— Urgh. It was disgusting just how quickly Alastor had lost his grip. The nearly immobilising amounts of pain from the wound had been thoroughly clouding his mind, and he only really realised how bad it had been now that the wound was healed and the pain a mere echo in his memory.

He had given Lucifer a number of insights into his self, and there was no one to blame but himself. He really should have stayed away from the Hotel for longer, but the quicker than quick rebuild forced his hand. Not like he would have survived much longer without Lucifer’s intervention.

That was the worst part of knowing he owed a life debt. The knowledge that he was literally about to die. For good.

Alastor growled, focused his annoyance and anger and power and ripped a hole into the reality of his room and summoned his damn bayou back.

Lucifer didn’t even twitch at the amount of power being wielded right next to him. Stupid fucking idiot.

Alastor summoned his table and his chair, one chair, because he was not hosting visitors damn it, and plopped down, his forehead making contact with the cold metal tabletop a split second later.

Why? Just how had his afterlife come down to this? One of the most powerful Overlords in Hell, and here he was, playing nurse for god-damned Lucifer Morningstar, in what should be a genius ploy at manipulation while obeying the limitations imposed on him by the life debt, but rather felt dangerously close to something akin to growing respect for a worthy rival…

Alastor sighed. And then he got back up.

He could still smell the scent of Lucifer’s blood, the couple drops he had drawn digging his claws into his palms while in the throes of pain taking on Adam’s radiance that looked much worse than Alastor’s own; which hadn’t had him laughing in delight like it should have... Instead in that moment Alastor had crossed the room, sat down on the floor next to Lucifer, attempted to talk to him, and when that didn’t work even touched him, only to realise he’d have to simply wait it out.

And during the entirety of it the eternally hungry part of his mind had been sitting at the edge of his thoughts, demanding to have a taste. It would be so easy, he didn’t even need to draw the blood himself, and who in Hell could ever claim to have had a taste of Lucifer Morningstar? Well, Lilith probably, but she was apparently thoroughly out of the picture. Charlie maybe, babies tend to chew on things, including their parents. Not like she would remember, or care.

Alastor fetched a washcloth from his en-suite bathroom, ran it under cold water before walking over and bracing a knee onto the bed next to Lucifer, mindful of the wings to not pin down any feathers, and meticulously cleaned the golden blood off Lucifer’s palms, off the claws of his ridiculously long fingers.

His Hunger roared in disappointment. His principals stood fast against it. This would only be an addiction in the making. The damn feathers already were an addiction in the making, he hadn’t ever touched anyone this much while there was still life in them, but here he was, playing nurse and thinking about what he could do to help get Lucifer’s temperature down, only to catch his hand reaching for the damn wings as if an infuriating, ill-informed, subconscious part of him actually wanted to remain in contact as long as possible.

Alastor banished the golden flecked washcloth into non-existence.

And then he decided that Lucifer’s temperature would benefit from a couple layers clothes less and a blanket, and no there would be no more touching, what was all his power for??

Alastor was only happy that he didn’t sleep every night. He would have expected to be utterly done with the conscious world after a day of barely hanging on pretending he wasn’t in agonising pain as he was literally being consumed from the inside out; but whatever healing Lucifer had done, it had reached deeper than just the physical wound and the radiant poisoning. Alastor felt good. Rejuvenated in a way he hadn’t felt since his second day after manifesting in Hell.

Where his power had been barely within reach since the battle, it now danced around his antlers and fingertips. The ever present radio waves of Hell itself where whispering in his ears, different frequencies that felt like old friends humming through the hotel and all its inhabitants. He could pick up all the signals buzzing all around Pentagram City with near unparalleled ease, the ever busy frequencies of Vox’ overly extensive network, all the various little antennas and transmitters and receivers; the electrical currents of the power grid itself. The few independent broadcasters that remained bold or brave enough to run their own radio stations sounded clear in his mind with barely any fine tuning. And then, in the middle of all the activity and hubbub there was the band of frequencies that laid silent. The frequencies no one dared to touch, even after his seven year absence. Because those frequencies were his and no one encroached on the Radio Demon’s property without consequence.

As Alastor stood there in his room, eyes closed, his ears turning and adjusting to catch all the sounds of the Pentagram, he felt a sense of contentment settle in. Even his shadow, finally released from its state of pained frenzy, contently stretched across the walls and settled into every familiar dark corner. He was back. And his brush with double-death had only left him stronger than ever.

Alastor felt... powerful. Invincible even though he very much knew he was not.

... He wasn’t going to thank Lucifer for it.

So once he was done with all that playing nurse business, he fetched the broken pieces of his microphone that he should be able to finally fix now, summoned a cup of coffee blacker than the night (not difficult when it was slowly but surely turning towards morning), sat his behind into his chair in his beautiful peaceful bayou and vowed to ignore the angelic presence in the room until it next made a noise.

Chapter Text

Waking up was the most miserable thing Lucifer had decided to do in recent and not so recent memory.

His head was throbbing with a vengeance, his own heartbeat way too loud in his ears. His body still felt like he was running a high fever, which was doubly worrisome because as an angel immune to all sickness and disease he shouldn’t know what a fever even felt like.

It took a while to reorient himself. He wasn’t in his palace, that much was for sure. The room around him felt different, the mattress he was laid out on, wings splayed wide, firmer than his own.

Something small was lying on his chest, bundled up tight and emitting even more warmth to add to the hot misery. Without opening his eyes Lucifer extracted an arm from underneath the blanket. His fingers found soft fur. Keekee immediately started purring, moving to nuzzle more tightly into his chest.

“Hi, little girl,” Lucifer whispered, his voice grating in his own ears and making him wince thanks to the headache even at this low volume, “I missed you.”

Keekee purred louder, making Lucifer chuckle.

“Trying your best to use your healing magic on me? I’m afraid it won’t help, but thank you.” Lucifer dug out his other arm and hugged Keekee to his chest, petting her little head. Her purring was interrupted by a big yawn and then she settled back in, nuzzled so close he could feel the rumbly purr vibrate in his chest.

Lucifer stayed there, unmoved and vaguely in pain, eyes closed, petting Keekee, not ready to face the day yet.

Someone had turned off the radio he noticed, after who knows how long. There was a grandfather clock ticking, but he hadn’t bothered counting to keep track of the passing time. He was however very certain that when he had first woken up, there had been a radio playing in the distance. Probably a wall or two away, not loud enough for him to make anything out, just faint music. It had been turned off sometime during his talking to Keekee.

Wait, no. Not turned off. Stopped.

Not radio. Radio Demon.

Not somewhere in the distance. Here. In the room.

Lucifer took a deep breath, tightened his hold on Keekee, and forced his body to sit up with an explosive sigh and an entirely too cheerful “Up and at it, sweet girl!” for how he felt.

Keekee protested loudly in his arms as he pulled in his wings and let them vanish. Honestly he’d rather stay dead to the world for a while longer too. Not an option though.

Lucifer opened his eyes, only to directly meet the eyes of the Radio Demon sitting at the table across the room (across the room that wasn’t the room any more, but rather a swamp, what the Hell), teacup halfway raised to take a sip. The Radio Demon who had stopped humming when he had realised Lucifer had woken up.

“Why, good morning to you too,” Lucifer said, and his smile probably looked exactly as forced as it felt.

Alastor lowered his teacup to the saucer, the tiny clink of porcelain none the less echoing loudly in Lucifer’s ears. He pointedly looked at he grandfather clock before answering: “Good day, sire.”

Oh good, they were back to sarcastic honorifics. “Fuck off, fawn,” Lucifer shot back, but there was no heat in it, especially compared to the “shit” leaving his lips when he checked the time himself. Almost noon. He needed to show his face hours ago, he was supposed to rebuild a relationship with Charlie here— Keekee sorted herself out of his arms and into his lap, determined to make him stay in bed. “No no no, don’t do this to me little girl, I have to get up—” Oh, there was the start of the panic attack about all of, well, all of this; he would really prefer not to do that right in front of Alastor please and thank you—

Lucifer forced himself to focus on the softness of Keekee’s fur, trying to ignore just how badly his hands were shaking.

Alastor remained unmoved at the other end of the room, watching him way too intently.

Room, right. This room. “Why am I here? Also where am I– No, I’m in your room, obviously– Why am I in your room? Why are you– hnn—” Lucifer forced his mouth shut with a noise somewhere between frustration and desperation. Keekee. Soft fur. Gentle purr. Just focus on petting the soft fur. Panic attack for later. Much later, please. In private later. Pretty please.

Alastor spoke after a long moment of watching Lucifer trying to keep it together. “Given the way you collapsed last night it seemed prudent to keep you under observation as you were resting.” Alastor sipped from his cup. “And since I am bound to you by life debt, I elected to sacrifice the privacy of my quarters.” Their eyes met over the rim of Alastor’s tea cup. “Sire.”

“I told you you don’t— Urgh!” Lucifer bent forward and buried his face in Keekee’s fur, prompting her to make a confused little noise. Honestly, the fact that she hadn’t been bothered to permanent annoyance by him yet was a miracle.

“That is not how it works,” Alastor reminded.

“I know,” Lucifer ever so pathetically whined into Keekee’s fur. He hadn’t planned on his. Too busy to ensure Charlie wouldn’t lose any more of her friends and he had blatantly ignored one of the more important rules when it comes to Deal Makers and saving their damned lives. “I can’t deal with this right now, I need to see my daughter—”

“Charlie and her partner went to accompany the last of the remaining cannibals back to Cannibal Town this morning. They are not to be expected back until well after lunch time.”

Well, that was something at least. He hadn’t messed up his second chance immediately on day one by overburdening his body with neutralising Adam’s radiance and yet again not being there when Charlie would be looking for him.

Still, he should be getting up anyway. Headache and fever be damned, at the very least he needed to get himself out of Alastor’s space.

Keekee protested loudly as he extracted himself from the blanket. Which was also the moment he realised he had been stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. Lucifer squinted his eyes at Alastor, whose smile morphed into a full on shit eating grin.

“It seemed only fair,” he said with a shrug and summoned his microphone cane from wherever he stashed it (oh look, it’s back after all, he had wondered for no reason) just to point it at where Lucifer’s clothes were neatly folded on top of a dresser next to the bed.

Lucifer took it all like a champ. Really. Got up out of bed with only minimal grumbling, inspected his clothes (not visibly tempered with) and got dressed, very very aware of Alastor watching his every move. He summoned his top hat back, putting it back on his head where it belonged, feeling his shoulders drop as some of the tension left him. Heavy lies the head that wears the crown; but after all these millennia it felt worse to be without it. As if a part of him was missing.

Not like Alastor would be respecting this crown. On the contrary, he seemed even less inclined to respect Lucifer in general once the crown was back in its rightful place.

Lucifer gathered Keekee into his arms again, and resolved himself to bite the sour apple and express his gratitude. There’s plenty the Radio Demon could find fault with about him, but it wouldn’t be his manners.

“Thank you for keeping watch and permitting myself as well as Keekee into your space,” he said once he had made it to the door, complete with just enough of a bow his station allowed that had Keekee meowing against his chest.

Alastor still hadn’t moved from his seat at the table in the indoor swamp, but he set down the teacup, toothy smile on full display as he responded: “Do you require aid finding the way, sire?”

Lucifer gave in to the urge and actually rolled his eyes this time. “Shut up, I helped build this place while you were off licking your angelic infected wounds.”

He didn’t allow Alastor the satisfaction of a response and simply saw himself out.

So he hadn’t actually asked Charlie if she was fine with him creating a suite for himself in the new Hazbin Hotel. But in a desperate flash of hope that she would want him to stay, he had done so anyway. The apple shaped observatory nicely filled in the space opposite to Alastor’s radio tower, completing the symmetry of the hotel while getting as much distance between them as possible.

It was a nice and balanced addition, even the interior much more in line with the rest of the hotel, despite Lucifer allowing more of his personal tastes to bleed through; preferring the brightness the white and gold accents provided as a counterpoint to the darkness in his mind. He had added a desk for his general Hell admin work that would inevitably be transformed into additional crafting space, but hey, an attempt had been made. The desk was home to a selection of his favourite childhood pictures of Charlie, the ones that made him smile most.

In his small sitting area he had a telescope set up, pointing at the stars. The stars were wrong here, in Hell, mere imitations of the stars he had created for Earth, but Lucifer still loved them, couldn’t help but miss them, even after all this time.

The sleeping area was sectioned off with big folding doors, allowing him to keep his bed out of view from potential guests, but also to open the area up to the remaining room if he so chose.

The potentially most outrageous addition to the room was the slice of his workshop from the palace he had spliced in, just the corner with his most used workbench and a selection of everyday tools. If he needed more than that he had created an actual (if a bit spacebendy) door to save him the portal to be able to access the whole workshop proper.

So, truly nothing that could be complained about. He certainly didn’t add in a swamp.

And if he picked one, or two, or maybe three of his favourite duckies to keep him company and for Keekee to play with, then that was his personal matter. Keekee even had a tiny cat door so she could come and go whenever she pleased, completely unnecessary when she technically could just appear anywhere in the hotel as she liked, but Lucifer liked having this explicit invitation for her to enter his suite anytime.

Most important part of the suite though: private bathroom.

Lucifer still felt like he was burning up from the inside. He had done nothing more than walked down a twisting corridor the length of the hotel and already felt a layer of sweat forming on his skin. Bodies were so inconvenient and annoying.

The big windows all around allowed plenty of light into the suite, but Lucifer didn’t properly perceive it as he stumbled through the door. Neither did he hear the first low rumble of thunder in the distance.

He settled Keekee on his bed, only for her to hop down and follow him into the bathroom to curl up on the plush shower mat instead.

Still guarding him, still knowing he wasn’t alright. It had a smile ghosting over Lucifer’s lips but it felt fake. Forced. Which wasn’t a good sign.

At least he made it into the nice and warm shower before having his breakdown.

The problem with coming out of longer depressive episodes is that happiness feels wrong. Overwhelming. Sadness is easy, something known, something long since accustomed to. But happiness? It’s so big of a feeling. Too big. And the only way for it to get out was to sit on the shower floor and cry for a good long while, a single rubber duck for company.

It was so difficult to keep his head straight with all those little voices in his mind screaming. All the emotion, anxiety, depression... He was struggling to hold against them all with only his logic while under constant barrage of thoughts from all sides, desperately trying to keep his attention on the facts that mattered…

Lucifer had found a door back into Charlie’s life, and she had enthusiastically opened it for him. Charlie wanted him here, wanted him to help, to believe in her. So much so that she had been ready to give everything to prove that she was right. She had— she had almost gotten herself killed for her dream. A dream she had inherited from him.

All while he had been forced to sit still, do nothing, bound by contract to not interfere with the Extermination as long as the angels obeyed by the rules. Rules he had negotiated. Rules that had only protected the Hellborn, only protected six of the seven Rings of Hell. Rules that the angels finally, finally had broken.

By harming Charlie.

Lucifer had been freed of a contract that he had made with the intention of protecting at least part of his people, protecting Charlie, and he had been freed by the heavenly bastards coming after Charlie.

What had he achieved here, really? The contract hadn’t protected Charlie as intended in the end after all. Because the fuckers up top were so secure with their “oh we could never ever lie” narrative that they don’t need to be bound to a contract the same way demons need to be. So in the end Lucifer had done nothing aside from permitting the total erasure of thousands of formerly human souls. At least the Hellborn had been spared... Until they weren’t.

He really was a pathetic king if he couldn’t even protect his daughter. The one girl that mattered.

But then— then he had. Once he felt the contract being broken, once the chains were lifted off him, he went and protected his daughter. He may suck at politics and diplomacy, but if there was one thing he could do it was to fight. And fight he did. Saved Charlie. Finally put Adam in his place. Helped make right what he had done wrong. At least a little bit.

And then he had helped with rebuilding the hotel, and Charlie had been so endlessly happy, moved to tears (no need to guess where she inherited that from), hugged him tight, so tight, and asked him to help with her dream. With their dream.

Lucifer wasn’t yet in a state of mind where he could believe all Sinners to be redeemable. He could see people like the pink spider demon making an effort, could appreciate it and cheer them on, but he couldn’t believe. Not just yet. Not when he only needed to turn around to be faced with the Radio Demon who obviously couldn’t care less about the whole matter of redemption.

Charlie had said Alastor helped run the hotel for his personal entertainment. And while Lucifer was ready to accept that, he also couldn’t help but suspect that it was only part of the reason. And the other, probably much more significant part, was way closer related to Charlie than Lucifer would ever be comfortable. He’d rather have Alastor gone as far away from Charlie as possible. He could make him leave, technically; the Authority as the King of Hell did allow him that kind of Command. Though he was sure Alastor would find a way to weasel out of it. He’s another Deal Maker after all. Deals and loopholes therein were his entire thing, and as much as Lucifer enjoyed the same abilities with quite a few less drawbacks, he didn’t want to figure out who between them was better at this particular game.

Well, and then aside from all that, he had gone and bound Alastor to himself by life debt. As much as he’d love to deny it, his intention behind his actions didn’t matter. He had saved Alastor’s life – Alastor had let him – which meant the life debt was now in place. And Alastor would have to pay it back somehow. While being a wiseass prick about it the entire time no doubt.

Outside of the shower Keekee mewed loudly. Probably worried because Lucifer hadn’t moved at all in quite a while, sat on the shower floor, arms wrapped around his knees pulled up to his chest, eyes locked on his duck companion of the day, water steadily beating on his scalp. The headache didn’t like it, but the fever loved it. The panic attack liked that it hid the tears, even as he slowly felt himself begin to calm. Keekee mewed again. She didn’t necessarily understand that this kind of paralysis was normal for him. He’d get out of it eventually. He just couldn’t move to indicate to her that he was fine.

Lucifer was overwhelmed. Just. So overwhelmed. Between Charlie, her girlfriend (oh stars, she has a girlfriend and Lucifer hadn’t known and also had already forgotten the poor girl’s name again, depression having transformed his memory into a sieve, memories leaking out left and right merely seconds after he made them—), the other residents of the Hotel and Alastor, the Radio Demon who absolutely had an agenda, who Lucifer had gone and bound to himself by life debt of all debts—

Lucifer was overwhelmed. His heart was beating too fast, his body was burning and his head was overstuffed with thunderclouds.

He had clawed a hand into his hair at some point. The tugging did nothing to distract from the headache, nor the heartbeat that was so loud in his ears that he didn’t hear the knock on the door, nor Keekee’s insistent meow returning.

Not even the click of heeled shoes on tiles broke him from his trance, nor did the shift of a cane being reached out over him to turn off the water, nor did the towel being haphazardly thrown at his head.

Lucifer’s mind only stumbled back into reality when red clawed fingers reached for his rubber duck.

“Don’t you dare,” Lucifer said, not caring that his voice broke after all the silent crying.

Alastor dared. He picked up the rubber duck, surprisingly delicately, lifting it out of Lucifer’s limited frame of sight thanks to the towel still over his head.

“Your daughter will be back soon,” Alastor’s voice sounded from all around him, the augmentation somehow sounding more natural when Lucifer couldn’t see him talking. Or couldn’t see him at all. “I will not be helping you out of the shower.”

Oh thank you dearly, the rubber duck gets assistance, but not the King of Hell, that’s how it goes around here?

For some stupid reason, and it surely must be a stupid reason, because Lucifer couldn’t for the life of him tell what the reason actually was, that thought make him laugh. Out loud. Full on laughter and giggles that bubbled up again very time he thought he had gotten a grip.

Alastor had long since left his suite by the time Lucifer finally managed to get himself out of the shower.

His body still felt too hot, and the headache was still a horrible constant, but Lucifer felt endlessly better now. Nothing like a little bit of catharsis.

He felt so much better in fact, that he wasn’t even bothered by the realisation that Keekee had decided Alastor of everyone present in the hotel was the demon best suited to break Lucifer out of his anxiety induced spiral. Though he should probably take note of Alastor not having used the moment for some more sarcastic mockery. That was definitely a thought to examine later.

For now he should work on showing his best self to his daughter, humming along to the gentle pattering of the acid rain that was just beginning to let up as he got dressed.

(He found the rubber duck on top of the dresser in the bedroom with its other three siblings, set up in a circle as if they were having a conversation. It took him a very long moment to realise that Alastor must have set them up like this. It made him smile, and this time it almost felt real.)

Chapter Text

Lucifer walked down the stairs to the hotel lobby just in time for Charlie’s return.

She burst through the front door, happily chatting at her girlfriend who looked... slightly traumatised by the Cannibal Town experience, but overall happy that Charlie was happy, and that’s the only thing that mattered. Lucifer had known from the first moment he had seen her that he couldn’t have hoped for a better partner for his daughter.

“Dad!” Charlie’s eyes somehow managed to light up even brighter as she spotted him.

“Charlie!” He matched her tone exactly, offered his brightest of smiles in return. It didn’t feel genuine, but Alastor was correct about one thing: presenting a smile to the world no matter what made for a powerful tool indeed.

“You should come with us next time, Cannibal Town is quite a sight to see, oh and Rosie is so nice—!” Charlie continued her happy retelling of the short trip, and Lucifer stood there, entranced as he listened to her, smiling up at her and feeling the smile becoming more and more genuine with every passing second. This is his little girl. All grown up now, but forever his little girl.

“Dad?” Charlie interrupted herself mid sentence.

“Hm?”

The sudden alarm on Charlie’s face had him tense up, entire body preparing for the worst, until she asked: “What is wrong?”

Huh? “Why would something be wrong, Char?”

“You are crying, dad.”

Lucifer blinked. Then wiped his fingers underneath his eyes and, yup, found the wetness of tears. “Ah,” he hummed, quietly, “I’m just so proud and happy to see my little girl all grown up. Happy tears, no need to worry.”

It took Charlie all of two seconds to tear up herself, sobbing out a long drawn “daaaad!” as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

Lucifer had to rise to his tip toes to hug her back properly, but he couldn’t care less. “Love you, Char Char,” he mumbled into her hair, “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, dad!” Charlie pulled back after a couple more seconds. “But are you sure you are alright? You are really warm, you are not usually this warm...”

Damn it. Of course she’d notice. “Powers settling back in after everything, sweetie. All back to normal in a day or two.” It wasn’t even a lie, Lucifer would never willingly lie to his daughter. He just... Couldn’t tell her all of the truth. The mere thought of Charlie having to worry about him had his stomach turning; she wasn’t supposed to worry about her father, she’s his daughter, worrying is a parent’s job... And Alastor probably wouldn’t appreciate having his affairs spread around either, and they did just seem to have silently agreed on a vague base level of respect for each other.

“Okay, if you say it’s fine, it’s fine!” Charlie really was a little too easily convinced sometimes, wasn’t she? The downside of always wanting to see the best in people, one of the first things Lucifer had lost after being cast down to Hell. It was a miracle Charlie still had her optimism.

Her girlfriend stepped up to them, still a little nervous about Lucifer it seemed, but confidently taking Charlie’s hand into hers. “How about we take a bit of a break before the hotel dinner later?”

“Hotel dinner?” Lucifer heard himself ask.

“Oh, yes! Hotel dinner!” Charlie’s excited mood was immediately back. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet! We wanted to properly celebrate getting the hotel rebuilt, and Alastor offered to cook us all a nice dinner!”

Wait. Wait wait wait, back up— “The bellhop... cooks? You are sure he won’t just poison us all..?”

Charlie giggled as if he had just made the funniest joke instead of voicing a valid concern. Her girlfriend (Lucifer really really needed to find an opportunity to ask her name again—) spoke up with a smile of her own: “Yeah, it’s kinda Alastor’s single good quality. He makes quite tasty food.”

“Huh. Who would have thought.”

The girls nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh, just one thing before you go:” Lucifer pointed his cane in direction of the open space of the lobby, “do you mind a pentagram on the floor? I should only need it for a couple hours.”

They blinked at him. “Uh, sure?”

“Wonderful! Now Charlie, do you mind returning the angelic steel dagger you took from the armoury at the palace?” He grinned up at her as he watched Charlie being overcome by a sudden burst of nervousness at realising she had been caught sneaking out some select weaponry.

“Oh. Uh. You... noticed..?”

“Of course I did, Char.” Lucifer didn’t allow his grin to falter.

“You... you’re not angry..?”

“Charlie. Why would I ever be angry about you defending your hotel? I’d only like that dagger back, drawing blood is going to be horrifically annoying otherwise.”

Charlie blinked. “Oh, uh, of course— Niffty!!” Her call hadn’t even had the chance to stop echoing by the time the little maid appeared right between them in front of Charlie.

“Hi princess! Did you find any bugs to squash?!” Niffty’s grin was outright diabolical as she cast her eye around in search for potential creepy crawlers.

“Ah, not at the moment Niffty, I just need to ask for the dagger back.” Lucifer had no idea exactly where Niffty pulled the dagger from, but she held it out to Charlie one second to the next.

Lucifer leaned forward and over Niffty from where he stood behind her, one hand holding the brim of his hat in place, and gently took the dagger from her grasp. “Thank you kindly, Niffty.”

She craned her head back to look back up at him with the biggest, sparkliest expression Lucifer had ever seen. “Anything for you, your Majesty! If there’s anything I can help with, just say the word!”

Uh, alright. Bit much on the enthusiasm. Lucifer let out a slightly awkward chuckle and turned to the open room, the dagger in his hand enveloped in a ball of hellfire for a moment. Not like he could get infected, but that didn’t mean he wanted to cut his skin with a dagger that had been who knows where aside from Adam’s back. “Not to worry, I will clean up after myself,” he grinned at the little maid, set the dagger against his wrist and sliced.

Golden blood dripped onto the hardwood floor, glowing brightly as Lucifer started walking, humming a melody he couldn’t recall the origin of as he let his blood drip to shape the circle for his pentagram. Traditionally there was a whole ass Celestial hymn meant to be sung along to this, but he’d Fall again before lowering himself that far.

He caught the tail end of Charlie explaining to her girlfriend and Niffty (yess, the name was still there!) that this was a totally normal thing for him to do and then they departed, leaving only Niffty behind who looked like she was practically vibrating in her spot.

The cut began to close just as Lucifer finished the circle. Even with an angelic weapon, with his enhanced healing he’d need to set this cut so many more times... He should take his tailcoat off. And roll up his sleeves. He did just that.

“Can I watch?!?”

“Huh?”

Niffty looked up at him with a huge puppy eye. “I haven’t seen magic done like this before!”

There was a huff of laughter from somewhere at the side of the room and, oh, had the bartender been here the entire time..?

“Uh, suuure,” Lucifer allowed.

Immediately he had Niffty climbing up his body like a tree, settling on his shoulders, her chin propped on top of his hat. Alright. That was... alright. He surprisingly didn’t mind as much as he probably should.

“Until the pentagram is done,” he informed her, “which will take a while. All the damn intricacies will take me a few hours to draw.”

Niffty nodded enthusiastically, and Lucifer cut his wrist again.

Lucifer was kneeling on the floor by the stairs, drawing the final glyphs of the pentagram, Niffty still happily sitting on his shoulders when the quiet reverie was brutally interrupted by a shout of “NIFFTY!!!” that made the entire room quake with the vibration of the radio feedback.

Lucifer looked up just in time to see Alastor practically run down the stairs. Not actually running of course, the guy would probably drop double dead before ever dropping the gentleman poise, but this was definitely the fastest Lucifer had ever seen Alastor walk.

Alastor stopped sharply, tips of his pristine dress shoes precisely outside of Lucifer’s blood pentagram, and reached out, grabbed Niffty by the proverbial scruff of her neck and lifted her off of Lucifer’s shoulders.

“Have you completely forgotten your manners??” Alastor was positively seething, his antlers growing on top of his head with his anger as the lights flickered.

“But sir, I asked and bad boy said it was okay!” Niffty defended herself loudly, no fear at Alastor’s display of power. Good for her. Lucifer decided he liked her. Maybe this would help him remember her name for good.

The final glyph drawn, Lucifer looked up at them and damn, Alastor was tall, kneeling on the floor practically in front of him made Lucifer crane his neck much farther up than he was used to…

“She’s right, I told her she could watch. Kinda reminded me of when Charlie was little and used to watch me work.” Lucifer looked down again to find his wrist was still oozing blood, and without thinking lifted it to his face as he continued, “But it’s just as well, now that I’m finished I would have asked her to step out of the circle anyway.”

Lucifer licked the cut clean, catching the final drops of his golden blood with his tongue before they could drip down and ruin his perfect work; the wound immediately closing with just a spark of his power.

The discussion above him fell utterly and completely silent, not even Alastor’s radio static to be heard.

Lucifer looked up. Both Alastor and Niffty dangling in his claws were staring at him, with expressions that Lucifer could only approximate as wide eyed and uuuh... surprised? No, something else. Hm…

Eh, whatever. Not like he expected he would ever be able to understand either of them.

Lucifer got up and turned away, walked to the centre of the circle, taking off his hat and letting it vanish in the process.

Behind him the static picked back up with a vengeance, reverb so strong Lucifer was certain he completely misheard what Alastor said, because a hissed “Hands. Off.” could definitely not have been it.

Anyway.

Showtime.

Lucifer positioned himself in the very centre of the pentagram, head held high, eyes closed, hands clasped together in the perfect poise of prayer.

The old Celestial language had a certain melody to it, made it seem like any and every word an angel spoke was just another verse in an endless hymn, all obeying the same flow, the same beat, the same melody, part of the greater song of the universe. Lucifer however had always enjoyed to put his own twist on the melody, and had found great entertainment in his chosen sport of perverting it as much as possible while still being understood.

»Daddy dearest,« he hummed, keeping his poise but also letting a wild grin take over his face as the pentagram lit up beneath him, »we need to talk.«

The scene around him changed. The magic of the pentagram wasn’t actually taking him anywhere, Lucifer knew his body remained in the hotel lobby just as it was, observable by other people outside the pentagram, even though he couldn’t see them any more.

For a moment the brightness of the baby blue sky blinded him, the white cotton candy clouds burning his retinas. Water licked at his now bare feet, the pentagram still shining beneath him, but the hardwood floor replaced by a sandy beach. Looking down at himself Lucifer wrinkled his nose, and then let out an audible “urgh” just because he could.

The worst thing about calling Home like this: the spell always insisted to transform him into his former angelic self, complete with white flowy tunic, his porcelain skin unblemished, hair flowing down to his waist, his wings baby blue and snow white and even his stature changed to his previous, taller, height. The best thing about this form was the hair. The most offensive one? The fucking halo, broken in half and tainted red as it was.

Lucifer took a deep breath, filled his lungs with as much of the sickly sweet and salty air of this particular slice of Heaven as he could, raised his face toward the sky along with both his middle fingers and called out a beautiful hatred filled: »Fuck you, Father!«

It echoed gorgeously all around the endless empty space.

Lucifer chuckled darkly, he knew his entire expression was probably falling somewhere between manic and straight up insane, and he couldn’t care less. He began walking circles within the confinement of the pentagram, for no other reason than the fact that angels had always been held to perfect stillness while addressing the Big Fuck.

»I know I’m a bit early on my reminder this century,« his tone was light and conversational, even somewhat in line with the celestial melody, but absolutely drenched in Lucifer’s personal twist, »but needs must, as you of all existences know best. I’ll keep it short on the updates for both our sakes. You’ll be happy to hear Lilith finally left me, not like you ever cared about her after she defied your plan, but yeah, she’s been up and gone to who knows where for the past seven years. And by ‘who’ I mean you, because you absolutely know where my wife is, and honestly, if you weren’t this chronically absent for the past however many millennia, I wouldn’t even put it past you to have your fingers in her disappearance altogether. Anyway, Hell’s still thriving, I bet you really hate the new attempt at redeeming Sinners, don’t ‘cha? I just know you do!

»Not that you ever asked, given that you’re probably not even listening, but your granddaughter is doing great! Which is why I am here actually, because you know, no matter of how shitty of an absent dad I am, I will never be as big of a colossal dead beat fuck up as you, Father! It’s literally impossible!« Lucifer felt a laugh bubbling up and he let it out, it sounded as manic with rage as he felt. »You know, the only reason I bother being here at all is because you just keep insisting on returning this thing to me,« Lucifer reached up above his head, let his fingers curl around the pieces of his broken halo, and the entirety of his surroundings glitched into a dangerous red for a moment. Lucifer welcomed it.

»Because for some reason you keep forgetting that I have been there from the very beginning. I was the one looking over your shoulder as you created all there is, and I picked up more than just a few things during that time!«

Lucifer adjusted his grip on his halo and pulled. Immediately the glitches in his vision were growing worse, red bleeding into his pristine feathers, his growing claws scratching the halo as he gripped tighter, his horns emerging and hooves sinking into the sand, tail swishing forcefully as finally his demonic form broke through. His own insane laughter was ringing in his ears, morphing into a yell as he bore all of his infernal strength and power against God’s will to keep the broken halo above his head.

There was a surge of power, a shock wave whipping up the shallow water around him as the halo broke free with a resounding crack.

Lucifer hummed an appreciating sound into the sudden silence. Cracked his neck left and right, shook out the water droplets from his hooves, rolled his shoulders and stretched his red and white wings wide. When he opened his eyes again, he knew they were shining red, just like the formerly perfectly blue sky was now bled through by all the colours of the sunset.

The pieces of his halo where gripped tight in his hands.

Lucifer’s voice was cold as ice when he addressed his final words to his Father, his entire body blazing with his barely controlled rage. »Forever remember that this is the only piece of your grace I will ever permit around my daughter.«

The beach fell away, a swooping feeling of falling attempting to consume Lucifer, but he had long since gotten used to it. The hotel came back into view, his hooves scraping over the hardwood floor.

Lucifer lifted his hands up in front of him, inspecting the red halves of the halo between his dark ashen claws.

He drew up his powers, gold streaked through by red pooling around his hands, and he squeezed, the pieces of his halo shattering into two once more. He held them out before him, his powers beginning to give them shape, his multiphonic voice echoing, dripping of his Authority and might: “Razzle! Dazzle! Be reborn.”

Lucifer let go of the pieces of his halo, watching as they incorporated into the shapes, morphing into the horns of the goat guardians he had created for Charlie the day of her birth. They took form much quicker this time around, their hooves clopping on the floor before him as they gathered their bearings, and then bent their front legs, kneeling before their King and Creator, heads bowed in a show of subservience and shame at having failed their task of protecting Charlie.

Lucifer took a few steps toward them, his tail still swishing wide arcs, but less forceful now. He summoned an apple to his hand, as well as the dagger still stained with his own blood and cut it in two.

“Your task remains unchanged,” Lucifer Commanded, offering a half of the apple to each of them. Halves of one whole, just like they were. “Protect Charlotte Morningstar with all the power I have given to you. You will die before she does.”

Razzle and Dazzle bowed deeper, their snouts pressed against the floor before they stood, accepted the apple halves from his hands.

“Dismissed,” Lucifer said and the glow of the pentagram beneath his hooves vanished, the power of his golden blood burned out into a thin layer of grey ash. Razzle and Dazzle scurried off to find their quarry, which didn’t take them far.

All that would have to wait another moment. Lucifer inspected his claws. He could see his heartbeat pulsing in the inside of his wrists, which wasn’t a good sign. Really he should have expected Adam’s grace to throw a fit at Lucifer using this much of his powers, making a desperate final stand at the opportunity presented by Lucifer draining himself further. His body was filled with a low rippling current of constant pain, but that was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Lucifer took control of his form again, claws and horns shrinking down, wings and tail dismissed with a roll of his shoulders, a tap of his foot to return his boots as his hooves vanished. He meticulously rolled down his sleeves, summoned his tailcoat into his hands and pulled it back on all in a satisfying fluid swish. Finally his hat, placed back on his head with his left hand as the fingers of his right curled around his materialising cane.

All back in perfect order. Presenting: the powerful King of Hell in all his glory. Perfectly put together, presenting a smile to the world as if he didn’t feel like throwing up the food he hadn’t eaten in who knows how long after spending barely a couple minutes in a Heavenly domain.

Lucifer turned to find the entire population of the hotel assembled outside of the burnt out pentagram, staring in a mix of shock (bartender and Fluff) and awe (Niffty) and fear (Charlie’s girlfriend and uh Sh— Sherry? Fuck.) and contemplation (Alastor).

Charlie was sitting on the floor front and centre, crying as she hugged Razzle and Dazzle. She hadn’t taken the revelation well that Razzle couldn’t continue existing without his literal other half, holding him as he too faded away. If Lucifer hadn’t already decided to recreate the guard goats once he learned Dazzle had died fighting for the hotel, that moment would have done it. As much as he trusted that Charlie’s girlfriend would guard her, what father would he be if he didn’t give her guardians of his own?

Lucifer let out an awkward chuckle. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to disturb all of you.” He didn’t know how much they understood of what happened here. They would have seen Lucifer’s transformation and actions within the circle, but – unlikely as it was – there was no telling if any of them had any grasp of the Celestial language to fully understand what he was saying, aside from the obvious context clues. That would be... embarrassing, but at this point Lucifer was beyond caring.

It was Fluff who first found his voice again. “Oh my God! That. Was. So cool!”

“Hm, yes, God, quite literally.” Lucifer mumbled out and made his way over to the assembled group.

“Up top, short king!” Fluff grinned and because he did actually hold out his hand at a height that Lucifer didn’t need to awkwardly jump for, Lucifer indulged him, to the obvious delight of not just Fluff, but also Charlie.

“Sir?” The voice of Charlie’s girlfriend trembled just so slightly, and Lucifer turned his body fully toward her, showing her she had all of his attention and gesturing with his cane for her to continue. “Does... Does He ever answer?”

“Ah. No.” Lucifer was surprised by how even his own voice was. No rage or disappointment left, just uncaring acceptance of having long since given up. “Hasn’t for millennia, and I strongly suspect never will again.”

She made a small noise, one Lucifer didn’t know her well enough for to place, but Charlie got up from the floor and pulled her in, leading her over to the couches, Razzle and Dazzle trailing behind them.

“I need a drink,” the bartender mumbled out and turned to return to his bar.

“You know what?” Lucifer said, twirling his cane and vanishing the ash of his blood pentagram before tucking it underneath his elbow, “Count me in.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer was on his third? Fourth? Drink.

Good drink too. The bartender had given him a long look, sighed out “So, generational daddy issues then?” to which Lucifer had solemnly nodded, and ever since then glasses of whatever this was had appeared in front of Lucifer every time he finished the last one.

He sipped slowly as he wiled away the time, for once blissfully thinking of nothing but the taste of the alcohol and watching the group congregate around the sitting area opposite to the bar. Alastor had excused himself to start on dinner a while ago.

Pinky Fluff was saying something that made everyone laugh. It was so nice to observe Charlie having fun with her friends, it made Lucifer feel all warm and fuzzy by proxy. (No, that’s not the alcohol, he would need much more before he even felt it. His spiking fever would be a more likely explanation.)

Which reminded him once again that he still couldn’t keep the names of any of Charlie’s friends straight. And if he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night coming up with more descriptors he would have to get over himself and ask.

Thankfully the bartender’s attention was on him the moment Lucifer turned his body toward him.

Lucifer sighed at the lifted eyebrow he was presented with. “Can I ask a favour?”

The eyebrow lifted higher.

“Alright, there really is no way to say this that doesn’t make me sound like the most insensitive and uncaring prick of a father, but,” Lucifer sighed again, wiped his slightly sweaty palm against his leg, his voice quiet as he refused to meet the bartender’s eyes, “could you tell me everyone’s names again? Start with yours, please.”

Silence reigned for a horrible long moment that made Lucifer start to bounce his leg.

Then: “You got a thing with not bein’ able to recognise faces? I had a friend like that once.”

“Ah, uhm, no, I recognise everyone just fine, just like I recognise I have either been introduced or heard all the names otherwise multiple times, but my mind just,” he gestured helplessly, “throws it all out again. It... is quite possible that we will be repeating this conversation a couple times too, my apologies...”

The bartender hummed and picked out an already clean glass to clean again. “Bein’ as ancient as you that probably isn’t an uncommon problem. There’s only so much that fits inside a brain, right?”

Lucifer chuckled weakly. “Possibly.” Probably not. Unlike pretty much every other entity in this realm, Lucifer’s body was just an add-on to his self. His physical brain should not affect his memory. No, that’s all on good ol’ depression…

“Name’s Husk,” the bartender, Husk, said. “Mr Pink over there is Angel Dust, which is gonna feel funny for you ‘cause we all just call him Angel. Little bug squishin’ cyclops is Niffty, big bomb throwin’ cyclops is aptly named Cherri Bomb. Charlie’s angel girlfriend is called Vaggie, and then we got Alastor in the kitchen.”

“Oh his name I wish I could forget,” Lucifer mumbled into another sip of his drink. Wait, hold on, back up— The glass hit the bar top with a bit more momentum than Lucifer had intended as he twisted around again, getting momentarily dizzy before his eyes fixed on Vaggie. “Angel girlfriend?”

He had the unfortunate luck to speak into the middle of a lull in conversation and the entire parlour fell stock still in a heartbeat.

Lucifer felt like the room was spinning around him, even though his hand was still securely braced against the bar. Angel girlfriend, angel, angel— how did he not notice, how, just how did that fact slip past his attention, she was right there, right here, if he just called up a tiny sliver of his power he could see her true form, her wings, her missing halo, how had he not noticed—

“Sir! Sir, I can explain, sir, I promise, I can—” Vaggie snapped her jaw shut at Lucifer’s raised hand.

He hadn’t even noticed her crossing the room, Charlie hot on her heels. His hand was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Lucifer took it down.

“Dad, it’s—”

“Just give me a moment, please.” Lucifer immediately felt beyond horrible for cutting Charlie off, but if he didn’t sort his thoughts out right now there was a very big danger of getting things very very wrong in the next couple seconds—

Vaggie. Charlie’s girlfriend, is an angel. Down here in Hell, without a halo. The only way for her to come down here would have been during one of the past Exterminations. And the only way for her to stay down here at the end of an Extermination would have been through abandonment by her own people. Right? They had always taken everyone back with them, Lucifer knew because he had checked, year after year until eventually he had stopped and now there was this angel who hadn’t returned to Heaven and was his daughter’s girlfriend—

Lucifer closed his eyes, lifted his hat from his head, ran his hand through his hair before replacing it.

Charlie seemed to know. Everyone seemed to know. And they had accepted Vaggie, Charlie had accepted Vaggie’s true self. Vaggie was here, at the hotel, helping Charlie with her dream of redeeming Sinners; she had fought for the hotel, against the angels, ready to die to protect Charlie and her dream. A literal guardian angel.

The King of Hell was furious. That he hadn’t noticed then, that he hadn’t noticed now; he should just deliver Vaggie straight back to Heaven’s doorstep, tell them nice try planting a spy right at his daughter’s side and they better not dare try that shit again.

The Fallen Archangel was shedding silent tears. Another angel abandoned in Hell just like him, banished forever for (probably) trying to do what she thought was a right and good thing. He wanted to hug Vaggie and tell her that she was safe in his domain now. Heaven couldn’t reach her here.

Lucifer blindly fished for his glass, slammed back the rest of his drink before setting it back on the bar and hopping off the barstool, standing right in front of Vaggie. She was shorter than Charlie, even a smidgen shorter than him, so Lucifer could meet her eyes straight on.

What the King of Hell or the Fallen Archangel wanted didn’t matter. Charlie’s Father only needed to know two things: “Do you love my daughter?”

“Yes,” Vaggie answered, not even a hint of delay.

“Good.” The second question wouldn’t be as easy. “Do you miss it?”

Vaggie stood silent and still.

Lucifer decided to give her some more to work with. “I haven’t laid eyes on the Silver City in... Ten? Twelve? Millennia? Hm, I lost track. I bet it hasn’t changed much, nothing ever changed there. Better air quality for sure, but everything could have done with a splash of colour...” He let his voice trail off.

Vaggie took a deep breath. Charlie had placed her hand on the small of Vaggie’s back at some point, an encouraging presence. “I... There are people I miss. Not really friends, but people I knew and who knew me, outside of the Exterminators. Everything else I had...” She looked at Charlie for a moment before fixing her eyes back on Lucifer. “Everything else was taken from me when they abandoned me here. But none of it matters, because what I have now is endlessly better. I have Charlie, I have friends, I have a purpose that isn’t eradicating human souls for the so called ‘sin’ of existing in Hell. I am... happy here. I was never truly happy in Heaven.”

“Oh, Vaggie...” Charlie whispered out next to her.

Lucifer nodded gravely. It was a good answer. An answer that proved she had thought about it all and made her choice to stand where she does.

“—Sir.” Vaggie added, a very belated afterthought at having forgotten to use a honorific or title during her short speech.

It made sense that she would. She probably saw the King of Hell every angel was taught to fear first and Charlie’s Father second. She knew more of his power and Authority from the other side of the line than his reputation or lack thereof in Hell.

Lucifer found his eyes wandering the room, but he didn’t particularly see anything. He felt everyone’s attention weighing on him, waiting for his judgement, as if Vaggie staying was something he actually had any deciding power over. Which he didn’t. Because this is Charlie’s hotel and she chose Vaggie and Lucifer had already accepted that, just like he had accepted Charlie choosing Alastor.

He turned his eyes back to Vaggie. He should probably afford her a smile, but the words bouncing around his head didn’t allow for one.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “There are only an exclusive few people who understand that Heaven is just a different kind of Hell.”

And Vaggie nodded. A tiny nod, but an instinctive one, a nod that confirmed she understood exactly what he was talking about.

Lucifer nodded back. And then, with an equally quiet “alright, come here now,” he pulled Vaggie into a gentle hug. She tensed up at first, but as he patted her shoulder she relaxed, even hugged him back.

When he let go, Lucifer had managed to pull up a smile for her, hands clasping the side of her shoulders. “Welcome to the family, Vaggie.”

Charlie let out a squawk, someone in the group on the couches let out a long and relived breath.

Vaggie teared up, fighting to keep her voice steady as she squeezed Charlie’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Lucifer clicked his tongue, and grabbed his cane from where it was leaning against the bar, gently tapping it to Vaggie’s elbow. “Lucifer,” he insisted.

“But sir--!”

“Nuh-uh-uh!” He tapped his cane to her elbow again. “I said family, that affords you first name privileges.” He leaned to the side so he could look past her and point his cane at the assembly lounging on the couches. “That goes for the rest of you too by the way. But only while in a private setting like this.”

Fluff— Angel positively lit up, hauling himself up from his lazy lounge so he could give Lucifer a triple thumbs up over the back of the couch. “Sure thing, Lucy baby!”

He immediately withered back down at the glare Lucifer shot him.

“Thin ice,” he decided, “but I’ll allow it.”

“Aw yisss!” Angel sank back into the couch mumbling a not quiet enough “I already have so many cute nickname ideas!” that Lucifer elected to ignore for sake of his sanity.

Next Lucifer knew he found himself in a bruising hug courtesy of Charlie’s out of control strength, squished against her and Vaggie, all kinds of wordless happy noises leaving her.

Lucifer caught Vaggie’s eye, and he knew that he was wearing the exact same fond smile she was. The kids would be fine. More than fine.

“Okay, Char Char, you can let go now,” Lucifer said after a couple more moments. There were never enough Charlie hugs in his life, but he felt the tell-tale signs of overwhelm setting in, now that the stressful situation was dealt with. He would like to get out of sight and take a moment before all that could spiral.

“But I am so happy!” Charlie answered and squeezed even tighter, which had both Vaggie and Lucifer let out an audible oof. That had the potential to bruise, even on Lucifer’s skin.

“We know, Charlie,” Vaggie said, kissing her on the cheek, and Lucifer used the distraction provided by her to pry Charlie’s arms open and allowing them escape.

“Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I think I will go and check what kind of poison the bellhop is putting into the food.”

Charlie giggled, Vaggie smiled, Angel laughed out loud. Lucifer gave himself a couple extra points for a successful social interaction on top of the swift crisis resolution.

“Before you go, your Majesty,” Husk said behind him and Lucifer let out a long sigh.

“This is going to be a fight with you, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” Husk grinned, and held out a folded slip of paper over the bar. “For the road,” he commented.

Lucifer slightly tilted his head, but took the paper. A short look inside had him chuckling.

“What’s that?” Charlie questioned, forever curious.

“Memory aid,” Lucifer answered. “Thank you, Husk.”

“No problem, your Majesty.”

Lucifer allowed himself a rare audible groan as he shook his head, securing the list of names in an inside pocket of his tailcoat and walked off into the direction he had put the staff kitchen.

Chapter Text

Alastor hummed along to the music he was playing over the radio in the corner as he checked on the roast in the oven. It was getting to the point where he could start on the other parts of today’s menu.

Cooking soothed him. The familiarity of making his mother’s recipes calmed his mind, always had and always would. If the hotel dinner plans hadn’t already existed, he would have found himself in the kitchen today anyway. Because he was in desperate need of some soothing.

Well, first there had been some more displeasure, because the staff kitchen Lucifer had created was the most soulless industrial kitchen to ever disgrace Hell and that had required immediate correcting. If Alastor was the one using it, he got the final say on the design, and he would accept no argument to the contrary.

Now he felt at home, the heels of his shoes clicking against gentle teal patterned tiles that matched the teal paint of the elegant wooden cupboards, tasteful flowery wallpaper and nice big windows that let in the early evening light, a proper kitchen island for additional working space. The stove had been acceptable, but got a 1920s makeover for no other reason than the principle of the matter, same as the fridge. Lucifer could have a say in the matter when he actually used this kitchen to cook food, not a second earlier. As if that would ever happen. He probably didn’t even eat if he couldn’t be bothered to breathe.

Alastor let out a snarl. He would very much like to think about anything and everything other than Lucifer, please and thank you. However his mind had decided to torture him with a looping replay of the little scene he had witnessed a couple hours ago, Lucifer kneeling on the floor, forked tongue lapping up drops of his golden blood…

The worst part was that Niffty had seen it. Seen Alastor’s reaction too. And then instead of playing it off like he could and should have, Alastor had gone and gotten territorial with Niffty. Over Lucifer Morningstar.

And as if his reactions weren’t completely nonsensical and disproportionate already, Niffty’s “Understood, sir!” had filled him with a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t even begin to explain. Alastor wasn’t surprised that his mind kept circling back to Lucifer’s golden blood given his preferred diet, after all he had been itching for a taste all of last night, but Niffty agreeing to back off had satisfied a whole different need Alastor didn’t even know he had and had no idea how to name.

So he had fled left the group for the kitchen at his earliest convenience, hoping to escape the looming feeling of Lucifer’s power that accompanied him wherever he went. But of course that wouldn’t help if Alastor’s subconscious decided to bring the thoughts of Lucifer with him. Like the thought that Lucifer had big hands. For his stature that is. Which Alastor hadn’t at all cared about until he had cleaned the blood off Lucifer’s palms last night and his mind had fixated on the realisation that Lucifer’s fingers were longer than Alastor’s own.

Alastor had no use for those thoughts. Golden blood he understood, but he had no use for soft feathers and long fingers and musical laugh— now where did that come from???

Alastor growled to himself. He should be thinking about how to make subtle digs at the multitude of ways Lucifer must be broken given the panic attack he had witnessed earlier in the day. It would be so easy to rile him up, get his blood to boil, maybe even pick a proper fight. But when Alastor tried to steer his thoughts even in the vague direction, his stomach did this really obnoxious swooping thing that wasn’t even proper nausea, and the next moment he would find himself thinking about Lucifer oh so gently petting Keekee’s ears and— No. Nope. Stop. Lots of lines to be drawn right there.

It must be a lingering effect of the whole metaphysical healing matter. Lucifer had spent hours in the closest possible proximity that two souls could be to each other, it made sense that Alastor’s mind would fixate on the experience and everything surrounding it for a while. The only thing that mattered is that it will stop. Soon. It has to.

The door opened and closed. Alastor didn’t bother turning around. Think of the devil and he doth appear as well apparently.

Alastor continued building his pile of vegetables that needed cutting as if nothing had happened, though he did stop humming and focused his attention.

Lucifer did... nothing? Not even a comment about the redesign? Really? Well, that was disappointing.

Fine, more direct approach it is. “Now, what brings you all the way down to the peasantry in the kitchen, your royal Majesty?” Alastor drawled.

“Ah, uh, checking which poison you use.” Delivering he return quip was a step in the right direction, but Lucifer sounded... out of character. Muted.

“Why, cottonmouth snake venom, of course!” Alastor answered, voice as cheerful as ever.

“Heh, good one,” was the answer and Alastor finally had enough and turned to give Lucifer the disapproving glare he deserved for not even managing two bits of vaguely hostile banter—

Alastor allowed his shoulders to drop as he breathed out at the sight he found.

Lucifer was leaning against the wall, his head tilted down, eyes mostly hidden by the downturned brim of his hat, but definitely squeezed closed. His hands gripped his cane too tightly to hide the fact that they were shaking, Alastor could see the flex of the muscles from all the way across the room.

Now this was just no fun, witnessing the King of Hell having the second panic attack of the day. What entertainment could there be in beating an already beaten man? Though he supposed this explained a lot about Lucifer’s prolonged absence from the public eye and his seeming disinterest in ruling. Alastor couldn’t be certain which came first however, the absence, or the anxiety disorder.

It was a little disconcerting to observe. Such a powerful being, who Alastor wouldn’t have any hope to beat in a fair fight, defeated by nothing more than his own mind. It was a shame, really. Especially given how delightfully entertaining it was to push his buttons when Lucifer was on top of his game.

Alastor let the heavy cutting board clatter onto the kitchen island, a knife following shortly after. It did pull Lucifer’s attention enough for him to actually open his eyes and meet Alastor’s stare. “If you intend to stay in my kitchen, you will be put to work,” Alastor said, letting the radio static add a satisfying buzz to his words.

For a long moment Lucifer just stared at him. Alastor almost wished he was wearing his coat instead of his black cooking apron. He felt seen without his coat, in no small amount due to lacking the amount of control he held over his ears when it came to his tail. Not like Lucifer was in a position to be able to see the tiny irritated flicks of his tail Alastor could feel happening at the moment, but Alastor was aware and paying attention now, when he hadn’t bothered before.

Eventually Lucifer cleared his throat and unstuck himself from the wall, taking off his hat and vanishing it along with his cane. “Sure,” he said, his voice at least a little clearer, “how can I help?”

“Vegetable cutting duty. As if I’d trust you not to mess up any of my actual dishes.” Alastor piled the vegetables next to the cutting board in order in which he would need to add them to the pot. “Can you reach, or do you require a stepping stool, sire?”

Lucifer only gave him a flat look in return as he shrugged off his ridiculous tailcoat and hung it up right next to Alastor’s coat before stepping up to the kitchen island and pulling the cutting board towards him. Alastor couldn’t help but note the elegance with which Lucifer’s long fingers picked up the knife, which immediately pulled his mind back to a different type of knife he had seen used by those hands just a couple hours prior and— No. No no no, he was meant to be precisely not thinking about that…

“Sliced, diced or minced?” Lucifer asked.

Alastor caught himself just blinking back at him. No need, the Hunger whispered, what else are teeth for if not for sinking them in?

Lucifer tilted his head at him, eyebrow slowly rising.

Fucking keep it together.

“My, my, you actually had me stunned processing the thought that you do seem to not be entirely helpless in the kitchen! Diced shall suffice.”

“I cook,” Lucifer shot back and it was Alastor’s turn to raise the questioning eyebrow. “Well, occasionally. More before...” He cleared his throat and redirected with a small shake of his head. “I do not strictly require to eat, however Charlie and Lilith do. So I learned to make at least some decent food.”

“What a family man!” Alastor jeered and finally kicked himself back into gear to set up the pot and start on the sauce.

“Not really. Decent apparently is never good enough when you live in a palace.”

Alastor focused on his pot. He didn’t really appreciate Lucifer coming in here and bringing his definitely and totally relaxed mood down with his personal issues. At least that’s what he wanted to say, complete with throwing him out. But Lucifer had come here for a reason, probably to escape the rabble in the parlour before they could spot his subpar mental state, but instead of just saying he would go to check on the kitchen and then wandering off anywhere else, Lucifer had actually come to the kitchen to suffer in Alastor’s company while hiding behind an entirely unconvincing brave face.

Alastor didn’t understand that choice. Not one bit. The only thing he understood even less was how this ridiculous out of touch with reality piece of his brain decided to feel flattered.

“So,” Lucifer said, interrupting the rhythm of the knife sliding against the cutting board, “how did you learn to cook? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I mind,” Alastor snapped back, static buzzing around his words.

“Okay.” Okay? Just okay?? That’s it??

“My mother taught me,” Alastor heard himself saying and this is now going entirely too far, he is not in the business of talking without thinking his words over thrice and he will certainly not start now—

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

There was the noise of a knife being set down, and a moment later a plate of perfectly diced onions appeared on the counter to Alastor’s side, close enough to be within reach, but far enough as to not get into the way of Alastor’s system. It was... oddly considerate; Alastor was tempted to believe that Lucifer actually truly had some decent cooking experience.

“Your mother is probably really proud you held on to her lessons all your life and even after.”

Alastor’s hand froze in the middle of his reach for the onions. He risked a look over his shoulder, but Lucifer was already back to chopping. Alastor forced himself back into movement, swallowing around more words that attempted to climb his throat against his will. He cannot permit himself to speak them. He can’t. But maybe... Lucifer was the King of Hell after all—

“I wouldn’t know,” Alastor said, static almost obscuring his words, “I have not met her again.”

The knife was being set down again, steps rounding the kitchen island, the quiet scrape of a plate of perfectly diced carrots taking the place the onions had vacated. Lucifer didn’t immediately retreat back this time.

“Do you want to know?” He asked. The ‘if she is here’ didn’t need to be said for Alastor to understand the question.

Yes. No. Yes. Alastor swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat, forced himself to reach for the carrots, forced his hand not to shake. If she was, it would break him. If she was, she needed protection. If she hadn’t already been exterminated. She had died before him after all, and he had never found her in Hell, not that he had been actively looking, unable to let go of the hope that she wasn’t—

“I don’t know,” Alastor managed eventually. There was no telling what the information would do to him. It was too big of a risk to take. Between his deal, his debt, his situation…

Lucifer was still standing at the counter with him. Completely still, simply quietly watching Alastor work through the steps of the recipe on complete autopilot, while all of Alastor’s attention was focused on him in turn, watching him in the corner of his eye.

Then he seemed to make a decision. He snapped his fingers, eyes flashing red as a burst of flame delivered a scroll into his hand. Its edges were singed and slightly smoking, little bits of ash pulling free as Lucifer unrolled it, and for a moment Alastor found himself mesmerised by the little specks of ash, falling and blinking out of existence before they could complete their dance to the floor.

For some reason Alastor found himself relieved he couldn’t read the tiny script on the scroll. Whatever language it was, it almost looked like the words were moving the more he tried to make out shapes or letters. Maybe they were. It reminded him of— No. Not the time to go there.

Lucifer studied the scroll intently for a long while. Alastor turned his attention back to his pot. Cooking. He was meant to be cooking. There is a decent chance that Lucifer wouldn’t even tell—

“She’s not here.” The scroll vanished in another burst of flame.

Alastor took a breath.

“She never was here either.”

Alastor exhaled.

Lucifer went back to chop the bell peppers.

If Lucifer caught a glimpse of the single silent tear he didn’t mention it.

Chapter Text

The problem with distracted cooking, was that he was, well, distracted.

Alastor stood in front of the stove and fought to not click his tongue or give any other audible indication of his annoyance.

Lucifer was still here. Alastor had run out of tasks to delegate quickly enough, but instead of leaving, Lucifer had stuck around and found himself something to do, which had gone so far as to him manually cleaning the kitchen island until it was literally spotless. No magic, no leaving it for Niffty to handle. He had done it himself, sleeves rolled up to reveal the ashen discolouration of his skin. He must have acquired it during his Fall, given that Charlie seemed to be a carbon copy of her father and her arms were unblemished... And that was without considering the new knowledge that the skin of Lucifer’s old angelic form was perfectly white as well…

It wasn’t so much Lucifer’s presence that had been distracting Alastor, he could keep an eye on a number of different people at once while appearing completely focused on his task. No, Lucifer being in the room shouldn’t be an issue, no matter how much Alastor preferred for him to just leave. The problem was found in the fact that Lucifer seemed to be comfortable.

Lucifer was moving about like this was his own kitchen, starting on washing the pile of dishes and tools Alastor had placed into the sink to be handled later as if it was a completely normal thing for the King of Hell to do. He didn’t even seem to spare a single thought to his wedding band as he plunged his hands into soapy dishwater.

Alastor found himself completely unable to figure out Lucifer’s motivations for doing any of this. For staying after his anxiety attack settled, for helping, for doing the damn dishes as if he didn’t exactly know that Niffty would have handled the kitchen in a mere moment after dinner.

Worst of all: Lucifer was humming. The radio was playing a subconscious selection of Alastor’s favourites, and Lucifer was humming along, because he knew them after the whole metaphysical healing endeavour. He probably wasn’t even consciously aware he was doing it, occasionally tapping his foot along to the rhythm. No, he definitely wasn’t aware.

Alastor however, was. He had known Lucifer loved music every bit as much as his daughter within the first two minutes of having met the man. Singing, playing instruments, dancing; music was in his blood. And for some reason Alastor couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they were to attempt a duet rather than a duel…

Which led him to this moment. Standing in front of the stove, tasting his food and feeling something is off, but having been too distracted while making it to recall if he had forgotten anything. Maybe a bit much salt?

Alastor tossed his spoon into the sink, satisfied that it caused a perfect splash of dishwater right into Lucifer’s face (“Oi—”) and went to fish a fresh spoon from the drawer, dipping it into the pot before shoving it into Lucifer’s direction.

“Taste test,” Alastor said, trying to make it sound like an order rather than a request.

“Huh?” Was the eloquent response. Lucifer looked at the spoon and then up at Alastor, arms still halfway submerged in the sink.

“There is little use of going through the trouble of serving poisoned food if my victims stop eating before they have ingested a fatal dose.”

The reference to Lucifer’s excuse for coming to the kitchen earned Alastor a chuckle. “Ah, of course, can’t have them taste the poison now.”

“Precisely.”

The next few things happened in too rapid succession for Alastor to react in time. Lucifer pulled his arms from the dishwater, gave the dripping water an annoyed look, then looked at the spoon Alastor was holding out for him to take, at Alastor’s fingers holding the spoon, made a decision and quickly leaned forward, capturing the spoon in his mouth.

Alastor let go of the spoon immediately, found himself taking a step back for good measure, feeling the surprised flick of his ears happen before he could school his expression.

What the fuck. What— What series of thoughts had just happened in Lucifer’s mind that ended with the decision to led himself be fed rather than just taking the damn spoon like any normal person?? Was it— Oh Lord, did Lucifer just look at the Alastor offering him the spoon and judged the risk of brushing his fingers while taking it too high? Was that what was happening here? Lucifer being respectful of his promise not to touch to a degree that was sure to lead to Alastor losing the final dregs of his sanity?? In what world was that promise worth more than letting himself be fed by an enemy??

“Mm,” Lucifer hummed, fishing for a dish towel and drying his hands before pulling the spoon from his lips. “Tastes good.”

What the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck what the—

“I obviously don’t know what it is supposed to taste like, but definitely not tasting any poison. Bit on the salty side maybe? But that might be intended, so no notes.”

What. The. Fuck. And why the Hell was Lucifer liking the food making Alastor happy??

It took all of Alastor’s discipline to unstick himself, and turn around to go plate the food.

Calling everyone to the dedicated staff dining room was as simple as sending his shadow out to fetch them. Getting everyone seated however was a whole different endeavour.

“It is your hotel Char Char, you should get the seat at the head of the table.”

“But it’s always been your spot, dad, it would feel weird...”

“You know I don’t care about any of that, I’m here as your father, not as King—”

Fuck’s sake... Alastor’s voice cut over them: “In line with royal etiquette, his Majesty takes the seat at the head of the table, her Highness the seat of honour to his right.” He gave both Lucifer and Charlie a stern look and sat himself down to the left of the head of the table, helping Niffty up into the chair to his own left. His shadow could fetch the food. Alastor might be the go to chef for these people, but he wasn’t about to play waiter.

Alastor felt Lucifer giving him a long look, still unmoved, standing next to the chair he had been arguing with Charlie over. Eventually he gracefully took his seat, braced his elbow on the table (uncultured ass) and plopped his chin into his palm, all while leaning towards Alastor, stopping just shy of entering his personal space while keeping direct eye contact. “And you get the Queen’s seat why exactly?”

Angel sitting between Husker and Cherri let out a loud chortling laugh, expressing the sentiment that was echoed by the rest of the table. Vaggie’s look in particular seemed to communicate a very satisfied ‘he got you!’

Alastor ignored them, rather keeping his focus on Lucifer as he leaned in himself, invading his personal space, looking down at him just shy of letting their foreheads make contact. His voice reverberated heavily with the thick layering of radio static when he spoke. “Why, I had assumed you wanted your family close, but your enemies even closer.”

And Lucifer snickered. A small kind of laugh that was only small because Lucifer didn’t permit himself to laugh with quite as much abandon as Angel who was by now running out of breath. Lucifer pulled back, taking his seat proper, controlling his laugh until he was able to speak. “You are indeed correct for once, I should mark the calendar!”

The sharp retort Alastor held on the tip of his tongue died there when he saw Charlie’s expression from the corner of his eyes. She looked at them with the happiest, sappiest smile he had ever seen on her face. She was obviously interpreting this interaction as Alastor and her father getting along, which couldn’t possibly be further from the truth—

“So, Lucy,” Angel ventured (and when exactly had the nicknames become a thing?!), still sounding vaguely breathless from all his laughing as Alastor’s shadow served the food, “figured out what poison we get fed tonight?”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up. “Cottonmouth snake venom,” he answered without even a single second of delay, and Alastor found himself blinking at the realisation that Lucifer had been able to pay attention despite his mental state at that moment and actually recalled the interaction. “He probably keeps them in the fucking swamp in his room.”

“Bayou,” Alastor heard himself correcting without his own permission.

“What?”

“It’s a bayou, not a swamp, those are two fundamentally different biomes. I would have thought you’d be able to distinguish between them, what with you having been around for the Earth’s creation, but I obviously overestimated your general base of knowledge.”

“You’re such a pedantic prick, its not like I looked at it long enough to be able to tell whether or not the water is moving,” Lucifer responded, rolling his eyes, but focussing his attention on his plate of food.

At the other end of the table Angel was once again in serious danger of laughter induced asphyxiation, while both Husker and Vaggie seemed very interested in the answer to the question of just how Lucifer knew about the bayou in Alastor’s room in the first place. It only took a pointed glare to have Husker turn back to his drink, no doubt recalling the events of last evening, and Vaggie seemed to decide against asking of her own good sense.

Charlie just seemed to be endlessly happy that Alastor and Lucifer were arguing without causing any property damage.

The dinner was winding down, food long eaten, just a gentle atmosphere of light conversation that Alastor had elected not to pay attention to.

He had rather been paying attention to Lucifer. He had been participating in the conversation for the most part, but fallen completely silent during the past quarter hour, only offering Charlie little smiles that Alastor could tell were growing more and more forced by the minute.

Lucifer must still be handling the last remnants of Adam’s grace. And with the amount of power he had used today, what with his yelling at God and re-creating Razzle and Dazzle from the pieces of his broken halo, he was probably slowly but surely running out. Adam’s power was no doubt using the opportunity for a final stand, if the tight set of Lucifer’s jaw was anything to go by.

It was high time for Lucifer to excuse himself, and Alastor had half the mind to create an opportunity for him, before the realisation of that fact completely threw him off doing anything at all.

“Well Charlie, I should probably turn in early today,” Lucifer said another couple minutes later, only to be immediately faced with his daughter’s worried expression. No surprise that the man had trouble finding the opportunity to leave, Charlie looked at him like she thought he was about to dissolve into nothingness and vanish from her life again for good.

“You sure you’re okay?” She asked, and Alastor was almost tempted to say that no, Lucifer wasn’t, but that would require revealing a couple too many cards of his hand.

“I’m tired Char Char, there has been a lot going on the past week.” Trust the King of Hell to expertly skirt around the issue.

But also trust Adam to have the shittiest timing possible.

Lucifer had just gotten up from his chair when there was a surge of power Alastor could feel shuddering through him, knocking him off balance, leaving Lucifer to brace his hand on the table with quick movement that had dishes quietly clattering and was entirely incapable of going unnoticed.

Alastor stopped the urge to reach out in its tracks, forced himself to stay seated and watch as Lucifer cursed under his breath, staring down at where he had heavily splayed his fingers on the tablecloth, his other hand pressed to his chest. Alastor watched Lucifer’s eyes lose focus, completely glaze over as the pain must be reaching a new high.

“Dad?!”

“It’s fine, sweetie,” Lucifer forced the words through his teeth, “just Adam trying and failing to get a final word in.”

Alastor saw it first, everyone too confused and focused on Lucifer battling obvious pain to pay attention. The wedding ring on his hand braced against the table began to glow. Alastor scooted his chair back, his fixed microphone materialising in his hands. Something was about to happen, and Lucifer wouldn’t be up to fight it.

The next moment another surge of power washed through the room, but this one was different. Nothing like Lucifer’s, nothing like Alastor’s, nothing like Adam’s stench either.

“Lilith,” Lucifer gasped, the same moment Charlie asked: “Mom?”

Alastor squinted his eyes. There was something there. A formless shape of power hovering above the table, a slight glow emanating from it. A near suffocating flowery scent filled the room and Alastor found himself breathing through his mouth in a useless attempt to escape it. It tasted sickly sweet on his tongue.

The shape shifted, form becoming a little clearer, a little more humanoid, and Alastor reached out with his microphone and pulled Niffty’s chair away from the table and scooted her behind him. A short look told him that Husker had the wherewithal to do the same for Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb, creating as much distance as he could without making big, attention drawing movements. Vaggie had a hand secured around Charlie’s arm, but didn’t move her, given that Charlie was not just leaning towards Lilith’s power, but actively trying to reach for it, a quiet sob of “mom” escaping her lips.

And Lucifer... looked like the strings that were holding him up were cut all at once. He let himself fall back into his chair, staring up at Lilith, who was here, but not really, a whole slew of emotions crossing over his face in rapid succession. Alastor spotted happiness, relief and excitement, morphing into surprise, confusion and realisation, morphing into sadness, anger and rage and then... nothing. Like a shutter was drawn down. Gone was Lucifer, Husband and Father who wears his heart on his sleeve. In his place remained the steely cold disinterest of the King of Hell.

“Now that is droll,” Lucifer spoke, his tone cold and his smile colder, elbow braced on the table and chin in his palm, putting on a flawless show of being completely relaxed. “Seven years. Not a word, not a glimpse, not a hint as to your wellbeing. Seven years, and now you reach out. I cannot help but wonder why.”

“Mom, dad, what—?” Charlie went ignored.

Lucifer must be seeing something more in the blob of power than Alastor could, because he was tilting his head slightly, eyes burning up into Lilith’s direction. “You are actually surprised to see me still standing.”

Charlie was looking between them, panic beginning to show on her face.

And then Lucifer broke out laughing. His laugh was loud and cold and cruel, nothing like his true laugh, resonating in the room until Lucifer abruptly cut himself off. “Oh Lilith, I don’t even know what I should be offended by most! Betraying me with your useless ex-husband, or thinking that a little worm like him could actually defeat me? Don’t be ridiculous.” His burning stare hardened even further. “Adam didn’t even manage to put a single scratch on me, not to even begin to think of defeating me in my domain. Ah, but then how did I get infected by Adam’s grace you wonder. Let me tell you that one, that is not of your concern and two, there is no need to worry. My power by far outclasses his, his final temper tantrum is vaguely annoying at best.”

Alastor could spot the precise second Charlie managed to piece it together. Tears climbing into her eyes. “Mom, what— please tell me you didn’t—”

“Look at our daughter,” Lucifer ordered, his voice so cold it sent shivers down Alastor’s spine. Lilith’s presence didn’t move and Lucifer’s fingers curled into a tight fist. “You can’t, can you? You sent Adam after Charlie, after her hotel, her dream, fully knowing that I would step in the very second I could. Don’t even try to deny it, I know my own methods of manipulation when I see them. You were there when we negotiated the Extermination contract, you knew every single clause. You knew there was only one way to get me to pick a fight with Heaven, so you sent them after my daughter!”

Lucifer’s voice was quickly rising in volume, his demonic form breaking through along with his rage as he stood, Hellfire licking high around his horns. “You manoeuvred Adam into breaking the contract that kept me bound to non-interference by having him harm Charlie! Harm our daughter! The one person in this God-forsaken place you knew I care about! And now you are going to tell me why!”

Silence.

Vaggie had pulled Charlie into a protective hold, who was actively crying now, her words mumbled and interrupted by sobs. Alastor could make out a weak “mom, what have you done..?”

Lilith’s power was still floating, her scent still suffocating the room, but there was no reaction Alastor could make out, as if she was solidly frozen in fear.

Lucifer seemed to get his answer anyway. One moment to the next the fire burned out, his rage locked away and replaced by the cold fake grin again. “So that’s what it is.” Lucifer sat back down. His tone would be conversational now, if it wasn’t still freezing far below zero. “Sweetheart, if you wanted to be rid of your husband so badly, you would have only needed to ask. After all, breaking contracts is my speciality.”

Lucifer reached for the wedding band on his left hand, the claws of his demonic form clicking against the metal, the sound echoing in a way that shouldn’t be possible. He looked up at Lilith, seemingly making eye contact, his face set in stone. And then he pulled.

Immediately, the chains of the contract became visible. Fine, delicate things, golden with Lucifer’s power, tightly wound around the ring, wrapping around his fingers, weaving across his palm, climbing along his arm before burying into his heart.

The chains made the faintest sounds as they were pulled taught. It must hurt, but Lucifer’s face betrayed nothing, steeled with cold determination as he simply continued to slide the ring off his finger.

The chains strained. And then they broke. First one, then a second, a third and then the intricate weave of golden metal simply unravelled, slipping and falling away from Lucifer’s skin and glimmered out of existence.

Lucifer was left with nothing but his wedding band in his right hand. He tossed it onto the table, the metal clinking and bouncing on the hard wood before it rolled to a stop right in front of Lilith’s presence.

“Consider the divorce official. Now either talk to our daughter or get out of my sight.”

Silence reigned once again, only interrupted by Charlie’s sobs.

Lilith’s power pulsed. And then it vanished.

“Wrong choice,” Lucifer whispered.

His mask was beginning to break in Lilith’s departure, and beneath it Alastor could spot a man who was beginning to utterly crumble.

Lucifer turned his eyes up to the ceiling, gaze unseeing and glazed over, his eyelids fluttering.

Alastor lunged forward and caught Lucifer’s head just in time before he could knock it onto the table as he passed out.

Chapter Text

The dining room was caught in an unnatural stillness, everyone attempting to process what they had just witnessed. Charlie was still crying, though her sobs were dying down as Vaggie held her tight.

Alastor was the first to manage to make himself move, pulling away dishes and silverware before lowering Lucifer’s head to the table and taking his hand back. It was obvious to him that he wasn’t done touching Lucifer for the day yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take a moment to breathe and prepare himself.

He tried to push down the realisation of just how instinctual his lunge to catch Lucifer had been. He rather wanted to focus on the fact that Lucifer had just casually broken a contract, a full and proper formal Deal, right before his eyes. Sure, he was completely and utterly dead to the world now, but that might also relate back to the fever he was running so high that Alastor could feel his own palm beginning to sweat just from the short contact.

It was possible. Breaking a contract was possible. Lucifer could—

“Alastor—” Charlie’s voice sounded so utterly desperate, broken, “I don’t— What happened—? I don’t understand, why—? Why??”

Alastor met her eyes. She was looking at him as if she truly believed he held all the answers. “It appears the Queen of Hell has finally shown her motivation behind her absence,” he tried.

“But why??”

“Every soul yearns for freedom,” Husker said, his voice strained.

Alastor didn’t have his shadow swallow Husker whole if only because he was correct.

“But if— If mom really was this unhappy, she didn’t need to— She could have just said so, dad has always done his best to make us happy and comfortable, why—” Another sob escaped her, “Why would she want him dead??”

Alastor felt his traitorous heart clench at witnessing Charlie’s despair. She hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that her mother had targeted her to get what she wanted, Charlie’s mind immediately moving on to worrying for her father.

Alastor looked down at Lucifer, if only to escape her stare pleading for answers. “There are plenty of reasons to want a person dead. Even a person you love,” he said, ensuring he kept his voice neutral.

Charlie wiped her face with her sleeve, forcing a couple deep breaths. “But why now? The battle was over a week ago, wouldn’t she have checked in immediately after?”

“Adam’s grace,” Vaggie said from behind her. “I can feel it fighting against your father’s power. It... wasn’t there before today.”

“But Adam didn’t— didn’t hurt him...” Almost. Charlie was almost there.

Alastor remained silent. She might be naïve and oblivious at times, but Charlie did inherit her father’s intelligence.

“Oh shit—” Angel said the same moment Charlie’s face shifted in realisation, her eyes snapping away from her father to where Alastor still stood beside him.

“Adam didn’t hurt him. But he did hurt you.”

Alastor let his silence speak for itself, but he couldn’t help the static surrounding him growing a little stronger. He didn’t like the thought of everyone knowing, but it wasn’t to be avoided at this point.

Charlie continued: “Dad— Dad is a healer, he’s always— always healed every little scrape I ever got, even when I tried to hide them...”

Cherri Bomb also finally caught up with the program. “Oh, fuck, that’s what you guys fought about last night?”

Alastor bristled, the static noise ticking up another notch. “Quite right,” Alastor squeezed the words through his teeth, “his Majesty was very insistent in seeing myself healed, regardless of my personal wishes.”

Charlie let out a long breath. Finally, a little smile managed its way to the surface. “Here I was afraid you two actually hate each other, I’m glad—”

“Oh, no, dear, you are absolutely correct.”

“But then why—?”

“Simple, Charlie dear!” Alastor made direct eye contact with her, his grin wide, “Your father loves you more than he hates me.”

Charlie blinked, a small “oh” escaping her, her mind obviously working through all the information and no doubt already coming up with another slew of questions. High time to take their leave.

Alastor permitted himself a huff of annoyance, before bending down and gathering Lucifer into a bridal carry. It was ridiculously easy without the wings, and he weighed even closer to nothing now.

“Woah!” Immediately Vaggie made a move for him. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Taking his Majesty to his room, I believe. Unless you wish for him to remain here?”

“Why the Hell would you want to do that?” Vaggie questioned harshly.

Alastor kept himself from grinding his teeth. “Oh, I do not. However I shall do as dear Charlie has been attempting to teach and ‘take responsibility for my actions’ seeing as none of this would have happened if his Majesty hadn’t insisted to take on Adam’s grace by healing the wound I sustained during battle.”

Husker dropped his bottle. “You owe a life debt—”

The loud screech of feedback had Husker’s knees hit the floor in an instant.

“Careful, Husker,” Alastor drawled, his voice even and jovial even though he was very much not feeling it, “I advise you to pick your next words very carefully.”

“Yes, boss.” Husker didn’t even try getting up, just reached for the bottle he had dropped.

“Good.” Alastor’s voice felt grating even in his own ears.

He turned, Lucifer securely bundled into his arms and made for the door. He could travel them through the shadows, theoretically. But there was always a little risk involved with taking another person along with him, especially when their power was as active as Lucifer’s at the moment, so Alastor refrained.

And with everyone watching him leave they wouldn’t notice if his shadow snuck away the discarded ring from the table.

As expected, Charlie caught up to him not even halfway up the stairs. Alastor simply adjusted his grip around Lucifer’s shoulders and kept on walking. Lucifer’s head was resting against Alastor’s collar bone, and Alastor could catch the faint scent of apples in whatever kind of product kept the hairstyle in place. Said hairstyle was beginning to unravel, letting a couple strands of hair fall into Lucifer’s face. Alastor pointedly did not want to brush them back.

“Alastor?” Charlie’s voice was still weighed down by the remnants of her crying, but she seemed to have calmed down for now.

“Yes, dear?”

“You are okay now, right?” Of course she would still be worried about that.

“Of course, my dear. Have you acquired a sudden doubt of your father’s healing abilities?”

“Ah, no, I just... needed to hear it, I think.” Charlie bit her lip, falling into step next to Alastor, looking at how thoroughly Lucifer was passed out with clear worry painting her face. “Dad is okay too, right?”

Alastor suppressed a sigh. “I cannot claim to fully understand what he did. But in line with his own words he should physically recover within a few days of rest.” Lucifer was still radiating an abnormal amount of heat, but from what Alastor could tell the remnants of Adam’s power had settled again.

“Physically...” Charlie echoed. Alastor felt his smile growing back into more normal dimensions. Charlie was smart indeed. “Mom really did a number on him...”

“A matter he will no doubt recover from eventually,” Alastor assured her. He didn’t quite know why. Maybe because he had the rising feeling that Charlie knew absolutely nothing about the horrid state of Lucifer’s mental health, and if he had managed to go out of his way to hide his depression even while caught right in the worst throes of it, it must be fundamentally important to him that Charlie didn’t know. Alastor wasn’t about to reveal a secret like that when Lucifer had been perfectly willing to keep the matter of Alastor’s injury under wraps as well.

“I am so angry,” Charlie said suddenly. “She’s gone for seven years, leaving both me and dad struggling and now that we finally managed to reconnect she shows up and destroys all that progress!”

Alastor finally looked at her, finding her staring straight down the corridor, her eyes bled through with the red of her rage, much like her father’s would.

“Now why would you say that?” Alastor questioned. “Do you believe your father so fickle that he up and disappears on you again because his marriage finally fell apart for good?”

“I... maybe..?” Panic crossed Charlie’s face. “Oh God, that is such a horrible thing to think, I don’t— I don’t want to think that...”

They arrived at the door to Lucifer’s suite, Charlie stepping ahead and opening it for Alastor, flicking on the lights.

“He will not leave again, Charlie,” Alastor said, meeting her eyes as he stepped past her. “He broke off his marriage to your mother because she put you in danger. If anything he will only get even more annoyingly clingy.”

Alastor crossed the room, through the open folding door partition into the sleeping area, and stepped toward the ridiculously huge canopy bed. He had to bend a knee onto the mattress to be able to reach far enough to place Lucifer’s unconscious body right in the middle. He looked vanishingly small on the bed, but after last night, Alastor knew that if he were to spread his wings, they would just fit.

Alastor pulled back, turned to find Charlie watching him. “Are you sure?” She asked, and suddenly she was every bit the little girl that still needed her parents to love her and care for her.

“Look at this room,” Alastor gestured, “tacky as it is, there was no need for him to go through the effort if he didn’t intend to spend a significant amount of time here.”

Alastor watched Charlie looking around, taking it all in. The white and gold theme, the furniture, the small conference of rubber ducks on the dresser (Alastor counted seven now, did these things multiply?), the collection of her childhood pictures lined up on the desk, the telescope by the small sitting area, the workbench that existed in a corner of what must be the royal palace patched in, much like his bayou. Alastor followed her eyes when she looked up with a quiet “oh” to realise that part of the ceiling was actually fashioned from glass as well, revealing the dark night sky of Hell. And if the distant stars weren’t enough, there were strings of fairy lights that spanned the ceiling, no doubt creating a gentle ambient light for the room if the main light was turned off. It faintly reminded Alastor of the fireflies that would occasionally drift into his room from the bayou, just... more.

“He built an observatory,” Charlie breathed out, slumping against the back of the couch in the middle of the living area. “When I was young... sometimes he would tell me about the stars, and how they are different on Earth than how they are here in Hell. Whenever I had trouble sleeping we would sneak out into the palace gardens without mom knowing and just watch the stars until I fell asleep... It’s one of my favourite memories.”

“Hm,” Alastor hummed, moving over to the dresser and deciding he might as well rifle through until he found what accounted for royal sleep clothes. “It would seem it is one of his favourite memories as well.”

Alastor unearthed duck printed pyjamas, because of course Lucifer would, and he didn’t even bother to hide his eye roll from Charlie, placing them on top of the dresser before snapping his fingers in Lucifer’s direction without turning, exchanging his day clothes for his more comfortable sleep clothes.

Charlie pushed herself away from the couch and stepped over to her father, gently digging the blanket from underneath him and carefully tucking him in, telling him a quiet “love you, dad” as she did. When she straightened up the emotions on her face had settled into something more calm and certain. “Thank you, Alastor,” she said, the sincerity of it nearly painful in Alastor’s ears.

“Now now, whatever for, my dear?”

“For caring about me,” Charlie said, and then took a pointed breath, looking right into Alastor’s eyes, “and for caring about me enough to care about dad for me too, even if you can’t stand him.”

Alastor found himself frozen where he was halfway through straightening out the creases in Lucifer’s dress shirt from where the man had never bothered to roll his sleeves back down ever since he had pushed them up while helping Alastor make dinner. Why was he even doing that? He couldn’t stand his own clothes being creased, but he never once cared to correct the appearance of another person, no matter how harshly and loudly he judged them.

Alastor finished cleanly folding the dress shirt and set it down with the rest of Lucifer’s clothes, simply to give himself more time to figure out what the Hell he could answer to that while also making his action seem deliberate rather than having lost track of whatever the Hell his hands were doing.

“I am simply doing my job. After all I did commit to do my part to aid the success of this endeavour, did I not? As your hotelier, it is both my pleasure and duty to take as much work off your plate as I can.”

Alastor offered a small bow to her, but he could tell from the way Charlie’s smile was growing that she didn’t fully believe him.

Apologies, dear. Alastor straightened himself, folded his hands behind his back, reduced his smile to a minimum. “That and I do find myself owing a life debt.”

Charlie’s smile fell. It made his heart twinge, traitorous thing, but Alastor couldn’t have her thinking that he actually did any of this out of some misguided sense of care or worse, infatuation.

“Of course,” Charlie said, now sounding as endlessly tired as she looked.

“You should head to sleep now, dear.” Alastor summoned his microphone to his hand, using it to herd Charlie towards the door. “I shall see to it that your father is not interrupted in his rest.”

Charlie only nodded, and went on her way.

Alastor sighed into the silence of Lucifer’s room. He flicked off the main light switch, and sure enough, the fairy lights remained on, bathing everything in just a faint golden glimmer.

Alastor welcomed the shadows creeping in, his own shadow among them, reaching up to drop the golden wedding ring into his hand. Alastor stared at it for a long while, before deciding he might as well sit. His steps felt too heavy as he crossed to the armchairs next to the telescope. He wouldn’t absolutely need to sleep for a while still, but he felt exhausted to a degree that rarely happened, even with his insomnia at its worst.

Today was a lot. He thought he was used to his days being a lot, especially since staying at the Hazbin Hotel, but today... Today had been something entirely different.

Lucifer. It is all about Lucifer. Barely twenty-four hours and Alastor had learned so much more about the person behind the myth that it completely shifted his perception of him he had gathered at their initial meeting.

Lucifer cares about Charlie like nothing else in all of Hell. Not unexpected per se, but the fierceness behind it had caught Alastor by surprise. Not at all a dead beat dad, at least not by choice. His absence had rather been fuelled by his depression and a consuming sense of inadequacy, something that Alastor had borne witness to not just once but twice in the span of the day.

But despite it all, Lucifer was still the King of Hell, still the Devil himself. His power was nearly unfathomable. When he put on the mask he was almost a completely different person, and Alastor found himself both intrigued by the fact and also just a healthy tinge of fearful. Getting into his spats with Lucifer was delightfully entertaining, but if he ever crossed the line into being the target of the Demon King’s ire? There was a decent chance he’d be dead all over again before Lucifer could think long enough to consider Charlie’s wishes.

Alastor found himself fiddling with the ring. The power of the contract previously imbued in it was gone of course, but it still felt warm between his fingers. Across the millennia it had been worn, Lucifer’s power had seeped into the metal, and some of it would stay there even without a contract to bind it.

Alastor spun the ring between his thumb and index, eyes glued to the craftsmanship; a subtle pattern of intricate scales and leaves telling a story of Eden. A simple design, yet complex in its make.

Lucifer had broken a contract. Just like that. Of course it was a contract he must have owned, Lilith was not known to be a Deal Maker, but still. It hadn’t looked like Lucifer had dissolved the contract. He had broken the chains. Maybe dissolution was even prevented in the contract’s clause; a Hellish version of ‘until death do us part’ tying both their hands in a way that had Lilith resort to attempt regicide by manipulating her angelic ex-husband.

And Lucifer had broken it. So maybe, if Alastor played his cards right, positioned Charlie just so—

A shifting shadow at the door pulled Alastor’s attention. He found himself staring at Keekee, her head halfway through what apparently was a little cat door that Alastor hadn’t even noticed. Keekee remained frozen herself, one paw in the air mid step as she stared back.

The stare off was just the same as the previous night. Keekee had never entered Alastor’s room before, so when she had impossibly squeezed herself through the tiniest gap between the door and the floor, Alastor had been quite surprised, which was the only reason he hadn’t immediately summoned his shadow to take her by her scruff and throw her out.

Instead, much like Keekee was doing now, she eventually got back into motion, silently padding across the room and hopping up on the bed where Lucifer was sleeping.

Alastor found himself blinking realising Keekee was carrying something obnoxiously yellow in her mouth. And then he found himself huffing a silent laugh when Keekee dropped the little rubber duck onto the pillow next to Lucifer’s head. So that’s how there were more of them now. Keekee must have gone and trekked all the way to the palace to fetch them.

For some reason the thought made Alastor’s smile soften as he watched Keekee knead biscuits into Lucifer’s chest before spinning thrice and settling down in a perfect round curl.

The bond between Keekee and Lucifer must be quite exceptional. Alastor had assumed she was Charlie’s pet first and foremost, but maybe he was not quite correct. Keekee did allow pets from the residents and occasionally sought out cuddles from dear Charlie, but she never got underfoot like she had done for Lucifer when he first visited, winding around his ankles, purring loudly at his greeting.

That and Alastor had observed from the distance, hidden in his destroyed radio tower, as Lucifer channelled his power through Keekee as he was rebuilding the hotel. Her much bigger key transformation that Lucifer had swung around and brandished like weapon. Charlie had only ever held Keekee in her smaller form.

It was heart-warming, the way Keekee sought out Lucifer to provide comfort. She could clearly tell when something was not right, that’s why she had come to cuddle last night, why she had insistently fetched Alastor to help break Lucifer from his panic attack in the shower this morning, why she was going and bringing Lucifer his beloved ducks now.

And given Lucifer’s reaction to having her close when he woke up this morning, it was clearly working. It was so very adorable.

Alastor broke himself out of that line of thought with a decided shake of his head. Enough of that. He should be thinking about his freedom being closer in reach than ever before. And if he couldn’t do that, he could at least finish that book he had borrowed from Rosie.

Chapter Text

Waking up was the second most miserable thing Lucifer had decided to do in recent and not so recent memory.

The headache had receded, but still left his head feeling dull and stuffed with cotton candy, sticky and slow. He still felt too warm, but no longer like outright fever, thankfully enough.

He wasn’t at the palace, but at least the room felt familiar this time. The radio that wasn’t actually the radio hummed a quiet melody a little away from him.

Keekee was once again lying on his chest, bundled up tight and emitting a pleasant warmth. Lucifer’s hands found their way into Keekee’s fur and she started purring immediately, stretching and draping herself all across his upper body, contently pushing her little head underneath his chin.

The humming that originated with the Radio Demon stopped for a moment, and then continued.

Lucifer didn’t move again, simply hugged purring Keekee and listened to humming Alastor for a few moments of blissful peace.

Eventually, he sighed. “So, how often do you think we will be doing this?”

The humming stopped mid-melody. “Decidedly less often if you were to pay attention to your physical limits and obey by them,” Alastor answered, more snark than sarcasm, “and good morning to you too, sire.”

Lucifer couldn’t help it. He laughed, much to the dismay of Keekee, her peaceful perch on his chest being disturbed. He probably really shouldn’t think like that, but a part of him thought he might be able to get used to this. All of this, Radio Demon included.

Wait, what?

Lucifer sobered quickly, and even quicker when the mental fog receded enough to realise the reason his hand felt wrong was that he was missing the ring he had been wearing for so long he had forgotten how it felt to be without it. Forgotten that it was even possible to be without it.

Shit.

That had actually happened. It wasn’t just his greatest nightmare. It was reality. Lilith had— Lilith hadn’t just left them, she had endangered Charlie—

Lucifer bit his lip, hard. He tasted blood. If he couldn’t prevent the spiral to the deepest depths of a new rock bottom he had yet to unearth in his depression, he could at least not sob like the lost and broken thing he was right in front of the Radio Demon.

Lucifer turned onto his side, curled himself around Keekee, making himself as small as he could as he felt the tears streaming down his face. Keekee made little soothing noises, squeezing her tiny body as tightly against his as she could and he didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve her comfort because he couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t fix anything, Lilith was gone and he could never allow her to come close to Charlie ever again, Charlie would never have her mother back—

There was movement in front of him. Lucifer could only see red through the veil of tears, blankly staring into nothingness as he was, one arm wound around Keekee, the other dug into his hair, pulling harshly until it hurt just enough to not loose all contact to reality.

Alastor reached out, placing something onto the bed in front of Lucifer. Something small, something metal, something—

“I took the liberty of retrieving your ring, your Majesty, to ensure it wouldn’t get lost. I understand it is a sentimental object even despite the circumstances—”

“Take it away.” Lucifer didn’t even recognise his own voice. Broken, filled with tears, shaking. “I don’t— I don’t care what you do with it, just take it— I don’t— I can’t have it, I don’t want it, I—” A sob broke through, his chest heaving against Keekee. “Was it— Was it ever true? Was all a lie?? Did she— always hate me? How do I know it was ever real—” Lucifer cut himself off, a loud distressed whimper clawing its way up his throat and breaking out as he squeezed his eyes shut and curled up impossibly tighter.

He felt Alastor move in front of him, a small surge of his powers prickling against Lucifer’s skin and then he was gone. Gone. Gone like Lilith. Gone like Charlie, gone like his Father, gone like his siblings, gone like they all would eventually be, leaving him alone forever—

The bed dipped suddenly as the weight of a person was deposited on it, Alastor’s presence returning along with the sound of a surprised squawk that even Lucifer’s spiralling brain managed to attribute to Charlie.

“Look at your daughter,” Alastor ordered, his words drilling into Lucifer’s brain in a way that he couldn’t help but obey. Sight blurred by tears he looked at Charlie kneeling on the mattress in front of him, still a little sleep addled, surprised and confused with the way Alastor apparently had just lifted her up from the breakfast table and dragged her through the shadows.

She— She shouldn’t be here. Charlie shouldn’t see him like this, he had done such a good job to hide his depression, she shouldn’t—

“Look at your daughter,” Alastor repeated, “look at her and tell me: Is she a lie?”

“No.” Lucifer answered without even the conscious thought to do it.

In his periphery he saw Alastor nod, but his eyes were focused on Charlie, sweet little Charlie, who the moment Alastor released his hold under her armpits from where he had lifted her surged forwards with a sob of her own, flopped down and reached her arms around him, joining the curl of Lucifer and Keekee, holding as tight as she could.

Lucifer pulled his hand from tugging on the strands of his hair in favour of holding Charlie back. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t see him break down like this. But she had just lost her mom too. She needed his comfort as much as he needed hers, and if that meant they’d stay here crying in each other’s arms for as long as she needed, that’s what was going to happen.

Lucifer utterly lost track of time. He held Charlie, and Charlie held him. Keekee was alternating between rubbing her head against his chest and Charlie’s, purring as loudly as she could. At some point Lucifer had started soothing his hand through Charlie’s hair, her sobs beginning to settle down.

Breathing. There was this whole thing about guided breathing to help calm down that Alastor had mentioned, right?

It was difficult to figure out how to manually breathe evenly when the tears were still flowing, and Lucifer wasn’t sure if he got the timing right, but eventually he settled into a rhythm of deep breaths, infinitely relieved when Charlie began to match it.

Lucifer only noticed that Alastor had been gone when he popped up again as a heavy calm washed over them, covering them in a blanket of quiet.

Along with Alastor appeared the scent of coffee and apples. The clatter of a serving tray being set on the small table in Lucifer’s small sitting area felt too loud in his ears.

“Now, on your feet, both of you. Dear Charlie needs to finish her breakfast which I so rudely interrupted.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Alastor,” Charlie’s voice was still a little muted, “I’ll eat later.”

“I’ll be having none of those excuses, young lady. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

Charlie began to shift a little, loosening her hold on Lucifer. He didn’t like the thought of letting go, but he would have to eventually. And Alastor being so considerate as to bring her breakfast here meant she would still be close a little while longer.

Lucifer untangled his fingers from her hair, smoothed some errant strands into their proper places. “He’s right, you’ve got to eat.”

“Dad...”

“Up you go,” Lucifer pushed up against her shoulder, shifting Charlie into a sitting position. He stayed down himself, simply because he didn’t trust his body to actually manage being upright given the bone deep exhaustion that made him feel so impossibly heavy.

Charlie sorted herself off the bed, a short look back at Lucifer that he did his best to meet with a tiny smile, and she turned to her half finished breakfast that Alastor had fetched from downstairs, settling into one of the armchairs and digging back in with gusto.

“You too, your Majesty.” Alastor said from way closer than he was before; and it really said a lot about Lucifer’s mental state that he repeatedly kept losing track of the Radio Demon, didn’t it?

“I don’t—”

“You may keep the cat and the blanket to help your wallowing in self-pity, but you may not stay in bed,” Alastor said decidedly and the next moment Lucifer found himself enveloped in the steady white noise of radio static. He let out a surprised squawk much like Charlie had as Alastor simply grabbed the bundle that was Lucifer wrapped tight into his blanket with Keekee in his arms, lifting him and depositing him into the second armchair in short order before Lucifer had even managed to find enough braincells to make sense of what was happening.

Lucifer must be looking like a deer caught in the headlights, cradling a quietly chirping and equally confused Keekee, at least if Charlie’s little giggle was any indication. But if Charlie was having fun it was okay. Charlie laughing is all that matters.

Alastor appeared in his line of sight again, and it was the first time this morning that Lucifer actually truly perceived him. His smile was in place as always, clothes perfectly kept, not a single hair out of place. Lucifer had no idea how Alastor could look this chipper and put together when he must have spent the second night in a row not getting even a moment of shut eye as he was keeping watch over Lucifer.

Alastor plucked a mug from the tray and pushed it into Lucifer’s hands, making him reluctantly let go of Keekee. Immediately the scent of apples hit him, soothing Lucifer’s mind in a way few things could. Lucifer took a sip of his tea. It was scalding hot, overly sweet with sugar and honey. It was perfect.

“How’d you know that’s my favourite tea?” Lucifer found himself asking.

Alastor picked up the third mug on the tray, not even looking at Lucifer and simply offering a gesture that seemed to encompass all that was Lucifer and his room. Which. Fair. Not difficult to guess.

Lucifer looked down at the mug in his hands. It was bright yellow, ducks all over it, a print of ‘Duck me!’ across the side. Lucifer huffed a laugh. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t conjured any novelty mugs for himself.

“Subtle,” Lucifer said, feeling a small grin grow on his face.

As he looked up at Alastor he was simply met with a lifted eyebrow above the rim of a mug reading ‘Oh Deer!’ and Lucifer lost it. A masterclass of instinctual magic was the only thing that kept Keekee from a bath in hot tea as Lucifer nearly doubled over in laughter, utterly incapable of calming himself as he wiped away his tears.

If anything, his depression induced mood swings at least were predictable. Panic, spiral, crying, catharsis, all swinging around into over the top euphoria.

It took Lucifer what felt like ages to settle enough from his bubbling giggles to take hold of the mug levitating in front of him again, not to think of actually taking a sip.

Charlie was looking at him, bright smile of her own even though her eyes were still rimmed red from crying; just like his own no doubt. Alastor had ambled off sometime during the last few minutes, Lucifer spotted him bent at the waist at the desk, closely inspecting the frames with Charlie’s childhood pictures.

When Lucifer had finally settled enough to drink about half the mug of his perfectly sweetened tea, he shifted to look at Alastor again. “Thanks,” Lucifer said. As much as he would prefer not to think about it, Alastor did just help prevent what no doubt would have become the worst spiral of Lucifer’s existence.

Alastor hummed, took a sip of his coffee. “If neither your Highness nor your Majesty have further need of me, I do have some matters to attend to.”

“Oh, right!” Charlie perked up, swallowing around her last piece of waffle, “It’s Friday!” Lucifer’s confusion must be evident on his face, because she continued: “Alastor does his broadcast on a weekly schedule, he takes all of Friday off for that. We try our best not to disturb him.”

“Emphasis on ‘try,’” Alastor drawled, complete with eye roll, but Lucifer could tell it was a good natured quip rather than a serious complaint. “When I said you could interrupt me in case you needed me, I did indeed mean something more akin to an attack on the hotel rather than a blown fuse.”

Charlie lowered her eyes to her empty plate, a show of regret even though her smile didn’t fade. “Sorry, Al...”

Alastor let out a showy sigh as he stepped back towards the table. “Well I rather have you call me one time too often than one time to few. Now do make an attempt to enjoy your day, my dear. Ta-ta!”

Lucifer knew the sentence was directed at Charlie, of course it was, but as Alastor melted into the shadows, for just a small moment, Lucifer allowed himself to feel warmed by the thought that maybe Alastor had meant him too.

The room was quiet for a long while after Alastor’s departure, both Charlie and Lucifer sipping their respective coffee and tea.

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you.”

Lucifer chuckled. It was so beautifully easy for Charlie to make the smile he glued onto his face feel real. “I love you too, ducky.”

“We don’t need mom.”

Oh. Well. Talk about hard hitting topic changes. Lucifer cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

Charlie’s face set into an expression of determination. “We don’t need mom to hold this family together. We can do it all on our own. You, me, Vaggie, the rest of the hotel. We’ve done it alone for seven years already. We don’t need her.”

Oh Charlie. Sweet, sweet darling Charlie. She really had no idea just how much Lucifer had not been able to do anything while alone in the past seven years. Lucifer smiled at her, knowing it was more sadness than anything else, but he would forever try to smile for her. He nodded.

“It hurts so much right now,” Charlie said, idly curling an escaped strand of her hair around her fingers, “but it will stop hurting eventually. And when it does there will be new things! Better things! Life moves on and it always becomes better again eventually!”

Her optimism was so sweet. Barely a night after the revelation that her mother was gone for good and she already was able to speak about moving on. Lucifer could only hope to meet her there eventually. Charlie had probably already done much of her grieving in the past seven years. Lucifer however... Hm. Had he? All the crying in the dark at night, all the aimless duck creation in his workshop... Was that just the depression, or also some grief spliced in..?

“And dad, someday, when you find someone else, I want you to come to me and tell me so I can meet them, because you deserve to be happy and I want to be happy with you and—”

Lucifer almost choked on his sip of tea. “Oh, woah, woah, Charlie! Slow down! I don’t think anything like that will happen anytime soon.”

“It doesn’t have to be soon, dad. But even if it was soon, I want you to know that it’s alright. You don’t have to stay alone.”

How do you answer to that? What could he possibly say, being faced with Charlie’s set expression of worry and determination and hope?

“If I find someone—”

“When you find someone.”

Lucifer chuckled quietly. “Alright, when I find someone who I,” Lucifer had to swallow around the words before he could speak them, “who I could fall in love with, you will be the third person to know.”

Charlie blinked. “Third?? Only third??” Her indignation was beautifully put on and Lucifer couldn’t help but giggle.

He counted on his fingers, the same fingers that were missing the weight of a ring. “Well first is myself, second will be them, kinda have to figure out if they would even be open to anything, right? So third would be telling my daughter. Though... You will potentially have to compete with Ozzie for third place, you know he can read me better than anyone else.”

Charlie giggled, and Lucifer’s heart felt so much lighter in an instant. “Knowing you, there is a real chance Uncle Ozzie will know even before you know, dad. So that puts him in place one.” She grinned at him widely.

Lucifer made a show of pinching his lips, clicking his tongue, taking down his hand, and sighing as deeply as he could before meeting Charlie’s eyes again. “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it like that.”

And Charlie laughed and Lucifer felt like his world was not quite as broken after all.

Chapter Text

Slowly but surely, routine began to set in again at the Hazbin Hotel. Charlotte had decided to wait a little more before the grand re-opening, to first gain a feeling for the overall mood and perception of the hotel by the denizens of the Pride Ring.

One goal among that being to judge the opinions and reservations of the other Overlords. Alastor had immediately been able to provide Charlie with a thorough run down of the various political stances, with more than just educated guesses about how their opinions would most likely (not) develop further, but she had been insistent for Alastor to go the route of actually asking in person.

At that point in the discussion he had warned that any direct questioning of his would most likely be met with the Overlords deciding to wish to speak to Charlie herself, which had prompted a resonant “Over my dead body!” from her father. (Alastor’s habitual “I am sure that can be arranged” had earned him a displeased look from Charlie and a look from Lucifer that try as he might he couldn’t interpret at all.) In the end it had been settled that if any audience was requested, Lucifer would be the royal to grant it, but Alastor should please attempt to get the information on his own.

Just as well. Between Rosie informing him that Vox had hacked into Carmilla’s system and added “the radio fucker is dead and I have proof” as the first talking point on the next meeting’s itinerary, and Alastor subsequently deciding to hold off on his weekly broadcast, he did have a bit more of a grand entrance planned for his return to the table, given that the reception to his return after his seven year ‘sabbatical’ had been lukewarm at best.

So now, two weeks after the (hopefully, though Alastor wasn’t quite as optimistic as dear Charlie) Final Extermination, the next Overlord meeting was on the docket for the day.

Alastor was slinking through the shadows in direction of the staff kitchen. He had slept, and therefore was in both a horrible mood as well as in desperate need of coffee.

He did not stumble out of the shadows at the sight of Lucifer at the stove, thank you. He also did not stupidly stand there blinking at their resident tiny King as he sorted out the reality of what he was seeing.

“Morning!” Lucifer called, in an absolutely disgustingly chipper mood, and flipped a pancake.

Coffee. Alastor was here for coffee. He made for the coffee maker, accursed piece of technology that was only permitted continued existence due to the speed at which it was able to produce life giving liquid.

“Damn, you look like you had a night,” Lucifer commented, apparently having turned around when he didn’t get an answer, “and I say this as the guy with permanent dark circles.”

Alastor huffed and rather decided to occupy his mouth by taking a big gulp of scalding hot black coffee. He could feel his spirits begin to lift near immediately.

“Breakfast to go along with that?” Lucifer offered.

“Ah, no thank you. I do not—”

“—like sweet foods, I know, you said. If you had bothered to stick around and listened after that, you would have known that I was asking everyone their preferences and savoury pancakes are very much on the menu.” Lucifer turned back to the stove and procured a second pan, setting it down and reaching for a second mixing bowl that Alastor had figured contained just more of the same pancake batter.

“I am afraid I am also short on time this morning,” Alastor tried to excuse himself, but found himself stopped in his tracks at a pointed look thrown over Lucifer’s shoulder.

“Uh-huh, what happened to ‘most important meal of the day’? You can at least wait until this is done and take it for the road. Also gets you the chance to refill your coffee.”

Alastor felt his nose twitch as he picked up the scent of melting cheese that must be mixed into the batter.

He settled into a lean against the counter next to the coffee maker. He was staying for the coffee. Not because he was curious if pancakes made by the literal King of Hell in a pink ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron were any good.

The kitchen was quiet for a while, the only sounds the sizzling of pancakes and a faint layer of radio static with an undercurrent of gentle jazz. Lucifer flipped one of the sweet pancakes onto a plate already stacked with its brethren and scooped the next one into the pan.

The peace was violently broken when the door burst open. It banged against the wall with the amount of force behind it, to reveal a huffing Angel Dust, with all limbs stretched wide in front of him.

“Fooood...” he drawled, unsteadily ambling into the kitchen and oh. He’s high as a kite, isn’t he?

Lucifer seemed to have come to the same conclusion with a single look. “Sheesh, Angel, it’s barely daylight... What did you take?”

“Hmmm?” Angel ambled over to him, and draped all his arms around Lucifer, contorting his body with ease so he could plop his chin on top of Lucifer’s head. “Jus’ came back from the shoot, ‘m hungryyy...”

Alastor’s sharp annoyance at Angel Dust’s overly familiar behaviour towards his Majesty was drowned out by a sudden sting of worry, both feelings he did not invite into his mind.

“You’ve been working all night?” Lucifer asked, his own worry open in his voice.

“Hmn,” Angel answered and didn’t move.

“Angel, what did you take?”

“I dunno... Val’s all about the real deal right now... ‘S a lot tho.”

“Okay, Angel,” Lucifer expertly extracted himself from Angel’s four-armed hug, used just one hand to hold his arms to guide Angel back to the small table in the corner of the kitchen, while grabbing the plate of pancakes with his free hand. “Here’s your breakfast.” He set the plate down, procuring whipped cream and syrup with a snap of his fingers, a small bowl of strawberries levitating over from where it had sat on the counter.

Angel grinned loopily. “I love ya so much, short king—”

Interestingly, Lucifer chuckled at that. “You love the free no effort breakfast. You gotta do something for me before you can eat that though.”

At his words Angel’s grin turned wide, gaining an edge of sultry as he made a show of licking his lips.

“No.” Lucifer shut him down.

“Aw.” Angel actually pouted, the drug addled idiot he was.

Meanwhile Lucifer conjured a bottle and a shot glass into his hands. As he twisted open the cap Alastor managed to read the handwritten label: ‘For emergencies only! Love, Bee.’ The bottle of whatever it was was about half empty.

Lucifer carefully poured a half shot and handed it over to Angel. “Down the hatch and count down from five.”

The fact that Angel’s eyes lit up at being handed a questionable liquid of unknown origins said probably all Alastor ever needed to know about Angel’s survival skills.

“Anythin’ for ya Lucy baby~” And he knocked the shot back. Idiot. Lucifer turned to return to the stove, flipping Alastor’s pancake to a countdown of: “Fiiiive, foour, three, two— whoa.” Angel blinked. “What? How?”

At the stove, Lucifer chuckled. “Welcome back,” was all he said.

Angel blinked some more, stared at his hands, his eyes now perfectly clear again. “How— No come down, no hangover? Oh my god, what did ya just give me and where can I get that??”

Lucifer continued his puttering around the stove, but Alastor felt like his movements gained a bit of jerkiness that wasn’t there before. “I’m afraid The Antidote is special make and not commercially available. You might feel a bit loopy still, so I rather you stay here for your breakfast, I’m not entirely sure I’ve dosed it low enough...”

“Your Majesty,” Alastor cut in, “are you implying you gave our dearest Angel here an antidote specially made for you?”

The look Lucifer threw over his shoulder was delicious, a mix of sheepish and uncertain, displeased at having been found out by Alastor of all people, but still with a twinge of humour underneath.

“The Antidote,” Lucifer pronounced, “is a little something Beelzebub brewed up. You know, when a bad high could lead to the destruction of more than just the Pride Ring, it feels much safer to have something available to get me down before that could happen. Not like I’m in the habit of overindulging much these centuries.” He shrugged. “It’s not worth the effort and avoiding any and all Sins meetings has done wonders for my blood pressure as well as my drinking habits!”

Alastor could feel his grin widen. “You are an emotional drunk,” he concluded. Oh that was a wonderfully entertaining thought. Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, so lost in a drunken rage he rained death and destruction all over Hell... Though he probably was just as likely to be crying an ocean in a corner.

“So what?” Lucifer stepped over towards Alastor, posture reading full defensiveness now as he held out a plate with an artfully folded pancake. He had put some kind of spread on it before folding it up so Alastor could take it without getting anything on his hands. Frankly, it smelled really good. “Also weren’t you pressed for time?”

Alastor chuckled at the display. So few words, such a reaction. He picked up the pancake from the plate, reached for his mug that the cursed machine had just refilled with blessed coffee. “Thank you for breakfast!” He said, all awake and jovial mood as usual now. The confused look on Lucifer’s face had Alastor still cackling when the shadows spat him out at the edge of Pentagram City.

The pancake was fucking fantastic.

Alastor arrived at Carmine Tower a tasteful five minutes after the meeting time. Usually Alastor wouldn’t be caught dead arriving late, but Rosie had kept her eyes and ears out, and after deciding to forgo his weekly broadcast, mostly everyone had assumed there to be some credibility to Vox’ claim, and subsequently assumed him dead or missing after the battle. So, Alastor allowed himself this particular indulgence in tardiness.

He couldn’t have made a better choice. He could hear that Vox was the Vee in attendance this time around the moment the lift doors opened, bringing a fully commentated play by play of the battle to his ears.

Alastor stopped outside the glass doors. Vox was gesturing animatedly, and all the Overlords’ attention was drawn towards the front where Vox had hijacked the projector’s signal to play a recording of the Extermination. Alastor gleefully watched a slightly glitching wide shot of himself bullying Adam around, only to be treated to an unfortunate close up of Adam slicing his guitar turned axe across his chest, accompanied by much of Vox’ gloating.

Instinctively his hand reached for the wound in his chest. The wound that should have killed him barely a couple days after the battle, but was now gone like it had never been. Lucifer’s healing hadn’t even left as much as a scar.

Alastor decided to let Vox finish his presentation. For completely self-serving reasons of course, after all he hadn’t been able to bear witness to the second half of the battle directly. He had felt the explosive burst of Lucifer’s rage filled power when he had shown up, but he hadn’t actually seen it in action.

He had to admit, watching Lucifer play with Adam before utterly pummelling him into the ground was highly entertaining.

“So that’s that,” Vox annoying voice tinnied from his speakers, “I doubt we’ll be seeing the Radio Prick again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Vox shrieked beautifully at Alastor materialising right next to him.

“I do apologise for my lateness, ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid I now have the misfortune of handling the whims of double the amount of Hell’s royals than previously.” Alastor ignored Vox hyperventilating next to him, and made his way over to his appointed chair, exchanging a smile with Rosie.

“You— You lost!” Vox’ screen glitched where he was heavily leaning on the table.

“Yes, well,” Alastor inspected his claws, “I did put up a good fight. None of you who can claim the same, hm?”

There was mumbling around the table, more furtive glances at how Alastor seemed utterly unbothered when they had just seen him taking a direct hit like that. Zestial gave Alastor a wink over the rim of his teacup.

The meeting continued on then. Lots of talk about what it meant that Heaven had been beat back, if there was going to be war or if there simply would be no more Exterminations; distribution of incoming souls, potential overpopulation struggles; as if those were a new thing.

“Alastor,” Zestial addressed him eventually, “what is to become of our Princess’ hotel?”

That was his cue. “I assume you all have witnessed the swift rebuilding, courtesy of our condemned King. Princess Charlotte intends to continue as she has before, her resolve to redeem the foolish souls of Sinners renewed with her father’s support.”

Carmilla slightly angled her head. “So Lucifer Morningstar truly has returned to the playing field.”

“I am afraid it is quite so,” Alastor confirmed, “already up to becoming quite the pesky thorn in my side. Dreadful taste in décor, let me tell you.”

“Omg,” Zeezi leaned halfway onto the table, “you’re really sharing a roof with the King?”

At the end of the table Vox sparked.

“He takes his tea with absurd amounts of sugar and honey, like an utter heathen.” Alastor hadn’t planned to spend this meeting voicing petty complaints about their recently-no-longer-absentee King, but the way Vox sank into bigger and bigger glitches was just too entertaining of a sight to pass up on.

“How likely do you see our chances to receive an audience?” Carmilla asked.

“With whom? Her Highness? Not likely at all if her father is left a word in the matter. His Majesty on the other hand? That could be arranged. How soon would you like it?”

If Carmilla was surprised at Alastor seemingly playing Lucifer Morningstar’s secretary, she didn’t show it. “At his earliest convenience,” she said.

“Inconvenience would be fine too,” Zeezi added, laughing loudly at her joke.

Alastor’s grin widened, putting all his sharp teeth on full display. “With pleasure,” he purred, and snapped his fingers. Lucifer would be back in his suite by now, having complained about Sins business to attend to and an unreasonable flood of electronic letters last evening. So there would be no way he’d miss the shadow that gulped up the picture frame that now appeared in Alastor’s hand.

The room was silent in confusion, and Alastor allowed himself the fun of playing some jazzy waiting music in the background.

Then:

“ALASTOR!!!”

Lucifer appeared on the table in front of him in a ball of raging Hellfire, wings spread wide, tail whipping, eyes glowering down at him with red hot rage, a whole slew of what could only be scathing insults in that melodic angelic language of his falling from his lips. The entire room was nearly suffocated by the heavy scent of smoke and sulphur.

“My, my, I do hope you do not speak to your mother this way.” Thin ice. Alastor knew that even before he saw the slight shift in Lucifer’s expression, the way his entire face hardened.

“Do not test my patience, Radio Demon.” The clawed hand he held out was sparking with Hellfire as well. “Give her back.” It was a Command Alastor wasn’t sure he could disobey even if he wanted to.

He placed the picture frame of toddler Charlie holding up a clumsy crayon drawing of a duck back into Lucifer’s waiting hand.

“Oh, my!” Bless Rosie. Bless her forever. “Is that our darling Princess??”

The speed with which Lucifer code switched was bound to give Alastor whiplash. One moment he was a hairbreadth away from burning Alastor to ash and the next moment all that Hellfire was gone as if it had never been as he smiled brightly at Rosie, showing her the picture.

“She is the apple of my eye, this was taken when she was just beginning to explore her creativity!”

“Oh, wasn’t she a sweet!”

“Still is, I love her like I have never loved anything before and never will again!” Lucifer might be smiling brightly at Rosie as he hugged the picture frame to his chest, but his demonic traits left no room to believe this was anything other but a threat; his wings still flared wide, his tail moving in small but sharp flicks, the flame burning high between his horns.

“There is nothing like the love of a parent,” Rosie readily agreed.

Lucifer nodded, and with a flash of gold the picture frame disappeared. He seemed to be perfectly content and confident to find himself standing in the middle on top of the big conference table, slowly casting his still red glowing eyes over the assembled Overlords, the picture of boredom as his eyes passed down to Vox’ end of the table and up again the other side.

“Well. The Radio Demon has played his ace, you got me here.” Lucifer’s voice was calm, but pointed. The undercurrent of danger cut clearly through, even as the air in the room began to clear and allowed for easier breathing. “This will not work again, so you better make it count.”

His eyes arrived at the head of the table, lingering on Carmilla for a moment before he turned further to complete the circle.

Alastor did not expect yet another grating mood switch.

“Zestial!!” Lucifer positively sparkled, put on disinterest replaced by genuine happiness as he took a couple steps toward him, wings folding toward his body, “I didn’t expect I’d see a familiar face, it is so good to know you are still around!”

Zestial, in his forever perfect mannerisms had risen to his feet the moment Lucifer appeared in the room, which afforded him the height to meet table-boosted Lucifer on his direct eye level. “’Tis the most joyous day to be honoured by thine Majesty’s presence once more,” he said, complete with a formal bow.

Lucifer laughed. “Come now old friend, there is no need for such formality.” And then he did the unthinkable: Lucifer extended his hand. The entire room’s mood shifted drastically. Where before there had been a layer of confusion overlaid with quiet intimidated fear, it was now shifting into something much more akin to terror.

“Such would be nigh inappropriate with present company, my Liege,” Zestial answered, apparently immune to the pointed shift in mood. And then he took Lucifer’s hand.

Everyone gathered around the table held their collective breath.

They were all Deal Makers in this room. They all think twice about shaking the hand of even their closest friends, so shaking the hand of the literal Devil? Unthinkable. But Zestial did. With the nonchalance of a person who knows he is perfectly safe.

And nothing happened.

“How have you been?” Lucifer continued, taking his hand back as if the room wasn’t releasing their collective breath.

“’Tis hath been a most interesting millennium so far, I must say. Though I doth not wish to impose on his Majesty’s time. Perhaps his Majesty shall doth me the honour of conferring over tea on a more opportune day.” Zestial clicked his fingers, a black and green card appearing in his hand that he offered to Lucifer.

Lucifer accepted the card without even a moment of hesitation. “The honour would be mine, old friend. But I do have to request we leave the politics talk at the door. I have no intention of getting involved in,” he vaguely gestured in direction of the rest of the table, “all this.”

“Why of course,” Zestial concurred.

“And I do warn you that you will have to stop me from talking about Charlie at some point, I could tell stories for years!” Lucifer and Zestial shared a chuckle. They truly must be old friends. Alastor added a couple more grains of salt to his belief of any and every story Zestial had ever told him about Lucifer. Turned out Zestial was not as neutral of an observer as he thought.

“So, still running the show here?” Lucifer asked.

“Ah, I have long since passed on the duties of stewardship of this here group. May I introduce?”

“Please.”

Zestial shifted closer to Carmilla who looked like she was just finishing gathering her bearings. “Miss Carmilla Carmine holds the current lead of this gathering.”

To her credit, she did manage to look properly put together as she curtsied.

“Charmed,” Lucifer grinned at her and once again extended his hand, “I hear I owe you a spot of gratitude for providing my daughter with the weapons used to repel the Exterminators.”

“It was a decision that served to protect our interests in all of Pentagram City,” Carmilla managed to answer. She was obviously hesitant, recognising the offered hand as the power play it was. To refuse was to disrespect the King, to accept was to bow to his rule.

She gingerly shook Lucifer’s hand, her daughters tensing, ready to lunge should anything happen. Nothing happened. Both Carmilla and her daughters breathed lighter once her hand left Lucifer’s grasp.

“Now,” Lucifer took himself back to the middle of the table, “I assume I was summoned,” his side eye at Alastor was met with a perfect sharp grin, “for a reason. Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

He geared up to continue, but leave it to Zeezi to take her opportunity to speak when she saw it: “That whole redemption shit Princess is doing, does it work?” To her credit, she didn’t flinch when sharp red eyes turned to her.

“It is too early to tell,” Lucifer answered, “but it is not impossible.”

“What gives her the right??” Vox’ grating voice started out strong, but the second Lucifer turned his burning attention onto him he withered like a plucked flower past its days. “I’m just saying, those souls belong to us—”

Alastor had to fight to suppress his chuckle. Wrong thing to say Voxy, darling.

Lucifer’s wings flared, the Hellfire reappearing and voice deepened as he addressed the Overlords. “Let’s get one thing straight. For millennia I have let you freely run about this city, permitted you to draw upon the power to deal in souls, a power that originates with me; no oversight, no consequences but the ones of your own making. If you wish to continue to do as you please, you will not interfere with my daughter’s hotel, nor the souls seeking it out for a chance at redemption.”

“But—”

“During the course of this conversation alone there have been twenty-six souls condemned to Hell. Should redemption be proven achievable and you cannot manage to find new souls to ensnare among those new arrivals to replace those you have lost, then you should consider stepping down from your Overlord title.”

The room fell silent again. It was a subtle show of Lucifer’s influence over Hell, dropping the exact number of newly condemned souls, but it was effective none the less. There was a feeling of truth to the words and Alastor didn’t doubt that the number was anything but correct.

The silence was jarringly cut through by the opening notes of ‘Entry of the Gladiators’.

“Apologies,” Lucifer said, and fished his portable telephone from his pocket. His expression darkened at the sight of the caller, Hellfire licking higher around his horns as he picked up, voice sharp: “Make me come down there, Mammon, I dare you.” His voice dropped through the registers so fast, it sent an involuntary shiver running down Alastor’s spine. And then it was all back to normal when after a short pause Lucifer continued, a light “hm, that’s what I thought,” and he promptly hung up again.

“I am afraid I am out of time,” Lucifer said, not even bothering to look at the assembled Overlords as he tapped away on the telephone, lifting it to his ear again as it dialled. “Zestial, Miss Carmine, it was my pleasure. Bellhop, touch Charlie’s pictures again and I will bury you so deep in a magma pit not even your shadows will be able to drag you back out,” the line connected and Lucifer’s tone shifted again, “Beelzebub, why the fuck does Mammon think he can bother me with whatever slight against him I couldn’t care less about? Just because I’ve returned to the playing field does not mean I am going to play any of his games.”

There was a pause, the whisper of a voice too far away to be understood.

And then Lucifer chuckled, low and dangerous, walking down the length of the table as red golden swirls of his power began to envelope his feet. “Oh Bee, honey, darling, why would I bother playing chess with anyone when a couple moves checkers are more than enough?”

Lucifer vanished just one step away from stepping on Vox’ stupid face where he hung deep in his chair, shrunk down like a terrified little animal.

Alastor chuckled loudly. “Yet another productive meeting!”

The sentiment wasn’t quite shared around the table, but leave it to Zeezi to not hold back on the commentary: “Damn, he is so tiny, I did not expect that!”

“Yes well,” Alastor answered, “you do know what they say about the smallest dogs. They do contain the most rage.”

Zeezi laughed and Alastor joined in along with her.

“Alastor, darling?” A gentle hand was placed on his elbow.

Alastor covered it with his own and turned. “Yes, Rosie, dear?”

“You really ought to stop poking the bear, dearheart.”

Alastor couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ah, but how could I stop if he makes such delightfully entertaining noises?”

“He is going to bite back one day, you know.”

Alastor’s grin grew dark, the shadows coalescing around him. “Oh, but I am counting on it.”