The Devil's in the Details

by AreaFiftyOne

Summary:

Everything Lucifer had ever done in the depths of Hell, his prison turned domain, had only ever been for one person- Charlie, a daughter more precious to him than anything else in creation. But with his hands tied, wings chained to the remains of Eden, and his voice locked away in his throat, Lucifer has no defense left when Charlie is placed in the line of fire against him.

Shaking the hand of the Radio Demon was his only option, terrible idea that it was. But to a drowning man any rope thrown his way was salvation, even if it was in the shape of a noose.

And if Alastor, double edged sword that he was, turned out to be all of Lucifer's fears turned flesh, well... If it means seeing a freed Hell, he can deal with another bloodied collar around his throat. At least he knows he looks good in red.

The darkness over Hell breaks with a new dawn as Lucifer steps out of the shadows, his solitude ended at last.

Chapter 1

Notes:

Hello Lovely Friends! Welcome to the latest snapshot of this author's continued madness about all things Hazbin Hotel :) If you're new to my corner, pull up a seat and grab a snack, make yourself comfy.

This story has been a labor of love for...a really long time now. I started this after my second watch through of this lovely little show and a tiny plot bunny started to scratch and, well...here we are. This fic is a massive thing overall and while it's not completely finished, I am almost halfway through writing my way through the outline. If any of this is of interest to you, why not stay awhile? :)

I appreciate every single one of you for giving this story a chance and I hope you enjoy!

Extermination Day brought with it a whole host of anxieties for multitudes of Hell-kind.

There was the typical base, animal fear- thousands of angelic beings wielding pristine, razor sharp weapons with the sole purpose of slaughter and mayhem was a real and valid worry in the streets. Every low life that crawled, flew, or stalked their way through Pentagram City turned their gaze upward in terror when the countdown atop the Heavenly Embassy ticked its way down to zero, the flashing numbers a constant reminder of the wrath that rained down yearly.

Overlords had their own share of worries during the Extermination; counting out the souls under their ownership, counting the losses afterward. It was all a mad scramble for power in the aftermath of atrocities brought about by beings above them in both station and power, their desperate need for control turning into a long game of cutting throats and striking deals.

For one Lucifer Morningstar, those anxieties were of an entirely different nature.

While the rest of the Pride Ring scurried to their “angel-proof” hiding places or were caught unawares on the streets, their blood and bones and bodies adding to the already macabre display of Hell proper, the Morningstar retreated deep into the inner sanctums of his palace. The knowledge of his cowardice wound tight around his bones; what kind of King hid his face while his people were slaughtered and assaulted endlessly for a command that, by all avenues of public opinion, he had orchestrated?

The guilt gnawed at him but Lucifer hadn’t lived for thousands of years without perfecting the art of disassociation. It was easy enough to let his mind slip beneath the surface of conscious thought- to exist without the burden of knowing everything that was happening far above on the streets of a city in a realm he had never asked for.

Breathe in.

Once upon a time, there was a king who loved his daughter very much.

Blood on the streets, bone and flesh torn asunder; it was the millennia of war he would never be able to shake from the recesses of his existence. The screams of the terrified and of the dying could reach him here if he let them, here among the pristine stillness of a Garden long since conjured from nothing. It drowned out the illusion of birdsong through trees as they swayed, leaves and branches rustling and creaking on a phantom wind. If he focused hard enough, he could almost make out the cheerful burble of a stream hidden somewhere in the depths of the Garden, but just as quickly it morphed into the wet squelching of a life draining to nothing.

Breathe out.

Once upon a time-

A spear found its mark in the heart of a sinner, steel scraping against bone and dragging flesh and organs back out of the wound on its jagged edge. He ground his teeth against the horrified wail cut short.

-a man loved his princess so much, he set the world on fire to keep her warm.

A voice broke through the chaos of the battle above, cut straight through the feeble defenses Lucifer had cobbled in place- anything to keep out the gnawing guilt, the knowing, the hearing-

“-mael, are you even listening?”

He blinked slowly at the gleaming figure seated across from him and for a moment, just one Heaven blessed moment, Lucifer Morningstar imagined closing his fist around the delicate teacup in his hand and driving one of the jagged edges into the throat of his guest. He’d done it before; once in a setting much like this, on a day like this. Only that time it had been a steak knife, and Lucifer had barely lifted the piece of cutlery before his guest had guessed the nature of his movement and parried it accordingly.

It was a heady thing to imagine crushing the porcelain in his hand, letting the granules of broken pieces slice into his palm as he lunged across the table. It would be beautiful in a way the macabre only could be; Lucifer wouldn’t look away as the pristine white flesh would split under his ministrations and golden blood would begin to flow. Down across snow white flesh and Heaven blessed garments, it would be a torrent of gold and Lucifer would stare and stare until the corpse of his guest twitched no more.

He blinked again. The cup was still in hand and a knowing stare was fixed upon him from across an intact dining table.

“You’re drifting again,” the voice hummed, that damned voice. Pure and rich and carrying with it all the promises of more, the arrogant beliefs of better.

“Yeah, well,” Lucifer lifted one shoulder in an artful shrug. He held the blazing gaze across the table, all the brimstone and holiness that Heaven could boast of in one disdainful look. “When you’re listening to the people of your kingdom being slaughtered with no chance of defending themselves, it kind of takes the fun out of paying attention to anything else.”

His guest sighed, the silence filled by that low exhale and the clink of a matching teacup being set down in an identical patterned saucer. Deft fingers withdrew from the delicate porcelain item to fold themselves together, slender digits lacing together to provide support as the man across the table leaned forward, elbows braced on the tabletop.

“We’ve been over this.”

The familiar weight of the statement draped lazily around Lucifer, his shoulders sagging beneath it as it burrowed beneath his skin and twined around his bones. It was always the same old song and dance here, this never ending waltz of an offer dangled in front of the metaphorical mouse he had become, knowing full well the strength of the cat’s claws was waiting just beyond.

He didn’t bother disguising the heavy sigh that slipped free before he could grasp it in both metaphorical hands, fingers clenching around it to keep it from escaping. “I know.”

His guest regarded him coolly, hands still steepled. “But you won’t.”

Lucifer shoved the urge to snarl far far back down below his usual level of control. He knew it was what was expected, wanted, desired- the clawing need for him to lash out, to show the figure opposite him just how deadly his teeth and claws could be- shackles be damned.

But he didn’t move and across the table, a close lipped smile widened. It wasn’t a pleasant expression; Lucifer had long ago learned how to tell the difference in each subtle shift of that damned smile, knew when to tell whether it was an expression of maddening glee or polite, barely restrained disappointment. In this case, his guest exuded the air of a self satisfied cat with all its attention fixed on a cornered mouse.

“How long are we going to keep doing this?” The question tumbled from pale lips without thought and maybe before he would have thought better about keeping the traitorous thought to himself, snapping shut his jaw like pearly gates above to keep the filth of his words and thoughts and existence from marring the beauty around them.

The expression across from him shifted subtly and Lucifer tracked each emotion as it flitted almost imperceptibly across beautiful features. First, confusion- whatever could the original sinner be talking about? Hah. It was followed by understanding and then disappointment, resignation. Lucifer flinched when anger showed its face, muscled out of the way by fury, and then circling back to the calmer cousin of a previous feeling, pity taking over in the aftermath of everything else.

That beautiful mouth opened to reply and it wasn't the first time Lucifer steadied himself against the words he knew were coming. It wouldn't be the last. His guest exhaled in preparation for the words, but a shudder ran through the room and the gleaming figure seated across the table from Lucifer Morningstar flinched.

The feeling spiderwebbed outward, the pair of men serving as the epicenter. Lucifer stared dumbfounded at his guest, seconds crawling by like hours to his knowing. He felt the weakening of the power wrapped around him and, like a mouse daring to peek out of the cage it had been cornered in only to find the cat long gone, Lucifer poked metaphorical fingers into the restraints to find them lacking.

“Samael,” the figure across from him began, his tone and the set of his shoulders a warning of everything and more that would happen if he stepped out of line.

But the line was gone. Gone, dissolved under the weight of a contract broken as if it had never existed in the first place.

Lucifer felt the first genuine smile tug at his lips in years (the other day with Charlie- his darling daughter, she was the lone beacon against the eons of darkness he had existed through- didn't count). He stood up from the table with its pristine dinner settings, wings unfurling, chains weakening. Never mind the outrage on his guest's face, never mind that it was likely only a fleeting moment of freedom. Lucifer could taste it, everything flooding through him faster than light- the sounds of battle, the copper tang of blood being spilled.

The terror emanating from his daughter was overshadowed by the heavy weight of knowing she had failed.

Not today, sweetheart.

Opening a portal behind himself, Lucifer paused before he stepped backward into the carnage of the battle happening miles away and above. He swept his gaze across the trembling figure still at the table, standing now with hands braced against the clothed surface if only to keep his fury in check. Lucifer imagined the moment he was gone, the dinner setting- table and all- would be swept to the side and left broken in a fit of rage.

“Sorry, little brother,” the Morningstar said, lifting a hand in a lazy salute as he stepped backward. He couldn't keep a triumphant grin in check, watching the flare of indignation in crystalline eyes so like his own. “Better luck next time.”

He wasn't gone too quickly to miss the beam of light cascading down from Heaven above to wrap around his guest. The portal he had conjured flared as he stepped through and though the roaring of his guest's departure drowned out all other sounds, it was impossible for Lucifer to miss the words almost carelessly flung his way. He brushed them out of thought and mind for the time being, tucking them away and out of sight along with collar and shackles, even though the ache and twist of them against skin and bone followed him incessantly in an endless reminder of the weight of his mistakes.

But it didn't matter now. Charlie needed him.

His wings unfurling as he let himself drop through the portal into the crimson drenched skies of his domain, the backdrop to a battle not quite unlike ones of his deepest memories, Lucifer couldn't help noting the way those damned words trailed after him like an unwanted shadow. They clung to him like a residue he couldn't scrub off as he stepped onto the stage of his daughter's hopes and dreams, the site of battle and death and reborn hope. They followed him as he gave Charlie a hand up from the mire of depression so similar to his own, words flowing to inspire a spark of hope in the depths of her misery . It was the least he could do after...well, after everything he'd already done, but still the words slithered through his bravado as the hotel came back to life, conjured from the brink of death by the combined work of the souls his daughter cared for more than anything.

And at last when the work was complete and the smile on Charlie's face was enough to banish the ever present clouds of his melancholy for good, those words twined back up to the forefront of his mind like a black serpent through grass. Lucifer let his expression falter only when the spotlight of his daughter's attention had shifted to another key player in their victory, let himself drift to the background where no one would need to pay him any mind. He let the full weight of those words settle on his shoulders like an unwanted blanket, knowing he would never be able to shake them loose.

I know how to make you obey.

Father above, he was so fucked.

---

There was also the unmistakable fact that, everything else aside, the First Man was dead.

Lucifer stared down at the mangled body of Adam, considered nudging the corpse with his boot but thought better of it. Angelic blood was a pain in the ass to get out of anything even for him. So Lucifer settled for just staring at the crumpled body, the gold stained white robes and shattered mask and the gaping wound in Adam's back and chest. Ironic that it would be the First Man's own weapon turned against him that would lead to his demise, but hey- never let it be said that the cosmic energies didn't have a sense of humor. To add insult to injury (hah!), it was the tiny roach obsessed woman who had wielded the angelic steel in the name of Charlie's crusade. The same tiny woman who, consequently, belonged to Alastor.

“Quite a sight, isn't he?”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, the old saying went.

Lucifer turned with a grimace toward the source of the static-fringed voice, sweeping his gaze across the impeccably suited demon and only pausing his study for a moment at the red clawed hands folded tightly against his middle. Lucifer may have been out of the grand scope of things far longer than most of these souls had been alive, but his attention to detail was sharper than ever- and that was an interesting detail.

He nodded once in greeting and the grinning demon inclined his head in return, ears flicking. “Sire.”

“You made yourself scarce during the battle, Alcatraz. Figured you'd run with your tail between your legs, metaphorically speaking.”

Watching the demon squirm under his jabs was a delight, it truly was. Lucifer waited for the stiffening of those bony shoulders, the narrowing of red eyes, maybe even the flattening of those damned fuzzy looking ears. But nothing came of it and the Morningstar found himself frowning. He studied the lanky Overlord standing at his side and Alastor regarded him coolly in return, not a stray hair out of place or a single wrinkle in his pinstripe candy red suit.

Scowling, Lucifer swept his gaze back down to the body at his feet and resisted the urge again to kick it in the ribs. “Hard to believe he's really dead.”

“As a doornail, sire.” The Overlord sighed long and drawn out and not for the first time, Lucifer wondered how long it would take for the lanky sinner to run completely out of air and keel over.

“What's your deal, Alastor?”

“My deal?” Alastor echoed, mimicking Lucifer's tone perfectly straight down to the drawn out vowel and the up sweep of the final consonant. He chuckled, the sound more like the laugh track of an old black and white sitcom (yes Lucifer was keenly aware of mortal television habits) and narrowed his gaze down at the shorter man.

“My deal, dear King, is that this is just the beginning.” He swept one claw-tipped hand out toward the former scene of destruction now replaced with the shining beacon of hope in the form of a brand new hotel. It looked good, Lucifer had to admit; all of Charlie's closest allies coming together to rebuild, present company excluded. If he was aware of how his presence had been missed, Alastor didn't seem to care. “True, the Exorcists wouldn't dare to return so quickly to the site of their defeat, but I have a feeling this is hardly the end.”

“Preach it to the choir, Arson.” Lucifer wanted to wipe the smarmy grin off the sinner's face, but settled for gesturing to the prone and bloodied corpse. “Speaking of, where is the little lady responsible?”

Alastor's grin tightened to the point it looked like his entire face was going to split, painfully. “Why do you care?”

“Because, you said it yourself. The Exorcists aren't going to just leave this be, much as we want them to. The First Man lies dead at the hands of a sinner and I don't know about you, but I would very much like to keep them from sinking their claws into this operation. So I'll ask again.”

Lucifer swept his gaze up and down the Overlord, pausing briefly on the one hand still pressed tightly against Alastor's chest- and wasn't that interesting?

“Where is Niffty?”

“Safe and tucked away,” Alastor sniffed, unconcerned. “Don't trouble your duck-addled brain with her, my liege.”

“Okay, first off- fuck you. Second, she's nowhere near safe.” Lucifer conjured his cane from the liminal pocket he kept it in, shifting it forward to poke against Alastor's thin shoulder and already expecting when the Overlord smacked it aside. Before the sinner could ask the obvious question, Lucifer continued.

“Niffty murdered the First Man. You really think you of all people can stand up to the courts of Heaven when they come for her? And believe me, they're going to come for her. You may be a powerful Overlord in your own right, but you'll fold like wet paper against them. Owning her soul contract or not, there's nothing you can do to protect her.”

“Speaking from experience, are we?” Alastor hummed thoughtfully and damn, Lucifer really wanted to slap his smile right off his face. “Folding like wet paper is your area of expertise, after all.”

He settled for glaring up at the taller man. “The news of what she did is already spreading like wildfire, Alastor. I'm trying to give you both an out while there's a chance but my patience is running thin. Tick-tock, Overlord.” Lucifer tapped a nonexistent watch on his wrist. “Give the soul contract over to me, you know it's her only chance at surviving. Yours too.” 

“Look at you, bullying your way around as expected of someone of your station and stature.” Alastor tucked his hands behind his back, his steps taking him in a semicircle around Lucifer and as much as he wanted to, he didn't turn to follow the Overlord's attempt at intimidation. “Does it make you feel better? The big, strong, powerful king swooping in at the last moment to save the day?”

“Nice try, Bambi. You know, maybe if you keep practicing, you'll get to fit into the Big Boy's Club with the rest of us.” Lucifer swept his gaze up to the hooded red eyes, Alastor bent slightly at the waist so they were eye-level. “Now, I don't know about you but I happen to be on a tight schedule. So, the soul contract.”

“In your dreams, my king. Overlords don't just hand over their contracts because their sovereign asks nicely.”

Lucifer sighed and ran a hand over his hair. He stepped back, his wings unfurling from that same liminal space he kept most everything when it wasn't in immediate use. A single flap lifted him from the ground and Lucifer had the briefest moment of satisfaction when Alastor scrambled back a step.

“Alright, fine. You can't say I didn't try. So when Heaven comes for her- and Alastor,” Lucifer stared down at the tall man, snapping his fingers and watching the forgotten corpse behind the Overlord fade from view in a glimmer of his power. “They will come for her... just remember I offered to help.” 

---

Satan, it was exhausting. Lucifer stared down at the hotel from his perch on a billboard that had just barely made it outside of the boundary of the battle. It was impossible not to see the battle lines drawn, scorched ground in a perfect circle around the remains of the old hotel and the site of the new. It had been Alastor's power, Lucifer knew that- it was Alastor who had been the first to set up defenses here in the name of Charlie Morningstar. Alastor who had been the first to face down Adam.

Alastor who had fought the First Man and walked away.

No one was ever that lucky, no one had ever been that lucky in the history of ever. Hell, even Charlie- half Archangel herself- hadn't been able to stand up to Adam!
So how was it this very mortal, once-human, sinner turned Overlord was able to do what no one else ever could?

Lucifer turned his gaze to the hotel, lit up like a beacon of salvation to the entirety of Hell, and let his mind wander.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Happy Sunday, my lovelies!! Here again with a new chapter of this descent into madness- I hope this finds you well and happy today.

Bear with me for this chapter and the next cause it gets a little crazy but I promise in the long run everything will make sense!

Without further ado, please enjoy! <3

Dreams were never something Lucifer had pinpointed to the front of his focus or thoughts before, but this…this was a nightmare. He reached for the lamp on the bedside table, fingers fumbling with the damn switch and then realizing a half second after flicking it that he could have just magicked the light on. Too late, as the artificial light filled the room and chased off the lingering shadows.

If only it worked half as well for those in his mind.

His hand was shaking, cold sweat drying sticky and unpleasant on skin. Lucifer hunched forward and raked both hands through his hair, curling his claws in at the roots as if he meant to tear them out himself. He didn’t; it was just an anchor. Something physical to keep him from dissolving back into the terrified grasp of….all that.

He didn’t dream the same way mortals did. Lucifer had figured that out an eternity ago when Lilith had woken in the middle of the night shaking and crying, her hand pressed to the swell of the belly where Charlie lay nestled, cozy and safe. Lucifer could recall those nights with perfect clarity, just the two of them curled around each other in the sanctity of their bed while Lilith sobbed herself back into an uneasy sleep. She had described horrific images, things conjured up from her subconscious, images that Hell no doubt enjoyed twisting into something unabashedly real to her.

It was the images that Lucifer had marveled at. He’d never considered his own thoughts to be so clear cut. He usually just followed an echoing desire through a realm of abstract and made things into a reality. Creation was one of his gifts, so there was little need to put thought into it all.

The images lingered and he curled further into himself, something like a whine or a choked sob echoing in the heavy silence of his room. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair- Hell was fucking with him, he knew that-

But he’d had a nightmare.

Pull yourself together, you fucking weakling.

Pep talks were not exactly his strong suit either. Lucifer resisted the urge to flop backward into the tangle of bed sheets and pillows, the too large bed seeming now eager to swallow him. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the full length mirror angled by the closet doors- hair sticking in all directions from where he had pulled at it, eyes bleary and bloodshot (funny how that looked with gold latticing across already golden eyes) and dark circles that would put the deepest pits of Hell to shame.

Lucifer groaned and gave the mirror a finger, his reflection returning the gesture far too smoothly for the Devil’s taste. He glared at the offending piece of furniture, and then a flash of Charlie’s terrified face filled his mind, her eyes glossy with tears that ran rivers down her makeup and her mouth open in an endless scream. Lucifer swatted his hand out as if that could knock the image away but only slammed a fist into the bedside lamp, sending it flailing wildly off the nightstand to shatter on the floor. The streaks of light from the exposed bulb spasmed across the walls and ceiling and for a moment it had again been the endless bursts of Heavenly flame incinerating everything he held dear.

It took way too much control for Lucifer to stop himself from lunging from the restricting grasp of the bed coverings, wings flailing around as he pinwheeled to the floor in a mad dash for the only thing he could properly think of in the maelstrom of everything else. Bad enough he couldn’t think past the smothering press of weight around his throat, he needed out.

The double doors to his chambers towered over him but it only took Lucifer flinging a singular thought of command outward for the heavy oak slabs to burst open, letting him out into the thick stillness of the hallway beyond. Once upon a time his palace might have been considered the pinnacle of Hell; Lucifer could still feel the bruising ache left deep in the wells of his power from creating the massive structure to rival even the grandest palaces of Heaven. It had taken nothing but a thought for the building to come into existence, the finest marble spread out for flooring so glossy his queen could see her reflection everywhere she stepped. Replicas of the cedars of Lebanon gracing every ceiling and wainscotting, jewels inlaid throughout the decor and pearls crushed by hand to add the shimmering allure that came with being Hell’s most powerful and only set of royalty.

It had been for his queen- Lilith, the singular light of his life- that Lucifer had exerted so much of himself out into the foundations of Hell, shaping it into the solid kingdom it was today. The palace had been the crowning jewel of that measure of time spent basking in the glory of creation, his intent of giving her a home worthy of her place as his queen infused through even the smallest speck of dust within the grand structure.

These days, it was as empty as the grandest tombs of the mortal world, nothing but marble halls and gold overlay fountains draped in the dust of a life abandoned and forgotten. It should have dragged the more intense feelings of his depression up from the shallow grave he’d tossed it in days ago, this knowledge that the grand halls lay dormant and empty. It had been so good to stand shoulder to shoulder with his daughter, his Charlie, the only family he had left, that it had been next to nothing for him to banish the years and years of deep rooted loneliness. For the first time in decades, Lucifer had felt the warmth of not just being needed- he’d been wanted.

Now faced with the looming dark of a palace void of life, Lucifer had never felt more alone.

A chime at the edge of his focus dragged his thoughts from the mire he was slipping into and though it took a few minutes longer for him to ground himself back to the present- he was in his palace, it had only just been a dream- Lucifer realized the sound for what it was.

“Oh shit,” he muttered and snapped his fingers. In a blink (and without a flash of golden light, he wasn't that showy, thank you very much) his sleepwear was swapped for his usual white suite sans top hat, and Lucifer portaled himself straight down to the source of the chime. For all of the ostentatious splendor of the palace mixed with the forlorn absence of home he had once craved so strongly, it still held onto the ability to pinpoint the exact location of any disruption.

The source of it today at any rate was a more welcome sight than it ever had been in the past. Lucifer blinked past the red and gold shimmer of the portal as he stepped out into one of the main hallways off the entry, right in front of Charlie and her angelic paramour. Both young women looked studiously hesitant at being in the wide empty halls of the palace, though the second her crimson tinged eyes fell on him, Charlie's entire countenance lit up brighter than Times Square on New Years Eve.

“Dad!” Charlie was in his arms in an instant and it took less time than that for his wings to unfurl, a single flap lifting them both off the floor in a distracted attempt to accommodate his daughter's height.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here? I thought you would be at the hotel!” Lucifer set her down gently but stayed hovering so they remained at eye level.

Charlie glanced back toward Vaggie who gave her a single nod. It wasn't lost on Lucifer how easily it was for them to communicate through a single glance or gesture, no words needed. A bond like that was forged through mutual trust and shared hearts; the last few weeks of battle preparation and the actual fighting had only served to strengthen it.

“That's actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” Charlie started, reaching for his hands. “Vaggie and I discussed it and we both want you to come live at the hotel with us.”

“Charlie, I don't think that's a good idea.”

It was shock alone that had the next words tumbling out faster than Lucifer could stop them. He'd considered this- of course he had! Staying at the hotel, Charlie's hotel, was his best and worst option to stay on the front lines of the war this was becoming. The battle had just been the beginning even though his daughter and her closest allies didn't see it yet. Alastor excluded.

Charlie's expression faltered in that way that sent the image of her careening back to when she was five years old, blonde pigtails dragging on the floor while she stared up at him in the three-second window right before crying. Lucifer clenched a metaphorical hand around the memory to push it away; this wasn't the time or place to go traipsing down memory lane back to simpler times when his daughter had looked up to him and Lucifer had been her hero- not in the Hell shattering way, either.

Except she wasn't five anymore. Charlie's expression crumpled the way it always did when she was going to cry but then she breathed out, eyes closing for just a moment. When she looked at him, Lucifer saw the woman she'd become when he'd been looking away.

“I think it's the best idea,” Charlie said, the conviction in her voice firm. “You helped rebuild the hotel, you saved me in the battle. Having you there would be a huge message to Heaven that we're a united front!

“Besides,” she continued more gently, taking his hands again and damn, if Lucifer didn't feel his resolve crumbling like a wall of sand against the onslaught of a rolling tide. “I don't like the idea of you being here in this big empty house all by yourself. I want you to live with me, just like old times.”

Behind her, Vaggie was smiling gently and Charlie's gaze was full of a soft love and the smug satisfaction of victory achieved. Lucifer half expected them to high five each other.

“Alright, alright. If it means that much to you...” Lucifer matched Charlie's grin. “I'll be there. For you.”

“Yes! I knew he would say yes!” Charlie turned to grab Vaggie's arm, her excitement pulling a wide grin from the former Exorcist. “I told you he would!”

“Yeah you did, babe.” Vaggie turned her attention to Lucifer and not for the first time since meeting, a flash of years of combined existence passed between them, Heaven and Hell and all the denizens dwelling there, the atrocities committed between both their hands. Vaggie inclined her head toward him and Lucifer followed suit, the start of a foundation built.

“There was one other thing...” Charlie started, their footsteps echoing as the trio made their way down the empty hall- sheesh, maybe Lucifer should consider shrinking the interior to avoid any other potential guests from getting lost; how Charlie and Vaggie had made it to the southeast corner on the opposite end of the main living quarters was, quite frankly, a miracle.

“Hm?” Lucifer nudged open the door to said living quarters, the last vestiges of the rooms he was using since Charlie and Lilith had both moved out decades ago. He was glad at least that this was one of the cleaner front parlors- the last thing Charlie needed to see was how bad his office and workroom had gotten.

Charlie hummed under her breath, kicking her foot out to the side and leaning into the step in the way she did only when she was about to ask a favor. Lucifer turned his full attention to her.

“I was wondering if you wouldn't mind checking on Alastor.”

He blinked. “The bellhop?”

“Dad!”

“What! He's basically an oversized-” He stopped short at her scowl, holding up both hands. “Okay, okay. Alastor. The not-a-bellhop. What's going on?”

Charlie opened her mouth to blow out a long breath and then rolled her shoulders. “Vaggie?”

Lucifer lifted a brow but turned his gaze to the smaller woman. Smaller than Charlie, but definitely taller than he was, and he was in heeled boots. It was a fashion choice, sue him.

The former Exorcist looked momentarily startled at being thrust into the spotlight so easily by her girlfriend but she squared her shoulders and stepped up. “I noticed something odd about him right after the battle, sir. I think...” Vaggie glanced at Charlie who gave her a beaming smile, shooing her hands in encouragement.

“I think Adam wounded Alastor in that fight.”

Lucifer blinked. “That's...”

“Look, Vaggie picked up a source of angelic energy at the hotel!” Charlie rushed in to explain. “She figured out it was coming from Alastor and since she was an Exorcist, she recognized that it was Adam's energy all over him! We think-”

She sucked in a breath and reached for Vaggie's hand, the smaller woman brightening like a flower reaching up to the sun that was Charlie.

“We know he's hiding something at least and we tried talking to him, but you know Alastor...” Charlie ran her hand over her hair with a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, I was wondering if you would be able to at least talk to him. And if what we think is going on really is, then you're pretty much the only one who can do something about it.”

There were a few moments in his life Lucifer had ever really considered himself standing at a true crossroads. The first had been a millennia ago in a garden long since vanished from the face of the Earth, but that was in a time neither here nor there. The rest had been smaller moments and Lucifer was well familiar with the weight and feel of each one, small tiny orbs of inconsequential moments he could hold in his cupped hands.

This was not one of those moments.

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of those thoughts, Lucifer focused on the hopeful expressions of his daughter and future daughter-in-law. He smiled briefly at each of them in turn and ignored the weight of his words settling firmly on his shoulders.

“Okay, I'll talk to Alastor and see what's going on.”

He was prepared this time for Charlie's leaping hug, wings out to make up for the height difference between them. It felt perfect and right to have his little girl in his arms and it only took a moment to reach out and pull Vaggie into the hug as well, nestling her in their midst. It was everything a family should be.

And then his phone chimed. Lucifer cursed and settled back to the floor, digging the device out as he stepped back from the two women. “Damn, I really need to get better about checking the time. I have a, uh..”

He cast an apologetic look up at Charlie. “A meeting, of sorts. Tell you what, I'll come by the hotel before dinner? Maybe...Maybe I can cook?”

“Dad, that would be great. You promise?” Charlie leaned down slightly and Lucifer pressed a kiss to her cheek, his own smile reassuring.

“I promise, sweetheart. I'll be there.” 

---

The view of the tower atop the Heavenly Embassy had been furtively dark since the final extermination-turned-battle two days prior, the numbers on the clock stuck halfway between one and zero. Lucifer tipped his gaze back to study the spire, entertaining his own grim satisfaction that the entire building had lost even more of its usual shine and sparkle. Muted, graying, and blissfully empty; it wasn't like angels had ever sullied themselves by descending down into the Pit and after their defeat, they weren't in a rush to come back.

It was nice, in the way a calm before a storm was.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the cityscape surrounding him- he'd taken to the air on all six wings, power coursing through him like a tap running full force, and Satan, it felt good. Pentagram City was coming back to life like a sinner shaking off a hangover; slow and stumbling but making progress to forget the previous night's traumas. Still…

It would have been impossible for even a newcomer to Hell to somehow miss the clear signs of the destruction strewn across the city. Even though the battle had been localized to the hotel, it hadn't stopped waves of Exorcists from doing what they did best, rushing headlong into the ranks of defenseless sinners. It also hadn't stopped Hellish overlords or the overly ambitious souls from using the chaos for their own benefit, slaughtering and bargaining their way further up the metaphorical ladder of power.

Lucifer stopped short at one such display, his gaze flicking across a pair of Exorcists held up by nearly invisible wires like some mockery of a children's puppet theater. Torn off bat wings had been stitched haphazardly to one of the decapitated bodies, golden blood seeping slowly from the ragged neck wound, and Lucifer wondered if the artist could claim the kill or if they were just an opportunist. He suspected the latter, especially considering the Exorcist's limbs were outstretched in a mockery of a crucifixion.

“Hah.” The sound was far from humored and Lucifer kept moving. He barely glanced down again on his flight over building tops, landing at last in front of the sleek building housing Carmine Enterprises. The building was a work of art in Lucifer's opinion, the glass front a showcase of the half-truth Carmilla strove to present to all demon-kind that her business was up front with no secrets buried under floorboards, that everything she enacted was open to viewing to the public. Naturally, some pieces of her work were left to the shadows, but it was Hell. Secrets were the name of the game.

Two black suited demons at the front entrance barely gave him a second glance as Lucifer entered the lobby of the skyscraper, dimly stylish in the monochromatic decor he knew Carmilla favored. He took notice of the furnishings so he could offer some vague compliment to the Overlord about it later, already knowing she wouldn't care. It would only serve to show that his presence wasn't just superficial; Lucifer was here to pay attention even if it previously had been to all the wrong things. Somehow the idea of presenting the foppish, vain front he'd been using as a mask and a shield for so long was far too exhausting for the Morningstar.

Lucifer turned his head to follow the line of suspended wrought steel sculptures on a circular parade around the lobby when a gust of Hellish wind blew through the doors behind him. Against his better judgment (and damn, he really needed to start listening to that tinny inner voice) Lucifer turned.

In hindsight, he wished he hadn't.

There were only a few Overlords Lucifer could count himself to be familiar with, Carmilla Carmine being at the forefront of that list. Now rushing toward him in a blur of ruffles and perfume, the Cannibal Overlord Rosie was grasping one of his hands before she dipped down into a curtsy. Despite her renown, there was nothing sinister in a fanged smile and Lucifer found it easy to return the expression up at her; even in a curtsy, Rosie was still easily a head taller than he was.

“Your Majesty, I had no idea you were going to be coming to our little meeting though I was just telling Alastor I had a good feeling today. It's going to be a real doozy of a meeting, I bet! Ain't that right, Alastor?”

“A real slam banger of a party, I'm sure.”

Lucifer extracted his hand and turned his attention alongside Rosie's to the second individual who had slipped through the door. Said demon already had his gaze locked onto Lucifer with a too wide smile, and though he wanted to make some quip about the amount of eye contact or even run as fast as he could for the elevator, Lucifer made himself stare back. Satan knew the Radio Demon could travel through shadows so running for the elevator was a moot point.

Alastor always had cut an impressive figure among the ranks of the other Overlords, today being no different. It had nothing to do with Charlie's request or his own observations of the tall sinner. From the pristine new coat in the same violent red he preferred all the way down to the shined tips of his shoes, the Radio Demon looked like he hadn't been involved in one of the biggest battles Hell had ever seen not even a day before.

Alastor's smile widened further, almost comically large as he regarded Lucifer, as if somehow despite his nature as a sinner's soul turned Overlord he could see the thoughts turning in the King of Hell's mind. Extending one thin arm to the Cannibal Overlord beside him, Alastor took a step toward the elevator.

“Well, aren't you coming, Majesty?”

Lucifer clenched his hand and cursed inwardly, but trailed after the pair into the elevator and up to the top floor of Carmine Enterprises, the ranks of Overlords waiting for a king who had been absent for far too long.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Happy Sunday my lovelies!

Who's ready for an Overlord meeting? >:D

It was no real surprise that the very top floor of the Carmine building was nearly empty. Set aside for the use of the structure's namesake, the top floor was an expansive open floor plan for Carmilla's office and likely a secondary living space. Despite this, the generously-sized area was nearly empty. Lucifer had always made it a point to arrive earlier than was maybe strictly polite, but this was Hell- impoliteness was in the cards. Carmilla Carmine was already present at the large sprawling table in the cavernous conference room.

What did give Lucifer pause (and he shared a brief glance with the red shrouded demon on his left, a small flicker of questioning and realization between them) was Zestial. The elder Overlord was seated next to the vacant seat reserved for the weapons dealer, a delicate cup of tea in his hand. Zestial offered a close-lipped smile on the verge of decency and Lucifer stiffened his shoulders against the second gust of discomfort of the day. It wasn't that he was afraid of Zestial, that would be ridiculous. Lucifer was the Devil, the King of Hell, the Original Sinner.

Zestial was…

Okay so the spider demon was a little creepy. One didn't become the oldest living Overlord in Hell by playing nice, making him the next name and rank Lucifer consulted with previously. As much as he'd wanted to stay exempt from the ring of politics in Pride, those days were long past.

So here he was.

“Majesty,” Zestial murmured in greeting, gesturing with one spindly hand toward the seat across from him, the empty chair at Carmine's left. “Daresay, I would not have expected thee to be present for a meeting such as this, but thine invitation did spark my curiosity.”

Lucifer shrugged slightly as he took the offered seat, noting how Rosie and Alastor placed themselves midway down the table. “Given the circumstances, it seemed appropriate. We'll get to the reasoning when the others arrive, if that's alright with everyone else.”

Carmilla turned from where she'd been standing at the window, her silver gaze pinning Lucifer and though the days of their public partnership were long past, Lucifer dipped his head toward her in silent greeting. The demoness returned the gesture and then resumed her stiff-backed study of the city below. The weight of what they were about to do here was stifling, suffocating what little air was left in the room. Not that demons or sin-drenched angels needed air to survive, but the feeling persisted all the same.

It didn't take long for other Overlords to begin to arrive and from his place in the high-backed chair at the head of the table, Lucifer had the perfect angle to view the rank and file of them all. They trickled into the conference room in solitary bursts taking any available seat, and damn, Lucifer didn't recognize a single one of them. Even with prior knowledge of Carmilla providing names and rankings, he didn't know their faces. Their names were just words.

The other advantage to his placement was that Alastor and Rosie were effectively blocking him from sight of the arrivals and no one was inclined to look his way. It was a brief respite from the spotlight Lucifer knew would be turned on him in just a little while, something he hated more than anything, but with Carmilla Carmine at the head of the table, it was clear where that gleam belonged. In this setting, she held all the power and Lucifer was okay with that. He didn't always need to be the big man in the room.

He let his gaze drift around the table. Hell's Overlords in one room was never a joyous occasion; Lucifer had known that from the days when Lilith sat on the throne. “A necessary evil,” she had called them, but looking at the squabbling demons now, he wondered if that was really true. A lingering thought and an unnecessary one at that, not when a monstrous threat loomed over them like Armageddon.

Hah.

“I'm not going to waste time rehashing this past week.” Carmilla's voice cut through the burble of noise, effectively silencing it as her silver eyes briefly cut to Lucifer with more heat than before. The atmosphere was thick and everyone's attention was on her, the Overlord who had single-handedly wrested control of the entire market for weapons in all of Hell. “We all know what's happened and while it's a portion of the conversation we need to have as Overlords, it's not everything.”

Carmilla Carmine turned and Lucifer again was pinned beneath that quicksilver gaze and while it still sent shivers down his spine, it was the heavy weight of every other gaze in the room swiveling in his direction that…

Well, it certainly wasn't doing anything for his confidence.

“The Exorcists have pushed too far,” Carmilla continued with a nod to him, though his permission to continue wasn't wanted or needed. “Heaven's position against us has never been a secret but the lines are firmly drawn now, and given current circumstances, I think it's high time we start forging alliances among ourselves instead of pursuing our usual petty squabbles.”

And that was his cue. Not that they'd discussed it beforehand, planning out a certain phrase as a signal for Carmilla to step back and let Lucifer have the floor, but there it was. He stood up from his seat and silently thanked the Carmine powers that be to have a step stool tucked neatly under the table to give him a few added inches of height.

“I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me, Carmilla, and for all of you coming today. It's no secret that Heaven's involvement with the yearly exterminations has been-”

“Oh, puh-leeze!” A female demon leaned forward so the tips of her curled pigtails brushed against the tabletop, her grin wide and mocking. “If I wanted to come to this pseudo-polite gathering just to kiss royal ass and ally myself with the likes of all of you,” here she swept her pink and purple eyes over Lucifer, “then I would have worn a better dress.”

Lucifer rankled under her gaze but studied her in kind. From the perfectly curled ends of her pigtails to the cotton candy puffs of tulle on her shoes, every inch of her screamed desperate diva whether she realized it or not. Was this the kind of Overlord Hell was churning out these days? Yikes.

“Besides,” she continued with a flippant wave of her hand, grinning at the united pair at the front of the table. “It's not like anyone else is tripping over each other to shack up here. Everyone knows the first days after a crisis are the most crucial, so of course I wasn't going to miss the front row seat to see which of you high and mighty Overlords were going to piss off first.”

Carmilla slammed her hands on the tabletop and more than a few of the gathered demons flinched. “This is not a joke! We are on the brink of a war, the likes of which we have never seen before and you are treating it like a cheap farce!”

“I'm sorry, what war?” the demoness cut in again, snapping her fingers. “Last I checked, the Exorcists left! They're not coming back.”

“That's where you're wrong.” His tone was low, ignoring the way she had interrupted previously. It was a slight easily forgiven in the grand scheme of things. “The Exorcists are gone, yes, but that doesn't mean any of this is over. In case any of you missed it on the endless loop of broadcasts courtesy of VoxTech, the First Man Adam is dead. Now I don't know about the rest of you, but the typical response of any nation when their lead general is killed isn't to withdraw and surrender.”

Around the table, furtive murmurs spread out like ripples in a pond, Overlords glancing at each other in the way that spoke of dissent and uncertainty. Lucifer could nearly taste it and not for the first time since entering the arms dealer's halls, he wished he wasn't standing alone in this den of wolves.

“Carmilla Carmine didn't call this meeting. I did.” Lucifer made his tone hold steady, firm and confident like the leader he was masquerading as. Given how long he'd been absent with the amount of fuck-ups, it was a miracle the gathered Overlords weren't rising from their seats and departing, propriety be damned.

He took a breath and forced his gaze to pass over each and every gathered soul. “And I didn't come here to command your respect or, Hell, even your allegiance. I...”

It was too easy to falter here, but then he thought about something Charlie had said in a brief moment- something that hadn't even been directed at him! But the words resonated in her gentle tone and in this moment, it was all the strength Lucifer needed.

“First, I came here today to say how sorry I am. For everything. Hell was not my idea of a paradise and the things I did...it wasn't my intention to make you all pay the price for it. So for that, I'm sorry.”

“I think you should be!” Alastor's tone was musical and fizzing with static as he fixed red rimmed eyes on Lucifer, cold satisfaction in his gaze. His grin was as sharp as the blades he'd used in his mortal life and more than one Overlord flinched collectively as the room darkened with green lit shadows. “I mean, it was you who initially agreed to allow Heaven's armies down into our realm for an unchecked killing spree once a year, wasn't it? And then! Salt to the wound,”

Alastor turned his grin and gaze around the table to the demons gathered, demons who were beginning to nod slowly, much to Lucifer's horror.

“Lucifer decrees only Hell-born are exempt from the slaughter he all but came up with himself. What was it you said that day, Sire? How sinners are nothing more than violent psychopaths hell bent on causing pain and destruction?” Alastor turned the too wide grin on Lucifer, and he wished for nothing more than to reach across the table and snap the spindly neck. Or that the floor would open up beneath him for a second fall, whichever came first.

“I think you have far more to answer for than one measly apology can ever cover, don't you?” Alastor's croon echoed through the room, offset by the grumbling assent of the others gathered.

“I...you don't understand. I didn't have a choice! Heaven was demanding blood and-”

“And you were too weak to say no, yes we all know the kind of king you are. You needn't explain yourself, Sire; after all, we are all very aware of who really wore the crown, and she hasn't been seen in quite some time!”

Lucifer dug his claws into the tabletop, heat licking at his palms and itching to be released. It would be so easy to unfurl the power he kept tightly reigned in his chest, let the true nature of the angel he'd once been be known through all the realms in Hell. He could reach across the table and the brimstone would flow like neverending fountains, and all of Hell would really know who- and what- they should be bowing to. Across from him, Alastor's grin had sharpened to crack at the edges, his shadow grown in size behind him with sharp, unnatural angles and jagged teeth in a too wide smile. The air shrieked with a staticked whine and damn him, if Lucifer didn't want to rise to the very clear bait being set before him.

But…

Charlie.

She would be so disappointed in him, everything she stood for and believed in reduced to ash in a moment of his anger. Lucifer sighed and let his shoulders slump in clear defeat. In a blink and a snap of his fingers, Alastor mimicked the shrug as if the twisted version of himself had never been there, and turned back to the others assembled.

“All I'm suggesting is that after all this heartbreak and bloodshed, the betrayal from within our own realm, are we really going to place our trust in a king who has proven time and again to not have our best interests at heart?”

At the head of the table, Carmilla sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. “Regardless of where the blame lies, the Exorcists have damaged Hell irreparably. Given the circumstances of Adam's demise, this is not an issue we can truly argue. We are all citizens of Pentagram City, of the Pride Ring, and of Hell. If we do not stand together, then we fall alone.”

Exhaling, Lucifer relaxed his grip on the table and winced at the grooves left in the smooth surface from his claws. He'd send a check over to Carmilla later to pay for it, mental note made and filed for later.

“Like I was saying,” he started, meeting the arms dealer's gaze only long enough for him to read the veiled doubt in her eyes. “It's only a matter of time before Heaven retaliates. Adam was killed by an angelic blade. It was no accident. They will come back in full strength. Last week, last year- every extermination up until now has only been a meager taste of what they're actually capable of.”

Movement across the table caught his attention and Lucifer looked up just long enough to see Rosie give him a subtle thumbs up, her smile just as wide as it had been downstairs in the lobby. Somehow that little gesture was all the confidence he needed to continue. He took a breath, squaring his shoulders.

“My daughter Charlie believes in second chances and she's been gracious enough to give me one, to let me try and be the father she deserves. I came here to apologize as a first step to be the king all of Hell deserves, and not just the Hell-born. All of Hell is being affected by this and now, I'm done hiding in the shadows of my own mistakes.”

“With that kind of a display,” Alastor's tone didn't let up on the cutting edge of the metaphorical blade he wielded vocally. “One could almost believe you give a damn.”

“Yeah, what's to say this isn't all just a bunch of pretty words again?” The demoness from before spoke up again, her grin equally wicked. “My compatriots couldn't be bothered to come today as they had better things to do, but I'll speak for all of the Vees when I say this- Lucifer Morningstar, Hell and the sinners of Pentagram City have never needed you. So you can take your fake apologies and shove 'em where the sun don't shine.”

The Vees.

Lucifer had heard of them in passing here and there when he bothered to pay attention to the media though it had never mattered as much as it did now. They held definitive sway over Pentagram City, the combined weight of their power making them a force to be reckoned with. Truthfully, aside from Carmilla and Zestial, Lucifer had been hoping to appeal to them the most in today's meeting.

That was clearly a bust.

“Your apology doesn't mean shit to me,” she continued, scoffing as she stood up and began walking around the table behind Zestial and then Carmilla. Her heels clicked to a stop as she paused right by Lucifer's own seat, close enough he could smell the artificial blend of whatever perfume she was wearing. She snapped her fingers, holding his gaze with a boldness he knew wasn't entirely forced. “As for the rest...tell your precious brat she better stay out of our way if she knows what's good for her. Even your precious Hellborn can have accidents, you know.”

Lucifer had long since considered himself a patient being. He'd had eons of time before the manifesting of it to wrestle his feelings under control, smother them in layers and layers of self restraint. He'd had time upon time, hourglasses emptying themselves in an endless loop all in the name of being a calm individual.

This was not the time for it.

He was out of his chair without thinking, vision flooding crimson as he felt his wings unfurl from his back and his feet leaving the floor. Beyond the depths of red filling his sight, he was aware of a blinding light swelling and filling the room, encompassing everything. Glass shattered and a heartbeat later, screams ripped through the stifling fucking room, furniture crashing as those present gave in to their basest terror and fled.

Good.

Lucifer turned all of his focus onto the pinprick existence of the demoness as she cowered by the wall, fingers grasping dumbly for a door handle far beyond her reach while she held onto her phone in one shaking hand, the mode switched over to record the entire event. He dimly heard Carmilla shouting over the frenzy of screams, her own voice strangled with fear, but what did he care? He was the First, the Morningstar, the very Dawn and the most Beloved. Armies had shriveled to ash before him and it was he alone who had been blessed by the Father's sole affection.

Who were these beings to even stand in his presence?

And then, the firm weight of a hand settled on his sleeve.

Lucifer blinked. A door slammed shut to mark the demoness' departure. Chairs were put back upright in the jerky motions of cowering beings. Glass was swept up and the splintered remains of the table were lamented over by more than one subdued voice.

He let his gaze drift down at the hand grasping onto his arm, crimson tipped claws digging into his sleeve, and swallowed. Alastor didn't even look at him as he withdrew his touch, readjusting the fingerless gloves on each hand and then the lapels of his coat before turning away with a jaunty step. As if he had just not come close enough to the very being he had so openly mocked moments before, risking life and limb...for what?

Carmilla cleared her throat, stepping into Lucifer's line of sight. He tipped his gaze up to hers, flinching at the severe frown on her graceful features.

“I think you've done enough here, my king.” Her tone was soft but no less cutting and it was pure instinct that had Lucifer ducking his gaze in shame. “As much as I hate to admit it, the Overlords of the Pride Ring are in no position to be worked with. What's more...”

She sighed heavily. “It's been too long since you have walked among demon-kind. You have been absent from your throne and kingdom far longer than many of these souls have been alive. Perhaps it would be best for you to reacquaint yourself with your subjects before you begin meddling in our power structures.”

Lucifer could feel the weight of every gaze from those left in the room settling on him and Satan, if he didn't want to crawl beneath the splintered table just to conjure a portal to anywhere. But he made himself nod slowly, holding Carmilla's gaze.

“You'll think about what we discussed?” He posed the question neutrally, already knowing the shift and weight of her allegiances. Carmilla nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line. Lucifer reached for his hat and cane where he'd left them and then bowed slightly toward the silver eyed woman. “I appreciate your time.”

He swept his gaze across the destroyed room- shattered furniture and blown out windows- and then to those few souls who lingered after his display of fury. Among them, Zestial regarded him coolly and Rosie offered a weak, wobbly kind of smile, and then there was Alastor.

Nope, he was not looking at Alastor or his damned triumphant smirk or the way his crimson gaze was too knowing. Lucifer crushed his hat in hand and turned to the door, letting it swing shut behind him. The latch had barely clicked softly behind him before he was conjuring a portal in a fiery wreath of red and gold, fleeing back to his daughter's hotel draped in early evening purples and blues.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Did I say updates were on Sunday? Isn't it Saturday? *nervous laugh* Yeahhhhh so much for that, amirite XD

Officially switching my posting schedule to Saturday for my own peace of mind, because being antsy to share a chapter until my weekend is over is killing my vibe xD

Also I completely forgot to mention this previously, but a huge shoutout to my amazing beta Corianin; without her this fic would have died after the first chapter XD <3

Without further ado, please enjoy this a day early! <3

The hotel had been right there- right there!

He could pick out the gleam of the windows, the individual lights lining the marquee. Hell, he could even see the carefully hand-painted lettering of the welcome signs Charlie had been working on in the final hours of construction, her own personal touch so the whole thing didn't feel so commercial.

But the problem with portal travel was it so very often didn't go Lucifer's way.

Case in point, as he found himself stepping out of said portal with the expectation of walking through the double doors of Charlie's hotel to spend the evening with her and Vaggie, making dinner and swapping jokes with his family- people who actually gave a shit about him- and ending up decidedly, not there.

Lucifer found himself taking a step forward onto grassy terrain, dragged down onto his hands and knees, chains and collar slithering into existence to bite sharply at his wrists and ankles and throat, his fragile hopes for the evening shattering into nothing.

“Hello, Brother.”

He tasted blood; blood and curses blooming hot and coppery on his tongue from biting down as the air around him filled with the thunderclap of that damned voice. Lucifer heaved a breath into aching lungs against the immense weight of power bearing down on him from all sides and forced his gaze upward to the gleaming figure standing over him.

Michael stared back down at him, long slender fingers plucking idly at the curling petals of a lily. He dropped each one carelessly to the grass carpeted floor, his gold tinged gaze fixed on the kneeling Devil and his expression a mask of neutral disinterest. Every petal that drifted from his fingertips dissolved into a small burst of gold dust before shimmering away into nothing, and then the Archangel was flinging away the flower before it could fully dissolve in his hand.

“Michael,” Lucifer ground out, a panicked laugh escaping. Around him the Garden was pure stillness in the way only conjured creation could be; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel the warmth of the sun on his face or a breeze rustling through tall grasses, he couldn't hear the lilting call of birdsong or the burble of streams and waterfalls.

Michael crouched smoothly in front of Lucifer and even there, Lucifer had to tilt his head back against the dragging weight of his bindings to even meet the gaze of the other. Struggling had never done him any good so he kept the movement as smooth as possible, having given up trying years ago to avoid feeding Michael's sick pleasure in watching him squirm. The Archangel passed a lazy gaze over him now, like this whole exchange was boring him.

“The hell do you want?”

“Our last visit was so rudely interrupted, Brother. I think it was a little uncalled for-”

Lucifer barked a laugh. “Uncalled for? You broke the damned contract, Michael! Your people shredded it to pieces when they threatened and attacked my daughter, and you think I'm the one at fault? Go fuck yourself!”

Michael lunged toward him, slipping between moments in a blur until those damned long fingers were closing tightly around Lucifer's throat just above the press of the collar. His boots left the ground and it was the rough surface of the Tree that he clung to, the only solid presence left to ground him in the ocean of pain. He hated it, the damned Tree, for being the one thing left to cradle him in another moment of pained weakness.

“Okay, ow,” Lucifer wheezed from under the bruising grip around his throat. He squinted a glare up at the Archangel while Michael stared back, his expression distantly furious.

“Charlotte Morningstar initiated the contact, Lucifer; it is because of her insolence we’re here now. Whatever you think you were defending, remember that you stepped out of line first. Again.”

Cold fury swept through him. Fuck today and everyone for thinking it was okay to take a swing at Charlie when she wasn't even here to defend herself, but hey- that was what fathers were for. Lucifer lifted his hands to dig sharpened claws into unblemished skin. Michael didn't flinch when his flesh was pierced, streams of gold ichor flowing from his wrists, but his eyes widened a fraction and that was enough.

“I've told you this a thousand times, motherfucker,” Lucifer ground out between the clench of his brother's hand and the weight of the collar at his throat. “Keep my daughter's name out of your mouth.”

“I should have taught her a lesson decades ago,” Michael murmured, his grip on Lucifer's throat easing but not releasing him entirely. “As it stands, she is part of the reason I am here. After you so callously abandoned our gathering the other day-”

“Fuck you.”

“-it was brought to my attention that Adam's recent actions were less than worthy of Heaven. Safe to say I am doing an investigation of my own, so I will ask you this once.” He fixed Lucifer with an unyielding stare. “Was it your blade or another that found the First Man's heart?”

Lucifer stared at him, gaze running over the golden eyes so similar to his own, the pale countenance that was porcelain beautiful, and lips that could pull into a gentle smile when it suited him. Michael was breathtakingly beautiful; he always had been in the way all of their Father's first creations were. It didn't matter that he wasn't the first, Michael existed to command attention and Lucifer, for all his struggles and faults, was no exception to the magnetic pull of his brother's beauty.

His gaze lingered on the jagged scar marring said features and he felt rather than saw the moment Michael's focus sharpened into unchecked fury. The Archangel clenched his hand tighter and Lucifer gagged, his feet kicking uselessly at the unhelpful Tree and his vision blackening until the Garden and all that filled it- Archangel included- faded to nothing.

Seconds or minutes later- what did time mean when he was left floating in the halfway place between waking and blissful unconsciousness?- Lucifer woke up. He blinked past the stars still dancing across his vision and lifted the dull weight of his head, relieved that now at least there only the cool kiss of metal collaring his throat. The Archangel stood a few feet away with his back turned, wings splayed outward in what could have been an attempt at intimidation. Or a reminder of glory Lucifer could no longer touch.

Lucifer pushed upward to kneel again, running his forked tongue across jagged teeth and winching when he tasted the leftover tang of his own blood. He didn't take his gaze from the figure standing resolute and silent only a few paces away, his shoulders sagging under the weight of... well, everything.

“What's this really about, Michael?” Lucifer's tone even sounded exhausted and damn, wasn't that depressing? It had been the same old song and dance between them for so long that now he was just tired. But he sighed and rolled his shoulders back and tried to ignore the weight and sound of his chains as he moved to stand.

“You and I both know I'm not going to hand over Adam's killer to you, whatever you were hoping for from this. They're under my protection so as far as Heaven is concerned, the First Man died at my hand in the battle.” He paused, studying the line of tension running through Michael's shoulders. “...that's not why you're really here, is it?”

Turning, Michael folded his hands behind his back as he paced. “The Courts of Heaven are investigating everything that has happened in the past several months and while it would benefit us both for this whole ordeal to be swept under the rug, you and I both know that's now impossible. You won't hand over Adam's killer, fine. Then you will do things our way.”

“Because all of this up until now has been my way,” Lucifer quipped, ignoring the spark of pain from a headache starting behind his eyes. “Okay, fine. More bureaucratic bullshit, like I was expecting anything different. Cut to the point, Mikey. What is this about?”

“Don't call me that!” Michael's voice was a low warning as he paused in his pacing, his expression dropping the careful mask he usually wore. Golden hair flowed past his shoulder and the laurels of peace were so deftly woven across his brow, Lucifer wondered if maybe his brother had just grafted himself to the plant instead of getting new cuttings of it daily. “You're a damned fool, do you know that?”

“Eh, I've been called worse. So what happens now? Come on, I've never known you to hold back on making threats. So Heaven is investigating; we both know that means absolute shit down here. What's it going to be, Michael? You going to cut off my wings again? Maybe drop me into the Abyss for a few decades?”

“No,” came the quiet response and Lucifer blinked, unsure if he had even heard correctly. Since when did one of these visits not arrive without a healthy side dish of torture or mutilation? This week really had been bizarre for all parties involved if Michael was passing on his favorite pastime.

“Um...what?”

“I said no.” The Archangel faced him again and Lucifer took a step back, the calm acceptance on the other's face sending warning bells to ring through his mind. Smiling, Michael moved toward him, one step for every one Lucifer took backward until he was again pressed to the bark of the unyielding Tree. The caress to Lucifer's cheek sent a cold shiver down his spine but he forced himself to remain still while those hands brushed downward to rest on his shoulders.

“Threatening and harming you does very little, we've both learned that. But I promised you something the last time we spoke, didn't I?”

Lucifer swallowed dryly. “You're as bound by our contract as I am, Michael. You can't-”

“Am I?” Satan, he hated the way Michael's gaze lit up with twisted delight. He brushed a finger against Lucifer's cheek again, Michael's icy gaze flicking across the Devil's features. “The contract is broken, or are you so old that you forget things quickly? Your bargain with me can no longer protect your spawn; perhaps you should have thought of that before challenging Heaven.”

“Wait...no...”

“As it stands,” Michael continued as if he didn't hear the weak plea. “While the Courts are working, I aim to get to the truth of the matter. I will visit the hotel presented and hosted by Charlotte Morningstar to determine the truth of her claims about Hell-bound souls capable of redemption and you, dear brother...”

Michael pulled back slightly though the weight of his hand did not leave Lucifer's shoulder. “You will not stand in my way whatever the outcome may be. The bonds of our contract are shattered, and I'm sure you've enjoyed having access to more of your power than intended. Just know that if you step out of line again, I will not hesitate to take a blade to that precious daughter of yours in your place.”

“Fuck you,” Lucifer snarled, slapping the offending hand away. Never mind that it would mean a few extra hours in this frozen moment of existence, enduring whatever sick joy Michael got out of these interactions. He rolled his shoulders against the weight of his collar and shackles, horns and tail and fire slipping out from his careful control for the second time that day. “You so much as lay a single finger on Charlie, it'll be the last fucking thing you'll ever do.”

“Brave words,” Michael murmured, shrugging like the entire display was commonplace. He turned with wings neatly folded against his back, conversation clearly ended. “Do expect me soon at the hotel, Samael- one way or another, I will have all the answers I seek.”

He paused long enough to watch Lucifer smooth back the more demonic aspects of his appearance with a shudder, nothing but pristine white skin and gold and red eyes in place of traits he had picked up along the way. Lucifer stared back at the Archangel, even when everything screamed in him to look away, to duck his head and give up the flimsy defense he had constructed in the minutes since Michael's arrival, to just fucking submit already-

But he wouldn't, and they both knew it.

Michael turned to face him one last time as the expanse overhead began to rumble and lighten with the called down power belonging only to an Archangel. “Until next time, Samael. Do give your daughter my fondest regards, won't you?”

Lucifer snarled as light cascaded down to wrap around the taller man. “I would say go to hell, Michael, but you're already here.”

All other sound was drowned out by the roar of Michael's departure but even when everything had stilled and quieted, Lucifer couldn't bring himself from where he stood against the firm presence of the Tree. Damned as it was, he couldn't help but be comforted by the press of bark under his palms. Even when the conjured presence of the Garden as a whole was just a speck of his imagination from a world long since vanished, the Tree remained. It wasn't supposed to be comforting but they were just two tired souls trapped in the steady march outside of the reach of time. Lucifer tipped his gaze upward to the stretch of massive branches and gently waving leaves, the bright gleam of fruit hanging ripe and ready for the picking.

---

The first thing Lucifer always did after one of these sessions was drag himself back to his workshop to dig out the bottle of whiskey he kept in the bottom most drawer of the cabinet- not that an angel of his caliber could ever get drunk, but it had never stopped Lucifer from trying.

Fate seemed to be laughing at him or his abilities were taking a page from his book and openly rebelling because instead of the portal dropping him into the comfortable embrace of his worn armchair at his workbench, an array of plastic toys spread out and waiting for the touch of his artistic hands, Lucifer found himself stepping out onto the red on red chevron carpeting of the hotel lobby. He turned in a full circle, wing tips dragging on the carpet as he took in the decor he'd had half a hand in creating not even three days ago.

“You are fucking kidding me!”

The temptation to introduce his head into the nearest wall was starting to look pretty damn decent, all things considered but by Satan, there was no way he was going to be responsible for any damage to the new and improved structure after everything Charlie had done to get here. So Lucifer did the next logical thing for as long as it took before he was ready to wrangle some sense back into his portals.

He went to the bar.

Like the rest of the hotel, the bar set was new and improved from the last hotel but even after seeing it only once before, Lucifer could pick out several of the same details. There was a hammered tin sign hung up just to the left of the rows of bottles stating that it was “Five O'Clock Somewhere.” Lucifer squinted at the wobbly writing until... yeah, okay, he didn't get it.

At the gleaming bar top itself, the usual presence of the winged cat was blissfully absent. Not that Lucifer minded at all! The last thing he really wanted was to fall into the typical “spill all your troubles to the bartender” routine, not after the day he was having. It took little effort to select one of the bottles from the highest shelf behind the bar itself- thank you blessed wings- and then Lucifer settled down on one of the forefront stools with the collected booze and a glass of ice.

Satan, he had a headache. Was this what his domain had become? Petty demons making grand gestures for power that didn't even belong to them, while he as their king preferred the seclusion of his own penthouse to the widespread wonder of his kingdom? Not to mention Michael playing his sick twisted games whenever it downright pleased him.

And then there was Charlie, his daughter who had done more to unite Hell's denizens in a few months than Lucifer had ever done in a thousand years.

He groaned and downed the contents of the glass in one swallow and dropped his head to the bar top.

“Drowning our sorrows, are we?” Alastor materialized from the shadows right next to him and Lucifer yelped, falling backward off the bar stool. He glared up at the demon who was leaning down, bent at the waist with his signature grin. If Lucifer could even be bothered to get off the floor in a flash, he had half a mind to slap the Cheshire grin right off Alastor's face with one wing.

“The fuck do you want?” Picking himself off the floor, Lucifer brushed his hands over his vest and pants even though there wasn't any dust present to mar the pristine hue of his clothing. Tugging at the bowtie and collar of his shirt, he glared at Alastor. “Seriously, haven't you had enough fun today? Just...go away. I'm not in the mood.”

“Funny, and here I was just coming by to express concern over yourself.” Alastor tilted his head to the side, his grin unchanging. “After all, dear Charlotte was so distraught when you didn't attend the evening meal like you promised.”

Lucifer felt every drop of golden blood in his body run cold. His attention was drawn by the sharp metallic snap of a pocket watch clicking shut in the demon's hand and he realized with horror that he had no idea what time it was. The hotel was oddly quiet and dammit, Alastor was the only one around. Lucifer hadn't seen a single other person since he'd stepped through the portal to the bar.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running both hands through his hair and down his face. He glared through the gap between his fingers at the still grinning demon standing just a few paces away. Lucifer exhaled and let his hands drop. “How upset was she?”

“Absolutely beside herself,” Alastor sniffed, turning his gaze away like he had better things to do. “Vaggie finally convinced Charlie to retreat to their bedroom, and that was after she nearly flooded the front parlor with her tears.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Someone pin World's Worst Dad to his hat. Lucifer had been so caught up in...well, everything, the entire idea- his idea!- of sharing dinner with his daughter had been completely forgotten. He was supposed to be reconnecting with Charlie, fortifying the foundation of a relationship he'd let crumble to nothing from years of neglect. It wasn't a good start at all, breaking a promise so early when all he wanted was to make amends and be the light in Charlie's life again. He-

Lucifer stopped short and turned to the still grinning Radio Demon who hadn't moved an inch.

“Why are you telling me this?” His tone was guarded and in response, Alastor's grin widened almost painfully, enough that Lucifer could make out the hint of stitches at the corners of the demon's mouth. Ouch. Lucifer lifted a finger to point at the red clad chest. “This is some fucked up game you're playing, isn't it? Satan, can you just lay off? I'm not in the mood.”

“I haven't the faintest-”

“Oh, cut the shit!” Lucifer interrupted, jabbing his finger at the demon's waistcoat again and advancing a step toward Alastor. “You want me to admit that you won today? Fine! Thank you so much for stepping in and being there for Charlie while I was absent, just another mark in the calendar of missed opportunities with her. She likes having you around for reasons I can't fully comprehend, but congrats! You're officially the most stable person in her life.”

Breathing out sharply, Lucifer found he was a lot closer to Alastor than he'd intended to be during his tirade. He'd advanced on the demon and Alastor had held his ground, leaning down with that wicked grin like he was about to tell the punchline to the world's greatest joke (Lucifer knew he was the punchline), and this close, he could make out the light dusting of freckles across the demon's nose and cheeks, the minuscule flecks of red in Alastor's irises. He dropped his gaze to that smile without thinking about it, watching the tip of Alastor's tongue flick out and run across every pointed tooth.

Lucifer's mouth ran dry. He was playing with fire, there was no other way to look at it because Alastor was regarding him as if he wanted to let those jagged teeth drift open and swallow the Devil whole, bones and all. It was...not the worst ending Lucifer could imagine for himself.

“So what do you want?” he asked softly, already knowing he wasn't going to like the answer. The type of demon Alastor was proving himself to be was one Lucifer was familiar with- egotistical and self-serving. There was nothing the lanky demon would ever do that didn't have purpose for whatever his goals were.

“Simply to know where you went after that farce of a meeting. I spent the entire evening consoling our dear Charlie and I think given your absence and all the trouble it brought onto the rest of us, I deserve an answer.” Alastor examined his claws, not even glancing down at Lucifer like the entire exchange was somehow beneath him.

“You...are an absolute asshole.”

“Guilty as charged. So, I will ask again, my dear king- where did you disappear to after leaving Carmine Enterprises?”

Lucifer stared up at the taller demon, the jagged edges of a well-made trap ready to spring closed around him. There was no telling how bloodied he'd be when he managed to walk away from this one, so he just needed to turn the conversation around. Easy as pie; Lucifer wasn't the Sin of Pride for nothing.

He shrugged casually and mimicked Alastor's earlier gesture by examining his own ungloved claws. “Afraid that's classified, Alfonso, but while we're here...let's talk about you.”
Lucifer swiveled his gaze up to narrowed red eyes glaring down at him and this close to the Radio Demon, it was impossible to miss the poisonous angelic energy radiating off of him.

“I heard from a little birdie that you took a hit from the First Man. I'm actually surprised you've lasted this long with angelic essence eating you from the inside out.”
Lucifer paused to let a slow smile grace his expression, absolutely not enjoying the way Alastor looked like a caged and cornered animal for once. “I think it would be in your best interest to get that taken care of. Don't you?”

Check and mate, asshole.

 

 

Notes:

Y'know how I cope with traumatizing chapters like this one? I picture the characters involved like they were on the set of a movie, so it would be something like this-

Director: And...cut!"

Michael: OH MY GOD LUCIFER ARE YOU OKAY

Lucifer, wheezing as he picks himself up from the grass: I'm okay! Sheesh, bro, you don't know you're own strength do you?

XD

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Happy Weekend! <3

Chapter 5

Notes:

Happy Saturday my loves! <3

Now lets get that pesky Radio Demon cured of his wound, shall we? :D

It was a matter of little effort to open a portal to the- finally!- correct location of his palace.

It was another matter entirely to “convince” Alastor the Radio Demon to step through, both of them knowing what was waiting on the other side. Even though he was thoroughly absent from the inner workings of Hell and all its denizens, Lucifer wasn't stupid- there was no way he could actively force Alastor to do anything in this domain. The giving of free will had its perks most of the time but for situations like this, it was an active deterrent.

Even so, Lucifer wasn't the King of Hell for nothing- he had ways to get around those obstacles.

“No,” Alastor said flatly, and the expression on his face could only be enhanced if he had folded his spindly arms over one thin, split open chest like a petulant child trying to get their way.

Lucifer stared at him from the glowing circle of his portal, outwardly relaxed for the first time that day. “Okay, so you're fine just letting the essence of Adam eat you from the inside out, go figure. Of course you are, why am I not surprised?”

“How kind of you to be so concerned with my well-being, Sire, but I have the matter well in hand. Your meddling is neither wanted or needed, so kindly let the subject drop.”

“Afraid I can't do that, Bambi. Lest you forget, you're under Charlie's employ,” and wow Lucifer wasn't missing the way Alastor's ears flattened against his skull, his grin turning into a feral snarl, glare unmatched. He held up a finger to continue before the Overlord could snap any more vitriol his way. “And as such, she's expressed a few concerns about your well-being and asked me to check in.”

“Wonderful,” Alastor's false cheer was duly noted and filed, the sarcasm thick enough to cut with a knife. “Now that you've checked in and I have expressed I am perfectly fine, you can kindly shove off.”

“Nope!” Lucifer advanced a step and snapped his fingers, already expecting Alastor to step backward into the second portal opened up straight into the palace. It was a funny sight, all things considered, to watch the big bad Radio Demon stumble backward and fall on his ass on the plush carpet of Lucifer's personal parlor.

“What is your problem!?” Alastor hissed, eyes narrowed at Lucifer as he stepped through the first portal, both of them shrinking to pinpricks of gleaming light and then to nothing behind him. His ears were still flattened to his skull, his smile stretched painfully into a wide, grimacing grin.

Lucifer tossed his hat and cane aside, barely glancing to see where they landed. “Did it occur to you, perhaps, that I'm trying to help you? Charlie asked me to, asshole- so this is me, helping. Unless,” he paused, sweeping his gaze slowly enough up and down the red clad demon long enough for Alastor to snarl at him. “You want me to go back and tell her the man she trusts the most is openly lying to her.”

There was a grim satisfaction in the way understanding dawned across Alastor's face, his gaze narrowing and his teeth bared a hint more. Lucifer, for all his many faults and moments of drawn-out distraction, hadn't missed the flicker and curl of his ex-wife's power woven and tied so neatly among the demon's essence. He stepped toward Alastor; once and then another when the demon didn't immediately back away. Lucifer paused when they were well past the polite standard of closeness.

“So what's it going to be, Overlord? It's death of one kind or another depending on what you choose, but hey- how many people get to pick their own execution?”

“That's a low blow, Your Majesty.” The words were gasped out in time with the shuddering of Alastor's bony shoulders as he sucked in a pained breath, one clawed hand clutching at his chest. He dropped to his knees and curled inward on himself, black tipped ears pressed so far back against his head they might as well have been nonexistent.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Lucifer muttered as he crouched in front of the kneeling demon. “Swallow your pride and let me help you, asshole. Adam did a number on you and it's only going to get worse from here, so just... for Charlie. Please.”

He hesitated and then extended his hand toward Alastor, watching the demon think the whole thing over. It was one thing to manipulate his way into a favorable situation for himself, but for this... Lucifer had to step back and let Alastor decide on his own. Sure he could nag and cajole and threaten until the end of time, but at the end of the day, free will still reigned.

Finally after what seemed an eternity (it was four seconds, Lucifer counted, but it may as well have been an eternity), Alastor nodded stiffly, his narrowed gaze turned away so the Devil was viewing him in side profile. He hissed another string of words in Lucifer's direction, the language unfamiliar  and yet as soon as he reached for the meaning of them, they were already gone. Shaking his head, Lucifer adjusted his weight in preparation to stand and fixed Alastor with a steady look.

“I'm going to have to touch you for this to work. Give me your arm; I'll help you over to the armchair over there and then you'll let me look at the wound. Okay?”

“Do me a kindness, Sire,” Alastor all but spat at him as Lucifer grasped him under one arm, tucking in close for Alastor to lean on him as they stood in tandem. “And tell me- why not just let me die?”

“No can do. Charlie would be devastated, for starters, and who knows- maybe this will work in our favor.”

Satan, it was like trying to move a long wooden board across the room toward the pair of armchairs neatly angled in front of a darkened and long cold fireplace. Depositing Alastor there was easier said than done and Lucifer didn't miss the pained snarl of a curse hurled his way once more after he'd stepped back to give Alastor room to breathe.
“Do you need help with your-”

“I can undress myself, thank you!” Alastor snapped, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “Go make yourself useful at least six feet from me, please.”

“Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. Geez.” But he stepped back anyway to give Alastor room to breathe, turning his attention to the room at large while the demon shrugged out of his coat. It was ultimately one of the nicer parlors; Lucifer had always enjoyed the more calming blue wallpaper here with the dark wood accents. In a palace full of extravagant displays, it was ironic he so often found himself gravitating toward the simpler, quieter places to exist. This, then, was one he frequented often.

Lucifer flicked his gaze back toward the demon and it was a rare moment when Alastor wasn't looking at him in return. It was a bit unsettling over all and yet he didn't look away as the demon's long fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, vest and coat and tie already discarded on the back of the armchair. Bit by bit his flesh was revealed, gray toned and lightly furred, matching the overall deer vibe Alastor had going on. It was a funny thing, Lucifer thought, that Hell so often forced animalistic features onto so many of the souls trapped down here. But he'd considered that before until the idea had it exhausted itself, and it had no place here.

Lucifer had seen many demons up close before, far too many to count if he was being honest. But never like this- they were usually caught up in the throes of a fog from whatever drugs they had ingested moments before, completely lost in a haze of their own delights. It had never been like this, casual and so far removed from even being about-

He cut that thought off with a shiver and focused on the flicker of movement from the peripheral of his vision. Lifting his gaze back to the demon in question, Alastor was staring at him already, his gaze red and cold and angry. The silence stretched thick and heavy between them and for the first time since stepping foot on this notably and probably poorly thought out pathway, Lucifer considered just what the Overlord might actually be capable of.

“Are you quite finished ogling me?” Alastor snapped, his smile unmoving even while his clawed fingers twitched. His microphone was absent, Lucifer realized. Huh.

“Yeah, yeah...” Shrugging, Lucifer moved closer to inspect the gash twisting across the demon's chest and stomach. Reclined as he was in the armchair he'd been deposited in, Alastor thankfully hadn't made any move to flee or flinch away from the Devil's inspection. The wound itself was a sight; blood and silver weeping openly from the torn edges of flesh barely held together by whatever bandages Alastor had been using. Lucifer tried not to grimace at the gleam of bone visible through flesh and viscera.

“Your distaste is palpable, Majesty.” Alastor sighed, his taunt lacking its usual venom as he tipped his head back against the arm of the chair, eyes slipping shut. A shudder ran through him and Lucifer watched a flicker of pain twist his features into a mask of agony.

“...how are you even standing?” Lucifer briefly glanced at the face of the demon stretched out on the sofa before him. He reached for one of the decorative pillows tossed aside to make room for the demon on the seat and settled both knees on it to kneel at Alastor's side. “This should have toppled you. I mean permanently. Adam is kind of-”

“How foolish of me,” Alastor snapped, narrowed red eyes fixed on Lucifer. “Perhaps I should resurrect the First Man so he may have the chance to kill me properly, since he failed the first time?”

“Shut up.” The words held no venom or even focus, Lucifer turning his attention back to the wound at hand as he pressed his thumb to his teeth. The action was so habitual, he didn't even think about what he was doing until he felt the prick of pain in the finger and then Alastor's claws were digging painfully into his arm, the demon grabbing the limb.
“What are you doing?” Alastor hissed but his focus was on Lucifer's hand where a droplet of golden blood was blooming from his split open finger. His gaze was razor sharp and hungry in a way Lucifer didn't think he'd ever seen before on anyone's face, at least not in a long while.

“Take it easy, I'm not doing anything weird.” Lucifer sighed and shifted closer, already expecting the way Alastor tensed and shrank back from the close contact. “You were wounded by pure angelic essence. It's going to take a bit more than my power to eradicate the lingering effects, so I need a conduit of sorts to hone in on. Think of this as a homing beacon or a tracker of sorts. My blood will seek out anything foreign related in you so we can be rid of it for good.”

He paused, watching Alastor. When the demon remained silent and unmoving, Lucifer sighed again. “If you have no objections, then...?”

“By all means,” Alastor hummed, his expression faltering until there was nothing but exhaustion and pain in the lines of his face. Lucifer didn't hesitate again, moving his bleeding finger to the edge of the wound and smearing gold against the ravaged flesh, though he looked up when Alastor hissed sharply with the contact. But then his face relaxed, expression smoothing over into something almost peaceful as the droplet of blood began its work. It slipped over gray-furred skin, healing and sealing, before visibly disappearing as muscle and sinew and flesh began to knit itself back together.

“Funny,” Alastor hummed, eyes still closed. “Perhaps I should have just bathed in Adam's blood if I had known this is what the essence of angelic life could do this whole time.”
Lucifer leaned back on his palms, his own pinprick of a wound already healed over and forgotten. “Nah, you'd likely have poisoned yourself even more. And that's a best case scenario. Adam was a special case all around; not fully angel, not fully human. He was, ah...adapted.”

The demon hummed a wordless response, turning his attention to the last ragged edges of his chest pulled together by the force of Lucifer's blood. If he focused hard enough, Lucifer could almost see the pinpricks of gold as it raced through the demon's veins, knitting him back together. At the very least he could feel it, the gentle drag on his power as the healing took place with his intention focused solely on making Alastor whole.

It occurred to him too late that he could have used this as an opportunity to have a favor in his pocket from the Radio Demon, and wouldn't that be amusing? The great and powerful Overlord kicked from his place of prestige and forced to bend his knee to his sovereign. Hah.

“Something amusing, Sire?” Alastor's voice cut through the silence like a piano wire to the carotid and Lucifer blinked, focusing on the lanky demon. He was sitting up now, a good sign, clawed fingers drifting gently over his newly healed chest. His shirt was still unbuttoned but the wound had vanished, leaving only unmarred skin behind- not even a scar left as a souvenir.

Lucifer shook his head of the cobwebs of his own thoughts and shrugged. “Nah, just thinking to myself. Got to keep the mind sharp, you know?” He paused long enough to stand from where he'd been kneeling on the cushion, wincing as his joints and limbs protested the stiffness of holding the position for so long. “Well, this has been fun and all, but I should probably get going.”

He had just barely turned toward the parlor door when Alastor spoke again.

“Where did you go after the meeting with the Overlords?”

Lucifer stopped short, freezing in place as the weight of the words sunk in. Satan, he'd been pushing off the thoughts of...all of that until he could retreat back into the den of his most private existence and fall apart there. His broken promise to Charlie, the meeting turned mayhem, and then Michael…

Swiveling on one foot with the other kicked out (never let it be said he lacked showmanship) Lucifer grinned. “Eh, you know...here and there. What's it to you, Arystar?”

“Perhaps I'm just concerned about what paltry excuse you'll offer to our dear Charlotte when she inevitably asks why your offer for a shared dinner went forgotten.” Alastor plucked his necktie from where it was draped over the back of the chair along with his vest and coat. “So what are you going to tell her, if not the truth?”

“Wow, fuck you too,” Lucifer muttered, turning away to scan the room at large for wherever his own coat and hat had made themselves scarce while he'd been busy with the demon. “For starters, it's really none of your business. You're at best a business partner to Charlie, so if she has an issue with me- Hey!”

He turned too late, Alastor already materializing through shadow right beside Lucifer. Claws extended, his smile a bared expression of maniacal glee, and then Alastor was slashing open the skin on Lucifer's forearm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Lucifer made to slap Alastor's hand away but the wound was already closing over, golden blood seeping away into nothing beside the pinprick contact of the demon's claw.

“Fascinating. So a mere sinner cannot harm you in any way that matters.”

Now Lucifer did slap the demon's touch aside, bringing his arm close to his chest. “The hell was that for! Satan, I thought it was polite manners to ask someone before touching?!”

Alastor smoothly closed the gap between them and reached out again and Lucifer-

Well, he really should have seen it coming.

The demon's fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, tugging the bow tie and buttons loose and away, and then the tip of one claw was brushing over the bruised and sensitive skin at Lucifer's throat.

“If that's so,” Alastor crooned, a knowing glint in his red eyes. “Then I have to wonder, my dear Devil... Who in Heaven or Hell could do this to you?”

Lucifer was a great many things. The Devil, the Sin of Pride, the First Son and Most Beloved of Heaven.

Above all else, he was a coward. Sue him.

He shoved Alastor back with one shoulder, pivoting and snapping his fingers to conjure a new portal directly under the Overlord, missing entirely when Alastor sidestepped with the aid of his shadows. Okay, so maybe he was getting slow and predictable in his old age, but that didn't mean Lucifer didn't have a few tricks left up his sleeve.

The room flooded with brilliant light and immediately filled with accompanying radio frequency in a shrill, endless scream. He could only just make out the dim outline of the demon in the flare of light, Alastor's thin arms lifted to shield his face and eyes even while tendrils of inky shadow spread to match the outstretched fan of Lucifer's wings. The staccato pop of lightbulbs smashing filled the room as Alastor's black silhouette increased in size and then Lucifer realized he was listening to the dislocation and breaking of bones.

“Oh fuck,” the Devil whispered before he was slammed bodily into the far wall. Tendrils of shadow snapped at his limbs and encircled his wrists and throat before pulling him back to slam him against the wall once more. Alastor loomed larger than he'd ever seen the demon in the confines of the now too-small room, whatever space not taken up by his monstrous form now filled with writhing shadow.

It only took a few pops of golden light to sever the shadows around his wrists, Lucifer watching as they dissolved completely into inky blobs that melted quickly into the surrounding darkness. He grasped at the thing around his throat, its constricting presence painfully tight. The shadow was almost incorporeal until the tips of his claws dug into something tangible and then the room was filled with Alastor's scream of pain quickly dissolving into a high pitched frequency.

“What the hell is your problem!” Lucifer yelled over the sound, plunging his claws into another inky tendril squeezing around his chest, his ribs screaming in agony as they gave way under the pressure of Alastor's shadowed grasp.

It was all he could do to keep the other whips of shadow at bay as Alastor struck from every direction, and well- fuck it. It had been way too long since he'd accessed the depths of the well of his own power. Lucifer never really thought about it beyond those moments when he scooped handfuls of it out and let it drip from between his fingers like water held in cupped hands. It was never going to be the full extent of his abilities, never again with the shackles weighing him down, but if there was ever a reason to dredge to the bottom of all he had, now was the time.

Alastor loomed before him and the shadows constricting around Lucifer's middle gave way to the demon's massive, spindly hand. He dragged Lucifer away from the wall and for a brief moment, his mind blanked with the terror before him. Four times his usual size, Alastor's limbs and necks had stretched and splintered beyond recognition. His smile was too wide, a pale gash in the corpse gray of his face while bright lines of power lit his expression into a grotesque mask of fury. And above his head, a rack of antlers branched outward, elongated and sleek black.

Lucifer swallowed down past that bit of fear- the demon was hardly the most terrifying thing he'd ever faced (thanks Satan)- and jammed his claws deeper into the hand clenched around his middle. It was easy enough to find the soft spot of flesh between the bony digits and the air around them exploded in a symphony of brilliance hot enough to almost drown out the static-laden screams. The pressure around his ribs slackened and fell away, time slipping away to mean nothing in the wake of the rolling waves of light conjured from Lucifer's will alone. Before long he was able to make out the shrunken shape of Alastor sprawled on his back atop the splintered remains of a table that...honestly, Lucifer didn't recall ever existing in the parlor. Huh.

Alastor's hate filled gaze fixed on him and then the demon was lunging for Lucifer again, long fingers still extended in too long, gold bloodied claws. Snarling in return, Lucifer met him halfway and slammed Alastor back down to the table surface, his own claws digging into flesh. The demon snarled in his grasp, shadow tendrils writhing in every direction to smash through windows and sweep picture frames from walls and knock furniture aside like toys. Alastor seethed up at him, his smile cracked at the edges with flesh splitting and threads of power pulled taut across lips and teeth.

“Dad! Alastor! What the fuck!”

Lucifer blinked and below him, even Alastor seemed to momentarily freeze at the sharp voice cutting through the chaos of their battle. Lucifer swept his gaze to his left to find Charlie and Vaggie standing side by side only a few feet away, hands tightly clenched and matching horrified expressions on their faces.


“Uh....what.”

Other details started to trickle back into focus around them piece by piece; the sharpened ends of Alastor's antlers and a glaring X like a brand on the demon's forehead, for starters. Then the wallpaper and decor that definitely did not belong in the parlor Lucifer had taken Alastor to for the healing. Charlie and Vaggie standing right there and the shattered dining table beneath the finally calm Radio Demon, and-

Fuck, the portal.

Lucifer watched the traitorous thing wink out of existence in a fizzle of gold. Of course he'd forgotten to close the damned thing after trying to shove Alastor back through to the hotel when the healing had been completed, his questions prodding and unneeded, and fuck it all, he must have shoved Alastor through it successfully mid fight.
Hopping off the destroyed table and wincing as shattered dishes crunched under foot, Lucifer turned to the horrified pair. “Charlie, I can explain-”

“First you brush me off when I come to visit you at home,” Charlie started toward him, a gleam of her demonic side peeking out in the fiery hue of her eyes, the tips of her own claws making themselves known as she pointed toward Lucifer. “And then you promise to come to dinner after your 'mysterious' meeting, but that's an equally empty promise because you don't show! And now you're fighting with Alastor?”

Charlie sighed sharply and rubbed her temples. “Dad, I am really starting to rethink this whole arrangement.”

No.

No no no.

Lucifer could feel the weight of despair in the room threatening to drag him down, or was that just his depression rearing its head after a few days' reprieve? He stepped toward Charlie with hands lifted to take hers on instinct and she started to pull back but Lucifer hadn't made this much progress to lose it all now.

“Charlie, please. Let me explain.”

She didn't immediately rebuff him so he breathed out to steady himself, nerves still rattled from the entire ordeal of a few minutes ago. Lucifer held her gaze even while Charlie turned her focus away from him, head tilted down and true heartbreak on her face.

“You're right,” he started. “I promised you I would be here and I didn't show up, and that's on me. I am so, so sorry Charlie. I wish I could go back and do it over again so it wouldn't hurt you.”

She still wasn't looking at him but some of the hurt had lessened on her face, a hopeful sign. Lucifer allowed himself a small smile, hands still closed around Charlie's.

“And you and Vaggie were right, something was wrong with Alastor. Turns out, Adam wounded him in the battle, but it's okay now. He's fully healed. That's...kind of what I was doing this evening. Which doesn't excuse my absence! But, I thought you should know.”

“...but Alastor was here during dinner.” Now Charlie looked at him and the sight of tears in her eyes was like a blade to his heart. “So where were you?”

“A question I posed to our illustrious king as well!” Alastor moved into view, perfectly intact and put together in garish red like he hadn't just been trying to strangle and spear Lucifer a few minutes ago. “Surprising no one, he refused to answer.”

Charlie was watching him and Vaggie was watching him and hell, even Alastor was watching him! Noticeably with a smug look of someone who had won a fight, victory in the bag. Lucifer shot the demon a glare and then turned back to his daughter. He sighed, weighing his words even as his throat tightened painfully.

“Charlie,” he began, looking up at her with all the earnestness he could muster, hoping beyond hope that she could see in his eyes how much she mattered. Lucifer poured every ounce of love he had for his little girl into tone and expression, even when he knew the words themselves were just another crack in the foundation of their relationship. “I can't tell you where I was, but I need you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...I need you to trust me, kiddo. I am sorry I wasn't here for you.”

There was a flicker of a moment where Lucifer thought Charlie would accept his words. He watched the disappointment bloom across her face but it was swallowed by an understanding and damn him, he let the hope of that expression take root. She was hurt, yes- he had done that- but she understood!

But then she looked over his shoulder at the garish presence of the Radio Demon and whatever she saw there had the kernel of hope shriveling to nothing in Lucifer's heart.
Charlie exhaled and met his eyes, pulling her hands from his grasp. “Okay, Dad,” she said as she stepped back toward the comforting presence of her girlfriend, Vaggie looking equally disappointed but unsurprised. “I get it. You don't have to tell me, it's okay! Really. Vaggie and I are going to go get breakfast somewhere else before the residents start getting up. It's kind of early. Can you and Alastor not fight long enough to fix the dining room, please?”

Lucifer opened his mouth to reply but the Radio Demon was already sweeping in to fill the silence with an exuberant agreement, a whirlwind of activity blurring around him while Lucifer felt the walls of his own silence thicken and expand outward, cutting him off from everyone he cared about.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Happy Saturday, my loves! ...it is Saturday, right? *hehehe* This week has been a veritable whirlwind, I'm not sure where the time has gone! But now with the weekend here, let's get on with this chapter!

A bit of a filler chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it while bearing with me because this is pretty much the last stop before we pick up full speed into plot things!

Turned out, settling into the hotel was easier said than done.

Sure, he was doing it for Charlie- she was his whole reason for doing most anything the past few centuries! And after the most recent fuck up, the last thing Lucifer wanted was to give her another reason to be disappointed in him. So here he was! Fully moved in and doing his best to support his darling daughter's dream.

He had tried at least to pick a space far enough away from the crowd of curious sinners who had flocked to the hotel doors following the new building's construction and the successful battle against the Exorcists. The two top spires of the rebuilt hotel had been set aside specifically with Charlie and Vaggie and Alastor, respectively, in mind, so Lucifer had settled for a pair of connected rooms at the back of the hotel, the top floor having been set aside for hotel staff specifically.

It was absolutely next to impossible now to keep a low profile, though. Not even a full week since the battle and the grand reopening, Charlie had been swamped with new clients which lent itself well to a completely booked schedule and a never ending to-do list in an attempt to make time for the revolving door of sinners looking for salvation or to sate their own curiosity.

Lucifer had done his best to keep his head down and stay out of the way, for the most part. The last thing Charlie needed was for the Devil to be underfoot and the last thing he wanted was to add any more cracks in the foundation of her project and dream. But sometimes he just couldn't be bothered to care about the presences of the multitude of sinners filling the halls, choosing to mingle amidst their slack jawed stares and awed whispers. It wasn't that he disliked people-

Okay, an exaggeration.

The hotel was a constant hive of activity. Noise buzzing in every corner and it seemed Lucifer couldn't open a door without finding someone on the other side already occupying the space. Holing up in the room he'd picked wasn't a viable option either, because! He wanted to be here for Charlie because she wanted him here.

And if that meant putting up with the varied collection of sinners and demons his little girl had collected, then so be it. Lucifer could handle that.

Most of the time.

Finding himself in the kitchen at odd hours was becoming more than a habit, Lucifer concluded as he blinked himself out of the trance-like state of cooking. The skill itself had become something of a blessing and a curse in the endless stretch of his life. He'd never really put much stock in the concept of food before; being immortal and beyond the touch of hunger or pain (at least he used to be), food had been a foreign concept. It had been Lilith who had introduced the idea to him, the blend of flavors that could be new and exciting, intoxicating and addicting. Lucifer had often found himself trailing behind his wife into the kitchen like a shadow and before long, he wasn't just observing the creation of meals at her gentle hands but working alongside her to make it happen.

These days, it was pancakes Lucifer so often gravitated toward making. They had become something of a staple during the pregnancy with Charlie, cravings and an insatiable appetite demanding Lucifer to perfect the art of pancake making. He'd tapered off how many hours he spent in the kitchen creating the fluffy things after Charlie's birth, Lilith announcing a vehement dislike of them, but the few times Lucifer did venture into the kitchen for the making of the breakfast confections, it was with the clumsy wholesome joy of Charlie beside him.

Those moments had been some of the best in his life, propping his daughter up on his hip or shoulder so she could reach the countertop to stir ingredients together, her simple joy at being included in the activity completely contagious. It was the time spent together Lucifer cherished more than anything- out of all of his creations through the eons, Charlie was the most precious to him.

Of course all of that had changed after the divorce and Charlie stayed with Lilith permanently. And then the exterminations had begun and suddenly Lucifer had blinked and his little girl was a grown woman who didn't need him or his silly tales or even pancakes anymore. It didn't change that Lucifer ached for the childlike wonder she had once looked up to him with and though those days were long gone, slipped away like sand through his fingers along with everything else time could touch, he still had the habits.

So here he was in the hotel kitchen when the entire place was dead silent for it being an indecent hour, an array of ingredients laid out on the counter top and the itch to cook only just barely contained. Lucifer started to reach for the flour, glancing at his phone screen lit up on the counter- well out of reach of the mess he was likely to make- when the swinging door to the kitchen pushed open.

“Dad?” Charlie yawned, rubbing a fist across her eyes. Her pajamas were pink and red floral themed, fluffy bunny slippers on her feet, and Lucifer noted with a heartfelt pang the worn out stuffed hellhound tucked under her arm. She blinked at him, taking in the spread of baking essentials across the counter and then the mixing bowl in his hand, flour at the ready. “What are you doing?”

“...making pancakes?” It came out as a question and Lucifer winced, uncertain and hesitant when he really should have just confidently announced that yes, he was making pancakes. Did he know what time it was? ...actually no, but that was beside the point. It wasn't like he was restricted from the rest of the hotel just because it was whatever constituted as nighttime in Hell and any decent person should be asleep at a decent hour.

“Dad, it's like four a.m.” Charlie yawned again but padded over to the stools lining the opposite end of the counter, her red and gold eyes brightening when she peered at the array of ingredients. “You're...you're making raspberry chocolate.”

Lucifer paused, looking down at the swirls of chocolate drizzle and plump berries mixed in with the batter. He really hadn't been paying attention, letting his subconscious guide his hands through the familiar breakfast ritual. Of course he would have diverted back to Charlie's childhood flavor, here of all places.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I did. I am.” He turned toward her, hating how even now he couldn't keep the hesitant shift in his tone from veiling the hope he had. “Would you like some?”
Charlie's expression softened and she leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Guess since I'm up.”

Lucifer grinned, lit up like a Christmas tree, the saying went. “You've got it! One plate of raspberry chocolate pancakes coming up!” He turned to the stove top with the bowl while Charlie crossed to the fridge and even now it was second nature for Lucifer to keep her in view from his peripheral, so like the days when she had only stood as tall as his waist. She dug around for a few moments and then padded back to the chosen stool, a carton of blood orange juice in hand.

“So,”  she started, her tone drifting into the one Lucifer was getting used to hearing around hotel clients. Guests, he reminded himself a second later. Charlie liked to call them guests. It took considerable effort to not immediately stiffen in the face of that tone, the heaviness of it settling on him in the way that spoke to how big and important the coming discussion was to Charlie.

So he turned to her to give his full attention, only barely glancing at the first perfect pancake sizzling away on the griddle. “What's up, kiddo?”

“About last week.” Her tone swooped downward in an almost hum and then Charlie was shifting forward on the stool, elbows braced on the counter top. “I'm not trying to rehash the past, but I got the feeling that after the incident with Alastor and the dining room, you weren't really in the best place mentally to actually talk. Which is okay!”

She waved a hand as if dismissing the words and thoughts like cobwebs from a neglected room. “And I figured since no one's here, that it's just us,” her expression turned hopeful but in the way where the sky was already overcast and threatening acid rain despite her wishes. Charlie sighed softly, shoulders slumping. “We could actually talk. I just want to know what's actually going on, Dad.”

Lucifer averted his gaze long enough to flip the first set of pancakes, satisfied with the golden brown hue of each one. He'd been expecting this, how could he not? The matter had been clumsily dropped and swept under the rug after the incident, as Charlie called it, but it had still been there. And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been walking on fragile glass the past few days waiting for the whole thing to be uncovered and shoved unceremoniously into the spotlight.

“You can talk to me,” Charlie tried again, her tone turned pleading, and from the corner of his sight, he watched her lean forward against the counter top. “I want to be here for you the way you are for me right now.”

“Charlie.”

Cooking momentarily forgotten, Lucifer flicked the stove off and turned to her. He reached for her hands, the soft downy hue of her skin at odds with his own blackened grasp, and met her gaze. “You have to understand, there is so much going on,” he paused to swallow, precious seconds wasted while he weighed each word and watched Charlie's expression, the already small light of hope in her eyes, fall. “I can't.”

The disappointment that flashed across her face hurt in a way that made the breath in Lucifer's chest clench and tighten, simultaneously hot and cold and the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his too long a life. On the heels of that disappointment, just as quickly, Lucifer saw the shattering of the fragile trust Charlie was placing in him.

“Sweetheart, I know it's a lot right now and I know it's a huge ask,” Lucifer rushed to say, words almost tripping over themselves in an effort to wipe away the expression on her face and the distrust taking root in her heart. “I need you to trust me. Please Charlie.”

“...then tell me where you went last week. After the Overlord meeting, which you didn't tell anyone about.” Charlie held his gaze, the conviction on her face overshadowing any of her previous feelings though Lucifer could still taste the hint of them in a way that burrowed down beneath his skin. When his daughter opened her mouth next, Lucifer braced himself against the soft spoken words.

“But you won't, cause that's not what you do.”

It was the Garden again. Michael and his cutting words and perfect smiles again.

Before he could reach for her again, pull Charlie back to him with empty words to smooth over her concerns, knowing she would have bought and believed every single one of them if she was still the little girl he knew best... But she wasn't and she hadn't been for so long that now, as Lucifer watched his daughter stiffly pick up the glass of juice and head to the door, he realized he didn't really know her at all.

“I'm going back up to bed, Dad. The hotel will be awake before long and I promised Vaggie we'd have breakfast together.” Charlie glanced over her shoulder at him and her posture stiffened. “Privately. I...I'll see you later.”

The door swung shut and Lucifer slumped against the support of the counter then let himself slide down to the embrace of the tiled floor, head in his hands. He dug the tips of his claws against his scalp, shoulders hunched like his bad posture alone would be enough to shield him from the never-ending carousel of overthinking the conversation he'd just had with Charlie.

“Well, that looked like it could have gone better!” The static-draped voice Lucifer was beginning to recognize and loathe beyond reason cut through the silence, a smear of red taking up residence against the counter just to his left. Lucifer glared up at the Radio Demon who grinned nonchalantly back down at him, the proverbial cat who got the canary.

“How long were you fucking standing there?” He dragged himself to his feet and resisted the urge to jab the demon in the chest with one finger. Alastor was fully healed, Lucifer knew that, but he held himself back anyway. No sense in poking the proverbial bear, all things considered.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, claws tapping rhythmically against the counter top. “Long enough. So, Charlotte is disillusioned with your interest in her dreams and endeavors. Can you blame her when you cling to your secrets as tightly as you held onto the skirts of your queen when she was here?”

This.

Fucking.

Guy.

Lucifer stared at Alastor and he stared back, his grin widening almost imperceptibly. Satan, if he hadn't gone to all the trouble of healing the bastard from the angelic essence quite literally eating him from the inside out, Lucifer would have been tempted in this moment to snap his fingers and watch Alastor crumble to dust a la Thanos style. But that would have defeated the purpose of what Lucifer had done and besides, as weird and creepy as he was, Alastor was important to Charlie for reasons Lucifer couldn't fathom.

So he settled for jabbing him in the chest and watching the man's tufted deer ears flick backward in annoyance. “What the fuck do you even want?”

“I want to talk about your deal with Heaven, naturally!”

The words made sense, syllables flowing together in the semblance of coherent thought; of course they did. In theory they were just words, little sounds paired together to convey a singular thought, but they may as well have been the sharpest angelic steel for all that they left Lucifer breathless, shredded to ribbons upon the truth spelled out in nine little words.

“How do you even know about that?” He reached back to brace a hand on the counter in an effort to keep from staggering back. “That's...”

“Calm down,” Alastor tutted as he straightened, smoothing a hand down the pristine cut of his coat. “Your secrets are safe, though it really was quite easy to piece together. Your negligence in the dealings of Hell since your divorce, your absence that began with the exterminations. And what was it you said to Charlie when she asked for your help?”

Lucifer's eyes widened. “I-”

“You can't.” Alastor mimicked, his smile razor sharp. He whirled toward the double windows overlooking the cityscape beyond the hotel's perimeter and gestured with arms spread wide. “How unfortunate this great kingdom suffers the cowardice of a being such as yourself? Though,” he turned his head at a painful looking angle to regard Lucifer over one bony shoulder. “Though perhaps that's not entirely fair. There aren't that many beings in all the realms who can so easily strike fear into the heart of the Great Betrayer, are there?”

Lucifer couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't think and he sure as hell wasn't going to just stand here and let this low life talk about things far beyond mortal understanding. He was crying, he probably had been for a few minutes before the realization of the wetness of his face even occurred to him. It was the past few days all rushing together to fit themselves into the span of a few moments- the meeting with the Overlords, Michael's disdain and abuse, and above all, it was how he was continuing to fail the one person who mattered most to him.

He swiped angrily at his eyes. “What the hell do you even know! You're just a mortal soul twisted by this place like everyone else and last I checked,” he clenched his hand so hard to the tips of his claws dug into flesh, gold ichor seeping between his fingers all in an effort to keep from decking the demon right then. He didn't miss the way Alastor's shoulders hunched, his grin and gaze tightening with undisguised interest.

“Last I checked,” Lucifer said again, practically spitting the words. “You didn't have anyone in this fucking pit who cared enough about you for anything and you sure as hell don't care about anyone. I bet you never have, you fucking psychopath.”

It would only take one touch, Lucifer knew. One touch and he could pry out every one of Alastor's secrets and sins, one touch to know who exactly Alastor was inside and out. He tried not to do that as often as possible, spending centuries learning to control how to open and close that door- mostly to keep it slammed shut and tightly locked. It had always felt a little too much like invading especially when he saw things he would prefer not in the touches of those he loved most.

If only it could work so easily on himself.

“Are you finished?” Alastor didn't even appear bothered as his gaze was still fixed pointedly on Lucifer's clenched hand. “You know, you're terribly mundane, Majesty, and predictable. Yes, yes,” he smirked down at the shorter man's glare. “You'll smite me to nothing, I know. But that's beside the point- consider this a favor owed.”

“....what are you talking about?” Lucifer asked tentatively his guard up too late but it didn't stop Alastor from strolling around him in a relaxed circle, hands clasped behind his back.

“You did me the gracious honor of healing me from Adam's scourge, of course!” the demon quipped, coming to stand in front of Lucifer again, his grin triumphant. “And as I am not in the habit of letting acts of kindness hang uselessly over my head, I considered how nice it would be for someone like your illustrious self to gain a listening ear.”

Lucifer scowled and turned to keep up with Alastor's resumed migratory circling. “Why the hell would I want to talk to you about any of this? You're a demon-”

“Who owes you for some kindness, let's not forget.”

“Oh no. No no no.” Lucifer jabbed a finger at the strolling demon. “That is private, classified information. I don't have to tell you shit.”

“Have to?” Alastor pressed a thin hand to his even thinner chest, his expression somehow set into mock sorrow despite his ever present grin. “I'm wounded, truly. As if I, a lowly demon, could ever compel a being as great as yourself!”

“Cut the shit, will you?” Lucifer folded his arms, glaring. “I didn't offer my healing services because I needed someone to whine to, I did it for Charlie. But even if I had, you're the last person in Hell I would ever talk to. You don't exactly advertise yourself to be trustworthy, you know.”

Alastor's grin didn't budge. “Because you have so many other options to pour your heart out to, naturally.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Hm, no,” the demon hummed. “You'd like that too much, I think, and besides- you wouldn't sully yourself with the likes of me.”

Lucifer scowled at Alastor who continued to merely grin back at him. Damn him. Damn him to the lowest fires of Hell and damn his insufferable smile too. Lucifer had tried to be nice to him for Charlie's sake in the hopes of rebuilding that shattered relationship, but he was royally messing that up too. Nothing he could think of doing was going to salvage the shreds of the relationship he wanted with his daughter (“Hell wasn't built in a day!”- yes, thank you so very much Stolas, like he needed that mental reminder right now) and Lucifer could feel the noose tightening around his neck.

“Tell me about the deal,” Alastor said again, leaning slightly forward and down so they were at eye level and Lucifer stared back.

“You are an insufferable creep. No.”

“Fine,” Alastor shrugged and moved toward the door, footsteps clicking against the tiled flooring. He paused at the door with his hand on the ornate knob to look back at the Devil. “Just remember, the fate of everything you hold dear is on the line. In your hands, er...claws, so to speak. I don't particularly enjoy this part of the venture, but what was it you said to me that day?”

He grinned and his shadows writhed across the wall from every direction down toward the demon, tendrils caressing against his shoulders and arms.

“Do remember that I owe you.”

And then he was gone and Lucifer was left standing in a patch of crimson dawn light creeping through the windows, a realm of thought swirling around his mind. 

Chapter 7

Notes:

Happy Saturday, my loves!

Not much to say for this chapter except *buckle up*, we are rapidly approaching the point of no return!

I hope you enjoy <3

Lucifer's ruminations in the kitchen with the remains of half-cooked breakfast around him didn't last long. He surveyed the stack of pancakes left behind in the wake of Charlie's departure, whipped cream melted and dripping down the sides of the cold pastries. Alastor's words seemed to continue to echo through the empty kitchen just for the sake of mocking him, and Lucifer damned the red clothed demon again under his breath as he turned back to the abandoned cooking.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he barely registered the kitchen door swinging back open until he caught the flicker of movement from the corner of his sight. Startling and only just remembering the stove was turned back on, Lucifer yelped and whirled to the intruder. Charlie yelled back at him, equally jumping back.

“Charlie! Sheesh, warn a guy!” A hand pressed to his heart, Lucifer forced himself to breathe normally and then he reached for her, only stopping short when he realized her focus, startled state aside, wasn't even on him. Rather, she was staring at a shimmering...something in her hands. He blinked.

“Charlie,” Lucifer said, words stretched out in a semblance of calm he wished he could say he felt. Instead, something like cold dread settled heavy in the pit of his stomach as he regarded the gold parchment she was holding, scrolling letters blurring in and out of focus in his sight. “What is that?”

“I thought it was from Emily but-” She shuddered- actually shuddered!- and then her widened eyes were lifting to his and Lucifer forgot how to breathe for the second time that day.

The door swung again and then the parchment was plucked from her hands by Alastor's red tipped claws. Charlie started to protest but fell silent, immediately moving to Lucifer's side and it was instinct that had her reaching for him and he for her, arms around each other while they watched the Radio Demon read.

“Heaven,” Alastor hissed and extended the paper to Lucifer, his trademark smile more like a snarling grimace.

Lucifer took it gingerly, the dread turning to icy horror as he took in the name scrawled too large across the bottom of the page. Hands shaking, fear roaring through his veins, if Charlie or Alastor spoke to him he couldn't hear their distinct voices over the clawing grasp of his own terror. He had known- of course he had known! Michael had told him in the Garden and still Lucifer had held to the fragile hope that maybe his brother had been bullshitting him, that there was too much Heavenly red tape to prevent the Archangel from following through-

“Dad!” Charlie's fingers dug into his shoulder to give him a shake and Lucifer found himself blinking up at her, but he may as well have been staring at his daughter through miles of ocean for all that he could focus. “What is going on? Who is that? Why does he need to come here?”

“Charlie.” Alastor's tone was sharp as he cut in, his voice a damned life preserver thrown to Lucifer even if he was speaking to the younger Morningstar. “Be a dear and go get Vaggie and Husker, please? There's a good girl.”

She shot him a briefly annoyed look but with a sigh and a reassuring squeeze to Lucifer's shoulder, Charlie left the kitchen. Alastor didn't wait for the door to finish swinging closed, grasping Lucifer by the arm in a painfully tight grip and pulling him toward a shadowed corner, the darkness rising blacker and greater than Lucifer had ever seen it. When he blinked again, they were in another room in the hotel, blessedly empty and far away from the hub of excitement happening down below.

“You knew!” Alastor snarled, letting go of Lucifer's arm in favor of stalking back and forth the soft cream carpeting with his shadow trailing behind him in a hulking parody of the demon's more grotesque form. “You knew, and you did not say! What kind of damned king are you? Damn you!”

“What the hell was I supposed to say?!” Lucifer could feel the fog of shock still trying to wrap around him in an effort to smother the paralyzing terror of the letter sent, the safety he longed to slip back into. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes at this moment and let the warmth of it take over. Then Alastor wouldn't be furious with him and Charlie wouldn't be disappointed in him-

He could just fade back into the unfocused figure once more, the bogeyman of all the stories.

Alastor grasped his shoulders like Charlie had only moments before, but there was nothing concerned or caring about the touch. Clawed fingers dug painfully deep into Lucifer's coat and shirt and flesh, pulling him harshly back to the here and now.

“Why the fuck didn't you say anything?” Alastor hissed, his grin far too wide and jagged up close. “The damned Archangel is coming here!”

“I know! Fuck off, I know!” Lucifer shouted back, grasping the lapels of the demon's jacket long enough to push Alastor back from where he was crowding the Devil's space. Even with the increase of distance between them he was struck by the same delicate dusting of freckles across Alastor's face, the way his teeth were less straight edged and more jagged up close.

Lucifer forced himself to breathe, cold air sucked into his mouth and down his throat to be held until it burned in his lungs while he willed his fingers to relax their white knuckle grip on Alastor's jacket. Satan, he was exhausted. It was too easy to let his head tip forward until his forehead was against the stiff fabric of the demon's shirt, his eyes closed. Alastor stiffened but his grip on Lucifer's shoulders relaxed little by little.

“I can't...” His voice was so thin and Lucifer hated the way he sounded, weak and pathetic like Alastor had accused him of being, standing there clinging to a sinner's shirt and jacket like Alastor was the only thing left in the entire world to keep him grounded. “I can't talk about what happened. I can't talk about what he...” He swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “I just can't, okay? It hurts, Alastor, and I just fucking can't.”

“Okay.” Alastor looked down at Lucifer, his voice devoid of its usual whine of static, and it was the softest expression he'd ever seen on the demon's face, red eyes half lidded and dark with concern, his grin a thin ghost of its usual vehemence. “Then what do we do?”

Lucifer shifted back, untangling himself from Alastor's grasp when all he really wanted to do right now was to lean in closer to the unnatural heat of the demon's body and damn, didn't that make zero sense? Maybe he really was starting to go senile in his old age, craving affection from a damned soul, but for now he could just chalk it up to a side effect of the panic still threatening to rampage through his system. Putting some distance between himself and the Overlord, Lucifer met Alastor's gaze and tried to ignore the way the demon was looking down at him like... well, like he was something special.

Lucifer took a steadying breath. “We need to get the hotel ready. We need to get Charlie and Vaggie and the others who matter up to speed on...on him.” He felt like he was speaking underwater, his voice a thousand miles away while he openly drowned in the intensity of Alastor's gaze, some unknown thing in his eyes that was too close to name while it burned openly on Lucifer's tongue.

He made himself turn away, unable to stop the full body shiver that rocked through him, and gestured vaguely toward the door. “You don't know my brother, but... he'll expect perfection, among other things.”

The words soured on his tongue and Lucifer's grimace matched Alastor's, the demon baring his yellowed jagged teeth toward the door like it had personally offended him.
“From Hell?” Alastor asked and though it was a question that didn't really need an answer, it still hung heavy in the air between them. The demon moved toward the door, his steps perfectly synced and his hands clasped, and Lucifer fought down a moment of wild panic.

“Alastor,” he said abruptly, watching the red clad figure turn back to him with a knowing look. Lucifer swallowed, wanting nothing more than to shrink in on himself, but the thought needed saying. “Michael... he- he knows about Niffty.”

The demon arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him and then nodded slowly, a chasm widening across the room between them. “I see,” Alastor said quietly before he opened the door and gestured out.

They descended the main staircase in silence, rising voices from below increasing in volume with every step downward. Lucifer paused on the second to last step, his hand resting limply on the banister and it looked so wrong, black fingers and gold rings against the polished and gleaming wood. All this beauty created in a fucked up place like this and he was ruining it.

“I shouldn't have come here,” he whispered despite the feeble attempt to keep the words at bay and saw Alastor's ears flick in his direction. Lucifer lifted his gaze to the demon's. “I should have-”

“We all know your inescapable urges to self sabotage,” Alastor clenched his hands, his expression sour and unreadable. “Grow a spine, your majesty- unless you plan to fall about in front of Charlotte again?”

“What? -no, I don't!” Lucifer's eyes widened and he snapped a glare at Alastor. “Charlie is trying to do a good thing here, you think I'm dumb enough to openly jeopardize that? She's my daughter! Just because I have some shortcomings doesn't mean she needs to trim down her dreams to satisfy me!”

Alastor stepped right up into his space and his hand came up to cover Lucifer's, tips of his claws digging into skin. “There's the Devil we need,” he murmured and Lucifer scowled at first instinct before letting the irritation and the expression melt away. The demon seemed to weigh each word before he continued, as if one single word could be found wanting to throw everything off balance. “I think that's the kindest thing you've said about her endeavors here so far, Sire.”

“...oh.” Lucifer dropped his gaze to his hands, taking in the way white skin gave way to the black charring of his misdeeds. It used to bother him once, Lucifer spending hours scrubbing his wrists and arms raw and bloody in vain attempts to wash away the black. But now it was just a background detail in the grand scope of his existence.

“I guess...I failed her a lot. Charlie, I mean. And I tried to shift the blame around on Lilith, on everyone else, but at the end of the day...” He sighed, shaking his head. “I failed Charlie. I'm just trying to do better now.”

Alastor considered him for a long moment, his head tilted to the side and ears pointed straight upward in an alert way that, by all rights, should have looked comical on the sinner. But then he held out a hand toward Lucifer, the invitation clear as the demon angled himself toward the open doorway where the voices were coming from.

“Then be here for her now, my King. Come, they're waiting for you.”

Lucifer squared his shoulders and nodded, breathing out as he placed his hand in the demon's, and they walked together into the room where Charlie and Vaggie and those she trusted the most were waiting.

“Dad!” His daughter was turned to him in an instant, reaching for him with all of the frenetic energy of a little girl unsettled and afraid of the unknown, the letter a singular mark in the upset status quo of her existence. “I don't understand!” Charlie's words tumbled over themselves, punctuated with the hiccuped breaths that spoke to how she was trying not to burst into tears. “What is-”

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Lucifer murmured, brushing his hand over her hair to smooth it back from her face the way he had done when she was little and climbing into his bed after waking up from night terrors. Her eyes turned even more wet and she sucked in a sharp, long breath. Lucifer didn't let go of the rhythm of motion, stroking her hair while she let the pent up breath go and finally relaxed into the touch.

Lucifer let her go after a few moments and Charlie shuffled back toward the circle of safety created by her girlfriend and other friends. Angel Dust, Husker, even Niffty was bouncing back and forth between a pair of pillows on the sofa in the background. Individuals who had stood resolutely alongside Charlie while she pursued her dream. Lucifer let his gaze drift across them all before finally settling on the Radio Demon taking up a supportive post just outside of the circle of community.

“The Archangel Michael,” Lucifer began, focusing on his daughter who stood front and center at the assembled group, the sight of her alone bolstering the flickering existence of his own resolve. “For starters, he's my brother. And his letter-”

Charlie lifted her hand immediately. “Hold up, I have an uncle in Heaven? I've never even heard of this Michael- why would he care so much about coming down here now?”

“Because of what happened during the battle, what happened to Adam.” He took a breath and found his gaze drifting toward Alastor who inclined his head subtly, and Lucifer felt a small surge of confidence from the singular gesture. He nodded and focused on Charlie again.

“Michael rules the courts of Heaven alongside the other six Archangels. I know you faced Sera during your meeting with the court, but she's just the face of the committee. The fact that the Archangel is coming here to investigate Adam's death...”

He trailed off, the words hanging heavy in the air and Lucifer swore he could feel when understanding clicked into place for those gathered. Charlie's expression was set in the calculating way she had inherited from her mother, the kind of expression that told Lucifer it was pointless to hide anything. The weight of all he couldn't say settled on his shoulders regardless and damn, if he wasn't going to openly admit how terrified he was.

“Dad,” Charlie said slowly and he knew the flickers of his terror must have shown on his face. “If he's coming here because of the battle...how much danger are we in?”

“....I don't know, kiddo. I really don't know.”

“Dad.” Charlie stepped toward him again and it was pure will alone that had Lucifer keeping himself from reaching for her in turn, the answers she wanted something he couldn't give her. He watched the five stages of grief flicker across her face in the span of a few seconds and then Charlie was turning back to her most trusted, shoulders squared against the unknown. “Okay, we have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. The letter says the Archangel will be here in three days, so let's get this place whipped into shape.”

She cast a single disappointed look back toward her father and if anything else, Lucifer hated himself even more. But then Charlie was throwing herself into action, the urgency of the upcoming visit weighing heavy over all of them. 

---

Never let it be said that when she put her mind to something, Charlie didn't get results.

In the space of a few days, Charlie had marshaled her staff and residents alike (even pulling in a few outside volunteers courtesy of Alastor) to turn the dazzling but empty hotel into a thriving site of entrepreneurial spirit.

Lucifer hoped it was enough.

He'd done his best in the day leading up to the visit to stay as out of the way as possible, mainly out of Charlie's way. The fragile peace between them was just barely keeping the onslaught of pent up frustration and mountain of questions at bay and Lucifer knew it would only take one misstep on his part to shatter everything. With Michael's presence looming over them, now wasn't the time for him to fumble the dance and bring it all down on their heads.

Michael.

The name haunted Lucifer just a step behind his every thought, a ghostly echo of pain and shame intent on never letting him rest for a second. It brought with it every grisly reminder of his fall, every moment of spliced pain in his wings and body. The bite of marble floors against his knees, the weight of his shackles and chains. It was the burn of steel at his throat and then the whistle of air as he was tossed with bound wings off the highest platforms of Heaven.

It only spurred Lucifer deeper into the throes of mindless action, anything to keep his hands occupied so he wouldn't have to think about the very thing he'd been dreading since the dawn of time all those years ago. So he cleaned and tidied and sidestepped Charlie's private army in the preparation for the Archangel's visit, and Lucifer tried not to think.

Of course there was also Alastor.

Lucifer had seen the demon a handful of times throughout the mad cleaning spree of the hotel and surrounding grounds though Alastor's attention was focused entirely on the chaos happening around him. It was confusing, Lucifer decided, and problematic- the itch building under his skin was one thing, a desperate need for...something he wasn't ready to give voice to. But his thoughts still turned to the events of that night without prompting and it was the hundredth (maybe? It wasn't like he was keeping track) time he turned over those moments in gentle, metaphorical hands.

The way Alastor had looked down at him following the letter's arrival, his red gaze softened to something almost gentle and caring.

Alastor's hand extended to him on the staircase, an invitation rather than a demand.

The inflection of his voice dipping just slightly around the syllables of Lucifer's name and title.

Overall, it was confusing and if Lucifer weren't trying to distract himself from the incoming doom and precipice of panic he was standing on, he would shove all those thoughts into a box never to be thought of again.

Like ever.

Satan, he was a fucking mess, Lucifer realized as he blinked back to awareness and realized he'd been staring from the second floor balustrade down at Alastor who was commanding a small army of shadow conjured imps. He cut an impressive figure overall, every inch the Overlord Lucifer knew him to be; magnetic and powerful and commanding the attention of everyone in the room simply by standing there. On the heels of that thought, Lucifer chose to make himself scarce, stepping backward through a glimmering portal before the demon's attention could swivel upward and observe him staring.

And then it was time.

The day dawned much like any other. Lucifer looked unblinking at the numbers on the digital clock on his bedside table, the plastic resin duck beaming at him in the endlessly happy way Lucifer usually found entertaining if not heartwarming. But he couldn't push past the heavy dread brought on by the new day as the numbers flicked over to nine a.m., the small duck clock beginning a series of musical quacks in lieu of a usual alarm.

He got up methodically, tugging on one of the nicer sets of clothing he'd brought over from the palace what felt like a lifetime ago. His fingers were numb, his thoughts sluggish as he went through the motions in preparing for the inevitable swing of the axe that was coming.

It wasn't until Lucifer was standing in the lobby alongside his daughter and the host of her closest friends and supporters that he let himself blink out of the numbing stupor he'd hid himself in all morning. His gaze drifted across the heads of those gathered to find the crimson hued gaze of Alastor already on him, but then the double doors of the hotel shuddered and swung open with a gust of Heavenly presence.

Time was up. 

Chapter 8

Notes:

Another happy Saturday, my darlings! I hope this chapter finds you all well <3

Charlie started forward immediately, her expression a mask of courage. “Welcome to the-”

The Archangel fixed her with a cold stare and Lucifer saw the moment the words died in his daughter's throat. His expression remained unmoving as granite, gaze roving across the hotel lobby and all those gathered. Charlie hadn't spared a single soul and Lucifer noted every one of her closest were clustered together in a silent show of support at her back. Lucifer fought the urge to fidget, to place himself between the Archangel and everything- and everyone- his gaze landed on. Lucifer could tell Charlie was equally nervous from the way she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a more subtle way than her usual jumping. Next to her, Vaggie hadn't taken her gaze from the Archangel, the grip on her spear white knuckle tight.

“Well,” Michael said, his voice lilting like music, and Lucifer watched the way the demons present flinched and lowered their gazes. He knew it was involuntary and he hated how he could feel the slippery pressure of Michael's presence trying to burrow under his own skin, a silent pressing demand for respect, obedience, and subservience. “This is quaint.”

“It was my idea.” Charlie stepped forward again and Lucifer's heart lurched in a mix of pride and horror. She was resplendent today in a floor length red gown instead of her usual pinstripe suit, an ebony crown nestled perfectly atop her blonde head. She was every inch the queen Lucifer knew she would one day be but even here in the setting of her hopes and dreams, she paled in comparison to the Archangel Michael.

Satan, even here he was beautiful. Lucifer hated that it was difficult to look away from the ethereal presence Michael exuded. Blonde hair fell in gleaming waves down to his shoulders, the blue and white of his robes and clothing draped artfully over his muscled form and even through the holes in the porcelain mask fixed to his face, the ice chip hue of his eyes was magnetic.

Charlie spread her hands toward the lobby and the collection of residents and staff gathered and Michael's gaze followed her movement, the expression of his mask bored and uninterested even while it remained unmoving and neutral.

“Like I was saying... Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, new and improved. Our goal here is to rehabilitate sinners so they can find redemption and a permanent home in Heaven.” She spoke evenly, her posture straight and her gaze fixed on the Archangel like a true queen. If it wasn't for who was standing in front of her, Lucifer would shake off the terror wrapped like cold vises around his bones but even that couldn't stop him from being prouder than he'd ever been of her.

“I did not come here for your barely held together hospitality. Lucifer,” and Michael's gaze was pinned on him and he found again he couldn't breathe or think beyond the screaming instinct to obey.

“Where is the Sinner responsible for the demise of the First Man?”

Charlie stepped forward right in front of Michael, pulling his attention back to her. “Begging your pardon, Uncle,” she wrinkled her nose on that particular word. “You're here for the hotel, nothing else.”

“No.” The single word rolled outward from the Archangel like a thunderclap and Lucifer didn't miss the way Charlie flinched and Vaggie stiffened, spear shifting forward in her grasp as if she meant to swing it toward Michael. And then Lucifer saw the moment Michael registered the movement, time slowing to a crawl as he lifted his hand, empty and unadorned save for the gold serpentine ring on one finger.

There was no room for thought.

His wings unfurled from the sliver of dimension he kept them in and flared outward and Lucifer was between Charlie and Michael, shielding her and the others from view. Lucifer didn't even bother hiding, horns and flames making themselves known as he glared up at the Archangel.

“Don't you dare lay a hand on her,” he snarled, punctuating the command with a clawed finger jabbed at Michael's white robed chest. The Archangel didn't move at all but his eyes hardened, the mask of expression on his face shifting from surprise to annoyance to anger. “You are a guest here in this hotel. Her hotel. My domain. You have no power here.”

The Archangel Michael's fury was renowned; Lucifer had seen it firsthand when they had first stood shoulder to shoulder in the depths of true darkness, holy swords in hand and stained with blood. He'd once counted on his brother's fury to have his back, to keep him safe when they were in the throes of battle, the same way Michael had once trusted him equally. But here?

“You speak against me?” Michael's voice was a low hum that instantly sent danger to screaming through Lucifer's mind. Oh Satan, he had fucked up. He swallowed, mouth dry and limbs stiffening. He wanted to move, he needed to move, he needed to get out, get away-

The pain exploded through his face like shooting stars, asteroids burning up in the atmosphere to streak green and blue and white hot across a burning sky while his hearing rang with a high pitched noise and for a moment, Lucifer wondered if he was listening to the comfortable presence of radio static.

Then reality came rushing back like water pouring over a cliffside and Lucifer realized he was on the floor with a pressure on his back and around his arm. The first blurred image he was aware of was Charlie and Lucifer blinked against the fog in his vision. She stood in a ring of writhing red and orange and yellow, horns spiraling upward from her head like some unholy crown wreathed in flame, but it was the sight of her face a mere breath from Michael's. The Archangel's wings were flared outward like he was preparing to wage war against all of the realms found solely in the figure of Lucifer's daughter.

His daughter.

Facing his brother.

He pushed up on one arm while claws pricked through the barriers of his coat and shirt, the tugging more insistent to get him to his feet. He struggled against the unyielding grasp on him, words forming on his tongue but never making it further into cohesive sound other than a wet groan.

“Stop struggling, you fool,” Alastor hissed close to his ear, yanking him further back with thin fingers pressed firmly against Lucifer's cheek. The singular touch brought fresh bursts of pain flashing across his vision and when he came to again, Alastor had dragged him back several feet away from the confrontation and abandoned him there, now standing at Charlie's right hand.

“I said, leave!” Charlie was pointing at the doorway while her eyes blazed with brimstone and her voice thundering like the great magma falls found only in Wrath. Michael's attention was focused on her but then the burning ice of his gaze flicked toward Lucifer and filled with a cruel delight the neutrality of his mask seemed to match perfectly.
“You dare-” Michael began but then Alastor shifted forward, pulling the Archangel's attention away from Charlie.

“I believe,” Alastor's tone was unnaturally calm. “My lady Princess just gave you an order.”

“Excuse me?” Michael turned to the Overlord and his wings flared wider, golden light flowing off him a little brighter. Lucifer stared between him and Alastor and back again, his hand still pressed to his cheek and fear twisting its way through him. No, Alastor. Don't.

Alastor's smile was unwavering, claws clicking together as he regarded the Archangel before him. “I said, you were given an order. Last I checked, this fine establishment is for those dear souls who actually want to change, something I believe you are threatened by! You,” and Alastor sneered in Michael's direction. “You wouldn't last a day here in this hotel. You are far beyond the reaches of redemption, archangel or no. In fact, you should count yourself lucky to even be allowed to stand here at all!”

“You're a demon and a paltry one at that, and you dare speak to me in that manner?” Michael faced him and the space between him and Alastor shrunk until the Archangel was looming over the demon. “I could end you with barely a thought and don't think any of your friends would be able to save you.”

“Hm, not the most creative comeback.” The Radio Demon's reply was...bored, unimpressed. “I do believe I've heard Lucifer snap back better, and aren't you supposed to be superior?”

Lucifer couldn't move, couldn't think. Alastor was standing there as if the Archangel of War wasn't facing him down directly, one of Michael's hands curling as if he meant to draw his sword from where it resided. With his back turned and Michael's light surrounding them, Alastor was a mere silhouette of a figure but then his antlers twisted outward, height increasing until he was towering over Michael like the threat of nonexistence wasn't laid out before the Overlord. Peering down at him, Alastor's voice murmured outward, ripples on a pond but Lucifer-

He couldn't grasp the words but Michael did. Michael’s eyes widened and his hand clenched to a fist. In the space between blinks the Archangel was stepping backward and then he swept back out of the doors in a burst of golden light.

“So glad that's settled now!” Alastor resumed his usual physique in an instant, antlers vanishing and limbs shrinking back to proportion. His voice was too bright and cheery in the heavy silence of the lobby with not even a hint of his usual static interference in the air. And then his red gaze was on Lucifer.

“Dad!” Her horns vanishing and the brimstone fading to embers, Charlie rushed to his side and fell to her knees, hands gingerly reaching for his face but not quite touching. The concern in her gaze nearly sent Lucifer to tears and then she was looking up at Alastor with a panicked gaze and Lucifer made himself focus on the blurring red figure standing behind her. “We have to-”

Satan, her hands were-

Charlie's hands were-

“It's alright, Charlie.” Alastor's voice was so calm, an anchor in the growing darkness. Lucifer reached for it as his vision blurred and darkened, one gold drenched hand stretched toward the demon and it was the curious expression Lucifer held onto as he drifted at last, the demon's voice softening to a purr as he spoke again. “He'll heal himself in due time.” 

---

Lucifer woke to subdued bursts of pain dancing like stars within his head. It was creation all over again, hazy drops of color zipping back and forth against the endless void in his vision, an eternity stretched out in every direction before time could even touch it.

He groaned, grasping at the comfort of shadows as they dissipated into nothing, and then he cracked one eye open. Ornate carvings and paintings greeted him from above, fantastical creatures and fairies dancing through puffs of cloud reminiscent of Renaissance paintings. It was nonsensical and yet-

And yet he'd added the paintings to the hotel anyway, tucked neatly away in one of the upper floor rooms if he recalled correctly, a callback to the swirls of abstract color Charlie had loved as a toddler when she had reached pudgy baby hands up for winged horses and pearlescent haired mermaids.

“...what the hell happened?” Lucifer shifted with the intent to sit up, grimacing as a dull pain ached through his shoulders and ribs.

“Dad, you're awake!” Charlie shifted into view, eyes watery as she pressed both her hands to his shoulders, pushing him back against the sofa and pillows, and Lucifer, exhaustion crawling through his bones, didn't fight her. “Dad- oh my god, Michael...he...”

Memories filtered back in like a trickle of water and it took more effort than he liked to keep from shoving past Charlie to look around the room, the hotel- all of Hell if he had to- to be sure his brother was truly gone from his domain.

But he sighed instead and turned his attention to his daughter, softly cupping Charlie's cheek. The last memory he had was hazy at best but he had to know with clarity. “Sweetheart, did he hurt you?”

“He didn't get the chance.” Alastor's razor thin tone sliced through the room on a crackle of static and then he was materializing from the shadows directly behind Charlie, his gaze narrowed and dangerous. Lucifer studied the expression, the malice swimming in those blood red eyes, and then nodded once. This at least was something he could fully grasp and handle, a mutual understanding between them for the time being. Michael was gone and Charlie was safe. Thanks to Alastor.

Again.

Lucifer winced again. “Is everyone else...?”

“They're all fine, Sire, just fine!” Alastor supplied, his grin stretched too wide and when he focused on Lucifer, he wasn't sure how to fully read the expression on the demon's face. “But you took quite a beating.”

He shook his head and pushed upright at last, Charlie shifting slightly to give him room. “I'm fine-”

“No you're not! He ripped your jaw off!”

Charlie shot to her feet and began to pace and he winced at the sudden movement sending spikes of pain through his skull. His hand ached to rub at his newly put together face but that would draw his daughter's attention back to the whole thing, even while he knew she was reliving every grisly moment in perfect clarity.

“Charlie-” he started.

“No, Dad!” She whirled with the blazing fury in her eyes now directed at him and Lucifer fell silent. “That...asshole! He came in here demanding things he had no right to, he laughed at my hotel, and then he attacked you! He-”

Lucifer was on his feet in a moment, ignoring the way the room spun and his insides revolted at the sudden movement, and stepped in Charlie's path. This close he could see under the fury in her gaze; the shaking in her hands and the tears slipping down her face. He lifted one blackened hand to rest against her cheek and Charlie whimpered, leaning into the touch.

“Hey,” he said softly, adding a gentle smile. “I'm okay, see? Charlie, he can't hurt me in any way that really matters, okay? I'm okay, kiddo. I just need him to not be able to hurt you, okay?”

Lucifer searched her eyes, waiting for the truth to sink in and bit by bit, he could see the way Charlie mulled over the statement and then she nodded. “Okay...”

Smiling, he brushed his fingers against her cheek and she smiled. “There's my girl... Come on, let me make you some hot cocoa or something. I'll make enough for everyone, Satan knows we need it after the day we've had.”

Charlie's face screwed up in an expression Lucifer had never been sure how to interpret even when she'd been knee high. Was she laughing or crying? He couldn't tell. “Dad,” she wheezed, her tone exasperated and relieved all at once. “You really need to stop using Uncle Satan's name as a swear.”

Her good humor was a welcome balm after the day of tension and Lucifer found himself laughing alongside her. “Hey, mortals get to use the Big Man's name all the time! I'm just...getting creative.”

It was an easy thing to lose himself in the mundane routine of being back in the kitchen, the comfort of a treat concocted for the sole purpose of bringing stability to a home thrown into chaos. Through it all, Lucifer could feel the gentle pressure of Charlie's gaze on him as he moved from kitchen to the private staff living room with trays of beverages for everyone gathered. It was...nice, knowing that even after the events of the day, the chaos of all that had happened, his daughter was still here like a gentle beacon shining brightly against the fathoms of darkness in Hell.

Lucifer smiled as she took a new mug of cocoa from him, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before he turned back to the kitchen, empty tray in hand. The pot on the stove was nearly empty, the remains of a snack spread strewn across the island counter top and from here, Lucifer could hear the laughter and conversation filtering in from the other room.

So when the door to the kitchen banged open, Lucifer jumped and hurled a curse in the direction of the lanky demon standing in the doorway. Alastor grinned at him, spindly fingers pressed to the door to keep it from swinging backward.

“My, my,” he crooned, grin widening. “And here I thought all the stories may have been exaggerated; I mean- meeting you left so much to be desired but how comforting it is to know the Devil truly is a liar and a hypocrite, a manipulator and a deceiver!”

“Shut up!” Lucifer hissed and rubbed a hand over his face, shoulders drooping. He could feel the weight of the demon's stare as he paced around the island and snapped his fingers, a portal spinning into existence. It only took a pointed glare for Alastor to duck through after Lucifer, the quieter setting of his rooms greeting him on the other side.
Lucifer immediately faced the demon. “I needed Charlie to believe that, okay! I hate lying to her, but...dammit, Alastor, she was-”

“You are protecting your child, Lucifer.” Alastor's voice lacked the usual hum of his radio persona as he stalked across the room on silent steps toward the liquor cabinet Lucifer had set up on the far wall days ago. He bent to pull two glasses and a bottle of half finished whiskey before straightening again to regard Lucifer coolly. “I don't think it’s a mere thing to be so fussy about, all things considered. But I do wonder...”

Alastor paused long enough to pour the two drinks, red tipped claws holding one of the glasses out to Lucifer. He eyed the amber liquid in the crystal glass, the color fractaling and blending together with the demon's outstretched hand. It turned his thoughts to the day's events; blood and flame, violence and delight, kindness and cruelty.
Hope and the crushed dreams of a life cut short on the rocks of reality.

“My question to you, my dear Devil,” Alastor continued. “What are you going to do about it?”

Lucifer took the glass and downed the contents in a single gulp, letting it burn all the way down his throat and unrolling a pleasant heady sensation through his blood. He exhaled slowly and lifted his gaze to Alastor's, focusing on how the demon stood nonchalantly against the wall with arms folded, untouched drink held in slender fingers. It was better than focusing on the kernel of an idea taking root in Lucifer's mind, but...better to tend to that when he had more resources.

“What I'm going to do about it...is a problem for another day.” Lucifer nodded toward the bottle left uncorked on the sidebar. “Pour another one, and let's just...exist for a bit.”

The problems of the day were persistent but for now, Lucifer could shove them aside in favor of the company at present, the warmth of knowing everyone was downstairs safe and whole and unharmed- Charlie included. The horrors of tomorrow could wait ‘til then, but for now...everything was okay.

 

Notes:

GUESS WHAT NEXT CHAPTER IS

Go on, guess :D

Chapter 9

Notes:

Gooooooooooooood morning my lovelies, happy Saturday!

ITS THE DEAL CHAPTER WE ARE FINALLY GETTING TO IIIIIIIT -flails around-

If this fic was still in the theme of a happy musical, I would 100% say this chapter's song would be 'The Other Side' by Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron, lol

Please enjoy! <3

The greatest con the Devil ever pulled off was convincing the world he didn't exist.

It was a little too easy, all things considered; he hadn't even had to do much of anything. Sit back in the corner of Hell he'd allocated for himself and while souls damned to his domain poured in over the centuries and millennia, Lucifer had found he liked the solitude more and more. Being out in public had its perks to be sure; there was always a need to remind the denizens of the pit the true pecking order of their society and who sat at the top, but at best Lucifer had been content to let himself become something of an empty threat.

Lilith had been the true powerhouse, shaping Hell into a kingdom of her design. Her power influenced everything from the subtle brushstroke acts of the Ars Goetia all the way down to the most humble sinner signing their immortal soul over with a shaky flourish. It was she who had set up the power structures found primarily in the Pride Ring itself, deals for souls in Hell becoming a monopoly of power. It was the surefire way for any individual- demon-born or mortal kind- to gain power quickly by exploiting the desperate needs of anyone weaker than them. It had started with the demon-born and trickled down to mortal souls, kicking their way up the proverbial ladder of power and all it took was offering something an individual couldn't refuse.

Protection.

Power.

Fame, sex, even money! The list of possibilities were endless and at the end of the day, all it cost them was their immortal souls.

Lesser deals were equally as popular; services for services, the contracts no less binding than their soul bartering counterparts, and it was this flavor of deal making Lucifer found himself thinking of almost nonstop. Hell had a funny way of rewarding those precious few who rose above the rank and file of the rest of the demon population, multiplying their ambitions into true power tied directly to the sorceries of the domain itself. It was what led to the ruling class of Overlords now sitting comfortably at the top of the food chain in Pentagram City and throughout the Ring at large, beings who continued to dig their claws into the metaphorical power grid, their positions secured and immortalized the longer they stayed in power.

Alastor, though, seemed to be the odd one out.

Alastor, a lowly sinner from nothing, had risen through the ranks of power faster than any other like him- not just carving out a place at the table for himself, but doing it at the expense of fellow Overlords. He hadn't even been anyone particularly great in life! A nobody, just another mortal life possessing ideas of grandeur but never fully clawing his way out of the mud of his own existence, and then he'd died a nobody too. Of course Hell would have turned its singular attention to that kind of a soul, sinking its own claws into Alastor while he in turn dug in to gain everything he desired.  It was, quite frankly, the most impressive and terrifying thing Lucifer had ever seen.

The more Lucifer let the idea of the Overlord and all he represented- the power and charisma, the nonstop almost maniacal need to be in control- the more he realized that what he was about to do was completely batshit insane.

This was a bad idea. It was a bad idea and Lucifer would be better off turning around and retreating back to the sunlit rooms he'd claimed on the other side of the top floor. He'd been entertaining this very bad idea for all of three days, letting it simmer in the background while he and the rest of the inhabitants of the hotel sunk back into their usual routines like Michael's visit hadn't disrupted everything they knew on a cosmically deep level. He'd effectively been skirting the edges of everyone else's existences the past few days, portaling here and there to keep out of the way while Charlie threw herself headfirst into hotel work with Vaggie by her side, only showing up long enough to take over the kitchen for hours at a time for extravagant meals that, frankly, no one was eating.

Their entire world had been thrown off balance and Lucifer knew he had to fix it somehow, despite all of his previous slip ups and absences and glaring mistakes. So when he couldn't take it anymore, he finally found his steps taking him to the Radio Demon's door.

Lucifer didn't want to be here, but he needed to be. He stared at the unremarkable doors leading to the Overlord's rooms on the opposite side of the top floor, far enough from his own sun drenched quarters that he may as well have been in another world entirely. The deep cherry wood panels of the door were nondescript themselves, absolutely nothing to distinguish them from any other door on this floor or any other, but Lucifer could feel the heaviness that always trailed behind the Overlord like a second shadow.

And speaking of shadows…

Before he could even conjure up enough courage, confidence and swagger expected of the Devil to even knock on the door, it swung open. A tendril of shadow dropped down from where it had been wrapped around the interior door handle, slithering back down across the floor and out of sight, presumably back to its master.

Okay so Alastor already knew he was here. Great. Fantastic. It did nothing for the twisted nerves ramming around like flesh-eating butterflies in his stomach. Lucifer suppressed a shiver and stepped through the door, unsurprised when it clicked shut behind him.

Never let it be said the Radio Demon didn't have style.

Lucifer let his gaze drift around the room, taking in the dark wood accents against the deep red wallpaper. The furniture was tasteful, of a type he would have expected to find on the set of the Great Gatsby, or something like it. A low sofa was arranged on the edge of a diamond pattern rug, paired with twin glass top side tables on either tufted end of the seating. The mantel over the stone fireplace housed a small collection of books, clothbound with titles embossed on each spine, and of course an old fashioned radio was humming a jaunty brass band tune.

Alastor himself, naturally, had placed himself in center stage.

A wide desk took up the swath of space in front of the windows to complete the room, a pair of leather and brass studded armchairs angled toward each other across from where the Overlord was sitting. Alastor stood but didn't move from around the desk, his hands folded neatly in front of him and his wide smile oddly knowing.

“It's a rare day in Hell when the King of the Realm chooses to darken my door.” Alastor's tone was a subdued level of cheer as he gestured to the seats before him. “What can I, a humble sinner, do for you?”

“Hardly a social call, Overlord.” Lucifer bit back a sigh and readjusted the duck shaped cufflinks on his sleeve, an excuse to fidget and not meet the demon's gaze.

Alastor moved around the desk smoothly, graceful despite the harsh angles of his thin frame, gesturing to a sideboard Lucifer hadn't noticed before. “Would you like a drink, Sire, or shall we just get right to it?”

He bent regardless to open the slim cabinet door and withdrew a bell shaped crystal bottle and a pair of glasses. The demon barely regarded Lucifer as he set down the glasses on the desktop, slender fingers removing the stopper and swirling the bottle with a flick of his wrist to let the liquid within breathe.

“Isn't it...ten in the morning?” Lucifer asked, brow arched.

Alastor merely shrugged. “It's five o'clock somewhere. So,” he paused long enough to hold out one of the offered glasses, amber liquid within turning molten gold in the light pouring in from the windows. “What can I do for you?”

This was it, then. The grand stage, center ring, and here was Lucifer with hat in hand ready for his final bow. He let his gaze drift for a moment toward the wide windows framing Alastor like a theater backdrop, the cityscape gleaming beyond. A city housing millions of souls, mortal lives flung down and left to fester and rot here all because of a mistake he had made.

It wasn't fair.

His teeth ached from clenching his jaw, the glass groaning in protest from his too tight grip. Lucifer willed himself to relax, willed the crimson and brimstone and heat to vanish from his gaze, the hellfire snapping anxiously at his fingers with the singular desire to be unleashed. But not here, never here; not so close to Charlie or anything and anyone she viewed precious enough to save. Lucifer forced it all back down- the guilt and the hatred and the writhing anger he didn't know what to do with half the time- down, down, down under the grave soil of his own actions.

He met the red tinged gaze of the demon across from him and for a moment he was reminded of a tender prey animal he had seen once in the mortal world; long face and alert ears, perfectly still to the point of sculpture as it studied its surroundings. But there was nothing prey-like in the demon's gaze, only pure calculating interest. Both demon and angel stared at each other across the glossy expanse of the desk, seconds ticking by in silence, Alastor's grin wide and firmly in place.

“Well?” the demon finally said, an echoing purr to his voice like the feedback from an old microphone.

“I'm here to make a deal with you, Overlord.”

Alastor's grin, already impossibly wide, widened even further. He leaned forward and rested his chin on folded hands, elbows propped on the desk surface. “I'm listening, Majesty.”

Lucifer had been absent from the inner workings of power in Hell for longer than most realized, but it didn't mean he was stupid. Deals were tricky things and for beings like Alastor who thrived on power and control, it would be a delicate dance to iron out all the terms Lucifer had in mind while still letting the demon think he was coming out on top. In this case, a little flattery couldn't hurt.

He leaned back in the seat he'd taken residence in, no sense in being uncomfortable when he knew they would both be here for awhile. “This is about what you did the other day. Regarding Michael. You know,” he let his gaze drift lazily over the lanky demon across from him. “It's one thing to do battle against the First Man and walk away mostly unscathed. But you, Alastor...you, a mortal sinner, faced the Archangel of War and you're still here.”

“Your confidence in me is astounding, Sire, truly.”

“Do you have any idea how many people can claim to have done that?”

“Likely the same amount of individuals who have faced Adam and outlived him, I'm sure,” Alastor deadpanned. He traced a finger around the rim of the untouched glass in front of him. “While I do appreciate the flattery, offer of a deal aside- you have yet to disclose what you actually want from me.”

Lucifer made himself the demon's gaze, grin and all. “You're powerful Alastor, there's no denying that. I want your power in the defense of Hell as a whole- against the threat of Heaven. You've seen Michael now, you've seen what we're up against. He's just the start and while I did try to warn you before, there's no skirting the fact that you're on Michael's radar now. It's going to be impossible for you to keep under his notice now.”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, thin shoulders lifting a moment later in a careless shrug. “Bishop takes rook, then. A clever move, Majesty. Very well, I shall play your game- what is stopping you from doing so?”

The query was spoken so innocently, it was anything but. Could Lucifer blame the demon for asking? ...no, not at all. He'd been expecting a question of this sort even before he'd decided to walk across the length of the top floor to stand outside the Radio Demon's door.

He swallowed, managing a tight nod. This was always the worst part, the words locking themselves up in his throat no matter how he clawed and scratched himself bloody in attempts to get them out. And he had; claws raking at flesh, digging against bone as if that alone would ever be enough to release those thoughts from the confines of his mind down to his tongue to be spoken, free at last.

“...I can't,” Lucifer gasped at last, turning his gaze away with cheeks heating. It was panic, that's all it was; the idea of Alastor- Alastor!- being the one to view this tucked away, secret part of himself...it really made Lucifer want to crawl out of his own skin. But he wasn't going to get anywhere today without a little honesty.

Alastor leaned forward with eyes narrowed, drink forgotten. “Try that again,” he said, a sharp command but nothing in his tone malicious or targeted though it snapped at the Devil regardless.

“I-” His eyes watered, the burning in his throat roaring to an inferno and painful and everywhere, and he couldn't even swallow past it for even a shred of relief. His hands were at his throat without thought and it took more effort than he liked to force his hands back down to the desktop. “I can't, okay? I just can't.”

“Fascinating!” Alastor's voice was a thin hiss, a spark of interest lit deep in his eyes that quickly morphed into something hungry like he was a hound on the trail of a blood scent.

Which would make Lucifer his prey.

Fantastic.

“That's a very interesting sigil you have carved on your throat. No, no,” Alastor flicked a hand idly, his grin shifting into a wicked, sharp thing. “I can already guess which of your heavenly brethren had the pleasure of marking you, but I wonder how much power they had to use to shackle and gag you like this?”

Lucifer scowled at him. “Yes, it's hilarious, point made. I can't take the fight to Heaven, not like this, but you...” He paused, considering the scales of justice so oddly skewed out of favor of mortal beings, and nodding. “I believe you could on my behalf.”

“My dear King,” Alastor chuckled, the sound losing the hiss of static that so often accompanied his words. “You are going to have a hell of a time to even tempt me into entertaining this...idea.”

The word “insane” hung heavy in the air between Alastor's unflinching smile and Lucifer's thin pressed lips. He opened his mouth to retort but Alastor held up a hand. “You have waltzed in here with the intent of making a deal with me, which is never a smart move given the history of the fools who darken my door with similar desires, and yet you are woefully unprepared for all that it really entails.”

He leaned forward, his grin the slash of a bloody knife in the dark. “You can at least do me the courtesy of taking this seriously. You want my aid, Morningstar? Buy it.”

“My power.” Lucifer braced both hands on the desktop as he stood and had the brief flicker pleasure of watching Alastor startle, red eyes widened and ears flicking backward in discomfort and shock. Lucifer inhaled sharply, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. “I am out of other options, Alastor but I think it's time we remind Heaven who we are down here. They think they are crushing us under their boot but I would like to think we're the foundation of the mountain they're sitting on. I think it's time to shake their foundation.”

He regarded Alastor in the late morning light, watching the flickers of thought and emotion on the demon's face. “You are the only one I can think of who can really do anything against all of this. I can't do shit to protect anyone unless Heaven crosses the lines first. But you can.”

Lucifer paused. Fuck, he was tired. It was so tempting to just snap his fingers and let a portal drop him somewhere, anywhere else. Someplace where it was quiet and he could be alone to think for a few hundred more years. Not thinking, that's what he really wanted. He was so goddamn tired of always thinking and not being able to do anything about the things he was thinking about. Escape seemed the better option, tucking himself away to hide once more.

But that was the coward's way out and he was done sticking to the shadows. Lucifer clenched one hand to a fist, claws piercing flesh and ichor dripping from his closed hand.

“I am offering you my power, Alastor, with certain reservations.”

“Naturally,” the demon hummed, his sharp gaze fixed on Lucifer's bleeding hand. “You're desperate, Majesty, and I can't blame you. Waging open war against Heaven could be considered a suicidal move from any angle you look at it.”

Alastor flicked a hand toward Lucifer and he tracked the movement, watching the lanky demon as he stood and bent forward, towering over Lucifer even with the entirety of the desk between them. “But I think you're overlooking one vital detail, Sire.”

“Which is?” Lucifer forced himself to relax, hands unclenching before Alastor got the idea that he somehow had the upper hand in this discussion, though something about the way the demon was watching him now told Lucifer he had already latched onto that idea.

Alastor braced both hands on the desk surface, his eyes glinting with a flicker of green and Lucifer inhaled the sharp ozone scent of eldritch magic. “Are you afraid, Majesty?”

“No,” he ground out but unease ran cold in his blood and for the first time in time itself, he felt like he was again facing the serpent in the garden. It brought to mind the endless void, the howling depths where nothing existed beyond the raging echo of his own thoughts. That was the true nature of Hell, built up and polished into the metropolis of society that it was today; those things were just gold plating over the gaping wound in the cosmos that was the pit.

“You should be.” In the space between blinks Alastor had lunged across the desk toward him. Spindly fingers closed around Lucifer's throat hard enough to bruise and choke, his other hand pressing firmly to Lucifer's chest to pin him to the chair. Claws poised over where the Devil's heart beat erratically as if Alastor meant to dig through flesh and bone to pry the organ right from Lucifer's chest, still beating in his clawed hand. His knee dug painfully into Lucifer's stomach to keep him pinned while Alastor twisted, antlers branching outward from tufts of red hair, gnarled and strange, while the demon's genteel smile had stretched painfully wide into something far more wicked.

“You should be quivering.” Alastor's voice was a whirlwind around the room, caught in the throes of a tempest shriek and the temperature in the room dropped drastically. Lucifer stared up at the twisted demon, unease morphing into a torrent of icy fear- the likes of which he hadn't felt since-

Lucifer bared his own snarled grimace up at him and dug his claws into Alastor's arms where the demon was still pushing him back to the confines of the chair. Blood welled beneath his claws and Alastor howled, the scream of a deer whirling around the room with the shrieking chaos of the void, and Lucifer saw.

He was falling, the endless nothingness stretched out in every direction around him even while it pressed in to smother him in the deepest black Lucifer had ever seen. He could feel it, the heavy cold terror of it all trying to squirm its way under his skin, burrowing beneath his claws, the corner of his eyes, through his nose and ears-

It was so hungry.

His own voice joined the cacophony though it wasn't fear that tore sound from him, but rage. Lucifer slammed his hands upward until he felt solid flesh and bone under his touch, the sharp cry of pain sounding so much closer than the endless howl of the hungry void around him. He dug his claws in deeper, wetness sliding down his knuckles and palms and down his wrists, his own voice twining around to join Alastor's high pitched scream as the darkness around them finally shattered, the demon's rooms bleeding back into focus.

Lucifer regarded Alastor in the waning afternoon light (amazing how much time could be lost in the siren's call of the void), marks of exhaustion drawing the demon's lanky form into a portrait of weary acceptance. He imagined he looked much the same, slumped as he was in the chair with the fuzzy, loose limbed feeling he always got after a good fight. Or a fuck.

Pushing that thought aside, Lucifer tipped his head back against the chair and let his eyes drift closed. Fuck, that had been...an experience, for lack of a better word. He could still feel the lingering tendrils of cold from whatever that had been, weak leftover touches pawing at his skin in a fruitless search for any entrance to his being beneath flesh.
The idea of all of it brought another series of exhausted shivers running through his whole body, the action half-hearted.

“You're a terrible king.” Alastor's voice had lost the edge of his usual radio bravado, barely audible beneath the rustle of clothing as the lanky demon readjusted himself in the chair he was equally slumped in.

“And you're a creepy bastard,” Lucifer shot back, letting his gaze pass over the demon before he focused on the window, taking in the way Alastor's hair was mussed in all directions and his tie askew. There was no real venom in his tone, not the usual kind anymore, which was all the more odd for the thoughts circling his mind at the moment. He sighed. “So if we're done stating the obvious-”

“Says the king on a leash,” Alastor muttered and Lucifer snapped a glare in his direction, the demon merely smiling in response.

“Don't think I didn't notice your chains either, Mr. High and Mighty.” Lucifer rubbed his forehead. He hadn't dug deep enough to pinpoint anything of value especially with the episode they had both just experienced, but it had still been difficult to ignore the shape and feel of those sorcery-forged links around Alastor's neck. Not to mention the countless other deals struck and paid for, threads of bargains enshrouding the demon's being. And among them...

“Fuck you,” Alastor snapped right through that thought and he shuffled deeper into the embrace of the chair. His ears were turned back, limbs pulled close in the way that put to Lucifer's mind the image of a child trying to be brave after a nightmare.

Lucifer paused for a heartbeat before he turned a sly smile in the demon's direction, a shambled together attempt at distraction. “Ah, no. You'd like that too much.”

Alastor stared at him and the silence ticked by for several seconds, his expression unmoving and Lucifer-

Well, it wouldn't be the first time he had pushed too far. It wouldn't be the last either, he knew, but somehow the idea of crossing that line with Alastor of all people was...

It hurt. More than Lucifer was really willing to admit.

But then a low chuckle spread through the room and then Alastor was laughing openly, a hand pressed to his ribs where Adam's steel had rent flesh and bone as if the simple sound of joy caused him some sort of lingering pain. He laughed regardless, head tipping back against the chair and actual tears slipping from his red eyes. Lucifer found himself chuckling, a weak sound in the face of everything but the sound grew until he was crying alongside Alastor, both of them doubled over and gasping.

“I'd like it too much...hah.” Alastor wiped an errant tear from his eye, the tiny droplet shimmering on the tip of his clawed finger before he flicked it away. “Your humor is impeccable, Sire, truly. Wherever could you have learned a joke like that?”

Lucifer shrugged, face aching from the minutes spent in laughter. “Eh, who knows. It just comes to me sometimes. You know what they say about genius.”

He exhaled and focused on his hands, elegant fingers turned to claws and stained black from the charring of deeds he was never going to be able to take back. He could feel Alastor's crimson gaze on him, the weight of it settling over the Devil's shoulders like a heavy but not uncomfortable blanket. “So...”

“Be careful how you word things with me, Majesty.” Alastor's tone had flattened and Lucifer snapped his gaze up to the demon's, the distinct sense that this was out of character for the Overlord coming to mind. Alastor was watching him coolly now and though his smile remained firmly in place, there was something almost sorrowful in it now. How had Lucifer never noticed before? The demon's expression was fixed but even with that wide smile, it was obvious how much emotion Alastor could convey. More than Lucifer had thought.

“You know, I kind of invented the whole 'deal with demons' thing, right?” Lucifer quipped, a lame attempt to lighten the mood. But he tapped his claws against the desk, mulling it over. It would have to be worded carefully; Lucifer knew the power of one misplaced word more intimately than anyone and Alastor knew it too. The demon lived and breathed deals, this one would be no different.

What he didn't know was why Alastor was bothering to remind him, the literal Devil, about misplaced words.

“Let's discuss expectations first,” he offered and watched Alastor's shoulders sag slightly in relief. “I'm asking for your aid in defending this domain from Heaven and anything they can unleash- don't look at me like that, I'll word it better in a minute.” Lucifer scowled at the demon's raised brow. “I will supply you as much of my angelic power as is required for whatever deeds may become necessary but under no circumstances are you to use my undiluted power in that aid.”

“An interesting twist of words,” Alastor murmured but inclined his head in agreement.

“You are not to use my power in any act that would cause immediate or direct harm to any resident- sinner or demon- of Hell,” Lucifer continued. “In a similar vein, you may not use any of your power sourced from mine to harm anyone from this domain.”

Alastor sighed and leaned back in the chair, his smile dipping slightly as he steepled his fingers together. “Taking the fun out of it, are we? We're in Hell, Majesty- pain is the name of the game.”

“Alastor.”

“Very well, as you command. Anything else?”

Lucifer turned his gaze upward to the shadow draped ceiling. “I don't think so.” He shot a quick glance at the reclining demon. “I assume you have your own terms.”

“Naturally.” Alastor straightened and snapped his fingers, a stack of paper appearing on the desk before him and a pen in his hand. “To begin, angelic energy of the caliber you possess is not something I can take a mere singular sample of. I will need a constant supply, depending on the demands of the contract. Second-”

“Wait, hold up.” Lucifer scrambled to sit up straight in the chair, leaning toward the demon and his notes. “What do you mean, a constant supply? I'm not a damned juice box, Alfonso!”

Alastor stared at him. “You used that name already.”

“...what?”

“The name. Alfonso.” Alastor glanced down at the papers he was holding. “You have called me Alfonso twice now in an attempt at mockery. Did you truly forget that easily or are you just going senile in your old age?”

Lucifer stared at him and then blinked when the corners of Alastor's smile lifted almost imperceptibly. Well, glad to see him in good humor after the entire ordeal of the morning. His cutting gaze was no less sharp than his typical smile but somehow after everything, it didn't seem as malicious as before.

“Okay, Allison,” and damn it was satisfying to watch Alastor's ears flick back in annoyance. Lucifer gestured toward the papers. “How do you figure the need for more than one hit of angelic essence?”

“...please don't ever refer to it as a hit ever again, Sire. And the answer came in the gift of your blood, which you were so gracious to share with me when healing me from Adam's scourge. The healing effects were incredible but the side effects faded far too quickly to be of much use. If you are going to require my services in the defense of Hell from whatever Heaven throws our way- and I assume it will be a barrage rather than a singular strike- I will need to tap the source more than once, so to speak.”

Lucifer sat back in the chair. Huh. That...oddly made sense. He hadn't given much thought to the properties of his blood over the eons but it made sense that it would be a concentrated and physical representation of his power, trapped as it was under the confines of his shackles. Truthfully this whole thing was a gamble; Lucifer didn't even know if Alastor was going to be able to take advantage of his power but he'd seen the demon in action a handful of times, knew the vague shape of what Alastor was capable of. If anyone could figure it out, Alastor could.

“Alright, so you'll need to resupply now and then.” Lucifer focused on the Overlord again. “Which means we're going to need to stay close, more or less.”

“Closer than usual? Delightful.”

“Yes, closer. I have no way of knowing if or when Michael may return or when Heaven may strike, but we're going to need to be ready.”

Alastor considered, the pen stilling on the paper before him. “Or you could hand over a few vials of blood at a time and I will use them at my discretion when the need arises.”

“Um, fuck no- because once out of my possession, we have no idea if the potency will even last. And I trust you as far as I can throw you, so I want to be able to know you're not abusing my generosity.”

“Hah! Well, I suppose that's only fair. Though the terms-”

“Loopholes exist, asshole. I may be the Devil but I can't even write a perfect ironclad contract.”

Alastor's grin was unmatched as he nodded. “The Georgia incident, of course.”

“Shut up. Okay, so- I will hand over blood for the sake of protecting Hell, the hotel, and all who dwell here when the need arises, and only then.”

“As you say. How close must we be to one another for this to work?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I don't know, I mean- I don't think either of us should plan on taking a month long trip around the other Rings in the near future, you know?”

Alastor stared at him. “Mortal souls are restricted to the Pride Ring, if you recall, so the only one who would be at risk of doing that is you.”

“...oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” Lucifer winced. “Okay, scratch that. I won't go traipsing off without advance notice, say...twenty four hours?” As soon as he said it, a cold feeling settled heavily in his gut. Lucifer looked away, thumb rubbing over the gold band on his finger. “Alastor.”

“Hm.”

“I am going to disappear, and I won't be able to warn you about it. I don't know when or even if it'll happen, but if it does...” He glanced up to find Alastor already staring at him, that same cold calculating look in his red eyes. Lucifer swallowed. “I won't be able to say anything and...I don't know how long I'll be gone.”

“Then I will need an emergency supply of vials in that case. What should I tell Charlotte when this occurs?”

Lucifer winced and averted his gaze. “Tell her...I'm in a slump, or something. I don't know.”

Alastor's claws clicked against the desk for a moment and then he picked up the pen to resume writing. “Very well. I will include a clause of a singular vial of blood left in my care to be used only for the strictest emergencies in the event of your absence. Now let's discuss my payment for all of this.”

“Naturally,” Lucifer nodded, ignoring the sharpened hue of the demon's smile. “Name your price, then. How much is your aid in defending Hell worth?”

“A secondary supply of your blood and power to be used at my discretion without disclosing it to you, still within the parameters set for the contract demands.”

He'd been cracking jokes, making light of the situation throughout it all because what else was he supposed to do? Lucifer could feel the trap springing closed around him and Alastor's request, a string of words made up of sounds which on their own were completely meaningless, and yet…

The cold reality of it all sank heavy around him.

Lucifer made himself study Alastor, really study him. The man was a liar and a psychopath on a good day, and Lucifer trusted the demon about as far as he could throw him. Which wasn't saying much, and yet…

“One additional vial per act of defense.” Lucifer held the demon's gaze.

“Generous, Majesty,” Alastor hummed as he wrote. “I would have expected you to push back on that particular stipulation, all things considered.”

Lucifer leaned back in the chair and shrugged. “You made a deal with my wife for the protection of Charlie and her endeavors; I think that speaks for itself. If Lilith trusts you, it's good enough for me.”

The pen snapped in Alastor's hand and Lucifer chuckled. “Did you think I didn't know about that, Overlord?” he asked, holding the demon's wide gaze. “I could feel her power tangled up with yours and I know Lilith well- consider this a token of trust on her behalf. But if you double cross me, I will not hesitate to end you permanently. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” Alastor murmured, setting aside the broken pieces of the pen and then shuffling the papers into place before he handed them over.

Lucifer glanced over the artful lines of scrawled writing, nodding to himself. He pulled his own pen from the pocket dimension in which he kept a myriad of...everything, scratching through a line here and there to correct the presented terms before he handed it back.

“I take it you're happy with this contract?”

“Happy?” Lucifer laughed a short brutal sound. “You should know happiness isn't something we get to enjoy down here. It's Hell, Alastor.” He smiled, watching the demon's gaze narrow and ears flick back in irritation. “But yes, I'm satisfied with the terms.”

The papers crumpled together midair and then smoothed themselves back out, messy notes combined together into one cohesive document, space enough at the bottom for a pair of signatures. Alastor leaned forward, grin widening back to its trademark caliber. “Then, my dear Devil, do we have a deal?”

A million thoughts came to mind, a million what if's battering against him in the rapidly shrinking eye of a storm Lucifer wasn't sure he could ever get out of. There were so many unknowns, so many reasons beyond his own doubt to not go through with this. Worst of all-

Charlie.

If this backfired, if the walls of all his carefully constructed lies and half truths in the name of protecting her came crashing down to reveal the broken, ugly being behind the curtain…

Lucifer swallowed past his rising panic, hand tightening around the pen. He didn't think any more, shoving thoughts far and away into a closet for consideration much, much later, and placed the tip of the pen to the paper. Alastor watched him silently, grin in place and slender hand held out for the taking. Patient, hopeful, eager. Lucifer could remember a time when he himself had been that way, back before the unending stretch of time had worn him down.

“It's for Charlie,” he murmured, the pen moving across the bottom of the page as if his hand had a mind of its own, and then he took the demon's hand. “Deal.”

Green and gold light exploded around the room, fear wrapping itself tight around its bones and yet Lucifer didn't look away as the deal was forged between them, unyielding and unbreakable as it was written in blood and the dregs of their own power. Whatever else he did, Lucifer had to be content that this, at least, would keep the most precious person in his world safe.

The ends justify the means, after all.

Right?

Chapter 10: Interlude 1

Notes:

Good morning, my lovely friends! Happy Saturday! <3

Bit of a shorter chapter this week cause the deal chapter took up so much brain space, but this is officially the first of a series of interludes spaced throughout the story, a peek behind the curtain into Lucifer's past!

I hope you are all well on this lovely Saturday, and please enjoy! <3

The Garden was burning.

Heat crackled through the air and released in rolling plumes of smoke to blot out the sky in an endless blanket of black, and around them the graceful arches of tree limbs succumbed to the pressing touch of flame, crumbling to ash while sending sparks and petals and leaves spiraling upward in a mad, frenzied dance.

Every lungful of air taken in was scorching and he couldn't breathe. All around him, the perfect garden bloomed with heat and flame and destruction and yet it was the circle of archangels he was watching. The archangels who were turned to him with dancing fire and fury reflected in onyx eyes, their whispered steps over drying, shriveled grass bringing them closer to him step by step, their silence damning as their wings brushed over the ground and unsheathed blades glinted in every hand. He could not watch them all so easily in the form he had long ago adopted, flame and majesty given over in favor of bone and sinew and flesh by his choice alone, so he focused on the figure at the center. The only one who dared to fully present himself in all his glory; tall, broad and beautiful beyond reproach, it made his mouth ache to consider the brilliance of the one so closely regarded to be his equal.

It was this archangel who now stalked toward him with his wings flared as if his presence alone could block out the sight of all that had been done.

“Michael. Michael, please.” He could feel the yawning chasm behind him, a great darkness stretching wider and wider to consume everything in its path, and all of it cascading outward from the minuscule crack in the earth as the sword tip was dragged along to open the surface into pure nothingness below. He lifted his gaze to the gleaming figure before him, the most beloved of his heart, and waited for the softness to return to those pale eyes he knew so well, the smile that had so often been a balm to his soul.

Heaviness settled over him when neither came and still Michael advanced and Samael retreated, the chasm at his back and a blade before him.

“You have corrupted our realms with Choice; Free Will given without reservation or thought. For this, Samael, we as the Princes of Heaven find you guilty. Look upon what you have done! Look!”

Michael's wings snapped wide, feathers unfurling in a riotous display of white and gold as he lifted from the ground and a chorus of assent rose from the other archangels, a cage of words rising tall around him. The ground where Michael had stood was quickly swallowed by the advancement of chaos; flames writhed in tree branches and flowers shriveled to ash and for a moment he swore he could hear their nonexistent voices screaming out in anguish before falling silent.

But he made himself look. Took in every curl of flame where once a velvet soft petal had existed, every facet of beauty that his kin had poured heart and soul into. Creation that had taken eons of time and yet seemed to exist within the span of seconds, crumbling to dust before his eyes.

He swung his gaze back up to the hovering Archangel, rapid tears slipping from golden eyes and evaporating before they made it down his cheeks. “Brothers, please.” Even now, he couldn't keep the sunrise of hope from his tone, his plea a last ditch effort against the darkness they presented in a united front before him. He was no stranger to bloodshed, born with the weight of command on his shoulders and the heft of a blade in his hand; how often had he tasted the ichor of death when he longed for sweet wine, or bathed in the blood of his fallen enemies when he ached for the clear run of water on his skin?

But those wars were long over and Samael- Star of the Morning, Dawn Bringer, the First and the Last- had not held the weight of steel in his right hand for longer than memory could touch.

“Enough!” Michael's voice thundered across the earth, sending birds to spiral frenzied across the smoke streaked sky. He lifted the gleaming blade in his hand and though he was poised midair on wings keeping him gracefully aloft, Samael still scrambled backward when the tip of the sword aimed toward his heart.

“Samael, the Morningstar. So named to be the First and the Last.” Michael's voice did not cease in the rise and fall of the seas' wrath against cliffs, finality and dread woven through every syllable. Not dread for himself, no- far be it for the mighty warrior to fear for himself. The dread was Samael's own projection into every syllable and Michael knew it. His dark eyes reflected the carnage of flame and beauty surrounding them, his shoulders squared as power flickered hot and quick through the air. But most of all his onyx gaze reflected the fearful form of his older brother left to ground beneath him.

“To darkness you have plunged this world,” Michael continued, his words a death knell as the remaining six of his brothers- his closest companions and those who he trusted beyond measure- rushed forward to he who had betrayed them. Samael's pleas fell on deaf ears as he struggled against the combined might of the six, his brothers pinning him to the unyielding ground and their hands finding his wings and limbs. He could feel it, that holy blaze of power lit from within him like an undying torch now slowly dimming as shackles were fixed to his wrists and ankles, looped together to be tethered to-

“No. No, please!” He turned his gaze upward to where his most beloved brother lingered midair, struggling in the grasp of chains and power and the hands of his brethren, forced to kneel against the soil of a world he loved beyond all reason. “Michael, I beg of you, mercy!”

His plea went unanswered as Michael lunged for him, arms outstretched as if for an embrace but now Samael knew- there was no kindness in the action, no chance for any explanation to smooth the misunderstanding away. So it was Samael clung to his brother, fingers clenched into blessed robes to keep Michael close one last time. He felt time slow to a crawl and then stop completely, sand stopping up in the eye of the needle of the hourglass and across the gulf of misunderstanding, Samael met his brother's gaze.

“Mercy has no place here, brother,” Michael whispered as cold metal snapped shut around Samael's throat and the runes of power inscribed there blazed to life. He whimpered as Michael slipped his fingers beneath the cold press of the collar and lifted Samael with him to the air.

“Michael-” He could feel the slow creep of his brother's power as it snaked through his blood from the runes inscribed in every link of blessed steel. Samael turned his tearful gaze to his brother, drinking in the smug victory in Michael's expression. Proud, that's what his brother had always been- proud and lofty in a way Samael had never fully understood- but he grasped the knowing of it now. He watched Michael and Michael watched him in turn and then Samael turned inward, cupping metaphorical hands around the dwindling source of his power left beneath the constraints of his chains.

It only took a drop.

Samael pressed close to his brother once more and Michael- he didn't see it coming. Claw tipped fingers slashed forward and gold ichor sprayed outward, his strike finding its mark perfectly as Michael's haughty expression split in two. Flesh and blood and bone and pure undiluted power split and warped as it poured outward and the last of Samael's power capped off, trapped beneath the heavenly runes.

“No mercy,” he whispered. Let all of Heaven see Michael's actions for the rest of eternity.

“It is to darkness I bind you; for all your crimes against Heaven, I cast you from this realm, Star of Heaven.”

“Michael.” Barely a whisper, Samael let the last dredges of hope color his tone as the finality of Michael's words settled over him, laid out for all to see. And see they would; he turned his gaze upward to the hosts of Heaven drifting overhead through the smoke shrouded sky, their expressions guarded and fearful. None of them would dare speak on his behalf now.

The boom that sounded through the entirety of the Garden was more noise than individual words but the meaning was clear. He felt the reverberation through his bones as Michael lifted him higher, hand around his throat, the sword equally lifted from the sliver of darkness that fissured outward on the earth below.

“May the chasm have you.”

Power exploded through the air around them in a blinding flash and his first instinct was to raise his shackled hands and shield his eyes. Blood coated his tongue, his lips, and he realized with a jolt that he was screaming. Michael's power was everywhere, lashing through flesh and bone, burning its way down to his very soul, the dimmed core of his very being, and he howled in agony.

The first tug of the golden chains sent a jolt through him, confusion and pain clashing with a cold, sickening realization. He looked over his shoulder to follow the gleaming lengths toward the widening chasm, half of the Garden dissolved and falling away in the wake of the growing blackness. Terror ran through his veins, wings and limbs tangled in the shackles of Michael's power and when he faced his brother again, the Archangel had been consumed with the brilliance of his own existence. White hot light radiated off him in pulsing waves, only his eyes continuing to glow black in the depths of his radiance. When his voice came again, it was the cascade of oceans and the clash of mountains cracking, the very threads of eternity ripping apart.

He struggled; oh did he struggle, words tripping over themselves in a last ditch effort to plead against the roaring blackness behind him as he was dragged backward, Michael's power shoving him over the edge of the chasm and he was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

He stared upward at the disappearing light, the figure of Michael clear as a beacon with golden blood pouring down his ruined face but no less smug with his victory. He didn't struggle against the firm hold of his brother's power bound around him, a splitting pain in his head as the halo he had worn proudly now split in two.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Another Saturday, we made it to the weekend! I hope you all are doing well and this week wasn't too terrible for y'all! Have a fluffy filler chapter to make it better and brighten your day, my lovelies! <3

Waking up in the hotel was a far cry from the mornings Lucifer had blinked himself into awareness, but it was nice. He didn't open his eyes right away, letting the warmth of the gentle light coming in through the windows warm his face and for a moment he considered turning over and stretching out beneath the silk sheets, staying put for the whole day.

It lasted for all of two minutes forty seconds before the phone he'd tossed on the bedside table the night before gave a muffled quack, a silly notification sound he'd added once upon a time for the giggles it brought from his darling daughter's sunshine self and just never had the motivation or desire to change. Lucifer cracked one eye open to glare at the offending object before he saw the flash of a text message across the home screen.

From Charlie.

He shot up immediately, nearly falling headfirst over the edge of the bed as he grabbed the phone. Blankets going with him and wings unfurling to beat senselessly against their fabric prisons, Lucifer swiped open the message and read it.

He read it again.

For good measure, he read it a third time and then slung off the bed coverings, lifting a foot off the bed with a triumphant laugh. “My daughter wants to have brunch with me!” Lucifer announced to the empty room in a half song, twirling midair before he landed in front of the wardrobe to rifle through the various hues of white and gold clothing.

It had been an idea he'd considered for all of a single day before sending the text the night before. Lucifer spent a few hours agonizing over the phrasing of it, finally settling on a semi-casual text of, “Hey Charlie, I'd love to take you to brunch tomorrow. Are you free?”

Considering he hadn't seen a hint of her in the hours that followed, Lucifer had passed most of the night in agony waiting for that singular chirp of his phone, finally passing out around four a.m. What a wonder it was to wake up to a singular text from his beloved daughter with a very simple, “Yes! :)”

Another message popped up in a bubble on the screen and Lucifer let his gaze scan that one a few times as well, a determined smile on his face. He clicked open the calendar function to add a meeting reminder- three days from now, he could manage to wait that long- before setting the device aside.

The whirlwind of getting ready took longer than Lucifer really had time for and the idea of sifting through an appropriate brunch ensemble made him more nauseous than he would have liked. Moving over to the full length mirror on the door of the wardrobe, he snapped his fingers to swap pajamas for his usual attire, nodding to his reflection as he turned to go.

Adjusting his hat, Lucifer stepped out of the door and nearly jumped back as a flurry of movement dashed in front of him. Niffty giggled to herself, the gleam of a dagger in hand as she chased after a decent sized cockroach, but she stopped short to turn back. The way her eyes lit up probably should have been concerning but Lucifer didn't have time to even think about that before the tiny woman was scampering back toward him.

“Hello, Ultimate Bad Boy, sir,” Niffty grinned up at him, small hands flexing like she was only just stopping herself from reaching for him.

Lucifer crouched in front of her and the small woman bounced from one foot to the other. “Hey Niffty. Keeping the bugs out of the hotel?”

“They're trying to evade me, but I'll get them all,” she giggled to herself, slender fingers flexing open and closed around the dagger in her grasp. Lucifer considered plucking it from her, like taking a toy from a toddler, but decided against it. She was just as likely to find another one and turn it on him the next time, Charlie's instructions to “stab an angel” likely still holding true to the small woman's mind.

“Hey, can you do something for me?” He waited until she was looking at him again, her grin wide. Lucifer smiled gently and her expression brightened further. “Try to stay near Alastor, okay? Or someone else in the hotel. Can you do that for me?”

“Anything for you, Mr. Bad Boy,” she cooed, giggling again.

“Harassing the staff already, I see!” Alastor's voice echoed through the hallway seconds before the demon materialized just a few steps away. Lucifer fixed the crimson figure with a mocking glare, no real heat in it- he was meeting with Charlie, nothing could get his good mood down, not even the soul he'd bound himself too.

“Eh, just making sure Niffty here stays as safe as she can, given the circumstances.” Lucifer stepped back as the tiny woman scampered away, her excited laughter punctuated by chants for roach blood, and then he glanced up at Alastor again. “Are you stalking me, Alastor? Afraid you're not going to get your bargain's worth?”

“Heavens, no!” The demon laughed too loudly, flicking his hand toward Lucifer in dismissal. “I'm merely seeing to my duties as host; this is still a profitable business under Charlie's endeavors.”

Lucifer grinned. “Great! Then you'll have no trouble managing it yourself today. I happen to be taking Charlie out for brunch.”

“An attempt to make up for years of absences?” Alastor fell into step beside him as Lucifer turned to the staircase and though he shot a glare up at the taller demon, there wasn't really much heat to it. He'd meant it, there was little that could bring down his good mood with the promise of an outing with Charlie at hand.

“Hah!” Lucifer shook his head and paused at the bottom of the steps while Alastor moved past him, turning back at the last moment. The look on the Overlord's face was calculating but hesitant. “You know whatever it is, you could just ask.”

“I believe if your outing with Charlie doesn't last the full day, I may make a request for your attention this evening,” Alastor said smoothly, tucking his hands behind his back and peering down at Lucifer. His grin widened a fraction. “Consider it an addendum of sorts- would seven o' clock suffice?”

Lucifer smirked up at him. “You know if you're jealous, Bambi, you don't have to act so coy about it. Consider it a date.”

He stepped back as Alastor sputtered, rage flickering across smiling features, and Lucifer laughed as the portal he'd conjured winked out to leave the demon abandoned in the hotel lobby. Instead of the gleaming hues of the room he'd just vacated several floors below, the softer tones of the family suite (Charlie's label for the entire floor sectioned off for hotel staff) greeted him. Perfect timing too, Lucifer noted with a smile, watching Charlie and Vaggie step out of their shared bedroom hand in hand.

Charlie grinned and waved at him before turning back to the smaller woman at her side, leaning down to kiss Vaggie gently. Lucifer turned his attention to one of the paintings lining the hallway, focusing on the soft landscape he honestly didn't remember adding to this corridor. Despite his attempt to give them privacy, Charlie and Vaggie's voices still floated down the hall to him, just barely audible.

“Are you sure you'll be okay this morning? I know running things solo can be a little tricky-”

“Babe. I'll be okay, I've got this. Go have breakfast with your dad. You two need a quiet moment away from all of this madness. It'll be fine, I promise.”

Lucifer didn't bother hiding his smile as Charlie approached, her smile wide. He held out a hand for her and she closed the gap, sweeping him up into a brief but strong hug.

“Morning Dad! So,” she stepped back, running a hand over the blue skirt of her dress for the day. It was momentarily distracting; he hadn't seen her in any other color except red for ages, the ocean hue bringing out a softness in her eyes. Cheeks darkening, Charlie laughed nervously. “Where are we going? I was thinking of Clara's Cafe if you needed help choosing! I know you don't get out that often-”

“Actually,” Lucifer smiled, cutting in smoothly. He kept hold of her hand as a portal opened up behind him, the hallway flooding with a wave of blue and green light pouring in from their destination. “I already got us a reservation.”

Charlie's expression lit up and she looked over her shoulder at Vaggie. The other angel smiled encouragingly and waved her hands forward and Charlie squealed, grasping Lucifer's hand tighter as they stepped through. Her joy unfolded immediately as the portal closed, hotel swapped for an upscale restaurant in Envy, a private room he'd arranged to have set aside for personal use in years past.

“Dad, we haven't been here in years. I remember when you and Mom brought me here for my tenth birthday- oh my god, look at the plasma shark!” She leaned forward with one finger pointed toward the wall of windows separating them from Leviathan's oceans, the luminescent creature gliding sleekly through the water almost close enough to touch. If glass were permeable, that is.

He couldn't help a smile as he watched Charlie's face light up in the unexpected joy of nostalgia. Okay, so it had been a bit of a strategic move picking this restaurant over any other. It held good memories for Charlie and after all of the mishaps they'd had in the past few weeks, she deserved to have an experience that was wrapped up in the simple joy she knew well. He was trying; Satan, he was trying- but this was meant to be a fresh start for them both and after everything, Lucifer intended to earn his daughter's trust back, rather than have it blindly given. He'd been so wrong on so many different levels, but especially in how he'd allowed so much distance to build a chasm between them.

Charlie swung her joyous expression back toward him, her smile wide and her eyes bright, though it softened after a moment. “Dad... I don't think you've looked at me like that in years.”

He blinked. “Uh...like what? I wasn't grimacing, was I?” Lucifer patted a hand to his cheek and grinning when it earned him a full laugh from his daughter.

“No, like...!” Charlie swiped a hand carefully over her eyes, mascara intact. She reached for his hands. “You're looking at me like I'm special again. You used to look at me like that all the time when I was a kid, I guess... I kinda forgot how much I missed it.”

“Charlie...” Lucifer grasped her hand in one of his, reaching the other to her cheek and damn, if it didn't make his heart swell with love and pride when Charlie leaned into that touch. “You've always been the most precious thing in the world to me. Charlie, you're my everything, there's nothing in Heaven or Hell or the worlds in between that I wouldn't do for you.”

Her smile was tearful but they were saved any awkwardness by the arrival of the waiter, a slender fish type demon who seemed to be looking at both of them at the same time. Drinks placed across the table (water for himself and a mimosa for Charlie- she really was grown up now, wasn't she), caviar and toast and assorted jelly pastries and fruits on a tiered plate between them.

“So, your hotel,” Lucifer said in between bites of shaved avocado curled on a petite cracker. Charlie stared at him from across the table, her expression carefully guarded into a mask of neutrality. Lucifer set the half finished bite down to grin, his attention focused solely on her. “It's really shaping up, isn't it? I'm proud of you, kiddo. I mean, this is no easy venture, but you're doing it.”

Charlie brightened immediately, her eyes going moist while she rocked back and forth in clear delight. “It really is! I mean...hiccups aside, we really do have a lot going on. The hotel is drawing a lot of attention and we've had a few more sinners check in. Today, three of them! I'm really hoping the increase of interest will mean I can bring on a full staff by year's end.”

Lucifer paused to swallow. “Charlie, that's amazing! Are you thinking of teachers or something?”

“Yeah! Or like therapists, counselors. You know, so that everyone at the hotel has a chance to talk to someone without feeling pressured because I usually get the feeling that some people just don't want to talk to me, you know? Princess of Hell and all that.”

Charlie broke off in nervous laughter, long fingers curling into her hair in a nervous gesture Lucifer recognized well. It was something she'd done ever since her toddler days in attempts to express frustration any other way than verbally, and there were times Lucifer had to coax her chubby baby fingers away before she started pulling out chunks of her own hair.

Lucifer reached across the table again, palm open in invitation. Charlie sniffed and let go of the stranglehold on her hair before placing her hand in his.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “You are an amazing person, Charlie Morningstar. I couldn't be more proud of you for what you're doing here. Your dreams are so important to me and if you need...I don't know, whatever you need! I'll get it for you, whatever it is. For you, Charlie.”

Charlie sucked in a long breath, her eyes widening, and then she squeezed his hand tightly. “Thanks Dad, that means more to me than you know.”

“Course, sweetheart.” Lucifer paused long enough to watch Charlie tap her fingers against the tabletop before she shifted her hand to the glass of sparkling mimosa, bubbles casually popping on the surface. He leaned back slightly in the chair long enough for the waiter to drop off the brunch plates, fried bacon still sizzling and pools of butter dripping down the stacks of pancakes.

“Charlie, I want to talk to you about what happened the other day with Michael.” He flicked his gaze to the empty arched doorway but the waiter's steps had receded into silence and even without fully extending his senses, he knew they were completely alone. Charlie had paused mid bite of fluffy pancakes across the table, her eyes wide but calculating.
Ah, so she had been expecting this line of conversation or had been planning to bring it up herself.

Lucifer nodded more to himself than to his daughter, a last ditch effort to bolster his own confidence.

“I need to explain and I need you to hear it from me, kiddo. The things that are happening...” He paused to breathe, forcing his hand to stay flat against the tabletop when he wanted to close it around the cane tucked neatly away and out of sight. “Michael is...”

“Dad,” Charlie started but he lifted a hand.

“No, I need you to understand. Michael is a bit more than I think any of us were expecting, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he showed his face.”

“Okay,” Charlie said slowly, nodding once. “We've established he's interested in holding Niffty accountable for Adam's death, but she's safe under your protection, right? And that Michael hates you for reasons I can't fully fathom outside of the usual 'tossed from Heaven' nonsense...right?”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment longer than he should have, watching Charlie's expression narrow into something like suspicion. “After the battle, after the meeting with the Overlords that I didn't tell you about, I was summoned to the embassy,” he said carefully, testing each word before he spoke it. “To speak with Michael about everything happening. We haven't had communication from Heaven prior to all of this, at least no one above the Seraphim, so frankly- it surprised me. His letter, his visit, all of it.”

He paused and curled his fingers into his palm, the pain grounding him. Under Charlie's scrutiny he may as well have been an open book, flayed open beneath the stare of Heaven all over again. At least his daughter was kinder, that single truth all Lucifer could count on for this conversation to happen.

“I didn't want to risk Michael returning to Heaven with anything less than a stellar report for your Hotel, Charlie. I didn't want to see him, you have no idea how much I hated having him there, but if it meant Heaven finally takes you seriously...well, what you're doing is far more important than what I want.”

Charlie tilted her gaze down, clearly turning that information over for a precious few seconds. When she looked up at him, there was a blaze of determination in her eyes. “So you met with him again, even after he proved he was willing to hurt you...for what! Because he can!”

“Charlie-”

“No Dad!” She stood up abruptly, the dishes and glasses rattling slightly. “I want to know what is actually happening. You're telling me things I've already guessed, dressing it up like new information and I am asking you for the truth! Why can't you just give me that?”

Lucifer stood with both hands braced on the table top. “Because I'm trying to protect you! Satan-” He broke off in a laugh, raking one hand through his hair. “Everything I have ever done, Charlie, is for you. I know it's asking so much but please, I need you to trust that no matter what I say or don't say, no matter what I do- I am doing it for you!”

Her expression faltered. “Dad, please-”

“Michael is the one who tossed me from Heaven's spires,” Lucifer said quickly before she could continue, her pleading shifting back toward holy anger in the way that Charlie inherited from her mother. He forced himself to hold Charlie's gaze, not wanting to see the way the light in them would dim as he explained, but he needed to see it. Just one more scourge on his back for all of time, but he needed it.

“Charlie,” he began again, tilting his head back slightly so the unbuttoned collar of his shirt was visible but more so, the gleaming glyph carved into the tender flesh of his throat. “Listen to me when I tell you- I can't tell you everything. Believe me, I want to, but there are things I won't ever be able to say.”

She reached a hand out but drew back before her fingertips brushed over the glyph, her other hand pressed to her mouth. “What is that?”  Charlie murmured.

“...Heaven isn't a big fan of dissenters, you know that. They especially don't like dissenters who have followers, the ability to influence thousands of others in a few words. Charlie, I meant every word- I am doing everything I can for you. You're my entire world,  but I need you to trust me, kiddo.”

The horror didn't leave Charlie's expression but he watched the way she squared her shoulders and breathed out, a soldier preparing for a battle everyone else deemed unwinnable. “So that's why Michael hurt you, isn't it? It's because you stood up to him.”

“...something like that.” Lucifer gestured toward the abandoned meal between them. “Charlie, I didn't mean to drop all of this on you, really. I just wanted you to know I am on your side, always.”

She exhaled sharply and dropped back into her seat. “Okay so I kind of had a feeling there was something going on- I mean, you've always been a bit of an introvert, but I didn't think it was...this.”

Lucifer slowly eased back into his own seat, fingers fidgeting with the open collar of his shirt. “I should have told you the truth a long time ago, Charlie. You're always going to be my daughter but I guess I was still holding onto the idea that you were still my little girl.”

It still amazed him; his little girl, all sunshine and candy and the hopes and dreams of someone unafraid to dream past the reach of the stars. Somehow he'd blinked and she'd grown up, wise beyond her years and carrying a righteous faith he could  never hope to match.

“I'm always going to be your little girl, Dad. Just, taller.” Charlie pressed her lips together for a beat before she laughed, a choked sound escaping her. She waved a hand quickly. “Sorry, sorry! Sorry... So,” Charlie smoothed her hands across the tablecloth, holding his gaze. “Heaven is a bit more dastardly than I thought, huh?”

“Ah, kiddo,” Lucifer reached over to place his hand on hers. “I wish you didn't have to find this out at all, but...”

“No it's okay. I would rather know the harsh truth than believe a lie.” Charlie shook her head. “Okay, so. What can you tell me?”

In the end, there wasn't much. Lucifer gestured to the brunch spread between them and amidst the shuffling of plates and refills of mimosas and water, he skirted around the edges of things he would never be able to fully explain. And Charlie- dear, sweet, lovely Charlie; a little girl turned woman who resembled so many of the dreams Lucifer had thought laid to final rest, carrying the righteous fury that had burned so brightly in Lilith's possession once- Charlie listened.

Their conversation drifted from there to safer topics, guided subtly by Lucifer's gentle coaxing in all the right places. Talk of Heaven's cruelty led to warmer stories of antics swapped between siblings and before long Lucifer was watching his daughter gasp for breath on the other side of the table from laughing too hard.

“I'm serious! The look on Gabe's face- priceless!” He snapped his fingers, grinning. “His expression matched the fish perfectly, mouth in a big 'O'; poor guy had no idea that fishing meant anything more than guppies in a pond.”

Charlie's smile was tearful, her hand swiping at her eyes for the umpteenth time as she swiped away droplets of her laughter. “Dad...that's insane! I wish...” Her smile faltered, gaze flicking downward. “I wish I could have gotten to know them like that. Instead of all of this.”

“Hey, you and me both- If I could have a do-over, knowing a million things I know now...” Lucifer smiled at her, watching the tender, fragile hope in Charlie's eyes strengthen into something more substantial. He breathed out softly. “I'd do so many things differently.”

She reached across the table for his hand and Lucifer grasped the offered touch, physical expression of a bond renewed and trust rebuilt.

“We'll do it together, Dad. I promise, whatever Heaven throws at us, we can face it- together.”

Lucifer smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. It wasn't perfect, it never would be, but this at least was a start.

Chapter 12

Notes:

Happy Saturday!

Oh, this is supposed to be a slow burn, isn't it?

-turns up the heat-

:D

Dropping Charlie off back at the hotel was a bittersweet parting; Lucifer knew it wasn't an actual goodbye, they both lived there after all (and wasn't he thankful now for her invitation, getting to see her every morning and evening even if it was a passing hello and goodbye before the demands of the day fully set in). Even so, the conversation they'd shared at the restaurant lingered and Charlie seemed equally reluctant to part.

But duty called; Charlie immediately busying herself with hotel responsibilities and problems that had cropped up while she was away. Lucifer gave her a longer hug than was strictly necessary, his daughter folding herself into his arms and holding on just as long before Vaggie pulled her away.

In her absence, Lucifer... Well, it wasn't like he had anything demanding his attention for the rest of the day. Meeting with Alastor that evening aside, the afternoon stretched before him despairingly empty. He considered for a moment joining the small congregation of other hotel residents in the living room off the main parlor but thought better of it. While it would probably benefit them all if Lucifer at least tried to mingle with the other individuals at the hotel, he really didn't have the energy for useless small talk. It usually devolved into one of two routes anyway; the kind of people who scraped and bowed because he was king or the kind who cursed him and his nonexistent mother for their lots in life.

Neither choice was appealing so Lucifer kept to the outskirts of being social, making sure at least one or two of them saw him (he could tell Charlie he'd hung around for a bit! She would be proud) and then turned his focus to the next pressing matter on his mental to do list. Slipping away into a quiet and blessedly empty room, Lucifer opened a portal back to his palace- to one room in particular, the temperature and atmosphere just short of chilly.

The problem with humans, for all of their capabilities and the potential they carried within them for the greatest acts of good and evil, for all of their incessant need to be unstoppable and undefeated, was they were so incredibly fragile.

Case in point as Lucifer swept his gaze across the rumpled white robes of the body laid out on the table before him. He took in the shattered remnants of an Exorcist's mask set aside as delicately as the broken pieces would allow. He let his gaze linger on the calloused hands that not even Heaven could fully erase, lifetimes of labor lining those palms whose touch Lucifer used to know well. He made himself take in the purple and black bruising along ribs and chest, the gaping wounds where holy steel had found a heart.

Lastly, Lucifer made himself look at the face. He took in every detail from the determined set of the mouth to the broad forehead, a pale scar stretching across the skin there as a remnant, a souvenir of times long since slipped away. The brown eyes he knew could light up with a warmth like no other remained closed, but Lucifer knew those too.

Adam, laid out in the silence of a room tucked far enough away from the main thoroughfare of the palace, the emptiness heavy. There were no crowds, no clamoring fans of the First Man to be found down here in the depths of a realm he despised; just one Lucifer Morningstar left standing by the doorway where he'd retreated after washing away the remnants of gold blood.

Truthfully he'd been putting off coming down to this empty room since the battle, though the events of the past week had been a solid enough excuse to not pay homage to the man lying dead before him now. It had been a spur of the moment thing to whisk Adam away to the safety of his palace, Lucifer intending to keep his corpse from further mutilation by Hell's denizens. It was his own guilt that gnawed at his insides and Lucifer let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Hey buddy,” he said to the empty room, the corpse on the table. Silence ticked by. Lucifer shook his head and moved closer to Adam, boots clicking against the stone floor. Their battle was still fresh, how could it not be? Sure he hadn't seen the First Man properly since Eden; occasionally a Heavenly missive would land on his desk featuring the blocky scrawl of Adam's signature at the bottom, so their communication had been strictly paper based. Seeing him for the first time during the battle, Lucifer shrugging off the remnants of the deal that had kept him bound from the action for so long...

It definitely changed things.

“Sorry about your face, by the way,” he continued, watching the motionless features of the other occupant. Lucifer chuckled weakly. “I guess I got a bit carried away, but to be fair, you did threaten my daughter. A broken nose is a small price to pay, don't you think?”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and a chair appeared in a glimmer of gold, and he sank down into the seat. “Damn, Adam, Heaven really did a number on you, didn't they? I mean,” he laughed shakily. “It's been thousands of years. I guess... I guess Michael finally wore you down, huh?”

It had been inevitable, Lucifer knew. Of course Heaven would sink its talons more firmly into the First Man after the Fall, turning their glorious creation into a weapon against everything dwelling outside of their holy light. And Adam, angry and bitter and unknowing of the machinations of beings so far above himself, had walked into that role with both eyes wide open.

“It wasn't your fault, you know. You...” Lucifer sighed, looking forlornly at the man he'd once walked beside. “You were just doing what they wanted, and they knew how to wrap their true intentions up in the disguise of hatred that appealed to you.”

The silence crawled by, seeming to weigh heavier on his shoulders with every passing second. Lucifer didn't move his gaze away from the man on the tabletop, even with his growing discomfort of all the things left unsaid between them.

“I made the Garden for you, you know,” he admitted to the silence, gaze fixed on the blank wall. “I mean, I didn't know it was for you specifically- but I made it either way. And you loved it; you couldn't help loving it. It was your whole world.”

Lucifer turned his gaze down to the gold ring on his finger, laughing softly though it was a sad echo of mirth. “Guess in the end, I destroyed everything you cared about, huh?”
It hadn't been intentional, none of it had- Lucifer could still feel every lingering ghostly touch of every moment from the first glimmers of creation when the power had gathered together under his hand, to the very last moment when Lucifer had watched that same very creation collapse and burn because of his choices. And Adam...

He shook his head again and stood, nudging aside those thoughts. The body before him hadn't moved or reacted for a moment, the essence of the First Man lying dormant in death. Lucifer allowed himself a small smile, one last farewell to the friend he'd cast aside in the grand scheme of his pride.

“Come here, buddy,” Lucifer murmured, power sizzling between his fingers as he reached past the barriers of flesh and bone. The tattered remnants of Adam clung to his touch as he withdrew his hand, cupping the glimmering essence reverently. He could almost hear the outraged curse the First Man would have made at being manhandled like this, but it was necessary. Lucifer passed his other hand over the carefully held soul, wrapping it up in a gossamer scrap of his own power before tucking it into his pocket.

The body on the table faded in degrees until only the faintest outline remained and then Lucifer turned to the doorway, glancing at his phone and the checklist on the screen. Taking care of Adam: done. Mostly. A problem for another day, though; there was still the issue of getting his soul essence back where it belonged. Lucifer paused long enough to glance at the time on his phone- ten minutes to seven- and smiled to himself. Tucking the phone back in his pocket, far enough from the soul remnant (those kinds of energies never reacted well to each other) Lucifer opened a portal back to the hotel.

Alastor's door was closed as per usual but somehow Lucifer could feel the openness seeping through the wood barriers. An invitation of sorts, the kind of thing conveyed usually with a porch light flicked on, a wreath hung on a door. The kind of thing that said, “Oh it's you! You've arrived! Please come in!” Not exactly that, but it was the gist of the thing. Lucifer let his gaze linger on the door a moment longer, invitation settling at the back of his throat like spun sugar, and then knocked anyway.

Alastor's steps echoed a half second ahead of him and Lucifer was already tilting his gaze up to meet the taller man's gaze before the door fully opened, grinning demon waiting on the other side.

“Well if it isn't our illustrious king! Gracing me with his presence-” Alastor paused long enough to check the pocket watch kept so carefully tucked in his vest pocket, gold chain dangling in a curve that was the height of fashion maybe a hundred years ago, “-and early, I should say! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lucifer smirked. “Other than you invited me? Not much- and I'm not early, it's basically seven.”

“The King of Hell craving my attention? I'm flattered.”

“Hey, you're the one who wanted to hang out. I'm just making myself obnoxiously available.” Lucifer slipped around the demon into the red classy hue of Alastor's parlor.
Alastor paused in the action of closing the door, claws tapping against the doorknob as he stared down at Lucifer. Maybe it should have been threatening- Alastor was taller, meaner, and he had literal shadows at his disposal. This was some kind of territorial threat display Lucifer had seen play out a million times, except it was just for show- he knew that. The fragile trust between them was still breakable, he wasn't an idiot, but it existed anyway. So he grinned and rocked forward on his toes.

Alastor was quiet a moment longer and then he tilted his head at a harsh angle, grin wide. “Available? I think the term you're looking for is desperate, your Majesty.”

“Potato, tomato.” Lucifer swept his gaze around the decor, unchanged since the last time he'd set foot in the Radio Demon's more private domain- had that really only been a few days ago? His grasp on time was tenuous at best, but even so, it felt longer than had actually passed. He turned back to face Alastor, watching the demon shrug out of his red overcoat to...more red attire beneath. Alastor didn't seem to notice or, if he did, was completely unbothered by the relaxed scrutiny from the Devil, turning to hang the garment on an elegant coat stand by the door. Long taloned fingers casually rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up, revealing gradient lightly furred skin, and Lucifer took that as his cue to look away. He wasn't...ogling Alastor, not exactly. It was just a far cry from their previous interactions, so the tentative peace between them was a nice change since their recently established agreement.

“So,” he said at last as Alastor faced him again, monocle equally set aside. In the comfort of his rooms, the Overlord seemed more at ease, even with present company. Lucifer flashed him a quick smile, at the least hoping to appear less anxious than he felt. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Do you like venison, Sire?”

“Uh...isn't that a bit like cannibalism to you?” He watched Alastor's grin widen, a feral look lighting up the taller demon's eyes. Lucifer faltered. “...okay, point taken. Venison it is.”

“Splendid.”

The demon spun away toward a sideboard Lucifer hadn't noticed before, the surface hosting an array of covered dishes. Lucifer moved to the square table with two chairs opposite each other, a new addition if he was recalling the room correctly from his last visit. The armchairs by the fireplace had been shifted back across the area rug to make room for the dining arrangement and he noted there were already two place settings arranged neatly. Alastor seemed to have been busier than Lucifer had thought, if he had time to set all this up.

He ran a finger along the pristine white tablecloth, taking note of the pair of candles set in the center of the table and already lit, tiny flames dancing in sync with each other.

“For you.”

He jumped slightly at the offered crystalline glass held in red tipped claws, Alastor having moved to stand next to Lucifer with the ease and silence of a shadow. Lucifer pressed a hand to his chest, exhaling softly, before taking the drink. “Oh, thanks. Whiskey?”

“Only the finest this side of the city.”

Lucifer swirled it with a casual flick of his wrist, noting how Alastor's gaze was fixed on him with an intensity he wasn't sure how to interpret, and then brought the rim of the glass to his lips. The taste was smooth, notes of hickory smoke and cherry touching against his taste buds. Lucifer couldn't help letting his eyes drift shut as he hummed a note of appreciation.

“This is excellent, Alastor. Thank you.”

“Of course,” the demon murmured  in reply, turning away sharply back to the sideboard. Lucifer watched him uncover a pair of the dishes, two steaming plates of artfully arranged venison and potatoes. Alastor turned to set them both on the table at each setting along with side plates of salad, one pair of dishes left covered on the sideboard. Alastor turned to face him, hands resting on the back of one of the chairs as he pulled it out.

“Sire.”

Lucifer studied the demon, a thought tickling the back of his mind. He didn't move to the offered chair, gaze sweeping across the softened expression on Alastor's face even despite the harsh set of his typical smile. He looked equal parts relaxed and anxious and against the setting placed between them, the thought nudged its way to the forefront of his thoughts with a clarity that Lucifer wasn't sure what to do with.

“Alastor,” he began, meeting the demon's gaze. “Is this...did you...”

“Did I what?” Alastor tightened his grasp on the offered chair, expression tightening.

Lucifer shook his head, unable to hide a small smile. “You arranged this as a date, didn't you? Alastor, I thought you weren't into that kind of thing. Don't tell me you thought-”

He stopped short, watching the demon's ears flick back in clear agitation, emotion expressed so quickly in the telltale movements.

Alastor clenched his jaw, unblinking. “I am trying to be a decent host,” he ground out. “Unless the idea of sharing a dinner is somehow averse to your delicate sensibilities?”

Lucifer frowned. “That's not what I meant, geez. I just meant-”

Alastor sighed sharply, more of a hiss than a breath, and moved away from the chair to the opposite side of the table. “Just sit down.”

His gaze cut away and for a moment Lucifer thought he imagined the flat hue of disappointment taking hold in crimson eyes, but then Alastor was pulling out his own chair and taking a seat. He looked pointedly at Lucifer until he sat as well.

“Alright, so what's on your mind?”

Alastor paused, knife and fork poised over the tender cut of meat on his plate, his expression flatly annoyed. “Would it kill you to just enjoy a meal? There is an art to wining and dining, you know.”

“So this is a date.” Lucifer leaned forward, hands folded under his chin. “Alastor-”

The cutlery clattered to the tabletop as Alastor stood abruptly, both hands braced flat on the table as he leaned forward with grin widened in unmistakable frustration. “You have made your point very clear, thank you. Now will you kindly shut up and enjoy the meal, and then we can talk?”

He sighed sharply and rubbed a hand over his forehead, eyes pinched shut. “Please, just...let the matter drop. I dislike being made a mockery of, especially by you.”

Lucifer stared at him as Alastor turned away, steps carrying the demon to the pair of armchairs and then past them to the fireplace mantel. With clawed hands braced against the dark wood and back turned, Alastor may as well have been a statue for all that he didn't move. Shoulders hunched and the whitening of his knuckles under gray fur, head tipped forward to hide his expression against the crook of his arm, and Lucifer...

Well, fuck.

There were moments Lucifer could say he'd passed through while missing the very obvious point, subtle or blatant events passing him by in ignorance. This was decidedly not one of those moments. In theory he probably should have seen it coming- Alastor could be a dense bastard when he wanted to be and while Lucifer wanted to cling to the nature of his own sarcastic ignorance, in this instance at least it was his mistake. The idea of Alastor, the great and untouchable Radio Demon, having misconstrued the arrangement, though…

He pushed that thought away quickly, standing from the table to cross to the armchairs. Pausing there, Lucifer waited while Alastor flicked an ear in his direction, the lines of his shoulders drawing taut in increased agitation. Lucifer sighed.

“Hey, I'm sorry. That was unfair to you,” he started, running a hand over his hair. “I shouldn't have-”

“You could start by not making a joke of everything,” Alastor muttered, not turning from where he faced the brick.

Lucifer nodded. “Yeah, I could. I can do better.” He paused, watching the twitching movements of the demon's ears as Alastor's shoulders relaxed, his grip loosening on the mantle. He waited until Alastor glanced over his shoulder at him and tried not to imagine he saw a hint of acceptance in the crimson gaze. Lucifer smiled hopefully regardless, holding his hand out. “Truce?”

“I suppose.” Alastor grasped his offered hand, facing him at last. His grip tightened and smile widened and for one terrifying second, Lucifer wondered if the demon was about to drag him forward and sink those pointed teeth into his neck- wouldn't be the first time and Lucifer had a feeling it wouldn't be the last- but then Alastor let go and moved back to the table with it's abandoned meal.

“Let's just agree to put this behind us,” he said tersely and Lucifer nodded, taking his own seat again. Tension aside, it wasn't a bad way to spend an evening- good food, even better whiskey, the subtlest jazz melody filtering out of the old fashioned radio on the mantel.

And the company of someone who's position in his life Lucifer wasn't entirely sure how to classify. Alastor as an inconvenience was one thing; an enigma, a puzzle to be solved certainly. The deal binding them now only complicated things, but looking at the demon as he lounged in the armchairs they had moved to after dinner, Lucifer wondered if he could count Alastor as a friend, if nothing else.

With the taste of smooth whiskey on his tongue, Lucifer considered it. The Radio Demon, the man responsible for spreading so much fear and destruction and bloodshed through Pentagram City for nearly a century, and Lucifer began to wonder if he had misjudged Alastor this entire time. There was no denying that Alastor was worthy of Hell- Lucifer wasn't so naive to believe otherwise- but it was nice to think he could be counted as a reliable ally if not a friend.

Or more.

That had a weird feeling doing flips in Lucifer's stomach and he forced his gaze away from the demon seated across from him, tipping his glass back to swallow the rest of the whiskey. Alastor seemed perfectly content in the moment, leaned back with eyes closed, foot tapping along with the melody and the whiskey glass held idly in one hand draped over the arm of the chair. There was some part of Lucifer that screamed he should have seen it coming; there had been moments. Tiny inconsequential moments where Alastor had seemed almost human, some hints of a kinder soul peeking out from behind the killer's mask he so often wore- a glimmer of who he could have been before the cruelty of the mortal world and the mockery of Hell had twisted Alastor into the demon he was.

“You're staring,” said demon hummed, eyes remaining closed as he lifted the glass of whiskey.

Lucifer averted his gaze almost immediately, a gut punch reaction better suited to an evening spent in much different company, and tightened his grasp on the empty glass in hand. “Just thinking, I suppose. You said you wanted to talk, Alastor. So what's up?”

The other man sighed, ears flicking. “I suppose I did, though it wouldn't kill you to just enjoy the moment, would it? Relax, Majesty; have another drink and listen to the music.”

Alastor stood long enough to retrieve the bottle of whiskey- newly opened, Lucifer noticed, though he didn't recognize the label in between Alastor's clawed fingers. The demon plucked the empty glass from Lucifer's hand to fill it halfway, holding it back out to him. They stared at each other like that for a long moment, Alastor gazing down with hooded eyes, his smile relaxed, and Lucifer tilting his head up to meet the demon's gaze. He noticed with a jolt that Alastor's gaze flicked downward for a split second, so quickly Lucifer thought he imagined it, but then the demon was turning back to settle into the other armchair again.

He turned his attention to the music instead of...whatever that had been, focusing on the rapid teasing of piano keys nearly overshadowed by the radio static. Lucifer tapped a finger against the glass and noticed Alastor shift his attention away from the old fashioned radio, gaze sharpening.

“I didn't think his Majesty was musically inclined,” Alastor said, nodding toward Lucifer's hand.

Lucifer stilled his finger, mentally tapping out the beat threaded through the piece. “I dabble now and then. What?” He laughed slightly at Alastor's quizzical expression, shaking his head. “I do play the violin, you know.”

He paused, tilting his head toward the radio. “I don't recognize the style of this piece. You're from the twenties, right? This is-”

“I wrote it.”

Lucifer swiveled his gaze to the demon seated nonchalantly across from him. “...you wrote this?”

“I dabble.” Alastor's mouth twitched, eyes showing the smug joy his smile would never be able to fully showcase. He shrugged. “Call it showing off, if you will, but I had a feeling the piece would appeal to you.”

“It's good.” He shifted forward in the armchair, ignoring Alastor's pointed look in favor of focusing on the melody looping back around through the radio. “No, I mean it- it's really good. The timing isn't one I'd have thought to use, it's unique.”

“Your liberal praise is delightful,” Alastor hummed, leaning over to pour an extra finger of whiskey into Lucifer's glass. He nodded his thanks and lifted the glass to sip at the refreshed contents, swallowing down the sour taste. He-

Lucifer frowned and glanced at the contents of the glass as the pain spread like wildfire through his blood, the drink darker than it had been before. He dragged his gaze to Alastor who had shifted forward in his seat, glass set aside and arms braced on his knees. Expectant. Waiting.

“Alastor...” His voice spun out like the drag of a cigarette, cotton shoved in between the gaps of his thoughts. Lucifer made to lean forward, to stand, do anything- but the room spun and he winced and slumped back. The glass in his hand was suddenly too heavy, sleek surface slipping between his fingers in threat of falling.

Alastor moved too quickly for him to register, Lucifer watching through clouded eyes as the demon stood and plucked the glass from his weakening grasp and setting it aside out of view. Nudging him back into the chair's embrace, Alastor's touch seemed too hot and too cold all at the same time, something familiar about the sensation but Lucifer couldn't grasp the thought fully before it was slipping away from him like smoke.

“I'm sorry,” Alastor murmured as the room tilted and darkened, his voice deepening into a bass drawl like dying stereo. “Sleep, my dear king, and dream.”

As his eyes closed, Lucifer thought he saw a shadow peek over Alastor's shoulder, spindly claws digging into the demon's flesh, a murderous grin in place. And Alastor-

His expression was pained, fogged over by whatever drug coursed through Lucifer; ears pinned back and his smile stretched painfully wide with eyes wide and horrified.

“Please don't hurt him,” he thought he heard Alastor murmur as Lucifer slipped under the surface.

Notes:

My dearest and sincerest apologies, lovely readers. To make up for this cliffhanger, may I offer you cuddly blankets to burrow into to chase away the horrors?

-hands out fuzzy blankets-

I'LL MAKE IT BETTER I SWEAR

Chapter 13

Notes:

Goooooooood morning my loves! Happy Saturday! Here we are again for another installment of...whatever the fuck is happening in this fic XD You guys are seriously so amazing, I adore every single one of you! Especially after that cliffhanger last week... so check out the end of chapter notes for a bonus treat! <3

Now, on to the chapter!

Lucifer opened his eyes and stared into pitch darkness.

The battlefield stretched on for eternity, twisted in shadow and lit by the carnage of holy flame. It was a familiar sight to the Morningstar; the absence of light found here while the echoes of time had not yet reached this place far beyond the sphere of his Father's influence. Both of those wouldn't exist for thousands of years to come, time and light, though as it stood he wasn't sure how he knew that. He had not been created for knowing, Lucifer realized with a jolt as he surveyed the destruction of eternity around him, eons of unfathomable space shuddering and ripping apart with screams of violence. No, he had been made for something far greater.

His gaze tilted downward to the strewn chaos of a battle not yet over and he realized with a jolt that his feet were not touching the ground, nothing solid beneath him, simply the cold yawning void. His wings arced gracefully back and forth to keep him aloft, each one's movement acting as a single note in the rhythm of flight he knew as intimately and easily as breathing. Beyond that, his muscles ached- a kind of pain he could put pleasure in from the burn of continued action, a fatigue that spoke to a job well done even if it remained unfinished.

“Samael!”

A voice he recognized through the haze of distant memory called out to him and after a moment he placed it, the tone shrouded in the displacement of youth and naivety and hope long since discarded. Lucifer tilted his gaze to the left to pick out the pair of figures rapidly approaching his position. The gleaming figure on the right was a beacon in the darkness, blade wreathed in flame held in holy right hand. Michael was beautiful and terrifying against the onslaught of the dark, an archangel built for the most solemn of all purposes.

To his left, the second figure was a paler echo of Lucifer's own glory, her brilliance like a diamond set star against the endless void though she would never shine as bright as the Morningstar himself. Her six wings were imbued with silver and lilac, cascades of white flowing down from the endless array of sight bestowed upon her when she had been made.

“Michael,” he answered back as he focused on his brother in favor of the lesser angel, lips moving in rote of a thought he'd once had an eternity ago and before his mind could catch up, he knew the next words uttered. “The battle tips in our favor, but we need to hurry.”

He glanced down for a moment at his own hands stained dark in bloody shadow, focusing on the weapon held in his own experienced grasp; sword forged from the brilliance of the hottest stars, honed to perfection by his will and strength alone as he tested it endlessly upon the fiends he had been set upon.

Lucifer shook his head and with a nod to his companions- brother and lesser alike- they forged ahead as one. Their wings beat in tandem, three sets of six each pushing them forward through the darkness faster than Lucifer could recall flying in longer than memory could reach. They were twin comets, he and Michael, as they cut through the void with their charge half a wing beat behind them. He caught a glimpse of his brother's feral edged grin, Michael's determination to see the battle to its bloody end clear even in the blur of their flight.

The beast rose before them like a tidal wave but they'd had her on the run for a millennia. Michael jerked to a stop just short of her snapping teeth, drips of pure shadow falling into the void below, and turned his focus to Lucifer. He lifted the sword, flames snapping but never consuming his grasp, and Lucifer touched the end of his own sword to his brother's. Gleaming starlight met holy flame and the beast howled, darkness split in two as the gates creaked forward, closing at last.

“Seal it!” Michael's shout echoed through the eons and Lucifer surged forward, racing his own brilliance to press both hands to the gates. The beast thrashed in the grasp of the chains forged at his brother's hand, flame turned to solid gold and infused with every ounce of Michael's holy power. But even Michael was no match for her, sweat and blood pouring down his face as he screamed, chains snapping with every lunge and shake of the beast toward them.

Lucifer ground his teeth and shoved, the doors finally slamming closed in the face of the beast's howl of rage. His power raced up and down the seam between and around the border of the double doors, ignited by the press of his hand against the barrier. It was his right and duty and glory to close and seal it, the power of Heaven undiluted at his fingertips. Above the skies rumbled and then gentle light cascaded down to bathe him in the glow of his Father's approval, words crowning him in syllables of praise. Lucifer could still feel the echoing warmth of it, how it had felt to stand within the pinnacle of divine love, but he made himself turn his head to regard his brother and other companion left standing outside of the reach of praise.

He hated the naked jealousy etched on Michael's face.

Lucifer reached for his brother, bridging the gap between divine light and damned shadow, but Michael stepped back and back until the darkness swallowed him entirely, his back turned against the victory they had won together. It didn't matter- Lucifer gave chase. He would always pursue Michael, how was he not meant to? They were two halves made whole; how could they ever hope to stand without the presence of the other warm and familiar at their backs?

When he reached Michael at last, his thoughts twisted in further confusion. Lucifer passed his gaze around the domed room of distant memory, taking in the slender pillars holding up constellations set against an alabaster sky. Torchlight flickered from bronzed sconces, a style he had adopted in the last century from some half whorled, golden lit dream now forgotten. None of that mattered now as Lucifer cast his gaze around at the pure brilliance of his brethren standing at intervals between the pillars, filling the shadowed space he preferred.

Michael moved forward into the singular patch of moonlight streaming gently in from the open ceiling, another luxury he had manufactured here from a different dream on a different star-kissed night. The silver light turned the archangel to pure ethereal beauty, pale eyes gilded silver and skin so luminous, the moon seemed to dim herself in shame in his presence.

Lucifer swallowed, throat dry. “This is a dream.”

Michael turned toward him, his smile half fading with a puzzled look. He straightened and brushed his hands against the robes stained with the marks of a thousand shadowed corpses, droplets of pure flame sizzling as they fell from his hands to strike seared flesh, their brother's throat torn and ragged from hours of screaming against unyielding cruelty. Michael's broad shoulders flexed as he flicked remaining grime from his holy blade drawn from where he'd kept it tucked away. His expression turned serious after a moment of thought.

“Of course it's a dream, Samael. You are dying, after all.”

Lucifer barely blinked but Michael was upon him, lunging across the space so quickly, he was no more than a fiery blur. His hands closed around Lucifer's shoulders, grip so painfully tight he wanted to scream. The sword flared to an inferno in Michael's grasp and he plunged it into Lucifer's chest.

He was falling, the cosmos screaming by in a blur around him. Lucifer pressed his hands to his chest, the gaping wound rippling and expanding under the press of his fingers. Above him the void stretched out for an eternity uninterrupted, Michael hovering just out of reach. His face split in two halves, gold blood streaming down to drown the pure white cut of his robes. Michael lifted his arm to point the flaming sword at Lucifer, lips moving in words he couldn't hear above the inferno. He reached upward and Lucifer was-

It was falling.

It was screaming under holy flame pressed to his eyes, please for mercy unheard.

It was a bite of fruit rotting on his tongue, offered so innocently by unblemished hand.

It was a soul writhing in the dark, ripped apart and put back together against the backdrop of static screams.

His back hit the ground in an explosion of sulfur and coal dust, the shredded dreams of millions crunching under every minuscule twitch and flex of his shattered wings. He pushed up on one arm and cast his gaze around the shadow drenched landscape, remnants of a garden smoldering around him. He froze when he saw the slumped body only a few feet from where he'd landed. With a choked cry, Lucifer crawled toward the body of the woman, turning her over with grief-reverent touch. He took in the blood staining her gold spun hair into blackened shadow, the blue tinge of her lips, the shattered and caved in nature of her chest.

“No, no, no,” Lucifer murmured, voice pitching upward in panic. He fought past the flood of grief and rage, dragging pointed claws against his arm to pitch a fountain of gold to spill across her prone form.

“It is to darkness we bind you-”

The voices echoed around him, thousands of eyes staring white hot and unblinking down at him.

“Your time has come-”

Darkness rose unbidden, swallowing stars and galaxies, unending in its path of hate and destruction. Each of his brethren winked out of existence as the shadows advanced, ground won through blood and sweat and tears lost again to the depths of an unimaginable foe.

“I want her dead.”

Cradling the shattered body of his love close, Lucifer tipped his head back to the sky and the brother who watched unfeeling from his place above, and screamed.

The air around him erupted into unshackled brilliance and Lucifer opened his eyes as the beast looming over him shrieked obscenities, withdrawing.

He tasted ash and copper and coal dust, blinking awake slowly. The room was darker than it had been before, light fixtures on the wall darkened in disuse and the fireplace cold and empty. Lucifer groaned and lifted a hand to his face, an eternity passing between blinks with the movement. He was cold, he wanted to vomit, every cell in his body screaming at the sluggish state he'd been forced into.

Lucifer cast his gaze around, vision snagging on the gleam of the empty whiskey bottle abandoned on the mantel with another smaller, unmarked glass vial sitting next to it. Even from here Lucifer could feel the magnetic pull of the inky droplets clinging to the sides of the bottle and he shrank back into the chair, as if distance alone could keep him safe from it.

And then he saw Alastor.

The demon didn't move from where he stood by the window, hands behind his back and seemingly more shadows clinging to him than usual. Lucifer took note of the jagged reach of his antlers extended, joints gnarled and extended past what was usual for the Radio Demon.

“I think it's time you were leaving,” Alastor said and his voice carried through the room like an echo on wind Lucifer couldn't feel, though it still sent shivers coursing through him.

Lucifer forced himself to stand, a hand reaching out toward the too-still figure of the demon framed by the unobstructed window view of the city beyond. “Did you...drug me? Alastor...what the hell was that?”

Alastor whirled on him, teeth snapping at Lucifer's extended fingers, his eyes bleeding black while his antlers and limbs extended even further, the demon bending in half to fit his towering frame into the rapidly shrinking room. And through it all, Lucifer's gaze remained fixed on the ink-dripping collar and chain around Alastor's neck, the end of it trailing off into shadowed nothing.

“Alastor.”

The demon blinked, a spark of red filtering back through the depths of his blackened gaze for a split second, and he faltered. It wasn't guilt or remorse Lucifer saw in his eyes, though it was gone too quickly to properly interpret. Alastor retreated, shrinking back down slightly as he turned away, spindly fingers lifting to cover his face and neck from view.

“Just go, please.”

The broken plea filtered through the empty room, circling around Lucifer like a predator in tall grass waiting for the right moment to dart forward and strike. He sucked in a breath and stepped backward, keeping his gaze on the hunched figure of a man he wasn't sure he understood. When another moment had passed and neither angel nor demon had moved, Alastor's expression twisted into a snarl.

“I said, get out!” His words dissolved into a static scream as the room erupted into pitch darkness flooding outward from the singular source that was the Radio Demon. His voice turned into a multitude, a cacophony of screams layered one over the other until Lucifer pressed both hands to his ears and his eyes squeezed shut.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was empty and bathed in the calm shadows of the late evening hour. No sign that demon or dinner had even occurred- even the poisoned vial from the mantel was gone as if it had never existed and the entire ordeal was a hazy bad dream.

Lucifer turned in a slow circle to take in the empty hue of the room, red wallpaper and dark wood accents. The perfect scene for a Radio Demon clinging to the vestiges of his mortal life, and yet…

“This isn't over,” Lucifer murmured, watching the portal he conjured wink out of existence with Alastor's rooms left far on the other side. Lucifer turned to the view of the hellscape, his own rooms an empty shell compared to the warmth of the space he'd shared with Alastor only a few hours before. He shivered despite himself and turned his gaze back toward the direction of Alastor's rooms.

Whatever that had been... Lucifer needed answers, quickly. And he knew exactly where to find them. Sighing to himself, he tapped out a quick text to Charlie letting her know he would be absent for the day and then Lucifer opened another portal straight to the Heavenly Embassy. 

Notes:

YOU MADE IT TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER *throws confetti* Less of a cliffhanger than last week, but to make up for it, here's an official The Devil's in the Details playlist just for y'all!

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCdXFJg1ZbraHaZvTRTB3MeW7pu8fRtSV&si=Gf_3KLK9wHowbz9z

Hope you all enjoy! See you next week! <3

Chapter 14

Notes:

Here we are again, my loves! Happy Saturday <3 <3 <3 I hope you all enjoy this chapter cause things are about to get even crazier XD

Having spent most of his life expecting the inevitable dropping of the other shoe, Lucifer was no stranger to the apprehension of waiting. It had become something of second nature to let his mind drift just far enough where the usual pattern of his thoughts could unspool on the currents of inattentiveness, but not quite so far that he couldn't shake himself back to reality at a moment's notice. It gave him time to abstractly regard the events of the past few hours without the unnecessary jabbing of his own anxieties, whispers of how he should have seen the attack coming circling like hungry sharks around a bleeding man in the water.

Lucifer drummed his fingers against the white marble table of the conference room, the largest the embassy had to offer. So it was an eyesore but it suited his purposes perfectly, space and seclusion to think. How hadn't he seen it coming? The attack had been orchestrated perfectly, Lucifer could admit that- though he cursed himself for being so blind to it at all. Alastor had preyed on his one weakness, the timid shivering thing Lucifer hadn't meant to expose to the demon's sight but had done so all the same. Of course Alastor would snatch it up, a morsel to be chewed and savored and then swallowed down, consequences be damned.

Lucifer grit his teeth and clenched his hand, muttering a curse to echo around the empty chamber he'd taken refuge in. Of all the people he could have opened himself up to, why did he have to pick that demon? It had been stupid, thoughtless, a thousand other damned descriptors filling his mind to crowded to describe how royally he had fucked up in ever viewing Alastor as someone worthy of trust or sincerity.

On the other end of his thoughts, there was the endless chant of prayer.

It wasn't something Lucifer had ever considered himself to be good at; but desperate times and all that. Less about the words, those were a dime a dozen- no, Lucifer poured every last ounce and scrap of intense need into the whole act. Words were just trappings; at the end of the day, it was desperate belief and devotion that would get his prayer heard.

He hoped, anyway.

“Please, Gabriel,” he murmured into the empty hall and waited as the heavy silence settled back into place. His fingers drummed on the tabletop but he startled a moment later when the quiet shuddered. A chime sounded through the empty halls, translucent and pearlescent and on instinct Lucifer straightened, running a hand over his hair and then adjusting his jacket. At the head of the table the crystal dome shivered and then gleamed to life, an image filtering down from above and Lucifer was at last staring at the waterfall mirage of his wife.

Lilith was...breathtaking wasn't quite the right word. She'd always been beautiful, even back in the days when the scope of mortal aesthetics still puzzled him. Lilith was the cresting of a tsunami, the first gut punch in a boxing match. She was blinding, scorching heat and the coldest kiss of winter all wrapped up in one silk draped body. She was everything Lucifer had ever wanted in the entirety of his ageless life and everything he would never be able to reach for again.

“Hello, Lucifer,” and Satan, her voice had him weak in the knees, subdued as it was through the unstable connection of the sorceries making it possible to even see her. Lucifer let his gaze linger on her a second longer, aware that he was staring despite her greeting, and Lilith smiled back at him while she waited.

He cleared his throat. “Lilith. Thanks for picking up. I...it's good to see you. How are you?”

“Well enough, all things considered. I'm surprised to hear from you, truthfully.” She paused, violet eyes sweeping over him and pausing a second longer on the gold band still on his finger. He hated the way her expression shifted; not quite grief, not quite knowing pity- but it cut to his heart anyway.

“I needed to talk to you about some things. Is...” Lucifer paused and curled his hand- ring included- out of sight beneath the table. “Is Gabriel around?”

“You know he is,” Lilith murmured, her gaze still on the empty spot of the table where his hand had rested. She flicked her gaze up to meet his at last. “What's this about, Lucifer?”

He breathed in to steady himself, a thousand things he wanted to say at the tip of his tongue. But this wasn't the time and the state of their marriage- the dissolved union in pieces around them- wasn't the place. Lucifer held Lilith's gaze as he spoke the next words, knowing each one would be the strike of a sword to cut through everything they knew and held dear.

“I need to know if you have any insight into the Courts of Heaven, Lils.”

Her sharp intake of breath was answer enough; they hadn't been separated for so long that Lucifer had forgotten how to read each of Lilith's expressions and discern the meaning behind every one of them. From the thin press of her lips to the way she glanced to the side, a hint of apprehension in her gaze directed toward someone outside of the realm of what he could see- Lucifer knew them all.

His wife was afraid.

Lilith turned back to face him with relief blooming in her violet eyes, her voice lowered. “I don't know much; I'm kept far enough from the inner workings to be of use.”

“Just tell me what you can. What is Michael doing? How many are siding with him?” Lucifer held back the questions he really wanted to ask; better to wait until Lilith wasn't as spooked, until he was certain they were in no danger of being overheard or discovered in contact with one another.

“Michael hasn't been seen within the courts in at least a month, if not longer. There's talk of dissent, the paranoia that our daughter has sparked is spreading out of control.” Lilith pressed her lips together, eyes briefly closing. “I am afraid for what this all means, Lucifer.”

“Wait, so you're saying he came down here without the approval of the others?” Lucifer scoffed and leaned back in the chair, his gaze drifting to the empty wall behind Lilith's shoulder. “Unsanctioned; Mikey, what the hell are you doing?”

“He was in Hell?” There was no disguising the shock in Lilith's voice, her expression shifting into the righteous indignation she wore as proudly as her crown. Her fists clenched, voice shaking and even from that distance, Lucifer imagined he could feel the swell and rise of her fury stoked. “Did he-”

“He didn't touch Charlie, don't worry. I'm surprised he didn't just decree the whole thing, but it's better for his self image to keep it quiet, given the ass whooping we gave him.”
When Lilith lifted one perfectly arched brow in his direction, Lucifer shook his head. “Michael wanted retribution for Adam. I don't think he was expecting the push back he got, so to speak.”

“Lucifer...”

“I know, I know. I'm trying to get a handle on it down here but damn- Michael isn't showing his face up there even after he came down here unprompted? And unsanctioned, I might add.”

Lilith scoffed a laugh, shaking her head. “It's impossible to get an audience with him; he rarely even accepts missives from his brethren. Things in Heaven aren't as clear cut as I think Charlie would like to believe.”

Lucifer couldn't help a smile. “You know our Charlie, she's never taken the easy way out.”

“Decidedly not; we raised her better.” Lilith paused for a heartbeat, her gaze going distant and fond the way it always did when her thoughts turned to Charlie. He knew it killed her to be separated like this; to be so cut off that not even a whisper could pass through the barrier between Heaven and Hell, but they both clung to the flickering hope that one day when the dust settled, Charlie would understand.

“You should at least offer her congratulations about her latest venture succeeding,” Lilith continued, and Lucifer straightened in his seat with excitement buzzing under his skin.
“Wait, it worked?” Lucifer straightened again, excitement buzzing under his skin. “Charlie's plan worked? You're sure?”

“I've seen the soul myself, a bumbling but charming serpent fellow. It was only for a moment; I believe Sera and the other High Seraphim are keeping this quiet to avoid more dissent. We have enough as it is.”

“Holy shit...”

“Lucifer, you need to be careful. I'm afraid for what this all means.”

He nodded, tapping his fingers against the table. Of course it would be kept quiet; it threw all of the Courts' carefully laid plans to perfect ruin. They would be scrambling to save face, to crush every bit of opposition that dared peek over the edge of Hell's precipice. But it had worked! All of Charlie's hopes and dreams, all her tears and wishes coming together for this one beautiful moment because it had worked.

His thoughts turned again to the threat of consequences already laid out before him and all of Hell, other questions circling back to the forefront of his thoughts. “Lilith. Have you found anything to help...?”

“No.” She turned her gaze away back in the direction of their unseen observer, expression tightening. “We've scoured the archives here and there's nothing of interest. Our...benefactor has agreed to give me more time, assisting where he can with...less than divine solutions. Gabriel is allowing me access to his own library and I've nearly convinced Raphael to lend me his expertise.”

“You know you could do that kind of research here, Lils. We can get Raphael's assistance, Gabriel's archives. Hell, I'll even ask Belphegor to help. You don't...” He trailed off, watching the expression on her face shift from determined parent to heartbroken lover.

Lilith watched him for a moment, the silence speaking volumes. “Lucifer,” she said at last. “I am not going to fail her.”

“I know.” He tipped his head forward, studying a vein of gold in the white marble. Of course he knew; everything either of them had done up until this point was for Charlie's continued safety, health, and happiness. It would continue to be so until one or both of them breathed their last and Lucifer willing, it would be that way until the end of time when the memory of he and Lilith had faded to dust.

Lucifer lifted his gaze to hers at last, taking in the way she was watching him with equal parts grief and fondness. He smiled slightly, brushing away the turn of those thoughts.

“Speaking of... Alastor.” He watched the way Lilith's expression tightened with an awareness that even now, years later, she couldn't quite hide. Lucifer leaned back in the chair. “Interesting demon you picked out to be Charlie's protector. Where did you find him?”

“Ah, that... I picked him up skulking around Eden's borders six years ago. Figured with how much he snapped and snarled at me, he'd make a decent guardian.”

Lucifer shifted forward. “The hell was he doing there? Eden is-”

“I know,” Lilith snapped and lifted a hand to rub her forehead, sighing. “Perhaps you'll have a better time of getting answers from him, Lord knows I never got even a hint from him. That man keeps secrets like the grave.”

“I'll do my best, but Lils- a demon Overlord? Really?”

Her frown was pinched in a way that soured the taste in Lucifer's mouth. “She may not be of my flesh, Lucifer, but Charlie is my daughter. I'll do anything in Heaven, Hell, or the realms beyond to keep her safe.”

She paused, glancing away at something out of the scope of what Lucifer could see. He shrugged and then glanced toward the point where Lilith's gaze had diverted, brushing away the leftover sting of her comment.

“If he's got the time, I have a favor to ask.” Lucifer didn't let any of his own hesitation seep into his tone; blackmail was something he tried not to resort to, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “It would mean a lot if he'd throw me a bone after everything.”

For a moment Lilith's expression tightened in the way that spoke to her displeasure, but then she sighed and shifted to the left to make room for a second figure. Lucifer kept himself still with expression neutral as he took in the sight of a brother he hadn't seen in centuries.

He especially didn't look at the burn scarring over ruined eyes.

Tall, impressively so- Gabriel cut a startling figure in the narrow window of the mirage. It called back to mind all the times Lucifer had let himself be dwarfed by the archangel's stature, content to let Gabriel's presence fill the room and capture the attention of all. It was no less so now; Lucifer found his gaze fixed on the other man in the same magnetic pull Gabriel had always possessed, the kind that made thoughts still to a quiet hum to be replaced by the defining need to listen.

“Lucifer,” Gabriel's voice rumbled through the connection, head tilted slightly in greeting. He kept his hands folded before him, broad shoulders and muscled arms relaxed at his sides. Even with his sight gone, flesh burned and melted over empty sockets, Gabriel was focused intently on him through the mirage. “What can I do for you, Brother?”

“I need to get a full account of the early wars,” Lucifer said, keeping himself nonchalant. He didn't miss the flicker of movement in Gabriel's expression, the tightening of his mouth to a firm line or the furrowing of his brow, faint lines marring beautifully dusky skin. But Lucifer stared his brother down regardless. “Particularly the sealing of the chasm.”

Gabriel hissed and the words uttered bounced around the room in an echo of distant thunder and though it was instinct to press his hands to his ears, close himself up against the power so mindlessly flung his way, Lucifer made himself keep still. He waited until Gabriel passed a broad hand over shadow colored hair and then sighed, turning back to the reflection.

“You have no idea what you're asking.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Humor me, then. I'd like to see anything you have record of during that time. Consider it a trade, favor for a favor.” He slipped a hand into his pocket for the neatly wrapped essence left forgotten for the past several hours, and placed it on the table. A tinny hum took up residence in the silence of the room and he watched Gabriel's expression shift from barely concealed frustration to undisguised shock.

“You would barter this to me...for dusty scrolls.” If he'd had eyebrows left, Lucifer imagined Gabriel would be raising one in his direction. As it stood the wrinkles on his forehead made themselves more clearly known while the set of his shoulders tensed.

“What can I say?” Lucifer kept his tone light as he nudged the small parcel closer to the center of the table. “Consider it an act of good faith; you give me whatever you can from the archives, Adam's essence goes back where it belongs in Heaven.”

“Michael will be suspicious.”

“So don't tell him you got it from me. Come on, Gabe- you're a smart guy, you'll find a way to throw him off.” Lucifer offered an encouraging smile. “You always do.”

Gabriel shook his head and sighed heavily, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead. “I will need time to gather what you're after, hours at least. Can you wait that long?”

“Sure, just beam them down when you can.” Lucifer didn't bother hesitating, the gamble was paying off. Even so it was still a risk as he watched the bundle of soul essence be consumed in the warm blaze of his younger brother's power; if Gabriel was lying to him, if they weren't alone in this conversation, if Michael somehow found out or overheard-

No, he needed to trust. This was something out of his hands, as much as Lucifer wanted control over the situation.

As soon as the flame had vanished, soul with it, he offered a smile to the younger Archangel. “I appreciate this; I know it's a huge ask after what you did to help Charlie, but really- thank you.”

The Archangel sighed softly, brow knit in a frown. “It was of little consequence to arrange the meeting, think nothing of it.”

Lucifer shrugged and hid a grin. “Even so, thanks. Hey, Gabriel, promise you'll-”

“I'm looking after Lilith,” the other man snapped, his tone bordering on unkind. Gabriel smoothed his expression into something more neutral, if not kind, a moment later. “She is safe under my care.”

Lucifer froze for a half second and then nodded. “Of course, of course. But I was going to say, look after yourself, okay? Don't...”

He paused, thousands of years rising up between him and the projected image of a brother he'd failed and been failed by countless times. There was no reaching across the gulf that stretched between them now, they were too far gone for that level of sentiment, but still...

“Just be careful,” he settled on at last and watched understanding cross Gabriel's features.

In a flicker of the mirage's image, Gabriel had slipped away with a nod of farewell leaving the space empty and blank for Lilith's return. Her expression was quizzical but only just- questions he knew he'd likely hear about later when she'd had time to puzzle them all out.

“Darling,” she said, reaching a hand forward. “Will you give Charlie my love? I...I miss her.”

“Of course.” It wasn't even a question, though Lucifer wasn't sure how to go about explaining how he'd gotten the message in the first place- but that was future Lucifer's problem. He could figure it out when the mirage had darkened and he was alone again.

“And,” Lilith continued. “Be careful around Alastor. He's not exactly harmless.”

Lucifer smiled slightly, shrugging. “You wouldn't have picked him if he was. Don't worry- I can handle Mr. Tall Dark and Creepy, it'll be okay.” He knew what she was really saying, veiled warnings in the subterfuge of her own particular brand of caring. He lowered his gaze to the contrast of his blackened hand resting on the white marble tabletop. “Lilith...”

She sighed, movement lifting his gaze again as Lilith cupped her chin in hand. Lucifer inhaled and held her gaze, taking in every gentle curve of her face from long lashes to the plump hue of her lips. It stirred something in him, seeing her again after the years they'd spent apart on mutual agreement. It had never been lust between them, though that had factored into their closeness even after everything, but it was something else. Love, respect- the sharing of a dream held quivering in cupped hands while they looked at each other over the flickering warmth.

Even now after all this time apart, Lucifer looked into the violet eyes of his wife and saw the ragged torch of affection she still carried.

“You know you could still come back, Lils.” A weak attempt, he knew from that first moment when she had swept Charlie up in her arms and turned her back that any argument he made would be for nothing. Doomed from the start, that's what they had been. Countless millennia together and at the end of the day, they were the spear points poised gracefully at each other's hearts.

Lilith tilted her head slightly and the look she gave him was pitying at best even while her own heart, already battered beyond repair, broke all over again in her gaze. “You know I won't. Luci. We had our time.”

Won't.

Not couldn't.

Lucifer forced his gaze away, swallowing past the emotion in his throat. “...I know.” He tightened his fingers into a fist, forcing himself to exhale. The rage, the disappointment, the sheer grief of the chasm forcing them apart, but at the end of the day...

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For all of it.”

Lilith's breath caught, her smile tilting sad. “You have to let me go, love.”

Lucifer breathed out slowly, nodding more to himself than to her. There would always be grief and love between them, but... He turned his focus down to the simple gold band on his finger, an endless loop of promises shattered in mutual interest. He didn't dare glance up at Lilith's expression as he tugged the ring off, letting it catch over one blackened knuckle, before setting it down on the table between them.

Lilith sucked in a sharp breath and there were tears glimmering in her eyes, but she was smiling.

“I love you, Lilith.” Lucifer held her gaze as he said the words, letting her hear the farewell twisted through every syllable. “No matter what else, I will always love you.”

“I know,” she breathed, voice catching in a chuckled sob. She lifted a translucent hand toward him and Lucifer placed his palm to hers, imagining he could actually feel the touch of every fingertip pressed to his. They held each other's gazes for so long, Lucifer knew it was minutes if not hours passing, a lifetime expanded beyond belief before it drifted down into a shroud to be laid to rest. Lilith moved first, pulling her touch away and while Lucifer allowed the urge to chase after her, reach for her again to rise unbidden from his heart, he didn't move.

“Promise me you'll be careful up there, Lilith,” he said as she rose to her full height in the confines of the mirage. Lucifer stood as well, hands braced on the table top as she turned back to him, confident smile in place.

“I always am, darling. You be careful too.”

He swallowed but allowed a more genuine smile to peek through. “Don't worry about me, I've got it covered down here. I-”

Lucifer stopped short, holding up a hand to quiet Lilith's questioning noise. He shuddered and stepped back, the room tilting as his consciousness snapped at the walls in a desperate attempt to get out-

Not out, he realized half a moment later and Lucifer's gaze snapped upward toward the blank white ceiling as if his sight alone could peer past marble and concrete and steel to Hell's skies overhead. His wings unfurled and the weight of his cane settled firmly in his hand before he turned back to the flickering image of Lilith. Her expression was as neutral as it was in the days when she had sat on Hell's throne, but he knew her well enough to recognize the note of worry in her violet eyes.

“I need to go. Something is...I'm not sure.”

“Be careful,” she murmured, reaching a hand out to him as he was already turning to the double doors in the room. Lucifer paused with one hand on the doorknob and looked back over his shoulder at her.

His queen.

His love.

Past, present, and the promise of forever wrapped up in one woman.

Lucifer let his gaze linger on her, taking in the flicker of worry in her eyes, the defiant set of her lips, the confidence with which she endlessly stood against the fathomless Heavens. Above all else, he saw the farewell in her gaze and he knew, even while his own heart broke for the last time, she saw the sentiment mirrored in his too.

“Goodbye, Lilith,” Lucifer said as the image of her gleamed for one final moment and then winked out.

Chapter 15

Notes:

Buckle up, my lovelies, this Saturday's chapter is about to kick the plot off to full speed!

Something was wrong.

Lucifer could feel it in every lungful of air inhaled as he circled Hell's crimson skies with the endless sprawl of the city underneath him. The wrongness seeped under his skin, itching its way into every beat of his wings, every flick of his eyes across small buildings and even smaller people below. Hell was a rapidly changing landscape he had grown accustomed to in eons past, lifetimes spent in the sulfur and ozone atmosphere of the Pit, and yet this was something else entirely. A prickle of unease at the back of his neck, an intrusion in the familiarity of all he knew.

Lucifer took another circuit of Hell's unchanging skies before he turned back to the hotel in all its gleaming glory, a beacon on a hill overlooking the city. Even before he was close enough to make out their distinct features, he could make out the trio of figures standing on the rooftop with gazes tilted upward to mark his approach. His hands reached out on instinct for his daughter and she met his grasp easily. It was a small jolt of love that briefly eclipsed the wrongness of the moment and Lucifer couldn't help focusing on that instead. Charlie's grip was tight as she stepped back to give him space to land, his wings folding inward without slipping out of sight completely.

“Dad, what's going on?” Charlie's fingers encircling his own were death tight, her expression terrified. 

“I don't know, sweetheart.” But even as he said it, the words tasted wrong. Lucifer's gaze drifted toward the other two figures standing on the rooftop alongside Charlie, his attention snagging on one over the other. Alastor pointedly ignored him, bony shoulders hunched as if an invisible weight had been dropped on him. Both of his hands were curled tightly into fists and he'd purposefully stepped further away from the others gathered as soon as Lucifer had landed.

Asshole.

But then Alastor lifted one spindly arm to point upward and Lucifer followed the gesture, blood running cold. A ripple of light cut through the crimson stretch of haze and smog, a cancer growing against the backdrop of Hell and he knew.

“Stay here!” The words came out harsher than he intended but he didn't have time to take them back and soften them. Lucifer took to the air without thought, his gaze trained on the rapidly growing tear of his realm with the brilliance of Heaven just on the other side. He barely noticed the crackling presence surging upward with him, tendrils of shadow catching a ride without preamble or weight to pull him back down; no, he could only stare in horror at the growing portal and the gleaming figures lining the very edge of it. Angelic beings wreathed in glory and standing to attention; Lucifer counted and marked off the rings of halos and the unblinking eyes, the endless spread of multitudes of wings.

A heavenly host, as it were. Lucifer moved on instinct, clawed finger pressing deep against the tender flesh of his wrist while he shifted limb and welling blood toward the demon.

“Don't let Charlie see,” he hissed on instinct when Alastor's grip closed tight on his wrist and he bent to press his mouth to the openly bleeding cut. Lucifer winced when the demon's tongue lashed against the wound to tease more blood out, and it was instinct that nearly had him wrenching out of Alastor's grasp. But he made himself remain still, watching as Alastor's eyes darkened with renewed strength.

It was then that one of the figures at the edge of the portal shifted, six wings beating back the magnetic pull of Hell, and Lucifer realized.

He pulled away from Alastor's firm grasp to surge forward as the Head Seraph hurled a smaller angel over the portal's edge. He barely registered the increase of static behind him but didn't stop to see if the demon followed. All he could see was the plummeting figure shrouded in lines of gold against the backdrop of a crimson sky. 

Not again, not again, not again.

It was like watching the endless stream of comets of his falling brethren once more, their bodies writhing in holy chains while the air filled with the stench of burning flesh and feathers and screams. Ten thousand years and those images were forever burned into his memory as fresh as the day they had collectively fallen. This wasn't supposed to happen again, Heaven was supposed to be united. He was the deviant, the betrayer!  He had-

The chain snapped into place half a second into his whirlwind thoughts. Lucifer jerked back with a muttered curse, all his concentration shifting away from the scene unfolding before him to the need to keep the illusion intact, hand lifting to his neck to curl his fingers between cold metal and heated skin. The last thing he needed was anyone below to see it but the illusion of absence was holding firm. He turned his panicked gaze downward to meet the familiarity of crimson eyes, Alastor racing up his shadows along the length of the chain to position himself beside Lucifer.

“Breathe,” The radio frequency of a voice cut through his panic and Lucifer turned fully to the figure positioned midair beside him. Alastor's expression was tight and guarded but his hand on Lucifer's arm was an anchor. He nodded once when Lucifer had focused on him and without pulling his touch away, they turned as one back up toward the portal.

“Can you-”

Alastor's grin was wide and answer enough. Lucifer pointed upward and the shadows coiled around his arm, solidifying as they shot upward to the rapidly falling figure. Lucifer shielded his eyes against the closing portal, staring at the brilliance while tears formed in his eyes and dripped down his cheeks, but he wouldn't look away. Just for a moment he thought he caught the sight of pale gray eyes turned his way, a thousand years of bloodshed burning between them but then the sky rippled and closed, fully crimson and intact once more.

Lucifer swung his gaze toward the unformed silhouette approaching, letting his hand drop from his throat as the pressure eased. Alastor drew closer in his descent, shadows thinning, but it was the figure cradled gently in his arms that drew Lucifer's attention. The white feathers of her wings were crushed under the crisscrossing lines of golden chains, their power gleaming even so far displaced from their holy origin, and Lucifer didn't miss the way golden blood clung to the young Seraph's clothing. Her fingers were clenched tight at the shoulder of Alastor's coat and her head turned into the crook of his neck.

The silence was heavy as they turned back to the rooftop and Lucifer focused on where Charlie was waiting expectantly, Vaggie beside her with mouth set in a firm line and fury burning in her eyes. It was easier to focus on his daughter standing below, horns fully visible and tail whipping back and forth against the pavement in barely restrained fury; better to look at Charlie rather than the figure next to him as he and Alastor stepped down onto the rooftop. It only took a moment for the demon to pass the cradled angel into Vaggie's waiting arms and before Lucifer could even open his mouth to order him to stay put, Alastor was bleeding away back into his shadows and gone as though he'd never even been there.

Asshole, times two.

“Emily!” Charlie rushed forward with hands outstretched but stopped short with a hand pressed to her mouth. Her expression wavered between fury and grief but she dropped to her knees on the concrete next to Vaggie as the former Exorcist knelt, gently helping the angel in her arms to sit up while still leaning against her. Lucifer shifted back as he watched them, Charlie's murmured yet frantic concerns overlapping the Seraph's pained sobs and Vaggie acting as a silent watcher, but then Charlie turned to him.

“What happened?” Her expression wobbled on the verge of tears but then she breathed in sharply, her eyes flooding with brimstone and fury. “Why would they do this? Why didn't you catch her?!”

Lucifer snapped his mouth shut against an equally sharp retort and shook his head. He shifted forward to pass a light touch over the Seraph's bound wings, little effort needed for the chains to dissolve under his hand. “Let's just get her inside and cleaned up. We'll figure this out, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie's ire flared in her gaze but she turned back to the angel still nestled safely in Vaggie's arms. She pressed herself to her girlfriend's side like glue and Lucifer trailed after the trio, a shadow to their united front.

The other residents had seemingly made themselves scarce, Lucifer noted as he followed his daughter and the other two angels through empty halls, the only sound Emily's quiet sobbing against Vaggie's shoulder. They turned down a side hallway closer to Charlie and Vaggie's rooms, door swinging open under his daughter's touch. The room was cozy, Lucifer noted, the soft colors speaking to a far away memory of Charlie's childhood bedroom, purples and pinks swirling across the walls and ceiling in the same style as the parlor somewhere downstairs. He briefly wondered if this was another instance of his creative instinct going a step too far but he shook that thought away. Lucifer focused on the trio again, attention sharpening to clear focus with the jerked motions of the newly fallen Seraph.

“Hey, woah!” Lucifer sprang forward to catch Emily's hands as she elbowed Vaggie in the stomach and shoved Charlie away. Emily hiccupped and turned her wide, panicked gaze up to him and in that moment, Lucifer saw what he'd hoped to never see branded on another angel. She jerked in his grasp with the strength of a thousand beings, her movements turning more panicked by the second with the need to claw at her throat. His grip tightened on her wrists; he didn't want to hurt her but better that she was kept from hurting herself.

He swung his gaze up to Charlie who stared back at him with wide eyes but understanding passed between them in the unspoken way of mutual agreement. Lucifer turned his attention back to the newcomer in their midst and breathed out softly.

“Emily.”

His voice rolled outward like a thunderclap in the room and the Seraph flinched sharply. Lucifer didn't miss the way Charlie sucked in a sharp breath next to him or the way Vaggie pressed her hands to her ears but he forced himself to focus. He kept a firm hold on Emily's hands and she swung her watery gaze up at him, breaths coming in shaky gasps.

“Hey.” He softened his tone and offered a small smile, waiting until she had stilled her thrashing before continuing. “You're okay; you're safe, I promise. You're here with Charlie and Vaggie, see? They're right here.”

Lucifer shifted to the side just enough to give her a clear view of the other two occupants of the room, their expressions a combined mix of dazed horror. Lucifer grimaced but that could be dealt with later after the current crisis was put to rest. He turned back to the Seraph and waited until she was looking at him.

“Emily, you can just nod yes or no for me, okay? Don't try to speak, that's only going to hurt you.” Lucifer waited for her to nod, gaze flicking down to the glyph glowing white hot and fresh on her throat. “Is this about Pentious?”

Emily uttered a sharp cry and jerked her hands in his grasp, mouth dropping open as she choked on a halted word. She tugged harder and Lucifer tightened his grasp on her wrists if only to keep the young angel from clawing at her own throat.

“Hey, hey! It's okay!” Lucifer raised his voice over Emily's growing panic, shoving himself forward to wrap both arms around her in a firm hug. Emily struggled against the hold for a few moments and then stiffened before melting completely against him, face buried against Lucifer's shoulder as her sobs filled the room. Over the young angel's downy head, Lucifer met Charlie's gaze and shook his head at the confusion and fear in her golden eyes.

He rubbed a hand in circular rhythm against Emily's back until her sobs quieted and there was only the trembling in her shoulders to give credence to her silent weeping. Lucifer didn't pull his hand or embrace away; it was like holding his little girl again when she had woken in the night from some unseen terror and the only thing she wanted to banish those dark thoughts was her father's embrace. He let his eyes drift shut and breathed out, focusing on that in favor of the maelstrom of the rest of his thoughts.

“It was Sera,” Emily whispered hoarsely against his shoulder, her voice thick from weeping. Her fingers curled tighter against the back of his coat, the trembling touch of a child in need of comfort. “She pushed me.”

Sera.

Lucifer hadn't thought about the High Seraph in years, demands for meetings collecting dust in favor of his negligence in seeing her, but even the dim memory of her conjured by the speaking of her name was like flinging open the floodgates of buried things. He thought about how it had felt to smooth the shape of her into existence from formless flame, his hands wreathed in holiest fire until at last he pressed his mouth to her lips and exhaled life into her.

He wasn't fast enough to hide his wince as Charlie stiffened in his peripheral vision but he shook his head to stop any thoughts she could voice. Questions for a future time, the pile of which was growing to the size of a mountain at this rate.

“Later,” he mouthed and Charlie nodded once in terse reply, and then Lucifer turned his gaze back down to the trembling Seraph in his embrace. He smoothed a hand gently against her rumpled wings, wincing when Emily flinched at a patch of rough mussed feathers. “Sorry, sorry...we can tend to them later. It's okay, you're okay.”

She tilted her gaze up to him and hiccuped another sob, eyes widening a fraction. Lucifer offered a smile and watched the panic and dread flare back in full force in her starlight eyes.

“Hi Emily,” he said softly and Lucifer pressed his hand to her forehead, the Seraph slumping immediately in his arms under the gentle cadence of sleep. Charlie rushed forward immediately with hands outstretched, her questions tumbling fast one over the other before she finally settled on one.

“What did you do?”

“It's okay, I just nudged her into a nap. She'll be alright. I figured a bit of rest would help calm her down after everything today.” He winced slightly. “I think meeting the Devil face to face might have been a bit much.”

Lucifer sighed and stepped back to give his daughter room, Charlie nodding and bending to lift the Seraph into her arms. His daughter's expression was a mix of tired hope and grief though she offered a wan smile in Lucifer's direction, a gesture easily mirrored back at her.

“We'll get her settled upstairs.” Charlie murmured and Lucifer nodded once. “Will you...?”

“I'll be here, kiddo. Might take a second to catch some fresh air. Meet me on the balcony?”

Charlie nodded and smiled a little brighter and he watched the pair of them slip from the room with Vaggie trailing behind. As soon as they were gone with the door swinging shut behind them, Lucifer let his smile drop and his shoulders slump. He ran a hand over his hair, barely thinking about his movements as he left the room in search of open skies beyond the walls of the hotel.

His thoughts were a tangled mess, ends like live wires that smarted when he reached a metaphorical hand toward them. Things to consider later, then; he needed to clear his head first.

Lucifer's steps slowed as soon as he was through the doorway leading out to the wide balcony stretching along the entirety of that particular floor of the hotel. It was open access to anyone, a thing he was thankful for now because the last thing Lucifer wanted was to knock on the door to anyone's private room to ask to get to the balcony. He breathed out and let his eyes closed, enjoying the moment of stillness in his own mind, thoughts carefully contained by the fragile glass of his own will. He could afford to think about the events of the day later.

Opening his eyes a few seconds later, Lucifer let his gaze drift upward to the stretch of unbroken crimson sky, something pulling his gaze like a magnet. His mouth ran dry, blood chilling as he spotted the singular figure hovering completely still against the backdrop of Hell's skies and though he was too far away to make out any distinguishing features, he knew the expression on that beautiful face was one of satisfied, manic glee.

His snarl was choked off by the collar forcibly tightening around his throat, shackles pulling his arms down sharply when he reached for the pressure around his neck on instinct. His wings flared only for a moment as the same pattern of chains he had dissolved from Emily's wings snapped into place around his, the pressure tightening hard enough to crush feathers and delicate bones.

“Dad?”

Lucifer turned his panicked gaze to the doorway where Charlie stood, her expression a blend of horrified fury. Her gaze flicked upward and then sharpened into something more dangerous.

“Michael!” Her voice thundered as she started forward, trident called to her hand from the liminal space she kept it tucked away in. “The hell is he doing? What more does he want?!”

“Charlie, no!” Lucifer pushed against the pressure of the restraints, feeling blood drip down his wings from the bite of the holy chains. It didn't matter, all he could focus on was his daughter. He forced a smile that was more of a grimace, but she focused on him anyway, her expression warring between anger and shock and confusion. “Hey, hey! Charlie, listen to me. Go back inside, sweetheart. Stay with Vaggie and Emily, okay?”

Lucifer held up a hand as far as the shackle would allow, already feeling the sizzling power taking root beneath him. He bit back a curse as the chains tightened to drag him down to his knees and Charlie yelped, grabbing onto his arm. The ground beneath his knees started to give way for a portal not of his making. Eyes wide, he looked back at his daughter.

“Charlie, let go!”

She shook her head vehemently, mouth set in a firm line to keep from wobbling while tears filled her eyes. “You can't ask that of me, that's not fair!”

Lucifer tried to jerk her hands off his arm, the circular glow around him increasing. “Charlie, please. Let me go. It's okay.”

He swallowed back a sob of his own as Charlie flung herself back out of reach of the opening portal.

“Go get Alastor!” He flung the words out in lieu of a hand outstretched toward her, the portal opening at last to send Lucifer tumbling into the depths of darkness below.

Chapter 16

Notes:

Maybe someday I'll learn how to be nicer to Lucifer, the poor muppet that he is. Ah well, ON TO THE CHAPTER >:D

Lucifer was no stranger to the void.

It had been the first semblance of reality to cradle him in the aftermath of his fall, the endless blackness of nothing reaching up to catch him and Lilith when everything else had bled away. Back then they had been surrounded by drifting ash as the world they knew burned around them, but this time?

This time there was nothing for Lucifer to grasp onto. No shattered body of his love, though even then it had been clawing panic that kept him clinging to Lilith as they plummeted. Now, it was the shreds of consolation that Charlie hadn't fallen with him acting as a small comfort, his arms blessedly empty as the darkness rushed in from every direction with nothing to slow or stop his descent. The portal he'd fallen through closed above him in a traitorous wink, the leftover glow of the damned thing echoing in flickering response to the smothering and crushing realm around him now.

Lucifer curled in on himself, chains loosened to let him pull his limbs tight against his chest. His wings were still bound and shredded to bloody ribbons behind him, and he let a single whimper escape clamped lips. It echoed endlessly through the fathomless dark, the sound stretching out into long, drawn out bass.

Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, Lucifer noticed the slowing of his momentum through the nothingness, the false gentle touch of the void brushing against him to catch him. It was an inescapable weight of everything he loved crumbled to nothing, the stopped hands of a clock flooding his vision until he couldn't focus on anything else. It was cold and empty, not even air to fill his lungs as the void pressed in and poked cold dead fingers into Lucifer's battered soul.

Another whimper slipped free despite his best attempt, the sound immediately swallowed by the crushing silence. No matter where he swung his gaze there was nothing to stare at, no differentiating between one shade of darkness from another. Lucifer stretched a hand out tentatively, the atmosphere around him pulsing and pushing back with just enough resistance to turn his thoughts to a sliver of hope that- yes! There was something out there just out of sight but he could feel it, the gentle weight of some tangible thing just barely at his fingertips.

But there wasn't anything out here, Lucifer knew. There was only the painful grit settling at the bottom of his lungs with every forced inhale of the atmosphere lacking oxygen. Not that he needed breathable air to keep living, but it would have been a small comfort. Though in a place like this, caught in the halfway place between life and death where time itself was too weak to exist, small comforts could so quickly be turned against him.

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut as if that alone could block out the evidence of the other inhabitants of his own personal hell. Already he could feel them, ghostly touches to his arms and face and back and legs and wings, disembodied voices whispering things he didn't want to understand. The meanings of those barely whispered words greeted him anyway, his mind- the damned betraying thing it was- supplying understanding when he wanted ignorance.

This, then, was the evidence of his fall. Even here in the vast nothing, time could never hope to sink its claws into the void no matter how it scrabbled and thrashed at the boundaries keeping this place cut off from the expanse of creation. Lucifer couldn't help when his gaze pivoted on instinct toward a flash of light, holy fire streaking endlessly downward into the depths of the abyss. He wished he hadn't looked, the scent of burnt feathers and flesh flooding his senses.

He knew what it was; how could Lucifer not look at the evidence of his greatest mistake and remain ignorant? He could still feel the bone deep thrashing pain even now, thousands of years after the fact, but here in the void...it was as fresh as the day it happened. He could almost imagine the screams still echoed through the black nothingness pressing in on him on all sides.

It took considerable effort for Lucifer to pull his gaze away from the only source of light in this godforsaken pit, focusing instead on the gold chains drifting aimlessly around him. At least here there was no true weight to them though that singular fact did little to ease the biting ache against his skin. His only consolation was that Charlie was safe in the realm above, far from the reaches of this hell.

It was here he had scraped and clawed at the pressing darkness, thrashing in the holy bindings around him for even a scrap of power to save the woman dying in his arms. Lilith's chest had spasmed as she struggled to breathe, searching for air that didn't exist.

And Lucifer, what could he do except struggle and beg his uncaring sibling for a blessing he knew was futile? It  hadn't stopped him from screaming obscenities at Michael above, hovering in the golden light of his own conjured portal. Perhaps it had been a mocking form of kindness, the last shreds of a heart given over to corruption, but Lucifer had felt the newly forged chains slacken just enough for him to pull at the power just beyond his reach. It had been enough; perhaps in another life he could have wrapped the threads of his power in a tight fist, shattered every link in the chains binding him. Perhaps he could have risen back from the depths he had been thrown to grasp Michael by the throat, fling him down into the void in retaliation.

But Lucifer couldn't think past the driving need to save the woman he loved beyond all else.

The void back then had flooded in golden brilliance and when the dust settled at last and Lilith had taken the first shuddering breath of sulfur and ozone, Lucifer's lips on hers in a kiss of life, it had been Hell they had found themselves in.

If only it had worked as easily for those other souls last to the darkness. He could feel them gathering, shades and remnants of all they used to be. He was a magnet, living and breathing in a world where only the dead resided and like a sinner struggling toward the light, they flocked toward him now.

Lucifer struggled to grasp onto the thought of her, his darling little girl, while the void pushed harder against his resolve. Charlie, his mind supplied, the most clear cut thing he could grasp in the foundations of all his other thoughts shutting down. His daughter red faced and crying from sudden life as she was placed in his waiting arms by his wife, eyes rimmed in exhaustion from hours of labor. She had been so tiny as he held her, his little girl cradled to his chest so she could hear the steady rhythm of a heart already bursting with love for her.

Papa.

Charlie as she gazed up at the conjured creations of light and dust dancing overhead, joy filling her eyes. It was the first time he'd ever brought her favorite stories to life despite the strain it put on his dwindling power. Shackles be damned, it had brought her joy as Lilith's voice filled the spaces between the gold shimmering figures, stories told while Charlie looked on in wonder.

Papa.

Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

Lucifer flipped through the memories like pages in an old photo album, faster and faster with fingers smarting on the edges that sliced flesh without care. Charlie blowing out the candles on her birthday cake. Charlie reaching for him in the night when the grip of a nightmare was too much.

Charlie when hope had filled her eyes again even after the complete destruction of her dreams, finding the strength to get back up and try again, her hand held firmly in his.
“Papa,” a childish voice whispered against his ear and Lucifer hiccuped a sob, curling tighter against himself as if that alone could keep away the presences pushing in from every direction. Opening his eyes would solve nothing; there was nothing here to see but he couldn't ignore the pressing touches now. How fitting, then, that the souls born of Lilith's body would find their way back here, dust to dust as like called to like.

Charlie…

His lips formed her name in a silent sob, claws digging bloody scratches into his arms and shoulders where he clutched at himself, eyes squeezed shut to keep from seeing the ghostly nothing of the void around him. Pain lanced through him, his heart breaking all over again and to keep from seeing the rolling blackness, he turned his gaze downward.
A field of bleached bone stretched out for an eternity below him; even with the void lacking direction he could still feel the downward pull of the graveyard. Lucifer slumped as much as the lack of gravity and atmosphere would allow him, letting himself drift down toward the cairns of bones he had left here. It didn't matter that it had been thousands of years; for the specters drifting endlessly still tethered to the picked clean bones of their living bodies, it may as well have been yesterday.

Lucifer let his fingers drift almost touching along the haphazard stacks, imagining the heavy silence was one more filled with the horrified screams of his brethren dying. He shut his eyes against the crackle and flash of fire, holy flame conjured by a brother lost to him in the dark that had swept across the endless tens of thousands to fill the air with smoke and screams and the endless stench of burning flesh. Back then, it had been a kindness.

Now as Lucifer stared across the remnants of old destruction, he wondered if he could have tried harder to save them. If he had been faster, if he had just gotten here sooner, perhaps they-

A hand pressed firmly against his back in the space just between his ruined wings and shoved. Lucifer choked on a cry as he went sprawling down. Fingers stripped of flesh tugged at him and the more he struggled, the deeper he was pulled into the still living crush of bones. Panic choked and clawed at his chest and throat, his limbs pulled in every direction. Even shutting his eyes couldn't block out the pressing condition he was in-

A boom sounded through the vastness of the empty space, double doors appearing like monoliths where before there had been nothing but leering, ghostly faces. Lucifer stared in horror as the great barriers shuddered and groaned from what pounded endlessly at them from the other side.

He was going to die.

“Please,” Lucifer gasped into the abyss, sound snatched away faster than it could be formed.

Please just give me a beacon back home.

The stillness erupted around him so quickly, it was excruciating. Every movement he made from limbs to wings to even the subtle blink of too many eyes was one movement too many, pain zipping through the dark of his squeezed shut eyes like fireworks in the night. Lucifer clenched his hands folded as they were against his chest, focusing on the bursts of pain emanating from numbed fingers. With eyes closed against the endless dark, he nearly missed the first ripples of change around him until he felt a distinct tug at his arm. Vision flickering, he stared at the golden threads of blood drifting from the reopened wound on his wrist, the scrape of teeth against skin leftover from where the Radio Demon had sucked at his flesh and blood.

The filaments of blood drifting now in the empty space around him were a welcome change to the unending landscape and Lucifer reached a tentative finger toward the eddying ribbons, watching the swirl and dance of his blood as it continued to seep from the cut.

The second tug was harsher than the first, his blood seeming to pulse in rhythm with the hard jerk. Lucifer scowled out toward the nothingness, noting distantly that the whispers and touches had stopped completely, leaving him more firmly in the realm of empty aloneness, but-

He blinked and jerked backward away from the unspooled threads of blood, gaze darting around at the blank vastness trying to press in. His blood pulsed again and this time he could see the ripples as it branched outward, his own shattered self the epicenter. There in the distance Lucifer thought he saw a gleam of something other, a disturbance in the pattern of ripples as they extended outward into eternity. He squinted at it-

The tug came again and this time he gasped sharply, the cut on his wrist fracturing wide and a torrent of blood streaming outward to flood his vision beyond the realm of black. On instinct, Lucifer lifted both hands to shield his eyes as the void around him fractured and exploded in a cacophony of static and gold.

Chapter 17

Notes:

Happy Saturday my lovelies! I hope this chapter finds you all well <3 <3 <3

When Lucifer dared to lower his hands from his face, it was for the split second realization of “oh shit that's sunlight”, his mind catching flashes of green and warm hazy glow before he was face planting into several inches of water.

“Lucifer.”

He was tasting mud. There was definitely mud coating his tongue, he realized with a grimace. Lucifer shifted upward on one arm, limb nearly buckling under the slightest weight but he managed to spit out the mouthful of pond water laced with salt, a wriggling guppy returning to the cascade of swampland around him with a plonk.

He was in a swamp.

Lucifer let his gaze drift around the surrounding area, taking in the towering wide trees with their lacy crowns of drooping moss. The water around him swirled in eddies of green and brown and black as fish flicked against the surface. Even the air was sweet! He inhaled deeply, the cool humidity refreshing him with every blessed breath, a welcome change from the vast nothing he'd been subjected to for who knew how long. He tipped his head back with eyes closed as a chorus of frogs filled the air around him with their chirping.

He didn't even care about the weight of one such frog on his head, the amphibian situating itself more comfortably in the drenched waves of his hair with a low croaking hum. Still, Lucifer reached up for the creature and winced at the sight of congealed blood and pond scum smeared against his skin, mixing with fresh golden rivulets from the open wound on his wrist.

And then his eyes drifted upward and saw the grinning grimace of the Radio Demon's expression, lanky body held ramrod straight as he stood safely on the mossy carpet of the bank just out of reach of the water.

“Lucifer.” Alastor bit off his name with a snarl of static, right eye twitching as he flicked his gaze pointedly at the upset water Lucifer was currently sitting in. “Do you mind?”

“You-”

His thoughts came tumbling back like an avalanche, catching up with the sudden expulsion of his physical self from the chilling grasp of the void. Lucifer blinked once up at the demon, even that action feeling sluggish and delayed, one eye blinking half a second ahead of the other.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

Alastor reached a hand down toward him and Lucifer didn't pause to think as he reached back, grimacing when he saw the blood and mud streaked on his palm and fingers but too late now. Without hesitation, Alastor was pulling him from the grasp of the tepid water, not even stumbling back as Lucifer all but slumped bodily into the demon's waiting grasp.

“Do what?” Alastor snapped, claws tightening on Lucifer's arms to keep him upright. He hated the way he couldn't get his limbs to cooperate, legs straightening to bear his weight, so he just let himself remain leaning against Alastor's red clad chest. The demon turned to pull Lucifer with him away from the water's edge and the bayou at large, the richness of the atmosphere replaced by the more mundane surroundings of a typical hotel room.

Alastor stopped, hands pressed firmly against Lucifer's lower back to support him. He tilted his gaze up toward the demon's face but Alastor was looking just past his shoulder, to...

And then the pain hit him.

Lucifer curled tighter against the demon currently holding him, pain bursting along his back and bound and bloodied wings like fireworks across a night sky. His claws dug into Alastor's shoulders and even through the fog of pain, he didn't miss how Alastor sucked in a sharp breath.

“Please,” Lucifer gasped as a shudder ran down his spine, jostling every shattered bone and rumpled feather. He swallowed and glanced over his shoulder at the gold chains still crushing each wing together, and then looked back up at Alastor. “Can you get the chains off, please? I...I can't feel them.”

A slight lie, though it was nothing but excruciating pain every time his muscles even so much twitched along his back. Alastor didn't even blink in hesitation. He didn't jerk Lucifer, a small blessing even if it didn't ease the burning pain along all six of his wings, and then he was eased down onto a low bench. Alastor's touch slid away like water against skin and Lucifer whimpered at the momentary loss of contact. He curled in on himself with arms folded tight to his chest, the ghostly touches of the void still lingering.

Alastor hummed as his touch overshadowed the previous, hands gently running down the bound length of Lucifer's wings. He flinched anyway but shot the demon an apologetic look over his shoulder.

“Sorry... Just the chains. I can't-” Lucifer swallowed a hiccuped sob at the sight of the mangled wings, blood drenched and shattered beneath crisscrossing lines of gold. “I can't heal them until-”

“Sire, your blubbering aids no one.” Alastor's tone was deceptively soft even with the bite of his words. He hooked his claws beneath the first set of chains and yanked. Lucifer jerked forward with a sharp cry, vision whiting out as the pain thrashed itself into an inferno to overwhelm all of his senses. He was dimly aware of a voice rising above the maelstrom of pain, strangled cries coming from his own throat as he choked on blood and tears.

“Stop, stop!” Lucifer moved to shove Alastor away, clawed hands finding furred flesh but the demon caught his wrists firmly and gently, none of Lucifer's panicked strikes connecting in earnest.

“Be at peace,” Alastor murmured and gestured with his free hand over Lucifer's shoulder. He blinked past the flood of tears in his eyes, vision blurred from the excruciating pain, only to find his wings freed of the restraints and fully healed.

“...what? You-”

“You did. I merely unraveled the chains, as you asked.” Alastor shifted closer and Lucifer only realized his intent a second before he was being moved, quickly eased down into one of the pair of armchairs by the empty fireplace. The same one, he realized with a jolt, where he had sat only a few nights prior. It only took a moment's thought for his wings to fold back out of existence, out of the way as he sighed and leaned his head back against the plush chair backing, eyes closing. He didn't care, exhaustion twining so quickly through his entire body, he wanted nothing more than to sink into the soft embrace of the seat and sleep. But he made himself open one eye at least to regard Alastor standing still within reach.

“No one has ever been able to pull me out before, not like that.” Lucifer's voice was a thin thread of its usual cadence. He blinked at Alastor. “How did you manage that?”

“Are you hurt?” the demon snapped in return, claws tightening to fists. His red tinged gaze flicked over Lucifer and it was only then he saw the obvious concern in Alastor's eyes.

“I... no. I'm alright.” Lucifer swallowed and then exhaled, tipping his head back again. “How long was I in there?”

He listened to the soft click of Alastor's pocket watch being flipped open, claws clicking against the metal casing. “Charlie ran to find me in complete hysterics roughly thirty minutes ago. So, not long.”

Lucifer immediately straightened despite the pain that shot through his numbed limbs, jolts of discomfort tingling all the way down to his fingers and hooves. “Is Charlie okay? Is she-”

“She's fine,” Alastor snapped, cutting him off. “I sent her off with the assurance I would handle the matter, which I have. As it stands she has another wayward angel to tend to; I convinced her that her attention would be better served making our new guest comfortable rather than fretting over you.”

Hardly an assurance but Lucifer could already feel the heavy fog of exhaustion rolling over him. He sank back into the chair's embrace with a sigh. “Alastor, I need to know how.”

“An explanation can wait until you are rested. You've been somewhere impossible and you're in shock, Majesty. You need rest; your questions can wait for another time.”

Turning without a word, the demon trotted out of sight and Lucifer couldn't be bothered to turn his head to track his movement. Only a few moments later Alastor returned and draped a blanket over him, his touch and expression oddly gentle. He lifted one hand to brush clawed fingers against Lucifer's hair and then he was guiding Lucifer's head forward to situate a pillow behind him.

“Be at peace,” the demon murmured. “I will watch over you, nothing shall harm you while I am here.”

Lucifer couldn't help a yawn, the weight of the blanket tucked around him a welcome reprieve of the nothing from minutes prior. There was so much to talk about, so many things he wanted to ask, but Lucifer couldn't bring himself to do more than poke metaphorical fingers against the mess of needed conversation that was coiled at the back of his mind. Exhaustion draped itself heavy around his shoulders and tugged at his eyes and without trying to stifle it, Lucifer yawned again. He shifted deeper into the warmth of the comforter and let his eyes close.

---

When he woke, the hue of Alastor's room had darkened considerably. Lucifer turned his head just slightly to take in the windows on the far wall, curtains pulled back enough to give a decent view of the moon rising over the cityscape beyond. Unlike the last time when the taste of darkness had coated his tongue, Alastor was not framed by the silver light streaming in through the window. Lucifer turned his head further and saw the demon seated across from him in the matching armchair.

“I have been to that place,” Alastor admitted slowly, breaking the heavy silence. “Where I assume the Archangel sent you. A space between realms; that is how I have come to understand it.”

“How...”

Alastor turned his gaze on Lucifer and he couldn't help a shiver at the cold set of the deer's eyes. “You're asking things to be polite, but it makes you look stupid.”

“Excuse me for not ripping the answers out of you.” Lucifer shifted under the blanket, noting the way Alastor's gaze sharpened to track the movement. “Which I could do, you know. I'm being nice and asking you, Alastor. How did you pull me from that place? How have you been there?”

“Do you remember when I first came to power?” The sudden shift in conversation was annoying and Lucifer fixed the demon with a flat glare. Alastor shrugged but continued. “As I recall, your queen at the time showed a surprising amount of interest in my power climb.”

“...I remember.” Lucifer turned his thoughts back to that time, figures of status standing tall under the umbrella of power so graciously given to them by Lilith. Among them, it had been difficult to not notice Alastor the Radio Demon, his arrival in Hell and quick ascension in demonic hierarchy making waves in the array of Overlords operating in Pentagram City. And then those same Overlords had begun falling, vanishing into the night only for their screams to wind up caught in an eternal loop on radio waves.

Alastor turned his face away toward the darkened fireplace but Lucifer couldn't ignore the way his smile had stretched into a painful grimace. “I made a deal, you know. I was young and foolish, drunk on my own success from the living world. I thought...”

Lucifer straightened in the chair and leaned forward, hating the way a cold grip of terror was closing around his heart. “Alastor. Who did you make a deal with?”

“...that you have to ask only reveals your naivety.” But he saw the way Alastor had dug his claws into the arm of the chair, ears completely flattened on his head. Even his eyes, so normally bright crimson, had darkened to the hue of blackened blood in their widened state of terror.

Lucifer shook his head slightly, glancing around. His voice was barely a creak of a whisper. “Are we alone, Alastor? Is...”

“We're alone, though I cannot say for how long.”

He leaned forward in the chair again, reaching a hand out toward the demon. “Show me, Alastor. I need to know for certain.”

Alastor snapped a harsh laugh, the air around them filling with the hard scream of a record scratch, and then his whole body shuddered as an ink black collar materialized around his neck. The chain linked to it slithered down his chest and pooled against his lap, spilling over to the floor where it faded from view into complete nothingness. Alastor sucked in a ragged breath.

“Please be quick, Sire.” His voice was stretched and broken, punctuated by sharp gasps. “I do not know how long I can hold it until she notices.”

Lucifer swallowed but reached out to grasp the chain, the cold iron of it burning straight through flesh and muscle and bone right into memory. It coiled like a vise around his mind, the whispers unnerving as they brushed against his ears and thoughts, but he focused past the writhing terror to the shape of the contract in his palm.

“Your soul, Alastor...why would you barter that?”

The demon shrugged, the gesture nonchalant even with the tightness of his entire posture. “At the time it seemed like a deal worth making. I received the power I desired beyond imagining and it only cost me something I believed already lost to this Hell. All I had to do in exchange was feed her.”

Lucifer ignored the ripple of cold horror in his chest. “The Overlords?”

Alastor nodded once. “And any other poor soul who had the misfortune of double crossing me. It wasn't a terrible business, but lately...”

He stiffened and tilted his head to the side, eyes widening. The chain vanished from Lucifer's grasp and Alastor shuddered, arms tightening around himself as he bent forward. Lucifer swallowed past his own misshapen discomfort, questions set aside for another time.

“So the void...you were able to pull me out because you've been there.”

Alastor eased a hissing breath from between his teeth, leaning back in his own chair. “I have had the misfortune of visiting that place, yes. Likely not the same corner of vastness as you were in, though it's hard to know. Time and direction doesn't work the same way there.” He paused to tap his fingers against the now shredded arm of the chair. “I picked a fight I was not ready for and nearly paid the price. My sojourn in the place between was meant to put me back together so I could better serve my purpose.”

Lucifer sighed and shook his head. “How long...?”

“When it spat me back out?” One of Alastor's ears flicked sharply. “I was alerted that nearly seven years had passed while I was away. To me...it felt like mere hours.”

He couldn't be bothered to hide the full body shudder this time, Lucifer drawing his arms closer and squeezing his eyes shut. Who knew how much time he had ever lost to that forgotten realm? And now to know another soul had endured the same? It was almost too much.

“I'm sorry that happened to you.”

Alastor waved a hand sharply, his grin too sharp and wide. “I do not require or want your pity, Sire. I have made my bed, I will lie in it until another option presents itself.”

Lucifer considered the words and then started forward. “Is that why you made a deal with Lilith? With Charlie?” He couldn't quite keep the accusation from his tone, something that wasn't lost on the demon. “Is that why you made a deal with-”

“You are speaking nonsense again,” Alastor snapped harshly, and then pointedly looked toward the darkened fireplace. Where before a merry fire had been crackling as a backdrop to their discussion, now there were only the faintest embers as if shadows had filled the space to bursting.

Lucifer made himself swallow back the words and eased himself back in the seat. “Okay,” he said softly. “Then what can we talk about, Alastor?”

The demon hummed for a moment and then tipped his head back with eyes closed, echoing a remnant of Lucifer's own words from an earlier time. “If it pleases you, perhaps we could just exist in the quiet for a while? I tire of rehashing the endless noise in my head. It can wait, Lucifer. For now, let us just exist.”

He didn't have a good enough argument against it so with the backdrop of Alastor's rhythmic breathing, Lucifer leaned back in the chair to match him and closed his eyes. 

Chapter 18

Notes:

Hey y'all! Happy Saturday <3 I hope this week has been kind to you all; I know on my end life things have gotten a teensy bit crazy, heh. Which segues neatly into this little author announcement- don't worry, Details isn't going anywhere by a long shot, but I am afraid I am gonna have to take a brief hiatus on updates! I haven't had the time or energy to write new chapters for a hot minute and as much as I want to keep the momentum going, I am in dire need of a break.

So, this is gonna be the last update for a little while, but I promise this story will be back! <3 <3

Now, onto the chapter!!

The morning light falling across Lucifer's face and eyes in wavering hues of white and gold brought with  it the smell of breakfast.

Particularly that of pancakes.

He cracked one eye open when the rattle of porcelain dishware clinked mutely beside him, his neck and back stiff from an entire night spent asleep in an armchair. Alastor froze like a deer in headlights (hah!) in the action of setting down a nearly overflowing tray of breakfast.

“Oh, you're awake,” the deer said primly as he straightened, yanking his hands away from the tray handles as if the elegantly curved metal could burn him.

Lucifer inhaled deeply and eyed the spread, noting the steam slipping out from beneath a silver domed plate cover. Aside from that piece, he noted the presence of small glass bowls of whipped butter and fruit preserves, a tall carafe of coffee, and another bowl of cut fresh fruit. Another silver plate cover to the side housed bacon, he could already smell it, and Lucifer couldn't help how his mouth watered.

“That smells incredible.”

“Yes, well, being stuck in the void does wonders for stirring up an appetite.” Alastor lifted the carafe from the tray and poured it into one of the mugs nestled onto the tray. Lucifer noticed it was the wavering blue and greens of a Monet printed on the mug, splashes of yellow ducks floating on the romantic piece.

“You brought my mug up.” He lifted his gaze to Alastor's, watching the demon freeze for the second time since waking. One of his ears flicked in agitation.

“If you are going to spend the entire morning pointing out the obvious, I will deposit you on Charlie's doorstep.” Alastor dropped two sugar cubes into the steaming coffee and added a splash of cream before handing it out toward Lucifer.

Lucifer curled his hands gently around the mug to take it, his fingers brushing against Alastor's own and the demon snatched his touch away. Alastor immediately busied himself with one of the two clean plates nestled on the side of the tray and Lucifer was content just to watch, inhaling the deep aroma wafting up from the mug in his hands.

“Is Charlie okay?”

Alastor dropped two thick slices of bacon onto the plate already filled with a sizable stack of pancakes. “Given it is not yet eight in the morning, I expect she is still asleep. You do know your daughter is not an early riser.”

“Oh, right.” He looked down as the table was shifted closer, the plate of food set carefully on the surface. Lucifer tapped a clawed finger against the side of the mug as he lifted his gaze up to Alastor's, finding the demon already watching him. “Thank you, Alastor. For breakfast. And for last night.”

“It is a part of our deal, your Majesty.” Alastor turned to sit in the chair opposite him, an equally filled plate balanced carefully on his knee. “I am simply fulfilling the requirements as laid out per our agreement.”

Lucifer paused with a bite of pancake halfway to his mouth, syrup dripping off the pastry in a thin drizzle. “You realize there was no clause in the contract to include pancakes, right?”

Alastor leveled him with a solemn look and leaned forward. “If you are critiquing the state of my cooking-”

Lucifer waved the forkful of pancake at him. “I didn't say that! I just... never mind.”

The demon sniffed and sat back with a satisfied hum, turning his focus elsewhere. Without the scrutiny of the crimson gaze on him, Lucifer let himself contemplate the scene at large. He tried not to focus too intently on Alastor, the ease of their surroundings doing wonders to make the demon at least appear mostly relaxed despite everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. But... Lucifer let his gaze drift toward the other man anyway.

It still shocked him how freakishly tall Alastor was. Not in a terrible, “run for the hills” kind of way, Lucifer amended his mental track; the demon carried himself with all the grace and poise of a dancer, never a movement of his long limbs wasted as he swept through the day moment by moment. It was a rare thing, then, to witness Alastor in the more subdued ease in the privacy of his rooms; sometime in the morning before Lucifer had woken, the demon had shed his crimson overcoat, the garment hanging on the coat rack by the door. His shirt sleeves had been rolled up neatly for the ease of cooking, though even long after the fact his forearms were still on display. Lucifer let his gaze linger on the silver lines criss crossing over gray flesh, tendrils of past violence on display. The fur was short, a gradient hue deepening to black until it morphed into the crimson tips of pointed claws on each of Alastor's hands. Hands that he knew that had the capability to be kind or cruel, gentle or vicious as the situation demanded.

Lucifer shifted his attention back up the demon's arms, noting the muscled lines of his shoulders only just barely hidden beneath the plain button up shirt. Black suspenders offset the pale hue of the garment and he saw the first few buttons of the collar had been undone, leaving Alastor's throat and a hint of his furred chest visible.

He visibly swallowed, flicking his gaze up to find the red set of Alastor's gaze was fixed firmly on him.

“Staring, are we?” Alastor hummed, one arm bent against the chair support as he held his own mug of steaming coffee.

“Sorry.” Lucifer flicked his gaze away, settling at last at the half eaten remains of his breakfast. He'd noticed the demon hadn't taken any of the breakfast selection beyond the bacon, probably an offshoot of his cannibalistic tendencies. Lucifer glanced toward Alastor again to find him still watching, red eyes half lidded.

“So, can we talk about last night?”

Alastor sniffed. “Decidedly not, Sire.”

Lucifer shrugged and set the plate aside. “Then, can we talk about what happened the last time we sat here? It's-”

“I would prefer we leave the past where it is, if it's all the same to you.” One of his ears flicked and for a moment Lucifer swore he watched Alastor's eyes darken dangerously, red bleeding away in favor of a darker black that he knew...he knew it wasn't fully Alastor looking at him through that radio dial gaze.

He shivered and glanced off to the left, the standard size of the hotel room crumbled away in favor of an enormous space that by all accounts had no right to even exist. It wasn't like he was oblivious to the fact sinners in his domain hadn't tapped into the power suffused throughout all of Hell; it was one of the ways Lilith had structured Overlords to be able to hold power in the first place.

But it was the first time he'd ever seen that power used for something like this.

Lucifer took in every fractal of sunlight as it bounced off ripples of water draped in marsh scum and lily pads, trees arcing gracefully with crowns of moss. The air shimmered with dancing fireflies to offset the chorus of chirping frogs while fish flitted against the surface of the water. It was beautiful and Lucifer wanted nothing more than to see it up close.

“You know, I haven't visited the mortal world since before the exterminations. Since before....” He shook his head to dislodge the set of those thoughts.

“Since Michael forced you to sign that contract.” Alastor finished for him and Lucifer faced him even as the fear of what he would see in the demon's face nearly sent him fleeing in the other direction. Not that he cared... except he did, for reasons he wasn't sure he understood quite yet.

He settled for a nod. “Yes.”

“I imagine there must have been quite a bit on the line to ensure his victory in that regard.” Alastor studied him, his expression a deceptive mask of calm. “Young Charlie's life, perhaps? Or was it something more valuable than even your daughter?”

Lucifer swallowed. “You know I can't tell you that.”

Alastor shrugged. “Forgive a man for trying. I'm sure I'll weasel the answer from you one way or another, in time. I am nothing if not creative.”

He mimicked the demon's movement and then cast his gaze back toward the sprawling wilderness a mere handful of steps away. “Alastor.”

An ear flicked and Lucifer grinned. “What.”

“Can I see it up close?”

The demon sighed. “I believe you did, yesterday. When you face planted in the water.”

“...not like that!” Lucifer shifted forward in the seat, agitation and excitement making his movements jerk. “Alastor, please. I'm begging you here- can I look at it?”

Alastor sighed heavily but gestured outward with one arm toward the bayou. “Oh very well, if you must.”

Lucifer was out of the chair in an instant, ignoring the way his steps wobbled as he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his coat. Alastor raised a brow in his direction but said nothing as Lucifer bent to roll the cuffs of his pant legs up, though a moment of increased silence had him straightening to fix the demon with a stare.

“What? Don't act like you've never seen hooves before.” Lucifer looked pointedly at Alastor's dress shoes, red soles in the shape of deer prints visible. He grinned when Alastor shifted to hide the markings, his smile stretching downward in an attempt of a frown.

“I just wasn't expecting the Devil to fit so neatly into a cliché. Horns, tail, and hooves? You're a walking depiction of Earth's most mundane illustrations of your dastardly self.”

Lucifer placed a hand on his cocked hip, swinging one foot out in a model pose. “What can I say? I'm just a glutton for depictions.” He gestured down his white dress shirt and pants, the pink and white pinstripe vest, sin blackened hands to the fur lined hooves. Lucifer grinned. “How could anyone say no to this?”

Alastor studied him a moment longer, something soft taking over in his red gaze. He stood and moved closer, nodding briefly. “I suppose you are right; how could anyone say no to you?”

The feeling crumbled to leave Lucifer floundering. Face heating, he ducked his gaze and gestured vaguely though it did nothing to stop Alastor's shadow from falling over him. Lucifer dared to glance up but Alastor was already moving past him just a few steps, pausing to look back at him.

“Well, aren't you coming?”

Lucifer couldn't help a bounce in his step as he followed Alastor from the polished wood flooring of the hotel normal into the bayou. The shift from the refinement of the room into untamed wildlife was instantaneous; Lucifer breathed in deeply, damp air sweeping into his lungs. The chorus of frogs was louder and he could see the flickers of fish as they darted beneath the surface of the water.

“This is incredible,” he breathed, reaching a hand out to a hanging tendril of moss where it draped down from a low hanging tree branch.

Alastor shrugged. “It's adequate, I suppose.”

Lucifer turned to Alastor. “How are you not excited about this? You have an entire ecosystem in your bedroom!” He threw his hands up, spinning on the grass under hoof to face Alastor. “How is that not blowing your mind right now?”

“It is a cheap imitation of the real thing, I don't see what all the fuss is about.” But Alastor moved to follow him deeper into the conjured nature, Lucifer quickening his pace to weave in and out of the trees. The ground was just spongy enough under each of his steps to give credence to the realness of the place, air smelling like marsh scum and humidity.

“It's incredible.” Lucifer pressed one hand to the rough surface of a tree, breathing out as the flicker of life within it reached back toward him. Fireflies danced overhead, spinning in and out between the drooping limbs of a willow and Lucifer couldn't help tipping his head back to watch the pattern of their movement. He could feel Alastor's presence only a few feet away, the sinner's aura a calm and steady anchor in the maelstrom of writhing life existing in this impossible place.

“Why didn't you add other bayou life?” Lucifer looked over his shoulder at the crimson figure. “I mean, beyond the fish and fireflies...and the frogs.”

“Perhaps because I am incapable of such things.” Alastor replied airily, gesturing around to the otherwise still surroundings. “I didn't put living creatures in this bayou simply because I do not have the necessary power or the  resources to do so.”

“So how-”

“You did.”

Lucifer blinked and cast his gaze back toward the gently dancing fireflies. It was mesmerizing, beautiful in a way nothing in Hell could ever compare, the soft bloom of wonder unfurling hesitantly in his chest. The fish, the frogs, the dancing insects in midair, it was everything he expected a Louisiana bayou to be, a nostalgic snapshot of a mortal life cut painfully short.

And then his thoughts caught up.

“Shit, fuck- I am so sorry.” Lucifer jerked backward, turning immediately and lifting a hand- the intent to snap his fingers, to pull back the sparks and tendrils of life suffusing throughout the entire bayou overshadowed only by the flicker of fear that jolted through him.

“Wait.” Alastor's claws closed around his wrist and Lucifer looked up at him, the edges of fear blurring away as he took in the demon's relaxed expression. “You can leave it. It...” Alastor shook his head slightly. “It reminds me of home.”

“Oh.” Lucifer lowered his hand and Alastor's grip loosened, falling away. He shifted back a step and rubbed his arm. “Well, I guess...it's not hurting anything.”

He looked back up at Alastor. “But if anything weird happens, you have to tell me. I'll put it back the way it was, I swear.” Lucifer attempted a shaky laugh. “I don't have the best track record for living creatures; the last thing you need is an oversized frog hunting you in the hotel.”

“Why would-” Alastor cut himself off and shook his head. “On second thought, I don't actually wish to know. But very well; if an amphibian grows to Godzilla-like proportions and attempts to hunt or eat me, I will make sure you are the first to know.”

“Thank you.” Lucifer exhaled, a flicker of relief hardly enough to overshadow his gnawing unease, but what else could he do? Besides, the tiny simple lifeforms now thriving in the bayou weren't as elaborate as his last attempts. It would be fine, it had to be.

He turned a more confident smile than he felt up to the Radio Demon and waved a hand out to the rest of the bayou. “Alright then, it can stay. So, show me the rest?”

Alastor's smile seemed to soften and the pair of them turned further into the bayou, a chorus of frogs accompanying their every step. 

Chapter 19

Notes:

Hellooooooooo my lovely friends!! Gahhh I cannot even begin to describe how much I have missed popping into a chapter note just to say hi and I love you, and my god I miss you all so much!

Life is still crazy on my end but I wanted to share a chapter of this story so that way I could let you all know it's not forgotten and I am still very insane about it! I'm slowly getting back into working on it though I can't promise to have a consistent update schedule like before. I hope you'll forgive me!

Okay, here we go! <3 <3

The bayou was, for lack of a better word, magical. Lucifer couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so relaxed walking bare hoof through grass and dappled sunlight, his eyes closed and face tipped up to the source of conjured light. Even if it wasn't real! He couldn't ignore the twinges of Hell's power suffused throughout, faint echoes of his own far off creations touching feather light touches to his subconscious. There was also the undeniable ozone prickle at the back of his throat that gave distinct credence to Alastor's power; it was his bayou, it made sense his power would be woven through the space entirely.

It wasn't the mortal world, it never would be, but Lucifer didn't care. It was as close to the real thing as he'd seen in nearly two centuries, he wasn't about to start being picky now. Impossible for him not to sink his hooves deeper into the grass, eyes closed and face tilted to the illusion of sky. The slightest touch tickled his face as a lightning bug landed on his nose and Lucifer huffed a breathless laugh, squinting one eye open to observe the small creature.

It was also impossible to ignore the steady presence of the Radio Demon walking casually beside him.

Lucifer was careful not to stare too long or intently in Alastor's direction, the demon blurring into a crimson and black smudge in his peripheral vision. There was a faint warble of static in the air and Lucifer could have sworn there were a few moments he caught the briefest strains of music; notes and lyrics popping up in stark clarity for a few seconds before they dissolved back beneath the surface of indiscernible noise.

Arguably, it was the longest they had spent together without dissolving into barbed words and exchanged fists.

It was...nice.

Lucifer scrunched his face as the small insect climbed up to his forehead with the intent to burrow into his hair. He lifted one blackened finger into the firefly's path, shifting it away as soon as it was perched on the tip of his claw, and nearly jumped out of his skin at the leering grin now positioned within a few inches of his face. Alastor's shadow stared back at him through empty eye sockets, its grin stretched nearly as wide as its living counterpart. Its ears flicked and it made a sort of warbling sound, one inky hand reaching out toward Lucifer.

“Whoa, hey! Easy buddy.” He shifted back a step and the shadow- still a flattened 2D thing- hissed at him and retreated back to Alastor's side. Lucifer stared between the demon and his shadow self, blinking. “Uh...sorry.”

“Nonsense.” Alastor's red tipped claws passed over the shadow's ruffled hair. “It's merely a projection; it has no feelings to hurt.”

Lucifer shifted forward a step and watched the shadow's eyes narrow, his thoughts turning back to the last time one of Alastor's conjured shadows had leered at him. “So it's not-”

“No,” Alastor said quickly and moved his hand away. He sighed. “No, this shadow had no hand in the other night. That was something else.”

Lucifer swallowed but nodded. “Okay. So it's okay to interact with it?”

Alastor shrugged. “As I said, it's merely a projection of myself with a drop of power. Do what you wish, it has neither opinion nor agency.”

Lucifer scowled and focused on the other being. It really did look almost identical to Alastor, given that its grin wasn't restricted by the bounds of demonic flesh and blood. It stared back at him and when he moved closer again, its grin widened as it chittered at him.

“Be nice,” Alastor murmured and the shadow narrowed its gaze. It swept a hand dramatically toward Lucifer and then devolved into a series of other gestures, miming...something. Lucifer stared at it as the shadow completed its speech with a flourish of both hands, and then it melted away into a puddle, racing off to Satan-knew-where.

“Ah,” Alastor said, turning back the way they had come. “It seems your dear Charlotte is awake. She's at the door.”

“Oh, shit.” Lucifer shifted back on his heels and snapped his fingers, boots and coat and hat appearing with barely a flourish on his body. Alastor raised a brow at him but said nothing, and the pair of them made their way back through conjured nature to the hotel proper. His steps echoed across wooden floors toward the flung open door of Alastor's room, Charlie standing on the other side of the threshold. The moment she saw him her expression broke in a mix of joy and relief, worry and sorrow.

“Dad!” She flung himself into the room and Lucifer broke into a run for the last few steps to meet her. Even with the hours spent calming his mind against the onslaught of the past day and a half, he couldn't hold back the sudden rush of tears, arms and wings wrapped around Charlie to hide them both in the soft white light of a world all their own.
“I'm so glad you're okay! I was so worried and scared and-”

“I'm here, I'm here sweetheart.” Lucifer pressed his hands to her hair and back, cradling her close. Her sobs twined with his own in the nest of feathers and warmth. “I'm so sorry, Charlie, I never wanted you to see any of that. I'm so sorry-”

Her palm against his cheek stopped the words and through the blurring haze of his own tears, he could see the brilliant hue of relief in her smile.

“You're here now, and I meant what I said,” she breathed. “I'm here for you Dad, through the good and the bad. All of it. You're family, and I don't give up on family.”

“Charlie...”

She laughed softly and shook her head, pulling back. “Alastor told me he would get you back; I'm so glad he did.”

Lucifer let his wings drop away from the cocoon they had formed around him and Charlie, feathers ruffling as he tucked the appendages back away out of sight. As one, he and Charlie turned to the scarlet clad demon waiting patiently several feet away out of immediate earshot. Alastor grinned in their direction.

“It was nothing, Charlie,” Alastor said smoothly, lifting a hand to wave away her concerns and thanks. “A mere trifle, truly. Now with your father returned safe and sound, I do believe we have a new guest who requires our attention?”

Charlie sucked in a breath and grasped Lucifer's hands. “Yes! Emily said she needed to talk to you; that's why- we should go see her, she said it was important!”

“Alright, kiddo, let's go see Emily.” Lucifer let his gaze linger over Alastor a moment longer, the demon watching him in return through half lidded eyes. Alastor bowed slightly toward him, an action for his eyes alone as Charlie was already whirling away toward the door. Lucifer ignored the jerk of Charlie's grasp on his arm for a half second more, inclining his head back toward Alastor in kind. It was hardly the thanks the demon deserved, but for the moment, it would have to do.

Charlie tugged him along down the corridor and Lucifer didn't look back to see if Overlord followed though he thought he heard the gentle fizzing pop of static shadowing him, and he couldn't help but smile. Down the left half of the large staircase to the lobby below, Lucifer quickened his steps to match Charlie's long stride as he noticed the double doors of the main visiting parlor had been thrown open, voices drifting outward. In the shadow of the doorway he tugged on Charlie's grasp to stop and she turned a questioning gaze on him.

“Hey, is...do you think she's ready for this? She's a Seraph and I'm not exactly Heaven's most popular guy.” Lucifer gazed up at his daughter, her expression flicking from confusion to the slow dawn of understanding. Charlie placed her hands around one of his, her smile confident.

“She asked for you by name, Dad. Don't worry, I don't think Emily is as easily scared off as you think.”

Without any further hesitation, Charlie pulled Lucifer into the room.

On the L shaped sofa taking up half of the informal space given over for the residents' lounging, Lucifer quickly spotted the other two angels seated close together on the plush blue cushions. Vaggie turned immediately to look over the back of the sofa, her gaze softening as it landed on Charlie. The other angel didn't turn but Lucifer watched how her shoulders stiffened, the only part of her he could see aside from the back of her head over the sofa's back.

“Emily,” Charlie bounded around the sofa, her grip on Lucifer's hand loosening as he hung back. “Is now a good time?”

The Seraph stood without hesitation, turning immediately toward him. Gone were the white puffs of her gown, tears scrubbed away and feathers preened back into place so she looked more or less like she was taking a simple traipsing trip down into his realm. But Lucifer's gaze snagged on the indigo streaks marring the pure hue of her wings and he winced.

“Hello, sir.” Emily moved around the seating arrangement to stand before him, nearly as tall as Charlie so Lucifer tilted his gaze up to hers. She was wearing a soft gray set of pajamas and he picked up the faded logo of a college mascot on the left shoulder, one of Charlie's old workout sets. “Er, Prince-”

Lucifer jerked forward a step and held up a hand. “Just Lucifer is fine. I don't really...that title isn't mine anymore.”

Emily blinked and nodded sharply. “Oh. Right.”

“So...Charlie said you asked to talk to me.” Lucifer glanced toward his daughter who gave him a smile and a thumbs up. He breathed out and focused on Emily again, taking in the soft curves of youth painted on her face, the unburdened hue of her lilac eyes behind the fresh sorrow. “How are you holding up?”

“It's...there's a lot to think about. But first.” Emily held out the small pearl, its tiny iridescence settled in the center of her palm. “She gave me this right before-” She shook her head, mouth in a firm line. “Before everything. She said you would know what to do with it.”

Lucifer exhaled and took the small pearl from the Seraph's grasp, holding it gently between finger and thumb. The reverberations of power were minuscule but no less evident in the small thing and he wondered how it was that Michael hadn't sensed it passed from elder to younger. It didn't matter. He shook his head and caught the intent way Charlie was watching him, something hopeful and fearful in her gaze.

“Dad?”

“It's okay, sweetie. I think...” He trailed off, staring at the pearl for a moment longer, and then crushed it in between his fingers. Emily gasped sharply and Charlie stiffened, but Lucifer could only focus on the gleaming figure materializing from the pearlescent dust he shook off his hand. Sera unfolded in the empty space between them, wings ruffling as she straightened to her full height. Her dark eyes found his and there was the briefest ghostly flicker of a smile to her lips.

“Hello, Morningstar; it's been a long time.”

Lucifer inclined his head toward her. “Sera. It has.”

“I'm pleased Emily was able to find you so quickly. I worried about putting her in danger of landing elsewhere in your domain, but I hoped she would fall to your arms safely.” Sera turned her attention to the smaller Seraph, Emily having clasped her hands to her chest while tears streamed openly down her face. “My darling, I beg your forgiveness.”

Emily shook her head. “You did what you had to. I hold no grudge against you, Sera.”

“How is this...” Charlie stepped forward, gaze fixed on the Head Seraph. “How are you here?”

Sera smiled slightly and gestured to their surroundings still glimmering with the pearl dust. “An old trick taught to me by my mentor long ago. I am not fully here; this is merely an interactive moment I have stored in the pearl given to Emily before she was cast from Heaven. It is a drop of my power allowing me to speak to you without the threat of being overhead.”

“So you're not actually here.” Emily's voice was quieter, a little bit of hope dying in her tone. Sera reached for her but paused before the touch could connect, both she and Lucifer knowing her fingertips would pass through Emily's hand like the mirage she was.

“No, little one. But be comforted that you live eternal in my heart.” Sera turned to Lucifer again, her expression turning more serious. “There are things you should know before my time here is done.”

He nodded once. “Speak freely, Sera. You are among friends here.”

She breathed in slowly, steadying herself. “Morningstar of Heaven, heed my words. The Prince of War has tangled himself thoroughly within the Courts of Heaven, crushing his opposition. Those who stand against him are few in number and their position is made precarious with his ire renewed against you. The redeemed soul is a threat to him, but be at peace knowing the soul is safe under my care.”

“Pentious!” Charlie exclaimed in hissed excitement. “He's alright!”

“For now; I am doing what I can to keep him intact while Heaven's courts conduct their investigation. Our Princes convene for the fate of this soul but you should know, Morningstar.” Sera's gaze darkened with the seriousness of her next words and Lucifer couldn't keep back the rolling dread like a blackened storm across his soul. “Michael seeks blood.”

“That's nothing new,” he muttered but focused on her gleaming figure. “What of the others?”

Sera pressed her lips together, hands twitching before she folded them in the wide sleeves of her gown. “I cannot speak for the minds of the Princes but I have spoken with Knowledge and Healing; they are inclined to place themselves in opposition, consequences be damned. He has determined the soul is a weapon planted within our realm by some trickery at your hand.”

Lucifer swore under his breath and began to pace, one clawed hand raking through his hair. This was happening too fast; there was no way they could ever be ready for what Sera was implying. He turned to face her again, noting the way she was beginning to fade.

“Tell me true, Sera.” His tone was harsh and he noted the way his daughter and Emily flinched. But Lucifer kept his gaze fixed on the tall Seraph before him, the last notes of her power straining to remain intact. “How much time do we have?”

Her shoulders hunched. “He is asking for the Horn, Morningstar. As far as I know, Knowledge is keeping him at bay though I do not know how long his resolve will last against Michael's will. You realize-”

She cut herself off with a shake of her head, downy white feathers ruffling. “I am out of time. Morningstar, do not waste time in indecision. Michael will not wait for you to be ready.”

Sera turned toward Emily and held out nearly translucent hands. The smaller Seraph choked a sob and rushed forward into the taller figure's embrace and Sera placed a hand against Emily's hair. “Be strong, dear heart; I failed you with my dishonesty but know I place your wellbeing above all else.”

Emily tilted her face upwards and Sera smiled gently. “You are safe under his wings, little one; I would not have sent you to him if I did not believe in him.”

Over her head, Sera's gaze found Lucifer's and he swallowed at the grave belief shining in the dark depths of her eyes. “Shield her well, Morningstar; she is Joy and I will not see her wasted even for you.”

He nodded once and turned away, the quiet murmur of the Seraphs' joined voices twining together until one faded to silence and there was only the quiet sobs of an abandoned sister left behind. Charlie and Vaggie moved to embrace Emily, her sobs quieting as they held her in a gentle group hug.

Charlie looked at him over Emily's downy head and reached a hand out, a silent invitation. Lucifer smiled slightly and shook his head; the last thing the Seraph needed was a near stranger intruding on her moment of private grief. And then the three of them were pulling away from each other and Lucifer found his gaze focused on Emily anyway, the Seraph staring back at him with pain and grief mixed up in her tearful gaze.

“There's something I should do to help you, Emily. Sera entrusted your safety to my hands, so with your permission...”

Emily rubbed a hand over her eyes to swipe her tears away and then reached out to grasp Lucifer's outstretched hands. “What would you need to do?”

He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “It's not remotely ideal but you're in Hell now, sweetheart. This domain has a special way of treating newcomers and I'd rather you have an easier time of it than others. I need to ward you under my protection. At the very least it'll keep Hell from poking at you too harshly. But I can't do it without your full consent, Emily, and you should know...”

He breathed out and watched the flickering doubt in Emily's gaze. “You'll be fully under my dominion. Heaven may not ever accept you back.”

Emily stiffened and then gestured to her stained wings. “I've already Fallen, Prince- Lucifer,” she amended with a wry smile. The expression melted quickly into determination and she nodded. “I'll take my chances.”

Lucifer didn't bother shoving away the flicker of warmth in his chest as he regarded her. “That's my girl. Well, then...”

When she nodded again, Lucifer placed one hand on Emily's head, thumb resting lightly on her forehead and the other against the base of her throat. Exhaling to steady himself, he began to speak. The words flowed from the depths of his memory, the slowest drip of honey from a tipped container. Lucifer let his eyes drift shut, pouring his focus onto the gleaming figure existing solely in the basis of his subconscious. It was a simple binding spell; he'd learned how to weave his power in and around the bones of Hell a millennia ago and now it was second nature that had him focusing that same energy to more distinguished targets.

Emily gleamed bright like a diamond in his mind's eye and he turned the shape of the words in hand, placing them gently like a crown on her brow and around her throat like a necklace. For a moment she pushed back, edges blurring as panic set in but Lucifer had the advantage of a physical anchor. He pressed his hand more firmly against the crown of her head and listened to her physical body suck in a sharp breath just as her gleaming self gave up the fight and accepted the wreath and torque of his power.

When he opened his eyes, there was no outward change to the Seraph but he noted the fog of relief in her eyes, the way she had slumped back against the cushions.

“It's done,” he said, weariness sagging against his shoulders.

Charlie shook her head to clear the fog in her own expression, face pinched like she had eaten something sour. There were more questions in her gaze than Lucifer had energy for; Satan help him, he was ready to lie down right there on the rug and let exhaustion pull his eyes closed. But he leaned against the support of the sofa instead and shook his head.

“Can we talk about it later, Charlie? I'm...really tired.”

“Sure, Dad,” she murmured, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Just promise you're going to stay put this time?”

It was so easy to give her a warm smile in confirmation. Lucifer slipped his arm around her middle in an awkward hug, the difference in their heights warring with each other. “I promise, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere.”

And this time, he meant it. 

Chapter 20

Notes:

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack~

Hello dear lovely friends, hope you're all doing well! My sincerest and deepest thanks for understanding while I took that much needed hiatus; it gave me time to rest and get some life things sorted, as well as really focusing on the plot of this crazy story. As far as I can tell, I'm back to stay- here til the end!

Hope you'll jump back on this train ride with me, things are about to get crazier! <3

Lucifer lingered downstairs for another few hours but he was more than keenly aware of the presence haunting him in his peripheral vision every time he turned his head just so, the edges of his vision blurring with lax focus. Charlie kept glancing toward him and even with exhaustion pulling at his limbs and eyelids, begging him to curl up in the nearest armchair, Lucifer made himself remain in his daughter's bright presence as she and Vaggie coaxed Emily out of the hard shell of fear like a flower unfolding in sunlight.

Other sinners drifted in and out of the room but it was Alastor that Lucifer found himself watching.

Or, more accurately, Alastor's shadow.

The darkened figure skirted around the edges of the room and melted away into puddles of shadow only to reappear somewhere else, crawling up the back of the sofa or slipping gracefully down from the corner to observe the game Charlie had set up as a group activity. And it seemed the shadow was equally watching Lucifer in turn which...shouldn't have been as comforting as he found it.

Lucifer laid down his hand of colored cards as the table once more devolved into bickering. The motion caught Charlie's attention and she leaned over from the other side of the sofa toward him, her expression lovingly worried.

“You okay, Dad?”

He offered a smile in return. “Yeah, Duckie- I'm alright. Hey, you think it'll be okay for me to slip out? I'm dying for a nap, or straight caffeine in an IV.”

Her laugh was bright and unburdened and Lucifer grinned. Charlie patted his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I'll check on you later?”

“Deal.”

Waving to the others gathered- Emily and Vaggie specifically- Lucifer slipped out of the room and nudged the door behind him. Only when it had clicked shut did he release the heavy breath he was holding and turn to face the shadow waiting expectantly for him. Lucifer gestured to the staircase leading back up.

“Lead the way.”

He trailed after the shadow more slowly than he had descended it earlier, thoughts immediately turning to the events of the day. It hadn't been a complete lie to Charlie; he was tired, but the exhaustion twined around his bones was nothing to the nonstop whirl of his thoughts. From Emily's newfound presence in the hotel, her quick acceptance to place herself under his power, and then Sera's words chilling their way through his blood...

He is asking for the Horn.

Lucifer clenched his jaw as he turned on the upstairs landing toward the Radio Demon's door once more.

It swung open much the same way it had only days previous when he had darkened the threshold in search of a deal, but this time Lucifer stepped through the doorway with his thoughts turned elsewhere. Gone was the trepidation of entering Alastor's sanctum where before he had been dreading it; now there was only purpose.

Alastor, true to form, was waiting while appearing to not have been waiting at all. He was again seated at the wide desk by the windows though with his gaze tilted downward to stacks of paperwork before him, pen in hand. He barely glanced up as Lucifer entered- and wasn't that funny? A small mercy that he wasn't barred from the demon's presence, but how quickly they had achieved some semblance of amicable existence where Lucifer could freely come and go.

He dropped into the arm chair across from Alastor with a heavy sigh, earning him a mere ear flick from the occupied demon.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer asked after several minutes had passed with only the shuffling of paper to break the silence, the occasional scratch of a pen adding to the sounds with a flourish. He slouched deeper into the chair and Alastor lifted his gaze to finally stare at him, a disapproving tilt to his fixed smile. Lucifer waved a hand in dismissal. “It's my back, I'll fuck up my posture how I please, thank you.”

“Well far be it from me to stop you.” The demon set aside the paperwork and regarded him with full attention. “So, our dear archangel friend is not merely hiding in Heaven, licking his wounds.”

Lucifer grimaced and rubbed his forehead, pain threatening to blossom from mere annoyance into a full headache. “I don't even want to consider any of it, really. But dammit- this is bad, Alastor.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

That damned question again. Lucifer slouched even further and Alastor's frown deepened, but he couldn't care to even focus on the other demon's displeasure made silently known. Too many thoughts and questions circled his mind, a never-ending carousel of what if's and what could be's. It was exhausting.

Lucifer snapped his fingers and a small crystal vial appeared in his empty hand. He didn't miss the way Alastor's gaze snapped in the direction of the conjured object, a question spoken in the merest tilt of his red head. He forced himself to focus on the object instead of the demon staring at him, shuffling to sit up straighter in the chair as he set the vial down and shrugged out of his jacket. His shirt sleeve was rolled up quickly, wrist easily positioned over the rim.

“What in the seven rings of hell are you doing?”

Lucifer paused, clawed finger pressed to the inner vein at his wrist. “Uh, I mean- I was going to...y'know, the deal. One vial for each instance of protection.”

When Alastor didn't move or speak, his gaze fixed so pointedly at the promise of gold blood spilling across flesh, Lucifer tried again. “You defended me and Charlie from Michael. This is payment.”

Alastor's crimson gaze finally snapped up to his and the blatant ferocity in his eyes sent shivers running down Lucifer's spine. Still, the demon relaxed his grin on the table edge, his tone almost hesitant.

“You healed me from Adam; defending you was repayment. Your blood here, while welcome...is not necessary.”

“Oh.” Lucifer let his hand drop, noting the flicker of disappointment in Alastor's gaze. Something to consider later, though he was correct- his defense of Lucifer and Charlie had been before the contract was forged, so repaying him now was outside of the parameters they had set. It had just seemed like the decent thing to do, all things considered.

Alastor gestured to wave away the conversation. “As it stands, I did catch the fallen Seraph and pulled you from the space between realms. That does fit the parameters, if your Majesty is feeling so generous.”

Lucifer stared at him and Alastor's grin widened a fraction.

“At my discretion, as you recall,” the demon murmured.

“Satan, you're such an asshole.” Lucifer grimaced as his claw split flesh and golden blood dripped from the shallow cut into the glass vial. He pressed the flat of his thumb against the wound to keep it from sealing and to widen the stream of ichor, aware of the hungry cut of Alastor's gaze in his periphery.

It didn't lessen as Lucifer passed his thumb against the wound to heal it and then capped it, sliding it across the desk toward Alastor.

“Payment, as promised.”

“Your generosity is magnanimous, Sire.” Alastor plucked the vial from the desk surface and a shadow curled around it, tucking it away into hell knew where completely out of sight. Folding his hands, the demon leaned forward. “With that out of the way, now we can discuss what the Head Seraph spoke of.”

“The Horn.” Lucifer exhaled but nodded. He drummed his fingers on the desk surface. “Michael has only ever used the damned thing a handful of times in the past; fuck, I think the last time was when we actually stirred rebellion down here. But it’s been dormant.”

Alastor raised a brow but Lucifer pointedly ignored him, shifting his gaze just to the right of the demon's shoulder at the windows beyond. That was a bit of information Lucifer didn't have the energy to get into, never mind how the damned glyph would make telling the story next to impossible.

“And he wishes to use it now for...what? Summoning an end of days army of Heaven to march upon us?” Alastor inclined his head. “The sixth trumpet of Revelations, if I recall correctly.”

Lucifer shrugged. “That whole book is a bunch of garbage but it has some good elements, even if it's completely wrong. Good story though.”

“So what exactly does the Horn do, Sire?”

“Oh.” Lucifer straightened in the seat. “It's kind of like...a siren call, I guess? Once sounded it'll rally the Hosts of Heaven to whoever possesses the Horn, beyond rational thought. They won't care what the cause is so long as it's branded as a holy crusade, more or less.”

“So mindless warriors following wherever Michael points, fantastic.”

“Hey, I gave free will to mortal kind, not angels.” Lucifer shrugged and then leaned his head back. “We need to keep him from getting the Horn.”

“I assume you have a proposal?”

“Given where it's currently stashed, the main problem will be just to keep Michael from finding out its location. Once he sets his sights on it, there's no stopping him.”

Alastor stared at him and Lucifer stiffened, throwing both hands up. “What! Just because I'm a lazy good for nothing now doesn't mean I haven't taken precaution previously! Geez.”

Alastor leaned forward. “Lucifer. Where is the Horn?”

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. The last thing I heard about it was dear ol' Gabe telling me not to worry, that it was safe.” Lucifer rubbed a hand against his throat, the flickering heat from the glyph a barely there warning. Dancing around the truth was like balancing on a tightrope but Lucifer considered himself nothing except graceful and well practiced.

“Well then!” Alastor leaned back in the chair, his smile a sharper edge of clear agitation. “With that bit of an advantage out of our reach, I suppose it's only natural we turn to the next best thing- building a defense of Hell.”

Lucifer raised a brow at the demon. “So, you're suggesting...what exactly? This is Hell, Alastor. It's not like we have an army just standing around, you know.”

“You mentioned a rebellion previously.”

Fuck, he hated how that bit of info had slipped. Lucifer cast his gaze away, claws digging into the arms of the chair. “That was a long time ago and you're missing one important word to describe it- failed. We lost, alright? In case you haven't noticed, this is Pride. I'm not exactly a glutton for punishment, especially a repeat performance.”

Alastor shifted forward and stood, his steps taking him in a circuitous pace around the desk until he forcefully dragged the chair Lucifer was seated at fully away from the desk to face him. His hands braced against the chair arms so the demon was effectively caging him in, leaning down toward him with his grin turned cruel.

“You have been nothing but a sniveling fool, Lucifer; a damned poor excuse for a king who would rather apologize for things out of his control than do something about it. Michael has threatened you and your daughter and you would- what? Roll over and bare your soft belly to his claws, praying for mercy that will not come?”

“I-”

Alastor leaned closer, the fire in his crimson eyes smoldering to the point Lucifer thought he could nearly feel the heat as it touched ghostly fingers to his flesh. “Wake up, Lucifer,” he hissed, snapping his teeth and Lucifer wondered how it would feel for those jaws to close around his throat, tearing through flesh and blood until blackness embraced him and he didn't have to think anymore.

“You have a kingdom around you, an opportunity before you to do what no one else can or will and you are still dithering it away like it's meaningless. Heaven is not going to cease meddling in your affairs simply because you ask them nicely.”

“I didn't ask for this!” Lucifer surged upward until his face was nearly brushing against Alastor's, fire meeting fire. “You think I asked to...to have a throne and crown? You think I wanted to be king?”

Alastor snarled and drew back but only so far as to run one hand over his face, his mounting frustration clear.

“You made a deal with me,” Alastor seethed, teeth bared in full display of promised violence. “You bought my protection of this realm but I cannot...will not stand here and act as your shield and scapegoat. You are the king, Lucifer, goddamn you! Start acting like one!”

Alastor drew back and tugged at his coat and vest to smooth out the wrinkles, exhaling deeply. He shook his head and turned away and Lucifer...

“The Overlords,” he blurted out and the demon froze, shoulders stiff and hunched. He didn't turn back toward him but Lucifer stood anyway, tapping his fingers together. “They were more of Lilith's domain to be sure, but that doesn't mean they're not contracted to me. The others, I mean. I can...”

He raked a hand through his hair, thoughts spinning faster than he could put words to. Lucifer barely glanced at Alastor as the demon turned back to him fully, not taking his usual seat on the other side of the desk but situating himself in the matching armchair next to Lucifer's. He shifted away from the seated demon to pace, tail flicking against the carpet in agitation.

“Before, we called for a tithe of sorts. Overlords of Pride would hand over a portion of their soul energy- it's all in the contracts. I mean, it clearly didn't do shit, but the power boost alone...”

Lucifer trailed off and groaned. “This is the worst idea. They already think so little of me; it'll just be round two of making myself a disappointment.”

Alastor scoffed, his grin more natural. “You do that well enough already. Though you should consider the advantage you already have.”

“Which is?”

“The Overlords will never respect you unless you make them. Playing nice is all well and good but let me remind you again- you are the king. And as I recall the last time we were all in a room together, a certain upstart made some very blatant threats toward you and your house.” Alastor paused, watching him expectantly. “I would think someone of your caliber, coward or not, would not let that go quite so easily.”

Lucifer clenched a hand to a fist until his bones creaked their protest of the pressure. He hadn't forgotten exactly; the demoness had made it abundantly clear what she thought of him; all the Overlords had. He was never going to willingly gain their respect and that was fine, he'd never wanted it in the first place.

But to go after Charlie?

Alastor was right. He shouldn't let it slide.

Wouldn't.

Lucifer dropped back into the armchair and exhaled past the headache threatening to begin pounding away behind his eyes. He swept his gaze across the stack of blank paper Alastor had set before him, pen at the ready. “Alright, then we get them together for another meeting. This time- not an invitation. A summons.”

“To the hotel?” the demon murmured, moving the pen over the paper while his gaze stayed fixed on Lucifer.

He swallowed at the intent interest in those crimson eyes, forcing himself to think past the heat searing him with a mere glance.

“Not the hotel. The palace.” Lucifer paused and watched a thrill heat Alastor's gaze. “My palace.”

“Very good, Sire,” Alastor murmured, setting the pen to paper. His gaze fixed on Lucifer again, one brow raised expectantly and Lucifer stiffened, turning away before the demon could notice how he'd been staring.

“An official summons to the palace. Declining is out of the question,” Lucifer continued, resuming his pacing in the wide space between desk and the pair of armchairs nestled closer to the fireplace. “So more of a declaration of intent, I guess? They need to know I'm not asking.”

He listened to the sound of pen scratching lightly against paper, Alastor's silence an opportunity for his thoughts rather than a mockery as Alastor was so often inclined toward. It struck him, then, how ridiculous the whole thing was- that out of every being in Hell, it was Alastor who was sitting here in quiet support of Lucifer when everyone else in the seven rings and beyond had turned their backs.

It was...humbling, in an odd way. Even when the demon snapped and snarled more than he was of aid, Lucifer found he was growing used to Alastor's barbed presence at his side.

“Alastor.”

“Yes, Majesty?”

Lucifer studied him for a long moment, taking in every detail from the fletched ends of the demon's ears to the prick of his claws resting gently against the stationary he was writing on.

“You realize this is going to include you as well, right? I don't think it would look right for me to publicly play favorites.”

Alastor hummed and set the pen down. “Certainly not, nor would I expect my position as guard dog to come with additional perks.”

Lucifer scowled. “That's not what I meant, asshole. You're such a-”

The demon was out of the seat and before him in an instant, one slender claw placed to Lucifer's lips. “Rest assured, Majesty, there shall be a summons written for myself. Best not to let the other Overlords know of our arrangement if we can help it. I shall arrive at the palace for the summons like everyone else and I shall pay my dues as they all do.”

“Alastor...”

The demon's hand fell away and he shifted back a step. “You will put me in my place, Sire; the other Overlords, simple as they are, will be expecting as much. I mocked you openly. Can you so easily punish Velvette for her insolence while giving me grace and pardon where I have earned none?”

Lucifer shook his head. “That's hardly fair considering everything, but...I see your point.” He sighed and turned his gaze to the stack of papers, picking out a few of the lines written in Alastor's scrawl. His skin felt too tight, crawling with nerves. History repeating itself in a blurred montage like an old black and white film, cards moving quickly to give the illusion of a moving picture. The last time he'd fought for the betterment of Hell...

“Drifting, are we?” Alastor's voice was a lifeline to the quagmire of those thoughts and Lucifer grasped at it with abandon, clawing his way free. He shook his head against the weight of the past and focused on the demon before him.

“Alright, Alastor- you'll get your due discipline. I'd say of the two of us, you're the glutton for punishment here.” A ghost of a smile lit up the demon's face then and Lucifer couldn't help a short, choked off laugh. “You're probably the strangest soul I've ever met down here, you know?”

Alastor hummed. “I'm flattered, truly.”

Lucifer scoffed a laugh and turned to drop back into the armchair, exhaustion forcing itself back up to the forefront of his focus. He gestured lazily toward the papers. “We'll set the meeting for Thursday; it gives us a few days to prepare. Satan knows I should probably spruce up the throne room to match the current era.  Wonder if Charlie would want to help with that...?”

He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, head tilted back against the chair support. “Being a king is exhausting.”

“And that's why I stopped off at Overlord!” the demon snapped back in a sing-song tone devoid of any real venom.

“Oh fuck you!” Lucifer scowled but didn't move his arm to look over at the demon, flicking up his middle finger in Alastor's direction. The answering laugh was more cackle than anything, but it was a comforting sound- and, Satan help him, Lucifer didn't even want to think about what all of that entailed on top of everything else.

Chapter 21

Summary:

After spending a whole day with Alastor, Lucifer visits Charlie at the hotel for some late night revelations, and Vaggie prepares a gift for her king.

Notes:

Good morning and happy Saturday, my friends! I am super excited for this chapter today, there's alot that's about to go down- hopefully you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

I appreciate you all coming back for more! I am here to stay with the weekly updates from now on, so I hope you stick around! <3

Now, let's get to the chapter!

It was already early evening when Lucifer finally slipped out of the doorway leading to the Radio Demon's rooms. He hadn't meant to spend the rest of the day holed up with only Alastor for company but it couldn't have been helped- Lucifer had dozed off in the armchair by the demon's desk for most of the afternoon. He hadn't been lying to Charlie when he said he was exhausted, even if there were things to do before he could let himself rest. Once the conversation had eased with plans firmly in place, Lucifer had let his eyes drift closed while Alastor hummed and went about...whatever he was doing.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to fall asleep a few feet away from where Alastor had drugged him previously, but Lucifer found he'd been too tired to care. It had been an exhausting few days and aside from some nebulous dreams, he'd slept peacefully.

Then there had been the need to walk through Alastor's bayou again, Lucifer giving the excuse that he needed to check the new lifeforms in the conjured area. Alastor had stared at him for a long moment and then shrugged, his hum of assent all Lucifer needed.

Now Lucifer, having spent the entire day holed up, finally bid the Radio Demon a good night and slipped out. The hallway beyond was still and quiet, a sign that most everyone had already retired or was on their way. Lucifer glanced down the longer side where the hallway turned down toward the staircase. It wasn't quite late enough that he could still sneak down for a late evening snack, but...

His gaze drifted to the opposite end where the rest of the doors led to various rooms. One in particular, and before he could even let the thought fully form, Lucifer started down that side of the hall toward Charlie's room. It was as unremarkable a door as the rest lining both walls along the hallway though he knew this side of the floor, while more populated with those Charlie considered her nearest and dearest, was still relatively empty. Especially considering the other side of this floor where his own room was nestled, empty and dark without the comforting presence of a neighbor or two to break through the wall of loneliness.

Lucifer shook his head to push those thoughts away- old habits died hard and it had been second nature to set himself up far away from the rhythms of life from the other residents. Maybe that was why he had spent all day with Alastor, of all people.

He blinked and focused on the door in front of him, startling to realize it was now open. Instead of staring at the color hue of the wood barrier, Charlie now stood before him. Her smile was patient and understanding as she waited for him to reorient himself. Lucifer muttered a curse and stepped back, his own smile slamming into place.

“Hey Char-Char!”

Her laugh was like water over stones, light and bubbling in a way that never failed to bring a more genuine smile to his face. “Hi Dad; are you okay?”

“Ah, who, me? Oh yeah, I'm great!” Lucifer cleared his throat. “Hey I know it's kind of late, but I was hoping to talk to you, if you have a minute?”

Charlie stepped backward into her room with the door opening wider, her smile hopeful and open. “I always have time for you.” She turned to call into the room. “My dad's coming in!”

There was a girlish squeak followed by a laugh and then the door to the adjoining bathroom slamming shut with muffled Spanish punctuated by giggles. Lucifer peered around the doorframe into the space empty of all other occupants and then looked back up at Charlie, her own laughter only barely contained.

“Don't worry, it's fine. They'll be back.”

“They?” He stepped inside after Charlie and then saw a daybed set up with fluffy white and purple duvet and pillows in addition to the queen sized bed draped in the reds and golds he knew Charlie favored. Realization dawned and he started to shift backward. “Oh, hell- Charlie, I'm sorry, I didn't realize-”

Charlie's hand on his shoulder stilled both movement and words and Lucifer blinked up at her. “Dad,” she said gently. “It's okay.”

She gestured to the tufted sofa positioned at the end of her bed, hopping forward to swipe the stack of old issues of a teen magazine off the cushions. Charlie laughed, high pitched and nervous as she dropped the stack onto a nearby glass top table amid bottles of nail polish and a box of tissues. Lucifer's smile eased at the sight, a glimpse into his daughter's life in the inanimate.

He turned back to her, Charlie having taken up the seat on the left of the sofa with a pillow clutched to her chest. Her expression was open and peaceful and a heavy stone of doubt sunk in his chest; here he was about to bring up the worst things in her peaceful sanctuary. But the worst was already actively happening around them so it was a little late for Lucifer to put his hands against the cracks to keep the water from seeping out.

“Dad?” she prompted, folding her legs up on the sofa beneath her.

Lucifer reached over to place his hand over hers on the pillow. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? Charlie, you're...you've grown so much. I couldn't be prouder of you if I tried.”

She laughed breathlessly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I'm proud of you too, Dad. It's been really nice having you here at the hotel with us even with everything going on. And I'll admit, I'm still scared, but...you're here.” Charlie tilted her head to the side, watching him and it was a moment too late that Lucifer caught the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “I'm glad you're spending time with Alastor.”

“...wait, what?”

Her laugh was more genuine this time. “He came by and told me you fell asleep at his desk this afternoon. I mean, I really thought you both hated each other at first but I'm glad you're getting along.”

Lucifer forced a smile if only to keep his own traitorous thoughts at bay. “Oh, yeah! Me and the old radio are getting along, for sure. So he....came to talk to you.”

Charlie nodded. “He told me he was being summoned for an Overlord meeting this week and needed to be excused for that day. He said...” She paused, her expression growing serious. “He said you summoned him and the others.”

Oh, he was gonna kill Alastor. Slowly, painfully- after the dust had settled and the constraints of their deal was lax enough Lucifer didn't need him anymore. Of course immediately as he entertained the thought, a sharp kick of guilt made room in his chest, tasting bitter with the mere betrayal of that line of thought.

“Yeah,” Lucifer breathed, sinking down onto the empty spot of the sofa across from Charlie. “Yeah I did. That's actually what I was coming by to tell you; I wanted you to hear it from me first so you know I'm not just skipping out.”

“Is this about what Sera was talking about?”

Satan, she was so smart. Lucifer offered a small smile in her direction and nodded. “Given the circumstances, I need to at least make sure Pride is in shape to defend itself. I'm gathering the Overlords to collaborate a solid defense for when Michael returns, because he will.”

“I know.” Charlie's voice held no doubt, only flaming conviction in her tone. She stared at him without hesitation. “And that's why I'm going to the meeting with you.”

Lucifer startled forward. “Charlie-”

“This is my kingdom too, Dad. These are my people! Michael came down here and threatened us all, so it's my duty as princess to...be involved?” Her tone shifted into more of a question than a statement, accompanied by the scrunching of her face in indecision. “I know politics aren't really my thing, but I need to try. For them.” Charlie paused again and her smile returned, soft and comforting. “And for you.”

Lucifer shifted closer and took her hand, his scattered thoughts making themselves immediately scarce in the face of Charlie's quiet presence. He breathed out as he gazed at his daughter, words choking with a mix of tears. “Charlie, I-”

Charlie threw herself forward to wrap him in a hug, squeezing tight. “I'm here, you've got me. Always, Dad,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Let me help you, Dad. You're not alone in this.”

Satan help him, he couldn't hold back the relieved sobs anymore. He shuffled closer into his daughter's embrace and she stroked his back the same way he used to soothe her after a nightmare when she was small. Never mind that they were hardly alone in the room or that he hadn't openly cried in front of his daughter in nearly two centuries, Lucifer held onto Charlie like she was a lifeline into the darkness he'd been drowning in for so long.

It was a few minutes before either of them moved to let go; Charlie's breathless laugh equally thick with her own tears. She swiped her sleeve over her face but not quickly enough for Lucifer to miss the reddened hue of her cheeks, the sheen of brightness in her eyes. He probably looked equally as bad but he found he didn't care. Lucifer shot Charlie a grin as he wiped his own face and then the pair turned almost as one to the sound of a muffled cough.

“Vaggie, Emily.” Charlie reached over the back of the sofa to the pair of angels emerging from the closed off bathroom suite. Vaggie was the first to move closer, fingers entwining with Charlie's with ease, but her gaze flicked toward Lucifer. He didn't shrink down against the sofa, not exactly- but hell, he was intruding.

Lucifer rocked forward to stand, ignoring the dull headache from the few minutes of crying. “Well, that's my cue. Charlie, thanks for letting me hang out. You ladies have a good night, okay?”

“Actually, I'd like you to stay.”

His gaze snapped to Emily's in surprise and from his peripheral, Charlie and Vaggie were also surprised. But Emily held his focus and Lucifer took in the glimmering courage in her starlight hue eyes, the way she carried herself with the grace of a person whose purpose is clear. It was beautiful, an echo of the woman who had brought her to life, and in that moment Lucifer didn't bother pushing away the swell of pride when he looked at the younger Seraph.

“We have questions. Or, I do,” she continued after a quick glance to Charlie for a bolstering nod of encouragement. “And I think you're the only one who can answer them.”

Lucifer smiled softly and inclined his head toward her, the dip of a nod returned with knowing. “Alright, kiddo, I'll do my best to answer whatever you've got.”

Her smile brightened and Emily dropped onto the bed, folding her legs under her and tucking her wings up close to make room for Vaggie on the other side of the bed. The former Exorcist stretched out on her stomach with her arms folded to prop up her chin. Lucifer settled back on the sofa and Charlie wiggled closer, reaching over to take one of Vaggie's hands as she curled up against Lucifer's side.

“Okay, so I'm wondering,” Emily began, breathing out slowly. “The way you placed your power over me, like a veil. You said it was because Hell isn't kind to outsiders.”

Lucifer nodded. “Figured that out the hard way. Hell is...it has its own subconscious, in a way. Kind of like an entity to itself, and for those of us who weren't born or made here, it can sometimes treat us like a virus.”

“Oh.” Emily rubbed the hem of her sleeve between two fingers. “So that's why you needed to...”

“If there had been another way, sweetheart, I would have done it. I'm sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, it's okay. I'm just trying to come to terms with it all. My entire life has been spent in Heaven, and now I'm here... I just want to understand what's going on so I know how to move forward.”

Lucifer couldn't keep a smile back, a silent thought at the back of his mind taking shape like a prayer. Sera, you made her perfectly- you should be proud. But he nudged the message aside, tucking it back away for a later time when he could send it properly through the right channels.

“I was curious about something.” Charlie leaned over to gesture to the colored markings breaking up the pristine white of Emily's wings. “This is something I'm not sure I understand. Emily's wings are marked with color the same way yours are, Dad, but Vaggie's aren't- and none of the angels I've seen in Hell carry those markings either.”

Lucifer swept his gaze across the darkened feathers in Emily's wings, his own twitching in discomfort within the pocket he'd swept them into after Alastor broke the chains earlier that day. A roll of his shoulders masked the flinch easily enough; the care they needed could wait a bit longer, overall.

“So that's kind of tricky. It's more or less a physical representation of belief- and Hell messing with you, Emily.” Lucifer kept his focus on the younger angel, the words sticking only slightly before he could speak them. An old trick he recalled from years before; so long as he didn't reference his own blood stained wings, it would be fine. “Emily didn't fall willingly; she was cast down. Her home and her purpose will always be Heavenly, so in a way, she doesn't belong here. She knows she doesn't belong here, and now Hell does too.”

“...but Vaggie was left here by the other Exorcists.” Charlie flicked her gaze between the three of them. “She doesn't belong here either, but-”

“I believe I do,” Vaggie murmured, gaze meeting Lucifer's for a split second of recognition before she focused on Charlie. “That's...I think that's the whole point. Back then I messed up, or thought I did, so it was easy to believe I belonged down here.”

Charlie turned toward Emily and then angled herself fully toward Lucifer. Her gaze flicked across the space just over his shoulders where his wings would be loosely folded if they were out in the open instead of tucked away in the pocket, itching with twinges of pain. She exhaled softly and her gaze shifted, emotion flicking through the red and gold depths too fast for Lucifer to catch or make sense of.

“You don't belong here,” Charlie murmured, and something in her voice reached across the endless years to strike Lucifer in the core of his heart.

He shook his head and clasped her hands, enough of a silent plea to let the matter drop that Charlie would understand and she nodded slightly a moment later. His smile came easier then and Lucifer pulled his hand away from Charlie's and stood.

“Well, it is getting late and tomorrow is a big day. You ladies get some rest, okay? Lots of hotel things to do, and all that.” Lucifer laughed softly, backing toward the door, but Vaggie moved between him and the exit, hands on her hips.

“Sir, your wings.” Vaggie held his gaze pointedly and Lucifer wanted to wave her obvious concern away, a hundred excuses coming to the tip of his tongue. But he stopped himself when she continued, expression settling into something stubborn. “Charlie told me what Michael did and you've been flinching every few minutes this entire evening. With all due respect, I can't let you walk out of here without making sure they're- you're okay.”

Lucifer shook his head, shrugging slightly. He offered a wan smile in the angel's direction. “You're a sharp one, Vaggie; I appreciate the concern, I do. Yeah, they're bothering me but it's nothing I can't handle on my own. I'm gonna set them right back in my room, no big deal.”

“Oh my god, Dad, why didn't you say something!” Charlie latched onto his arm with all the strength of a thousand Nephilim and dragged him back toward the center of the room, all hope of making his escape withering away. “Your wings must be in so much pain, you should have mentioned it sooner!”

“It's okay, Charlie, really! Today has been a lot and it's getting late-”

“Nope,” she said firmly and gestured to the sofa. “Bring them out so we can see the damage. I'm not letting you walk out of here just so you can suffer in silence by yourself, not again.”

Lucifer sighed in the face of her stubbornness (and gee, wherever did Charlie learn that particular trait?). It only took half a thought for the pocket to relax, wings slipping back into existence. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know the crumpled state of them, feathers crushed in wild disarray from the press of the chains the day before. Healing them had been instantaneous, something he could use his power for, but to put the feathers to rights was something he would have to do by hand.

Charlie's expression wobbled and she gasped, eyes wet with the threat of tears, but Vaggie drew attention to herself when she moved between the pair. Lucifer tipped his gaze up to the taller angel's, the resolute hue of her expression at odds with the sorrow in her eyes.

“My sisters and I used to do care circles,” she said quickly. “It was a fast way to get our wings in shape when we only had a few minutes; many hands make light work, as they say.”

Emily moved to stand beside Charlie opposite the other angel and Lucifer found the trio of women before him probably more intimidating than it should have been. But it was Charlie's expression that held his gaze, the hope filling her eyes- and how could he say no to that?

Charlie squealed and clapped her hands together once, whirling to pull an ottoman closer to the sofa. “Don't worry, Dad! Vaggie has been showing me how to preen wings, and with Emily here, we have even more experience. It'll be fine!”

She gestured to the seat and Lucifer settled on the ottoman, wings slumping against the floor with the movement. It left enough room for Charlie and Vaggie and Emily to shuffle onto the sofa behind him. Lucifer looked over his shoulder and the crest of feathers of his upper wing at the trio. Vaggie's expression was the most serious of the three, the knowing in her eyes making Lucifer's skin crawl.

“I've seen these kinds of injuries before,” she said with a nod, the reassurance a small comfort. “With your permission...?”

Lucifer nodded once. “Go ahead. And...thank you.”

He really tried to hold himself still, keeping himself from flinching as the angel passed her hands over the feathers with as light a touch as possible. Lucifer clenched his hands to fists where they rested on his knees, shoulders tensing despite his best efforts.

“Sorry,” Vaggie mumbled from behind him, the apology more evident in the brusqueness of her tone, and then she muttered under her breath, foreign words tripping over themselves in the sharp biting way of a curse. “I never really gave much thought to the other angels who we...sometimes we'd have to pin their wings. I knew it was barbaric but they were always so...beneath me, I didn't really pay much attention. It wasn't until I lost my own wings that I even considered...”

Lucifer glanced over his shoulder and even though Vaggie was focused on the second pair of wings at his back, she was angled toward Charlie as she spoke. Charlie who had placed a hand comfortingly on the other woman's shoulder, a moment of intimacy he was intruding upon.

Emily, too; the Seraph having scooted to the opposite corner of the sofa in an effort to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Lucifer met her gaze and offered a small smile, his wink gaining a breathless laugh from her.

“All that said,” Vaggie continued, clearing her throat. “I'm sorry this happened to you, sir.”

“Vaggie, you can just call me Lucifer. We're family here; and besides- fuck!” Lucifer jerked forward, lip caught between his teeth as fiery pain erupted from his wings and ran like a torrent down his spine. It burst white hot along every nerve, clenching an invisible fist around his lungs to keep him from inhaling a breath that was like a thousand knives down his throat.

“-sorry! I am so sorry!” Vaggie's voice sliced through the agony and Lucifer shook his head to clear the daze, his own focus shaky. He grimaced at the fresh blood slipping easily from the shredded flesh of his hands, claws having sliced through where he clenched his fingers to his palms. He fought to swallow and then tossed a wobbly smile over one shoulder.

“It's okay, it wasn't you. I should have expected... Honestly, it's probably best if I do it myself. Last thing I want is to hurt any of you by accident.”

“There's no way you can,” Vaggie said firmly, mouth in a thin line. “I don't mean to be disrespectful, but your wings were chained up for who knows how long. I see you've healed the bone and flesh of them, but the feathers... This isn't a one man job, sir- Lucifer.”

“She's right, Dad. You need help. It's really bad.”

Lucifer shook his head. It was a battle already lost and as much as he protested, he did need the help. Wanted it. When was the last time anyone had passed a gentle touch over his wings? Not since the days when Lilith still dwelt with him, and even that time was a good several decades into the past. He couldn't help the full body shudder that manifested in all six wings rippling outward, feathers quivering in their disarray.

“Please,” he said quietly, eyes slipping shut.

Satan, it was bliss. Three pairs of hands moved gently over his wings, smoothing the rumpled feathers and easing away the quills and barbs of those too damaged to be salvaged. This all marked by Vaggie's quietly murmured instructions offered to Charlie, peppered with encouragement by her and Emily alike as they worked. Lucifer for his part did better at staying still, the burning itch in his wings slowly soothed by the care offered by his family.

And wasn't that a funny thought? Lucifer smiled to himself; he'd never thought he'd count any angel as close as he once had, not in the sense of familial bonds. But here was a former Exorcist and the daughter of the High Seraph of Heaven, crowded together with Charlie as their shoulders bumped on the too small sofa, laughter filling the quiet gaps of their work. It was soothing in a way that reached beyond the realm of flesh and bone straight down into Lucifer's battered soul, the ragged edges of it instinctively flinching away before relaxing under the gentle touch.

Lulled as he was by the ministrations, eyes closed and shoulders slumped in relaxation with every breath deep and even, he barely noticed when Vaggie murmured something to one of the others and then Emily was leaving the couch to head to the bathroom. Lucifer cracked one eye open for a half a second before a light touch smoothed along the downy feathers in the middle pair of his wings had him sighing, fully relaxed once more.

It wasn't until the smell of patchouli and sandalwood hit his senses that Lucifer snapped himself back to full awareness. He straightened on the ottoman and turned quickly, Emily gasping sharply while Charlie stared at him with wide eyes.

But it was Vaggie he focused on; the former Exorcist holding a crystalline bottle in one hand with her other palm held flat for the oil she had poured out of the slender opening. She held his gaze without hesitation, the cool scent between them, and Lucifer fought the dryness in his mouth to rasp a single word.

“What-”

“It's the last of the wing oil I have from Heaven.” Her voice was quiet, barely murmured and yet they cut straight to Lucifer's heart. Vaggie didn't pull her gaze away from his as she righted the bottle and handed it to Charlie who took it reverently. “I had this with me when I was left here and it seemed wrong to just throw it away back then. Charlie has shown me how to make alternatives down here, so...”

She paused long enough to take a long, steadying breath but didn't look away from Lucifer. “I would be honored if you would let me use this on your wings. My King.”

His voice fled, the damned thing. Lucifer could only nod, throat tight for entirely different reasons than usual, and Vaggie nodded in return. She gestured and Lucifer shuffled forward on the ottoman to make room for her as she stood, oil cupped carefully in her hand. Her first touch was so light he barely felt it, fingers brushing against the crest of his upper wings so reverently, Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut against the threat of tears for the second time that day.

Vaggie didn't move from behind him as she passed her hands from the crest to the tip of each wing, the fragrant oil cool against abused feathers. Lucifer was aware of every minuscule touch, her presence like a beacon as she worked. Charlie and Emily had moved away from the sofa to places on either side of him so Lucifer had clear sight of both women, and their expressions were awed. Another thing to twist at his heart; the way Charlie looked at him with pride, eyes wet and hands clasped, her smile wide. And Emily was gazing at him with a reverence he had to look away from, the knowing in her lilac eyes something Lucifer couldn't- didn't- want to consider just then.

“Thank you,” Lucifer breathed when Vaggie lowered her hands from his wings and stepped around to join the other two in front of him. He clasped her hands tightly and blinked past the burn in his eyes, Vaggie's smile wobbling in equal turn as she moved closer to embrace him. The group hug this time wasn't unexpected, warmth cocooning around Lucifer in the shape of Vaggie's and Charlie's and Emily's arms around him, and not for the first since walking back into his daughter's life, Lucifer felt at home.

---

Saying their goodnights took more time than was necessary, though none of the four seemed eager to cut the evening over. It was only after Charlie and Emily both yawned in quick succession of each other that Lucifer untangled himself from his daughter's side hug, pleading his own exhaustion.

With their wishes for pleasant dreams following him down the hall, Lucifer turned at last to his own quarters. He paused by his doorway, gaze drawn down the hallway toward the far end where Alastor's rooms were draped in nighttime shadow. Nope- he'd spent enough time bothering the infamous demon for one day; Alastor deserved some alone time too.

Shaking his head, Lucifer pushed open the door to his rooms and only shivered slightly when the wards he'd placed around them rippled with a chill to let him in. Maybe it was a bit of overkill but it was an old habit Lucifer had dragged with him from the palace; it took little effort to set up the wards so only he and anyone of his bloodline could enter (Charlie, just Charlie- no one else needed to be barging into his room in the middle of the night for any reason).

Content with the state of the wards and the pristine room from how he'd left it, Lucifer swapped his attire for softer pajamas and slipped into the bed, a single thought cast outward flicking the lights off. His wings draped lazily across the majority of the bed, soothed feathers filling the air with the tender scent of the oil Vaggie had gifted. Surrounded as he was by the echoing presence of love, Lucifer drifted off to sleep.

It seemed mere seconds before his eyes snapped open to flick wildly around at the crushing darkness filling his room. The curtains were still drawn over the windows but Lucifer knew he should have been able to make out the faintest glow from the city beyond, a city that never really slept when it was lit up constantly by neon lights from almost every building. But this...

A few seconds of blinking awake confirmed his wards were zipping restlessly around the room, torn between the calmness of a person expected and an intruder attempting entrance. Lucifer moved his arm slowly across the bed, a languid shifting he often did in his sleep, and closed his fingers around the cool metal of his staff conjured under the pillow. He cast his gaze down toward the end of the bed, away from where the glow of the windows would have reached, a vain search for any sign of movement in the darkness.
It happened quickly.

Lucifer swung his arm out from beneath the pillow, staff in hand, just as Alastor materialized above him. They clashed together in the middle of Lucifer sitting up as Alastor bore down on him but in this, Alastor had the upper hand. His forearm pressed against Lucifer's chest to pin him against the mattress, one clawed hand clamping tightly over his mouth to muffle a shout of surprise. Shadow tendrils lashed out around Lucifer's wrists to yank his arms down, stretching them out toward the corners of the bed, and above him Alastor loomed.

“Listen to me,” Alastor hissed, pressing his arm more firmly against Lucifer's chest to keep him pinned. His eyes were wide and panicked, radio dials flickering erratically in his gaze, but it was the golden blood dripping from the demon's bared teeth that held Lucifer's attention. He stared wide eyed up at Alastor, squirming under the demon's weight and against the shadowed bonds- no doubt made more powerful from the blood Alastor consumed to gain access to his rooms.

“She is trying to invade Hell, do you understand? I have been feeding her for nearly a century- listen to me!” Alastor grasped Lucifer by a handful of his shirt only to shove him back down to the bed, teeth snapping too close to his exposed throat. Lucifer breathed out sharply through his nose and glared upward.

“Her strength is unparalleled, the walls between this realm and the next are weakening. I have slowed my hunting for her for as long as I could but with your blood now at my disposal, she is going to make her winning move soon.”

Alastor dug his claws harder against Lucifer's cheek, dragging a pained yelp from the pinned angel. The demon jerked sharply, head turned at a sharp angle as his ears swiveled in every direction to look for a threat Lucifer couldn't see or sense. He grunted under Alastor's hand pressed to his mouth and brought his leg up sharply to knee the demon in the side. A futile move ultimately as Alastor snarled and leaned down again so his next words, spoken in barely a whisper, were only just audible for Lucifer's ears alone.

“You have to stop her, Lucifer. I can't do this anymore, I...I'm exhausted. We are running out of time!”

The darkness surged forward and Alastor's weight left him in the space between seconds, shadows swirling around the demon until he was fully gone. Lucifer wrenched himself to the side and clicked the bedside lamp on, flooding the room with blessed light to chase every shadow to the farthest corner. He stared around the room which was completely empty of any other life save for himself. Only the plastic and painted eyes of a few rubber ducks stared back at him from the impromptu workbench Lucifer had conjured days before.

“What the actual fuck!” he yelled into the empty room. 

Notes:

Sooooooooooooooo have we figured out what Alastor is up to yet? :D

Tee heeeee...!

Notes about wing care- I did my best to make this chapter as accurate as possible for preening such as Lucifer feeling pain from damaged feathers, etc. The use of the oil isn't as accurate, but I really wanted a moment for anointing, so that ended up staying in.

Thank you so much for reading, see you next week!

Chapter 22

Summary:

With Michael's threats against Lucifer amping up and fearing war is on his doorstep, Lucifer calls the Overlords together for a tithe.

Notes:

Good morning lovely friends! Happy Saturday!

Today's chapter is a doozy, so grab a snack and a drink before settling in and buckling up, hehehe....

Huge shoutout to my fabulous beta Cori; this story wouldn't be half as polished without you! And to Quill- your screeching gives me so much life, thank you endlessly for letting me bounce ideas off you as we steamroll our way to the eventual end <3

For someone who always seemed to be in the vicinity, Alastor was actually a tricky bastard to pin down. Lucifer had caught sight of the red clad demon a handful of times already throughout the hotel at large but every time he got close, Alastor merely bled away into the shadows without even a backward glance, a grin, or an echo of sitcom laughter to give a hint that it was all a big joke. It was infuriating, this insane game of hide and seek mixed with demented tag-you're-it, and by the time afternoon's red light was filtering through the hotel's upper windows, Lucifer was ready to give up.

Nevermind the countless questions he had burning endlessly in his mind, the aching need to wrap his hands around the sinner's shoulders and shake him until answers clattered out... He had other pressing things at hand.

Thursday had dawned red as blood; fitting, Lucifer thought as he scowled at his dim reflection in one of the top floor windows. A full day between the event and the scheduled meeting and while the time spent with Charlie and Vaggie and Emily had been pleasant, it was the events after three in the morning that had him on edge. He hadn't been able to get back to sleep after Alastor had brushed through his wards like they were tissue paper; a side effect of the vial of blood he'd consumed, Lucifer guessed. Other than the odd warning (which he was purposefully not thinking too hard about just yet, thank you very much) he wondered why.

“Dad?”

He turned with a startled flinch as Charlie walked over, her smile dimming only a little. Lucifer swept his expression into what he hoped was something warmer, reaching toward her.

“Charlie, hey. You ready, kiddo?”

She shrugged with a smile. “As I'll ever be. Vaggie said she and Emily will handle everything here while we're busy. So..”

Lucifer nodded once. “Right. Okay, so it's just gonna be a big formality, more or less. I'm asking the Overlords to tithe their power, in a sense, to help us defend Pride.”

“Right.” The conviction in her tone only served to match her expression, determination of a steely kind that was more reminiscent of Lilith. And Lucifer found it a bit harder to swallow in the moment, it was hardly the time to get emotional now. “And I promise I will only be present as an impartial third party; you won't have to worry about me saying or doing anything to embarrass-”

“Charlie.” Lucifer gave her hands a squeeze and she squeaked, biting her lip against a widening grin. “You're my daughter first, but you're also Princess of Hell and Duchess of Pride. Having you present- you don't need to sit in the background just to be there. Like you said, these are your people too.”

Her expression shifted into a softer smile and Charlie squeezed his hand back. “Thanks Dad.”

With a smile to match hers, Lucifer shifted back a step and snapped his fingers. A portal opened immediately to his right, leading straight to the palace in an opening lined in shimmering red and gold. He squared his shoulders and nodded to Charlie.

“Ready?”

She beamed at him. “Ready!”

Chuckling to himself, Lucifer stepped through the portal and then turned to extend his hand to Charlie as she stepped through, the dark marble of the palace flooring firmly underfoot. Lucifer exhaled in relief and then turned to the spruced up throne room he'd opened the portal to; towering pillars lined the sides of the room to create a wide enough space encouraging visitors to turn their gazes and pathways up to the raised dais at the far side of the room. The pair of thrones there were gleaming relics of an era Lucifer hadn't ever wanted, but for today...it would be best to brush off the authority on his shoulders.

“Wow, I don't think I've actually ever seen this room.” Charlie moved a few steps away, her heels echoing against the marble. She swiveled in a quick circle to take in the constellation painted ceiling, riotous heavens on display, and then tilted her gaze down to trace veins of gold in the black marble flooring. “This is amazing...it's like the cosmos!”

“That was the idea,” Lucifer answered with a soft laugh, hands lifting to fidget with the gold chain at his throat. The crisp lines of his suit were stiff rather than comforting but for the meeting set within the hour, it was necessary to look more like a king. Even Charlie had swapped her usual attire for something more elegant, a long scarlet coat trailing behind her like a cloak with swirls of white and gold adorning the silk interior.

“You made all of this? It's amazing!” She turned to him with a startled laugh and then reached for his hands to pull his touch away. “Dad, you're going to crease your tie. Here,” her touch was gentle as she readjusted the chain over the silk knotted at his throat, glyph safely hidden, and then Charlie brushed both hands over the epaulets.

“Guess I'm a little nervous after all,” he admitted with a choked laugh, the sound trailing off into heavy silence as he caught a warped version of his reflection in the marble underfoot. He stared at the almost unfamiliar figure looking back at him and really, it was only his eyes he recognized among all the other trappings. Golden depths of his gaze stared back at him unlined by age but he could still see every painstaking year etched in his eyes, the way his lashes fanned gold against porcelain skin, a testament to how even here the light of Heaven could never be truly extinguished from his depths.

In a way, he hated it; this constant reminder of all that had been ripped away from him and then chained up in the dark. But Lucifer made himself look anyway, sweeping his gaze from the points of his horns on display with shattered halo burning endlessly atop them, down the stark lines of his white and gold suit with the crimson cape fastened neatly at his shoulders, all the way down to the gleaming tips of his boots. It had been a last minute idea to let his more refined persona shed away in favor of his more demonic traits, horns and wings and tail on full display outside of the usual camouflage he usually kept them under. A symbol of power, he thought, Hell's power and his own cast off divinity united in one persona.

His gaze shifted to Charlie and the way she was watching him... It made his throat tight.

“You know, Dad, back when you came to the hotel for the first time, I didn't really know what to expect. You were always just my dad and I know nothing has really changed; you're always going to be that to me, but I'm starting to see you're also a king.” She clasped her hands together briefly and then grasped the edges of her coat, bowing forward with a grin. “I'm really proud of you.”

Lucifer choked out a laugh but pressed a fist to his chest and bowed in return. Charlie grinned and their laughter twined together in the empty hall, sweeping outward to every shadow draped corner. He held his hand out to her which she took, giggling, and together they walked up the steps of the dais Charlie's laugh faded to silence, her gaze fixed on the two seats sitting alone at the top. The larger of the two, embellished with countless unseeing eyes and black shrouded wings, grabbed attention first- large and commanding in a way that spoke to the nature of the hierarchy; but it was the second throne Charlie was studying, lip worried between her teeth.

Lucifer placed a hand on her shoulder even as he stared at the empty seat; obsidian smoothed over in graceful arches reminiscent of unholy flame while a single pair of black wings made up the back in a relaxed setting, a seat fit for a queen both commanding and at ease with herself.

“I miss her too, kiddo.” He gestured to the seat and Charlie sucked in a sharp breath but turned and sat slowly, her hands flicking between her lap and the ornate armrests before she settled for folding them among the draped lines of her coat.

“She's in Heaven, isn't she?” Charlie held his gaze as Lucifer took his seat, cane leaned to rest against the arm of his throne. He swallowed and managed a tight nod, and Charlie exhaled a long breath. “I had this feeling- I mean she wouldn't have just up and left without a word if she was somewhere in Hell, and lately every time I try to call her...”

Her face scrunched and she swiped a hand over her eyes carefully, mascara only smearing a little at the corners. “None of the calls connect, the texts don't send. I'm really worried about her.”

“Charlie...” Lucifer reached over to grasp her hand tightly, holding her tearful gaze. “I promise she is doing her best for all of us, and she loves you so much. She would be in touch with you if she could, I swear it.”

She nodded sharply. “I know, Dad. And that's why I need to be involved; I want to be able to make it safe so she can come home. And make things better for our people, that too.”

“We're going to, sweetie; I promise.” He was saved from any other explanation by the first chime of the wards around the front entrance to the palace. Lucifer had eased them back enough to allow entrance to the Overlords, their energy signatures distinct enough in his mind from their last meeting that it had been easy to mimic them into the wards. The last thing he needed was the wards to lash out and turn an Overlord into a smear on the pavement outside.

Lucifer inclined his head to Charlie and turned his attention to the double doors at the end of the hall, unseen magic easing them open to allow the first of the Overlords entry. He gestured slightly when Charlie moved to stand and she mumbled under her breath- an apology, if he had to guess- and shifted back in her seat. Spine straight, head tilted just so; she was every inch the queen Lucifer knew someday she would be.

But he focused on the Elder Overlord making his way down the aisle toward them, footsteps echoing throughout the chamber. Zestial paused a few feet from the first step of the dais and swept an arm out in a deep bow, his hat held to his chest.

“Majesty, Highness,” his voice was a soft rumble in the quiet.

“Overlord Zestial,” Lucifer said, not a hint of hesitation in his tone. He stood and the spider demon straightened from the bow as Lucifer descended the steps toward him. Clasping Zestial's hand, Lucifer shifted forward to press a light kiss to each of the demon's cheeks as Zestial returned the action before they both stepped back.

“As before, Sire?” Zestial murmured and Lucifer gestured to the chair and desk placed at the base of the dais, the rich mahogany draped with a scarlet cloth bearing the royal insignia. An angled stand had been placed there ahead of time with vellum parchment and a quill and ink, Zestial's preferred instruments at the ready.

Lucifer nodded and the demon took his place behind the desk, spindly fingers brushing against the blank pages set before him. Overall, Zestial was still creepy and Lucifer had been wary of him for a multitude of reasons, but at least in this setting he could count on Zestial as a sturdy and unyielding ally, if not a friend.

Taking his seat again, Charlie leaned over to whisper, “What's he doing?”

“Zestial earned the right to act in official capacity as record keeper for meetings and hearings like this; your mother bestowed the honor on him shortly before you were born, actually.” Lucifer paused as Charlie processed that, her mouth opening to ask another question, but he shook his head with a quick glance at his wrist watch. “Later, Duckling. I promise I'll answer any questions you have later.”

He breathed out as the doors swung open again and Lucifer turned quickly back to his daughter. “I need you to know, Charlie, that whatever happens today with the Overlords, I'm just trying to help.”

“I know you are, Dad,” she murmured and turned her attention forward. Lucifer studied her a moment longer and exhaled, a silent prayer coming to mind that no matter what, Charlie wouldn't forget it.

He shifted forward to watch the approach of the remaining Overlords clustered together just past the threshold of the double doors to the throne room. Carmilla Carmine was at the head of the group, her rightful place as the self proclaimed head of the Overlords, but behind her the others quickly fanned out in a bid for equality. Lucifer swept his gaze across each one in turn, making a point to not stare too hard at Alastor in their midst; but damn him, the demon had swapped his usual red pinstripes for a more subtle black suit. Crimson peeked out with every step he made in tandem with the other Overlords, blood red silk making up the inner lining of his coat and a black cravat tied neatly at his throat.

Lucifer cleared his throat as if that alone could ease the heat racing under his skin. This wasn't the time or place to be thinking about Alastor at all, especially given the circumstances of the night before. He shook his head to clear the set of those thoughts, and then straightened and stared down at the amassed group.

“Welcome, Hell's Sovereign Overlords.” His voice rang through the silence.

Unsurprisingly, Carmilla was the first to detach from the group. She swept forward with the shimmering silver cloak draped across her shoulders fanning out as she bowed, arms spread. Lucifer studied the two younger demons positioned half a step behind her, the similarities evident. They followed her example in sweeping curtsies but it was Carmilla he focused on.

“Your Majesty,” the elder Overlord said as she rose to her full height, her gaze shifting from Lucifer to Charlie seated beside him. “And your Highness. Thank you for your invitation; we're honored to attend you here.”

Lucifer nodded once to Carmilla and her daughters. “The pleasure is mine, Overlord Carmine. Odette, Clara, I'm pleased to see you again.”

They ducked their gazes with murmured greetings, stepping back with their mother to the side of the carpeted aisle to make room for the next individual. Lucifer kept his gaze fixed on the center of the carpeting leading up to the base of the steps of the dais but his focus shifted past the bows and greetings of the next few Overlords in order to study the Vees. 

They stood at the rear of the rapidly shrinking group, angled toward each other in an obvious show of unity and combined strength. The tallest of the three, a moth demon, had two sets of arms crossed over his chest with a lit cigarette curling pink smoke from between slender fingers. Velvette had her focus aimed solely on the cell phone in her hands, thumbs rapidly typing against the screen, but it was the third member of their trio Lucifer let his gaze linger on. A flat screen television for a head, the name circling the edges of his thoughts in a way that was familiar and yet just out of the grasp of truly remembering it. He stared up toward the throne with widened red and blue eyes, clawed fingers brushing over the front of his suit jacket.

“Your Majesty.”

Lucifer snapped his gaze back down to the immediate present, meeting Alastor's gaze from where the demon was bent forward in a deep bow, one clawed hand pressed over his heart.

“Overlord Alastor,” Lucifer nodded to him and shifted his gaze to the side where Rosie was hovering a few steps behind. It was as subtle a dismissal as he would get, no doubt a decent blow to the Overlord's ego. But Alastor merely inclined his head and backed away to join Carmilla and the others on the sidelines. Rosie immediately took his place in a deep curtsy, her greeting no less than Carmilla's had been, and then in her absence the Vees took center stage.

“Sire.” The television demon stood in the center with his compatriots flanking him. He  stepped forward to bow, smile widening in a charismatic way Lucifer immediately recognized. “Far be it from me to repeat the sentiments of others, but it really is an honor to be in your presence at last.”

Lucifer inclined his head. “The pleasure is mine.” He tapped his fingers against the arm of the throne and Charlie leaned toward him slightly, a name whispered quickly to send relief rushing through him. “I'm told you and your business partners have made significant changes within Pentagram City over the past few decades, Overlord Vox.”

The demon straightened, both hands positioned to grasp the lapels of his jacket in a smug manner. His grin was wide. “I think the success of our business speaks for itself, Majesty; I'm glad to see it's not going unnoticed all the way at the top!”

“And your partners,” Lucifer flicked his gaze to the moth demon, name equally supplied in Charlie's mumbled whisper with just a hint of disgust- something that had his hackles rising. Valentino pressed his two left arms to his chest and bowed forward, wings draping elegantly with the movement. “Overlords Valentino and Velvette, your contributions are not to be downplayed. Welcome.”

Lucifer snapped his fingers as the trio moved to the side. A conference table lined with chairs appeared in the space the Overlords had stood and he gestured toward it with one hand. “Be seated, Overlords. We have much to discuss.”

He waited until the gathered demons had found their seats, the shuffling of chairs quieting until all gazes were once more fixed upon him. Lucifer cleared his throat softly and swept his gaze around the table, sparing an extra glance for where Zestial sat at his own desk, quill pen poised over angled paper. The spider demon nodded once, a subtle tilt of his head, and Lucifer squared his shoulders.

“In the purpose of saving time, I will not drag out these proceedings. I have summoned you here, Overlords of Pentagram City, because you sit in the topmost seats of power within the Pride Ring. There are no other demons who can rival you for power and influence.”

Lucifer noted the way the Vees seemed to puff under the praise while Carmilla maintained her neutral expression, her daughters silent in the proceedings to her right and left. Alastor- he wasn't even looking at Alastor, but Rosie's expression flashed with a knowing look that she quickly schooled into her usual grinning mask. Beside him, Charlie shifted in her seat.

“I previously attended one of your gatherings with the dual purpose to understand and know those of you in these seats of power, and to offer a warning. The first I accomplished to the best of my ability, but it is for the second I have called you here now.”

“If this is about what happened last time,” Velvette looked up from her phone for the first time since taking her seat, the curled ends of her pigtails bobbing with the movement of her barely concealed laughter. “Pretty sure we told you about where we all stood, Morningstar. The war you started when you enacted the exterminations in the first place is old news, and guess what? We've moved on. It's cute you're trying to-”

“Velvette.” The name was snapped out with a screech of audio feedback looped over itself, Vox jerking to his feet with both hands braced on the table surface. He grinned widely even as he darted a glance upward toward Lucifer. “Do us all a favor and shut up.”

“I'm just saying!” Velvette scoffed, fingers snapping as she returned her attention to her phone screen, her next words mumbled under her breath.

Lucifer rose to his feet and he swore he could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere from another room deeper in the palace, the ensuing silence so complete. He rested both hands atop the head of his scepter and stared down at the demoness.

“Repeat yourself.”

Velvette stared back at him, jaw hanging open. She jerked her gaze toward Vox across from her but the television demon, while he hadn't moved to take his seat again, had lowered his gaze. Lucifer raised a brow.

“Overlord Velvette, I gave you a command. Are you hard of hearing all of a sudden? Or is it possible that in the past few seconds, you seem to have developed some common sense?”

“No, I-”

“Repeat yourself,” Lucifer said again, gaze shifting from gold to red.

She swallowed, hands clenched tight around her phone. “I said that- well, we wouldn't be in this mess at all if our so-called king had a backbone.” She flinched sharply, shoulders hunching and eyes squeezing shut. “Your Majesty.”

“So you can show a little decorum.” Lucifer skimmed an invisible touch over the well of power cradled carefully within the depths of his being. This was always the worst part and he really had no one else to blame but himself; but she had a point, misguided as it was. In the end, it all really did point back to him as the source of all the problems Hell- and the other realms- currently suffered from. Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself for the outrage he knew would likely follow in the next few moments.

And then he fixed the demoness with a cold stare. It only took barely a hint of a thought to accomplish his means, the power barely rippling through the room. Velvette opened her mouth in what would have been a squeak of surprise, maybe a few choice curses hurled his way, but no sound emerged. She lifted her hands to her throat as her eyes widened with a flash of anger, chair shoved back in the wake of her abrupt rise from the seat.

“Be careful, Overlord; your voice is not the only thing I can take from you.” Lucifer clicked his tongue and Velvette shrank back again, phone slipping from her hand to clatter to the floor. With gaze lowered, she took her seat again, hands folded on the table top.

“Well, that's hardly fair, don't you think?” A new but not entirely unexpected voice cut in, smooth as the jazz and whiskey he had favored in life. Alastor had also stood and shifted away from the confines of his seat at the table, hands folded neatly behind him. He paced around the corner of the conference table until he was standing at the base of the steps, head tilted up to meet Lucifer's gaze.

“Given the status quo, if you're going to markedly punish every soul who dares speak against you, I think you'll find your kingdom very quickly empty of all demon kind, Sire! And wasn't it a wise man who once said that it is criticism of those in power which serves to keep them humble?”

“Overlord Alastor, if you have something to say, I suggest you say it.” Lucifer swallowed as lightly as he could, the movement hopefully unnoticed by the demons seated below. The gleam of knowledge in Alastor's gaze was equal parts thrilling and terrifying, whatever he was doing was not a spur of the moment monologue.

“I am merely pointing out that as much as it pains me to agree so openly with a member of the Vees, our dear Velvette has a point. One I have brought up previously- you, Lucifer, have no care for your subjects, the very souls you dragged to these depths with you, and if this is a repeat of the last meeting...”

Alastor's grin widened, the challenge in his gaze clear.

“Count me out.”

“Enough.” Lucifer stood as his voice boomed outward through the cavernous room, stone pillars groaning as they continued to uphold the painted celestial ceiling. Every demon in the room flinched in unison, collectively shrinking in on themselves. But it was Alastor his gaze was focused on, the Radio Demon hissing sharply as he dropped to his knees before the throne.

Charlie was on her feet in a second, hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp when Lucifer raised a hand. He didn't pull his gaze away from the kneeling demon before him, only barely noting how several of the other Overlords had equally knelt; no, his focus was all on Alastor.

The Radio Demon braced himself against the black marble flooring with both hands, shoulders hunched as he lifted his head just enough to keep his king in view as Lucifer moved down the steps toward the base of the dais. Each step echoed through the chamber until Lucifer paused three steps from the bottom, staring down at Alastor. His gaze, still a shade cocky as it had been when he'd been standing defiantly a moment before, now held the basest hint of fear.

“Your tongue seems to be your greatest weapon, Overlord.” A shallower echo of how he'd spoken before but Lucifer didn't ease up the tone of authority curling through every syllable, power poured into every word. “And this is twice now you have spoken publicly against your King; tell me, is it the audience you prefer, or is it just seeing your betters brought low before you?”

“Perhaps I'm just a prideful fool who doesn't know any better.” Alastor paused to suck in a sharp breath, his grin widening.

Lucifer shook his head and held the demon's gaze, clawed fingers tapping against the scepter staff in his hands. Alastor stared back at him, ears flicking backward just slightly as his shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow. Lucifer blinked at the demon, his own spine stiffening as realization dawned.

No, not like this.

“Overlord Alastor, your insolence will one day be your undoing; perhaps not by my hand, but one day you will cross someone who will not hesitate to end you for less than you have done here. For the remainder of this council, your knees do not leave the floor and your sly words remain behind your teeth. Am I understood?”

Silence ticked by and Lucifer shifted forward, aware that everyone else in the room was watching in equal parts horror and thrill. And then Alastor shuddered, shrinking back into himself with shoulders dropping.

“Yes Sire,” the demon murmured, lowering his gaze. He shifted on his knees but otherwise didn't move.

“Now,” Lucifer said, resuming his place on the throne next to Charlie. “With that out of the way, we can get down to business. As it stands, the exterminations were merely a cursory attempt at keeping us in line. But the problem still stands that the First Man Adam is dead and in this past week, Heaven has cast down one of their own into Hell's midst once more.”

“That hasn't happened-” Rosie snapped her jaws shut, pale face made even paler as the realization came to her. She merely shook her head.

“Not in ten thousand years,” Lucifer finished the sentence. “I cannot allow these blatant impositions into Hell to continue, and so, it has become clear to me there is only one further option.”

He paused, the words at the tip of his tongue even as he steadied himself against the knowing of how this was going to change everything. It was a precipice all over again, wings bound so that weightless panic as he struggled would be all he could cling to for salvation, the difference between falling and flying.

“I call for a tithe, Overlords.”

Carmilla was on her feet in an instant, broad hands flat on the table. Lucifer stared her down as her jaw worked on silent words, her own shock keeping her silent. Across from her, Rosie merely looked resigned and from his place of honor at the desk, Zestial sighed softly.

“The hell is a tithe?” Vox's smooth tone cut through the tension, his gaze fixed on Lucifer.

Of course; of course over half of these individuals had never heard of the practice. The only two present for the last tithe summons were Rosie and Zestial, and it seemed even recent events (if two hundred years could be called recent) hadn't urged them to share the knowledge with their younger peers.

Lucifer leaned forward, scepter resting across his knees. “As Overlords, you control millions of souls in efforts to increase not only your social standing and wealth but also your arcane power. That power is freely given by the souls under your command, but your fealty belongs to me. A tenth of your power is what I require, Overlords, divine right because I allow you to operate as you do in my city.”

He stood as the voices twined up toward the arched ceiling in equal parts fear and outrage. Scepter extended, Lucifer swept his burning gaze across the gathered until they quieted. Zestial was the first to move, laying his pen down upon the half filled page of records. He glided to the forefront of the room, bowing low before his gilded tone recited the pledge agreed upon hundreds of years before.

Lucifer rolled his shoulders as the power transferred, the cold ripple of it sending shivers down his spine. He barely focused on the individuals beyond a polite nod, ignoring them as the press of souls twined around him and settled into place apart from his own angelic essence.

It wasn't until Charlie sucked in a sharp breath next to him that Lucifer snapped his focus back to the present. He glanced at the way her grip had tightened on the arm of the throne, nails digging into the obsidian.

“He's the one who owns Angel,” Charlie murmured, unblinking gaze on the Overlord mid pledge at the base of the dais before them. But there was something else in her gaze, something prickling at the edge of Lucifer's nerves. He placed his hand over hers and she finally turned to look at him, something like disgust in her usual cheerful countenance.
“Is that all?” Lucifer murmured, voice pitched so he wouldn't be heard above the cadence of the demon speaking below.

Charlie shook her head slightly, lips parting in soundless exchange. Her fingers curled tight around Lucifer's hand and for one dizzying moment, the throne room melted away. An old trick he'd taught her; he was surprised she even remembered how to do it at all. The image was hazy, watery from the effect of a decent amount of time having passed, but the idea was clear.

Lucifer stood up abruptly and below, Valentino quieted immediately. Charlie reached for his arm, fingers curled on his sleeve to tug him back with her own mumbled plea for him to stop, to wait. To think.

No.

“Overlord Valentino.”

Silence dropped heavily across the gathered and after a moment, the moth demon straightened to his full height. “Your Majesty?”

“I am informed of an altercation between yourself and my daughter when she visited your studio. Is this true?” He didn't bother hiding the curl of fury in his tone, the ripple of power like a stone dropped into the fathomless depths held beneath the veneer of a barely human looking form. Lucifer dug his claws into the arms of the throne and leaned forward, fighting the urge to let a cruel smile make itself at home on his face when Valentino's eyes widened slightly. The moth shifted back a step, hands lifting as if to press together in a mockery of prayer.

“I think there's been a misunderstanding-”

“I will ask you again, Overlord. Did you or did you not accost Her Highness Charlotte Morningstar, Princess of Hell and Duchess of Pride?”

“Well, I-”

Lucifer rose to his feet and Valentino scrambled back, bending forward in a deep bow with arms extended outward. His route of escape was cut off when he was jerked forward, links of golden chain materializing around his wrists and neck to pull the Overlord to his knees. Valentino swore sharply and thrashed against the chains, swinging a wide and panicked gaze up to Lucifer.

Lucifer who stared down at him with as neutral an expression as he could muster. Behind him the rustle of clothing marked Charlie's quickness to stand, her hands closing around his arm as Lucifer raised his scepter just slightly.

“Dad, no! It wasn't like that- he was just-”

“Are you revoking your accusation?” Lucifer stared at Charlie while he held the scepter toward the struggling demon, the other Overlords sans Alastor on their feet around the table. Their cries of outrage were barely a muted background noise as he watched his daughter, the war flickering back and forth in her eyes. Her grip on his sleeve eased and Charlie shuffled backward.

“No,” she murmured and looked away.

Lucifer turned back to the frantic demon viewed through the haze of burning pupils. This was something he was more familiar with, the burning righteous anger tucked in a clenched fist in the cavity next to his heart. It was one thing to push against him; Lucifer was no stranger to being pushed around and bullied. He'd been enduring far worse than the likes of these petty Overlords for far longer. But to openly push Charlie?

To be proud of it?

Lucifer snarled as he grasped Valentino by the head, claws digging pointedly at the base of his neck, against his jaw and forehead. It wasn't something he ever liked to do but in this case, the ends justified the means. He barely heard Valentino's screams, memories of a life slipping out from under Lucifer's touch like blood beneath broken skin. His wings flared as power poured out of the moth demon, an entire life on display for Lucifer's eyes alone.

Charlie believed in the power of redemption, that a soul was worth the effort it took to save and preserve, to find the best in any individual no matter the ugly circumstances of their life and death. Lucifer wanted to believe that in his heart of hearts, but as the screams reached a new pitch of crescendo, he ground his jaw against the onslaught of ugliness laid bare before him.

His fury was a storm, thundering and clashing around the room like the monsoon gales of Greed. The presences of the other demons still clustered around the table, of Charlie- even of Alastor, stuck where he was kneeling between table and throne- were mere pinpricks of life Lucifer couldn't be bothered with. His only focus was the screaming demon held fast between his clawed hands.

Valentino struggled; it wouldn't have been fair if he hadn't Lucifer supposed. He pushed away the threaded curl of guilt that this was how he was to be perceived for the foreseeable future; a tyrant king returning in a blaze of bloody vengeance. It couldn't be helped. His anger could no more fit in the box he'd kept it contained in anymore than he could stop loving Charlie.

Lucifer reached down to press the tips of his claws to Valentino's exposed chest, barely aware of the demon's stuttered breaths, gasped pleas falling from a tear choked voice. The events he'd seen both of Earth and of Hell fell like crumbled ash from his hands, discarded and forgotten. He leaned closer until his lips were at the moth's ear and Valentino took a shuddering breath.

“Make your peace, Overlord. There is no place in Paradise for you.”

Valentino arched backward against the pressure of the chains, mouth open in a silent scream as Lucifer pressed his claws past the barrier of flesh and bone and pulled.

It was over in a burst of light. Lucifer didn't squint or look away from the implosion of the demon, the remnants of his soul still clinging in tattered fractals to his hand. The silence following was a heavy thing but short lived, chaos breaking across the room as Overlords shot to their feet with voices raised in renewed outrage and alarm. Lucifer leaned back against the arm of his throne, his expression as neutral as he could make it with the way his entire body thrummed and trembled with exertion and renewed power.
Chairs toppled and more than one demon ran for the exit in an attempt to flee. That was easily fixed; Lucifer barely flicked his wrist and the double doors slammed shut within a golden glow, sealed.

“You all seem to have forgotten who rules this domain.” Lucifer spoke and noted that even Charlie flinched in the face of the unfurling storm of his tone. He passed his gaze against the Overlords made silent again, their stares filled with fury and terror, and then he focused on the remaining two Vees. Vox's expression was murderous, claws digging deep gouges into the table, while Velvette looked particularly nauseous.

“Is there anything you would like to say, Overlord Vox?”

The demon snapped his jaw shut with a writhing snarl of static but dropped his gaze. Lucifer turned to look at the others- Carmilla and Zestial and Rosie and Alastor- each one immediately looking down the second his gaze landed on them.

“Anyone else? No?” Lucifer exhaled lightly and turned to take his seat again, back straight and hands braced on the arms of the throne. “Our business is concluded, Overlords. You have paid your tithes and I will see to it all of your sacrifice is put to use in protecting the Ring of Pride. You may go, all of you.”

He kept his gaze on them but was beyond focus; listening to the rustle of clothing as they abandoned their places at the conjured table in order to leave. Lucifer stiffened when Charlie placed her hand on his arm, her own wide gaze a subdued version of unblinking terror.

“What about Alastor?” she whispered, voice trembling.

Lucifer glanced down at the demon in question. Alastor hadn't moved an inch from where he knelt as commanded, his red hued gaze fixed in equal intensity on Lucifer. Neither moved for a long moment and then Lucifer sighed, opening his mouth with a hand lifted to release the hold keeping Alastor in place.

“Your Majesty!”  Rosie rushed forward in a flurry of lacy, her curtsy a quick, jerking motion. Her gaze darted to where Alastor was, ears pinned back and a grimace stretching his face wide. “I know he can be rough around the edges and more often than not, he's a regular pain in the ass, but I'd be a poor excuse of a friend if I didn't try to help him.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I offer fifty percent of my soul contracts here and now for his release, that Alastor the Radio Demon be allowed to leave with me now.”

Lucifer blinked, something cold squirming its way under his skin to manifest in discomfort. “Uh...no. No.”

He shook his head and lifted a hand to cut Rosie off as she opened her mouth to continue. Exhaustion from the last few moments slung itself heavy around him and Satan, if he didn't want to send both the remaining Overlords away in a glimmer of gold and red just so he could be alone to let the mask drop.

But he made himself straighten and regard the woman in as open a manner as he could manage. “Alastor is in no danger from my hand, Rosie; while you're correct and he can be an asshole,” here he darted a glance at the demon in question only to find a scathing glare already fixed on him, “I am not keeping him behind for anything nefarious. He and I simply need to have a conversation.”

“Majesty, I...forgive me for doubting you.” Rosie hesitated and then curtsied again. “It wasn't my place to question you.”

“...you're showing care for your friend.” His tone softened and he smiled, gesturing slightly. Alastor shuddered, slumping forward slightly out of the position he'd been holding for nearly an hour. Lucifer nodded back to Rosie. “On my honor as your king, no harm will come to him by my hand, Rosie. I swear it.”

She grinned and shot Alastor a scathing look followed by a quick wink, turning to slip silently out of the throne room. As soon as the double doors had clicked shut to mark her exit, Lucifer slumped down in his seat.

“I never want to do that again,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The room was quiet after being packed with so many individuals, the silence heavy, and it should have been peaceful. But unease lingered. With a groan he made himself sit back up and face Charlie.

“Hey,” Lucifer said softly, placing his hand over hers. She didn't flinch but something in her eyes flickered as she looked away, slipping her hand out of his grasp. “Charlie...”

“I'm not mad,” she said quickly. “That was just...a lot. Like, really a lot, Dad.” Charlie swallowed and shook her head before standing. “If it's okay with you, I'm gonna head back to the hotel. I need to check on Vaggie and Emily, and I need some time to think.”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat as he stood with her, barely a gesture opening a portal back to the hotel. Charlie offered him a weak smile as she stepped through and after a moment, it winked out of existence. Lucifer groaned with hands pressed to his face. He let them drop with a heaved sigh, head tilted upward to map out familiar constellations painted across the ceiling.

And then he turned to the still kneeling Radio Demon.

“You,” Lucifer said as Alastor bared a smile at him. “You and I have a lot to talk about.”

Notes:

Hahaha, remember when Lucifer put Adam to rest previously?

See you all next week!

-runs off cackling-

Chapter 23

Summary:

With the tithe of power from the Overlords secured, the first step in defending Pride, Lucifer turns his sights to Alastor to finally get some answers from the infamous Radio Demon.

Notes:

Good morning my darling friends! Hope you're all well today! <3

Today's chapter is a bit of a doozy, so grab a snack and a drink and settle in, Alastor is finally going to give up some of his guarded secrets! Tee hee!

Lucifer let his gaze stay fixed on the demon positioned only a few feet out of reach. Damn him, Alastor had gone all out for the meeting- all the Overlords had and rightfully so, even if only two of those present had been around the last time Lucifer had pulled this trick out of his hat. The air was still crackling with an uncomfortable hum of static and Lucifer pulled his gaze away from the crisp lines of Alastor's black suit (he was staring, he could admit it- sue him).

He gestured to the now empty table with haphazard chairs scattered around it. “Come on, Alastor, I know you're capable of getting off the floor.”

“What's the matter, Sire? You don't care to talk down to me from up on high?”

Lucifer scowled. “I didn't force you to kneel and I'm not going to force you to get up, but I'd really like to have this discussion face to face as equals.”

Alastor raised a brow at him but whatever snark he could have flung Lucifer's way remained out of reach. He picked himself up from the floor to take the chair angled across from Lucifer at the corner of the too long table, tapping his claws lightly against the surface.

“So, is this an interrogation?” Alastor hummed, blinking as Lucifer gestured vaguely and two bar glasses and a pitcher appeared without a shimmer between them.

Lucifer shook his head slightly, filling the glasses to nudge one toward Alastor. “If you want to look at it as an interrogation, that's your right. But these past few weeks have wrung us both out and I don't know about you- I'd like some answers for once.”

The demon sniffed and tapped a finger against the glass, eyeing the contents. “You know as well as I, neither of us are at full liberty to discuss much of anything.”

Lucifer leaned back with what was probably too triumphant a grin. Snapping his fingers, a smaller crystal glass appeared on the table and he almost laughed at how Alastor eyed it with apprehension. “There's one way we both know of how to get answers out of you, Alastor.”

Eyes narrowed, Alastor snapped at him, “That is not part of our agreement.”

“Then make another deal with me.” Lucifer shoved down the inner voice screaming at how bad of an idea this was- it had been a terrible idea the first time and he was a fool to consider another deal with Alastor. But damn him, he was tired of having others run circles around him. In this at least, Lucifer would have a bit of the truth laid bare.

“You'll partake in my blood here and now, safe in the boundaries of the palace wards I've set for protection. This offer remains separate to our current agreement and my singular condition is that you answer every question I pose to you for as long as the effects of my blood remain.”

Alastor sucked in a breath, the only sign he was remotely rattled. Outwardly he appeared as calm as ever; ears turned attentively toward Lucifer, his shoulders relaxed, and eyes half lidded. But he swallowed, mouth tightening into a thin line.

“You're a fool.”

Lucifer shrugged. “I've been called worse by far more terrible beings than you, Overlord.” He paused to study Alastor a moment longer, picking out the barely visible cracks in the demon's demeanor of forced confidence. “A deal, Alastor. I need your agreement.”

“And what would I get in exchange? Come now, Majesty, you should know you cannot demand such a high price without offering a little collateral of your own.”

“Oh, suddenly my blood isn't enough to tempt you?”

Alastor sniffed. “Our current arrangement has seen to that particular demand; I see no reason to waste a second deal bargaining for something I already possess.”

Lucifer bared his teeth with a low snarl. “Careful, Alastor. I wouldn't want your hubris to blind you.”

“Says the fool play-acting king from a lonesome ivory tower.” Alastor shook his head, gaze darting to the shadows around the room. “Forgive me, these past few days have been difficult. Regardless...”

“Alastor.”

The demon flicked his ears back, teeth showing in a twisted cut of his usual smile. “You're practically handing me Holofernes' head on a platter with this, you realize. I could ask for anything in return.”

Lucifer studied him with an expression as neutral as he could make it, never mind the way his heart rate increased just slightly or his breath catching somewhere between his lungs and mouth. Alastor's gaze was fixed on him in a way that had his mouth running dry, the need to shift away from under the demon's focus like he was an insect behind glass. It wasn't a negative feeling, Lucifer realized after a moment, but all the same he cleared his throat and watched Alastor's crimson eyes snap up to his own.

“Your price, Alastor. What is worth your cooperation in this?”

The demon hummed and leaned back, corners of his mouth curling upward slightly. “My price is your attention, Lucifer. You'll remand yourself to wait as I see fit at a time and place of my choosing and when I deign to give you my presence and attention, you'll accept it graciously. These are my terms.”

Lucifer stared at him, swallowing. “...simply put, then.”

“Just so.” Alastor inclined his head slightly and held his hand out to shake.

It felt like a trap somehow, but lacking the usual cutting edge and bite that so often accompanied Alastor's usual wordplay. Lucifer shook his head and extended his hand, anticipating the heady swirl of green and gold this time as their palms connected to bind the deal.

It was the work of a moment to unbutton the cuff of his sleeve out of the way and position his wrist over the mouth of the glass. Lucifer kept his focus on the work at hand but he couldn't ignore the hungry way Alastor stared at him, gaze fixed on the blackened claw pressed to porcelain white flesh to split it open for a trickle of golden ichor. It filled the glass neatly almost to the top before the wound knit itself back together, age-old healing factor still hard at work no matter how his power dimmed and waned over the years.

Lucifer eyed the level within the glass and then held it out to the demon seated across from him, unflinching as Alastor's fingers brushed against his own when he took the offered drink.

“The moment you feel the power take hold, Alastor, you're bound by our deal to answer my questions.”

“I am but your humble servant, Sire; how can I do anything else but obey?” His answering grin was wide and mocking. Alastor grasped the goblet in one hand and brought it to his lips. He tipped his head back and Lucifer watched his throat bob with every swallow, droplets of golden blood slipping from the corners of his mouth to drip down his chin and beneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

Seconds ticked by and then Lucifer flinched, the room shuddering around them with a high keening that had every nerve of his standing on edge. It went beyond the normal parameters of sound, seeming to burrow beneath the skin to rake invisible claws against his soul. Lucifer clenched his jaw but it was Alastor he watched, the demon flinching sharply even as he tugged loose the tie and buttons at his throat, the emptied glass shattering in his hand.

“Now, tell me,” Lucifer said when the air had stilled around them, the room ceasing its trembling. Alastor sighed and brushed the fragments of the glass from his hands. “Who owns your soul, Alastor?”

“...simpleton that you are. Roo is what she calls herself these days, but I think you know her better by another name. One far more intimate than I have ever been graced to know.” He ran his tongue across his teeth and lips, smearing the remnants of gold with a satisfied sigh. “She seems to know you incredibly well.”

“And you made contact with her sometime in the last century or so.”

“Hm. A shadowed echo of her; it seems she found a way to infiltrate your great domain after all, but she's hardly satisfied with that. Wherever she exists is weakening and she has made it clear to me that she aims to gain access to Hell properly. Roo has been trying this game for far longer than I have been on the scene; I just happen to be the most recent of her successes.”

“What does she want, Alastor?” Lucifer fought back the thickening ice of unease twisting in his chest. He knew- he knew- or had some inkling of what the ageless being was doing, but...

Alastor tilted his head slightly, the knowing look in his eyes only serving to further push the growing tension in the room. “You know what she wants, you've always known. Don't think for a moment she left out the juicy details of your former trysts. It's amazing what the shape of a lack of information paints, and she had so very little to say about you.”

Alastor closed his hands around Lucifer's wrists and tugged him closer, the searing heat of the demon's body pressed to his own. With the aid of his own blood rushing through Alastor, he had the strength of an Archangel on his side and Lucifer realized with a jolt, he could very well make use of it. “Such whispers she croons in my ear when she thinks I can't hear her. How she wants to take your neck in her hands, your lips in a searing bite-”

“Okay, stop.” Lucifer pushed away from him and Alastor released him immediately as he practically leapt back, the chair clattering to the floor behind him. Lucifer sucked in as deep a breath as he could manage, shoulders trembling. “Just...stop.”

“You're the one who asked and it's not like she's here to overhear her deepest desires laid bare.”

“Alastor, this is...bigger than I thought. She-”

“She wants you.”

Lucifer shook his head and raked a shaking hand through his hair. It was happening too fast, the walls he'd built up around that part of his immortal existence crumbling away against the onslaught of a foe beating endlessly against it. And there was no way to shore up his defenses any more than he already had, no further trick to try and keep her out.

“She can't get out.” His voice was a shade too thin even to his ears, the shroud of disbelief wrapped tight around his words. Lucifer met Alastor's gaze across the table. “I sealed her away before the dawn of time; there's no way she can undo the wards I wrote into the stones of her prison.”

“Not so! She can undo anything with the blood of the Great Betrayer at her disposal.”

His blood ran cold and Lucifer was out of the chair in an instant, newly healed and anointed wings flaring behind him. His hands curled at the tie and collar at Alastor's throat, shoving him back to pin him against the chair. “What have you done!”

“Gambled,” the demon coughed, his own claws digging painfully into Lucifer's wrists. “I needed a way out of my bargain with her and I had a feeling the power that runs freely through your blood was the ticket. I had no way of knowing it was of equal importance to her until she commanded me to drug you that night- even then I would not change anything I've done. One way or another, Lucifer, I am going to sever ties with Roo for good.”

“You've damned us all. If she gets free-”

“You would never let that happen in a thousand years, Lucifer; you've put far too much stock in the souls of this realm and she would devour them all in an instant if it means getting to you.”

“I'm not strong enough to stop her, damn it!” Lucifer forced himself to breathe past the constricting panic in his chest, endlessly squeezing until he could barely inhale past the swimming spots of blackness threatening his vision. A shudder ran down his body from his head to the tips of his hooves.

Alastor shifted in his seat, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. “Your strength is bound, not gone.”

“It doesn't matter, I can't-” Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut. “...I'm not strong enough. And all of Hell is going to suffer for it.”

The demon hummed thoughtfully. “Then I suppose we will need to devise a way to set you free.” He stood abruptly and moved to stand next to Lucifer with enough space between them to give him room to breathe. Alastor leaned his hip against the table's edge and folded his arms against his chest. “Show me, Lucifer. I need to see them.”

Lucifer blinked at him. “You can't be serious.”

“I am asking politely and in the terms of our deal, I can't lie to you. You wish for my aid in protecting this realm against all threats- not just the Archangel of War- then Roo is claused into that. If I don't understand the shape of what I'm working with, I am of no use to you.”

“Satan, you're-”

“Lucifer.” Alastor's tone was iron. “Show me.”

“...fine.” Lucifer dropped his gaze as he relaxed the mental hold on the illusions settled around him like a second skin. The chains slithered into view, gold links winking in the candlelight and the immediate visible weight of them pulling at his limbs and neck. He felt the prickle of Alastor's interest against his skin, staccato footsteps bringing the demon closer. Alastor's claw hooked into the ring at his throat and pulled and Lucifer had no choice but to lift his head to follow the movement, gaze meeting the scarlet eyes of the demon. He caught the reflection of himself in Alastor's gaze, black pupils showing him a defeated and shackled angel.

It was shameful.

“Hm.” Alastor brushed his thumb against the hollow of Lucifer's throat where the collar lay, eliciting a fresh shiver from the angel. “I understand now why you hid them; it would hardly do for any of your subjects to see you like this.” He flicked his gaze back to Lucifer's. “Are they heavy, my king?”

Lucifer sucked in a breath, his gaze fixed on Alastor even while he felt the magnetic tug to look at the gold cuffs around his wrists, the length of chain draped loose between them and connected to the shackles and collar at his neck and ankles.

“Yes,” Lucifer breathed, swallowing. “But it's been ten thousand years, so...it gets easier to ignore the weight of them.”

“Your modesty is admirable but the weight of your misdeeds, whatever they were, hasn't changed.” Alastor ran his clawed hands down the length of the chain from collar to shackles and Lucifer fought the urge to fidget or shift back, snapping his fingers to put the illusion back in place.

He made himself stay still regardless as Alastor studied him, the demon's gaze indifferent. Observing. Lucifer may as well have been a moth pinned to some felt for all that Alastor hovered with the next barb at the ready while his king watched, helpless to stop whatever came next. The demon eased down to kneel at Lucifer's feet while he inspected the cuffs fastened around each ankle.

“I take it Michael holds the keys to these.” Alastor looked up at him, red eyes half lidded in a way that made Lucifer's breath catch.

“In a sense...” The admission came slowly, Lucifer unlocking the tiny box he had shoved all of the knowledge surrounding his imprisonment into a millennia ago, shaking and airing it out before giving it voice. He could see the question the demon wanted to ask in Alastor's gaze, but then his expression shifted into something more thoughtful. Alastor shifted back on his heels and stood, the movement fluid and graceful in a way that had Lucifer's face heating for the simple act of staring. He made himself look away.

Alastor closed his fingers around Lucifer's wrist to lift it, peering at the cuff and the dangling chain. He followed the line of it to Lucifer's opposite arm, down again to the chain connecting to the shackles around his feet, and then back up to the collar fastened around his neck. He let go and stepped back, pointedly staring at the knot of the connected chains against Lucifer's chest and the glyph of power inscribed there.

“Roo rather enjoys seeing you like this, you know,” he said thoughtfully, brushing away Lucifer's words before they had fully formed. “Calm down, it's not something she could say here; your blood is working well at keeping her out. But she's commented on it before.”

He shook his head and gestured at the array of golden links. “So. Six locks, six keys.” Lucifer grimaced and Alastor paused, brow raised. “Not six.”

“No,” Lucifer admitted, lifting his hands slightly to tug at the tension of the looped chains.

Alastor hummed again, his gaze dragging along each golden link. And then he inhaled sharply. “Of course, it wouldn't do at all for Heaven's greatest failure to have free reign even down here in Hell, naturally. No, not even here.”

He reached out and brushed his fingers against the collar again, light touch to the hollow of his throat dragging another shiver from Lucifer. Alastor peered down at him and repeated the gesture albeit more gently, garnering him the same reaction.

“You're sensitive.”

Lucifer scowled up at him. “You try wearing a collar of pure angelic power for ten thousand years and then tell me you're not fucking sensitive around the throat.”

Alastor clicked his tongue, grin widening. “And touchy. Well, given the state of all this, it's clear what the next step is. We need to get those keys.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Lucifer shifted back a step with a shrug, the chains shifting away into nothing under an illusion. “Even if we could somehow get even one of the keys, we'll never get close to Heaven for the others. It's impossible.”

“Says the angelic being who sealed away the greatest evil beyond the realms of a mortal world.” Alastor reached forward to smooth his hands over Lucifer's shoulders and down his arms, his touch surprisingly gentle when he took the angel's hands. Throat tight, Lucifer couldn't bring himself to look away from the demon, not that he even wanted to. “We will get those keys one way or another because without your unshackled power, I am bound in service to Roo. She will find a way to use the blood you give me to her purpose and even if I can sever my deal with her, she will still infiltrate this realm. She will come for you.”

Lucifer shook his head. “...you'd be free though, of everything.”

“My dear Devil, do you think so little of me to imagine I would vanish into the shadows to leave Hell and all within to her fate and fury? What is the future if she wins? We would all fall prey to her and I for one would not wish that ending upon my worst enemy.”

A sigh shuddered through him and Lucifer dropped his gaze to his hands; hands still entwined carefully in the grasp of Alastor's crimson and black claws. His palms were cool against Lucifer's fingers, holding onto him gently without the pressure of a deal, of personal gain, of...

Thoughts whirling, Lucifer tilted his gaze back up and took in the expression on the demon's face. Alastor's grin had softened and there was some emotion in his eyes that Lucifer recognized but didn't want to put a name to, in the off chance it slipped away before he could fully grasp it.

“Alastor...”

The demon snatched his hands away and Lucifer felt the loss immediately reverberate past the realm of flesh and bone to pang in echoed melancholy around his heart and soul. Grin back in place, Alastor tugged at his jacket to smooth out the wrinkles and turned back to the abandoned seats at the table.

“Was there anything else you wanted to ask me before the effects of your blood wears off?”

Lucifer swallowed past the lump of disappointment in his throat, determined to throw that odd feeling and the entire moment with it into the deepest corner of his mind where he could pull it back and study it this side of never. He shook his head slightly.

“When you drugged me, you said it was because she forced you.”

Alastor nodded once. “She wanted to see you up close, to know how much of a threat to her return you would be.”

“...great.” Lucifer flopped back into his abandoned seat, purposely avoiding looking at the Overlord as Alastor copied the action. “And I suppose she learned so much while I was taking a nap.”

“What she learned and what she already knew is beyond me; I'm not privy to the inner workings of her mind, Sire. Though I can say that while you were indisposed, not a hand was laid on you.”

Lucifer shook his head. “That was the least of my concerns, but...thank you.” He tipped his head back against the plush covering on the chair and closed his eyes. “You know, in a way I've always been envious of you mortals. You have the option to just...stop thinking when you want to. Turn your minds off, get distracted by the next big thing. Do you have any idea how-”

“-lonely it is to exist outside of those parameters?” Alastor ran a clawed finger around the rim of the emptied glass, not even a drop of golden blood left. “As a matter of fact.”

“Oh.”

Lucifer cracked one eye open to study the demon only to find Alastor already watching him. His expression was guarded but there was a hint of something in his eyes, sorrow perhaps. Or regret. He swallowed.

“....Michael's visit to the hotel, you said something to him.” Lucifer's voice was small in the vastness of the room. “What was it?”

Alastor hummed, gaze flicking away. “I'm not sure you're in the right mindset for that, my dear. But if you insist; I merely posed a question to the Archangel. Do you know how to kill God?”

Lucifer stiffened, blood running cold, and Alastor's grin sharpened to a hungry, feral thing, a bloody slash of malice in the manic expression gracing his features. He blinked and shook his head, claws tapping against the table.

“Our time is nearly up, Lucifer.” And I had one question left for you.”

He straightened in his seat as Alastor reached into his jacket to pull a slim yellowed envelope, laying it flat on the table in front of him with his hand pressed over it.

“Your actions with the newly fallen Seraph, Emily. Is that what you had in mind of Niffty?”

“Oh, uh...something like that, yes. It wouldn't be quite so elaborate, but the gist of it would be the same. For Emily, it's a trick to keep Hell from viewing her as an intruder.” Lucifer paused to study him, noting how Alastor's hands were clenched to fists on the table top, shoulders just barely trembling while his grin stretched rigidly across his face. “For Niffty, it would keep Heaven from snatching her out from under you.”

“She sold her soul to me,” Alastor said quickly, tone bordering on the edge of snapping.

Lucifer nodded and tapped a finger against the still full glass he'd poured earlier, both his and Alastor's left forgotten in the wake of their conversation. “I figured as much.”

“But you don't understand. I am not...I do not operate the same way other Overlords do. We're a dishonest lot at heart but that's not a surprise to you,” he said, mouth curling at Lucifer's scoff. “We lie and cheat and steal our way to the peak of power and more often than not, that is when we topple easiest.”

Alastor sighed heavily and sank back in the embrace of the chair. His gaze didn't move from the envelope laid before him. “I rarely offer a soul deal so blatantly. I'm a hunter, Majesty; I like to work for my successes.”

Lucifer didn't pull his gaze away despite the questions crowding to the forefront of his mind. He knew better than to give voice to any of them in the moment; it wasn't in Alastor's nature to pull back the curtain to his most private self, Lucifer knew, and that he was doing so willingly now... It spoke volumes.

“Niffty approached me herself,” the demon murmured. “She was newly deceased, you see, and she had the most incredible request to be made. I did not even have the chance to offer her a deal. She just,” Alastor exhaled loudly and tipped his head back, eyes pinching shut. “Offered her soul up to me without even a hello or how you do; and all I had to do for her was one tiny favor.”

“...what did she ask for?” He kept the question small, voice quiet and unassuming in the hope to not break whatever compulsion Alastor was under for him to be sharing any of this at all.

The demon turned his attention fully on Lucifer. “Her husband was a vicious drunk when they were alive. Niffty explained to me how she had already located his remade demonic form, taking most of the work right out from my hands. All I needed to do was end him.”

He paused, grin turning a shade more feral. “Permanently.”

Lucifer swallowed but nodded. “I suppose there are worse reasons to sell a soul.”

Alastor hummed thoughtfully and then stiffened, shaking his head. “The point is, as much as I act otherwise, I do care for Niffty. So if this will keep her from Heaven's reach in their quest for retaliation...”

His claws pressed against the envelope flat on the table to slide it toward Lucifer, red hued gaze swiveling away with his grin stretched to the point of pain. “Please take it.”

Lucifer plucked the paper from the offered grasp and turned it over in hand. A flick of his thumb and it unfolded, revealing preserved graphite lines scrawled at a slant across coffee ringed paper. At the bottom, Niffty's name was underlined by Alastor's more careful signature, a deal forged and honored.

He glanced up at Alastor but the demon was pointedly looking away with hands clenched, so Lucifer focused again on the soul deal so casually placed in his grasp. He breathed out and let his eyes drift shut, turning inward to pick out the flickers of life in the room. There draped in the shadows of his own existence sat Alastor, unmoving against the tides of life.

It was the minuscule thread of the soul contract he needed, picking out its crimson hue as it stretched outward from where it had been stitched into the paper in his hand. One one end was Alastor, the thread looped several times around his wrist and tied neatly, his end of the bargain fulfilled. The other end flickered into almost nothingness, no end goal in sight but it was clear devotion of a maniacal level that kept the thread holding strong. Lucifer exhaled softly and pinched it in his mental grasp, winding and braiding his own power over the crimson strand until the entirety of the bond gleamed bright gold.

When he opened his eyes, the flourished signature at the bottom was changed, Alastor's name swapped for Lucifer's while Niffty's signature and the language of the contract remained as it was.

“It's done,” Lucifer breathed and across the table, Alastor visibly slumped.

“Well,” his tone was more chipper than his countenance appeared. The demon stood after a moment, adjusting the set of buttons on his jacket, and nodded to Lucifer. “With that, your blood has run its course. And now, to the matter of payment.”

Lucifer stood as well, his own nerves easily hidden by hands folded together probably more tightly than was warranted. Alastor's smile eased but there was a hint of guarded mischief in his gaze. He reached forward to the tie at Lucifer's throat, clawed fingers adjusting the silken material before he brushed his touch against Lucifer's shoulders.

“Thursday, two days from now. Seven p.m. sharp, dear Devil. I despise tardiness nearly as much as I despise a guest who is early.” Alastor lowered his hands and shifted back a step. “In this case, I will be on time- your suite at the hotel will suffice for the evening. I expect you won't disappoint me.”

“...no, of course not. Thursday, seven.”

Alastor's smile widened genuinely and with a bow, he retreated into his shadows without warning. Lucifer huffed a laugh in the empty silence of the throne room, nothing but the table and chairs left as an outward testament to anything that had occurred here. Inwardly his thoughts were weighed down by truths revealed and a newfound power crackled restlessly just beneath his skin, eager to be put to use.

But first, he had something to check up on.

---

The Embassy was no less quiet than before, but the shroud of the tomb had loosened, especially when Lucifer spotted the neatly stacked pile of scrolls on the white marble table. From the doorway he could see there were easily fifteen at least, each one no doubt chosen carefully by Gabriel's own hand. But it wasn't until he drew closer that Lucifer saw the glint of gold tucked into the folds of the topmost scroll. Parchment rustled as he carefully plucked the item from its hiding place and Lucifer felt equal parts relief and bubbling terror as the weight of the golden key settled in his palm. In his mind, he thought he could hear a faint whisper of a known voice, the telltale flicker of guilt in the attempt of absolution.

Forgive me, Brother, for I have sinned.

Chapter 24

Summary:

With the tithe of the Overlords completed, Lucifer takes the next steps to plan for the future of Pride and all of Hell.

Notes:

Happy Saturday, dear friends!

Bit of a lore heavy chapter today, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless <3

The hotel had become a more lively place in the days following the strange battle resulting in the death of the First Man ever created, and Lucifer found it was just easier to stick to the outskirts of all of the activity in an attempt to keep out of the way. It wasn't going to stop him from hanging around the site of Charlie's hopes and dreams for a better future, especially considering what he had to talk to her about.

Catching her eye over breakfast, Lucifer smiled to himself as Charlie sent the remainder of the hotel staff off with a cheery promise to join them for afternoon activities. And then it was just the two of them left in the silent staff dining room, door clicking shut behind Alastor as the last to leave, a too-knowing smirk on the deer demon's face before he was gone.

“Hey Dad, what's up?”

Lucifer pulled out the chair closer to Charlie, sitting down next to her. “Hey kiddo.”

She nodded and turned to face him better, hands pressed flat against her knees. Her expression was oddly calm but still he could pick out the fissure of worry in her gaze. “You've got the look on your face where you have to talk about something but you're not sure how to start. It's something serious, isn't it?”

Lucifer nodded. “With how things are going, figured now was as good a time as any to check in with you. How are you holding up after the meeting?”

The silence slipped by in fragmented moments reflected in the shifting of his daughter's expression. She pulled her knees up to her chest in the chair, wrapping her arms around them. Lucifer fought the urge to fidget, but after another moment he simply shifted forward to take her hand.

“I guess I wasn't really expecting the tithe to have been like all of that, you know?” Charlie sniffed, wiping a hand over her face. “And I know it's a silly thing to cry over a soul like his, but he was still someone in our realm. And I knew in theory you're the king; it's a pretty big fact and you were just looking after me. But I just ignored it, or pretended it was something out of a fairy tale.”

“If I could have done it any differently, Charlie, I would have. The last thing I ever want is to hurt you.” Lucifer gave her a hand a gentle squeeze even as his thoughts turned. The hardest part of being a parent was correcting the larger than life persona all children expected their parents to be; the reality, Lucifer feared, was much bleaker and far more disappointing.

“I know,” Charlie said after a few more minutes of sitting together in silence. She straightened, expression still wobbling between heartbreak and determination, and sighed. “But what's done is done. Whatever else, I trust you Dad.”

“Well, maybe hang on to that for a bit longer.” Lucifer chuckled weakly, his own resolve slipping slightly. He breathed out deeply and pictured the metaphorical cliff he was about to plunge over, and then nodded again “Ripping the band-aid, best way to do it, right? I wanted to let you know the tithe from the Overlords worked well, but this is just the start in our preparations for war, Charlie.”

Her expression faltered slightly, but it wasn't the hesitant look Lucifer had been expecting. Charlie drummed her fingers on the surface of the table, brows knit together in deep thought. She blinked at him, jolting slightly with a shaky laugh.

“Sorry, I guess I got lost in thought. I mean, I figured that's where we were headed, so I've been giving it some thought already. Just from what Sera and Emily said too; this was kind of inevitable, right?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, yeah. I don't think there was ever going to be a way around this.” Lucifer leaned back in the seat, relief taking over with the bleeding out of the immediate tension. “Michael isn't going to listen to reason or stop, so we need to take the next steps to protect ourselves and our realm.”

“Okay, so then what does that look like?” Charlie held his gaze. “I know you mentioned the tithe before during the last time Hell and Heaven collided in war, so if it's something you're able to talk about, I would like to know.”

Lucifer nodded, forcing himself to at least remain outwardly calm. “I'll tell you what I can, but maybe we should get Emily in on this conversation too. She can at least give us some insight into the Heavenly side.”

“Oh, yeah! Good thinking, Dad.” Charlie brightened and fished her phone out with a grin, fingers tapping out a text. She nodded more to herself than him, her smile softening a little. “She'll be down in a few. In the meantime, I'm guessing this is going to involve a little bit more than hotel dealings, huh?”

“You could say that.” Lucifer glanced over his shoulder at the door as the pair of angels made their appearance, Vaggie peering over the top of Emily's head with apprehension. “Hey you two; mind joining us?”

Once they were seated, Lucifer nodded. “On top of getting Charlie up to speed with everything, I also have a favor to ask. There's really no getting around the issue- war is on our doorstep whether we'd like it or not, and with the success of the tithe from Pride's Overlords, I have enough power to put a few safeguards in place to stave off a direct attack.”

“You think it'll come to that?” Emily's voice was small, trembling as she reached for Vaggie and Charlie's hands across the table. Lucifer gazed at the simple contact that spoke volumes beyond the scope of mere words, his heart breaking a little more.

“Unfortunately, yes. But if you're willing to lend your aid, Emily, I think we can really minimize the intensity of whatever Michael throws at us.”

The young Seraph cast another gaze toward Charlie and Vaggie, and then nodded once. “What do you need us to do?”

“I'm going to be using the power accrued to spread across Pride. It's just enough for this Ring, and I've done it before so I know it works well enough to keep the Host out.” Lucifer met his daughter's gaze, smiling a little easier at the encouragement he saw reflected in her crimson eyes. “Protecting the souls here is my utmost priority, so I want to make sure I have things in place first to keep them safe.”

“What about the other Rings?” Charlie asked, leaning slightly closer to Vaggie. “I mean, I get that we have to protect Pride, but I can't imagine Michael is going to focus entirely on us. Hell is entirely our domain; it makes sense he may target some of the others as well.”

Lucifer nodded. “That was my next thought. We're going to need to get the other Sins up to speed on everything. At the very least they need to know what's going on and I know we can count on most if not all of them for when things go south. I'm not the only powerhouse down here, and right now we need all the allies we can get.”

Charlie brightened considerably and she grasped her girlfriend's arm, enthusiasm taking over. “We haven't visited them in so long! Vaggie, Emily, you're going to love my aunts and uncles!”

Lucifer took a steadying breath though he smiled in the face of his daughter's exuberance. “All that said, these aren't going to be social visits. There will be time for visiting, sure, but ultimately I'm going to be calling on them as Kings and Queens of their respective Rings, not as family.”

Her expression turned serious but Charlie nodded. “They'll listen to you, won't they? I mean, you're kind of the big boss of hell.” Charlie laughed shakily and Lucifer kept his grin in place even as he swallowed.

“Yeah, but there's still a process to follow. I can get their allegiance, but I'd rather not force it if it can be helped. Not to mention the others I would like to include in these talks, the Ars Goetia. They're equally powerful allies in their own right and the last thing we need is to alienate them.”

Charlie groaned and leaned her elbows on the table, rubbing her forehead. “Okay, so then it's going to be endless debates for days while everyone throws petty insults and barely veiled threats at each other? Awesome.”

Lucifer winced again and reached for her hand. “There's absolutely nothing that says you have to come. The most I need your help with is managing Pride; you can stay at the hotel and-”

“No way!” Charlie leapt to her feet, eyes shining with conviction. “I am not just going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you shoulder all of this by yourself. We're a team and a family, so I'm going with you. Hell is my home and it deserves to have me at the forefront of its defenses too.”

“Where Charlie goes, I do too. Sir.” Vaggie nodded once, equal parts challenging and respectful. “Given the circumstances, I'd feel better if both of you had a bit of a protection detail moving forward. I mean, Michael isn't really playing around- he's proven he's willing to strike anywhere.”

“What about me?” Emily looked between the three of them, and Charlie immediately took both of the Seraph's hands.

“You're our Ambassador to Heaven, so of course we need you with us. You're the best resource we have to the goings-on up there, and maybe if we frame it as Michael inciting insurrection in Heaven, that will sway the Sins and the Ars Goetia on our side.”

Charlie glanced toward Lucifer, a hint of faltering to her expression and tone. He nodded once and her answering grin was like the brightest rays of a sun he hadn't seen in hundreds of years. More pride than he knew what to do with flooded through his heart and mind as he watched her and Lucifer turned away at the last moment to quickly wipe away the wetness in his own eyes.

“That's perfectly fine; it's going to be a bit of a trip and I'd feel better with both of you accompanying us,” Lucifer nodded toward Vaggie and Emily, the burden and anxiety of the whole meeting easing away now that it was basically over. “I'll make sure to put safeguards in place to protect the hotel while we're gone, because I'm going to be asking Alastor to come with us.”

This time Lucifer felt the prickle of shadows coalescing together a few seconds before Alastor's appearance in the room. The demon grinned widely and tugged at his coat to smooth out some nonexistent wrinkle, then leaned his arm on the back of Lucifer's chair.

“Speak of the Devil,” Vaggie muttered under her breath, though there wasn't any real bite to her tone.

Alastor snapped his teeth in her direction, an equally harmless gesture, and then focused his attention fully on Lucifer. “My ears happened to start burning, so I came to see what was being discussed. Is there something I can do for you, Sire?”

“You can stop towering over me, for starters.” Lucifer gestured to the open chair to his left but Alastor didn't move, his grin widening. Lucifer rolled his eyes. “First off, I was going to see if you wouldn't mind looking after the hotel tomorrow. I have a task I need help with and it's going to take all of us here to get it done.”

“As you say, I'm but your humble servant.” Alastor pressed a hand to his chest, his tone only slightly mocking. It was a far cry from the vitriol and disdain of their earlier interactions, though Lucifer couldn't bring himself to remotely miss the snappish nature of whatever that dynamic had been. Alastor grinned as if he could somehow read Lucifer's thoughts. “And the other?”

“It was something I was going to ask you later, but now's as good a time as any. I want to ask you to come with us when I visit the other Sins in councils for war.”

Lucifer swore in the following silence he could hear a pin drop. Not a far off assumption considering he could hear the distant footsteps of the small housekeeper as she scuttled around three floors up and five rooms removed on the west side of the hotel, not to mention the countless others who dwelt within the rebuilt structure.

“Well, that's an incredible idea,” Alastor said at last, his smile strained. “Considering sinners haven't been able to leave the Pride Ring since the exterminations began on the heels of your previous crushing defeat, I doubt I'll be able to secure a seat in your retinue. But thank you for thinking of me, Sire, I am beyond flattered.”

His tone said otherwise and Lucifer frowned. “Okay, well if you don't want to go, you can just say so. Considering the treaty of the exterminations is broken, there's nothing to restrict souls to Pride anymore, so you're free to move between the Rings.”

Lucifer glanced at Charlie with a slight shrug. “It's not something I'm planning on advertising either, considering we need to get the net over Pride. It's better if they continue to believe they're restricted to this Ring.”

Charlie nodded. “I think that's reasonable. It would make things a lot easier as we prepare. Speaking of.”

She fixed Lucifer with a firm stare, folding her hands on the table before her. “I've been thinking about it a lot since it's being brought up often enough, but I don't actually know much about the circumstances surrounding the exterminations and what caused them.”

With a bolstering nod from the two angels flanking her, Charlie continued. “I would like to know exactly what happened with the last rebellion you-” She cut herself off with a deep exhale, eyes closing briefly. “The rebellion we started here in Hell. If we're really going to war against Heaven again, then we should all know what happened previously so we can avoid those same mistakes all over again.”

Lucifer blinked. It wasn't an unexpected question; in fact the request was perfectly reasonable, and yet he couldn't help the immediate roiling terror in his heart at the words phrased so innocently with the weight of thousands of lives behind them.

But then the weight of a hand came to rest on his shoulder and Lucifer found his gaze shifting away from his daughter's determination to the quiet understanding of the Radio Demon standing at his right hand. He could feel the stares of the other three fixed on him, a mix of incredulous and disbelieving, and yet Lucifer couldn't bring himself to look away from Alastor.

“Say what you can, Majesty,” the demon turned his focus back toward the three women, though his hand didn't move from where it rested on Lucifer's shoulder. “I'm sure we'll be able to fill in the blanks as you go.”

Lucifer swallowed thickly, breathing out slowly. “I'll do what I can. The, uh. The rebellion- cause truthfully, it wasn't even a war. I mean, we tried, I'm not saying we didn't, but-”
“Dad.” Charlie smiled, though her expression wobbled. “It's okay. No one here is condemning you for whatever happened.”

Lucifer nodded and exhaled, meeting the gazes fixed on him from around the table. “The most important thing you should know is that beyond everything else, we just wanted a free Hell. But it was more than that, Charlie. Even now I can see how futile the whole thing was, but your mother was determined to-”

He felt the moment the glyph flared to life, burning at his throat a half second later. Lucifer pressed his hand to it, shaking his head and lifting his other hand as Charlie rose from her seat, hands pressed to the tabletop.

“It's okay, Charlie. We just have to get creative on what I can actually say. It's okay.” Lucifer nodded again and Charlie slowly sat again, her expression still concerned. “At the very least, I can say that the preparations we make going forward are similar to what we did before. I called on the Sins for their support, I took a tithe from the Overlords at the time for soul power to protect the Rings.”

“And Queen Lilith led the charge into battle,” Emily said softly, glancing between Lucifer and Charlie. “I remember that much; it was the first thing I learned, actually. When I was created by Sera and  the Archangel of Healing, he took me with him to the front line. I remember thinking how beautiful and terrible Lilith was.”

She paused with a frown and focused on Lucifer. “But I never saw you.”

He shook his head. “No; I had other things to pay attention to besides the battle at the time. I won't lie and say I was happy to let her march on Heaven alone, but of the two of us, I knew Lilith would get results far better than I could.”

“But...” Charlie drummed her fingers on the table. “That was all before I was born, right? Why would Mom go to battle if she was carrying me? I mean, I was born around that time, right?”

“Wait!” Emily rose from her seat, wings flaring slightly with excitement. “I know this! I remember when it was announced in the courts; Wisdom told us he'd found out a Princess of Hell had been born. And right after that Hell surrendered and the Exterminations were put into place.”

She stopped and looked at Lucifer, eyes widening. “....oh.”

Lucifer offered a small smile. “When he learned we were hiding you from him and Hell's courts, Michael saw an opportunity. I had to make the call to end the fighting to keep you safe. Your mother agreed under duress, and...well, you know the rest.”

There was no hiding the horror in Charlie's expression as she stared at Lucifer. “You did it to save me. The exterminations, the war, everything since then.”

Lucifer reached for her hands. “It has always been for you, Charlie. I would do anything to save you a thousand times over.”

Charlie held his gaze and he watched determination flicker through her eyes. She squeezed his hands.

“The treaty for the exterminations is broken now; Michael made sure of that. And this time, we're going to win.” She nodded toward Vaggie and Emily beside her, and then to Alastor. “This is bigger than just me now; I am doing this for our people now, Dad.”

“You're right, and this time it's more than just me and your mom leading the charge. We have more allies now than we did then, including these two.” Lucifer smiled at Vaggie and Emily. “Even if the circumstances are beyond what I thought they'd be, and I would never have wished times like these on anyone. We have each other. It'll be enough.”

Emily smiled faintly, her starlit eyes still holding onto the last of her tears but she held Lucifer's gaze as a new thread of understanding wove into place between them. “I'm glad to be on the other side of things this time, even with everything... I was created to bring peace to the hearts of those who fought on Heaven's side before. I'm proud to stand with you now, Morningstar.”

“And we are glad to have you, though I wish the circumstances of you being here were different.” Lucifer nodded. “Aside from those of us present, it'll take some time to get everyone on the same page. I figured we could set up the barrier tomorrow and then make arrangements to travel to other Rings.”

“We'll help however we can.” Charlie said decidedly, her smile more regal now. “I'll get everyone here up to speed on our absence; I'm going to make sure the hotel doesn't fall apart while we're gone. And we're going to get the support of the Sins and the Ars Goetia, maybe we can even get some of the other angels on our side. I mean, if Sera is willing to support us, it stands to reason others may follow.”

Emily brightened. “It's possible! If we could get a message to Wisdom- I mean, to Gabriel, then perhaps he would be willing to speak to others on our behalf.”

Lucifer frowned, rubbing his jaw for a moment. “That could be risky, but I'll see if I can get word to him discreetly. There's still the issue of the Horn to deal with; if Michael gets a hold of it again, he's going to have the united hearts of all angels to back him. It's why we lost the last time. My siblings, the most powerful beings in all of Heaven, stood with Michael without doubt.”

“They're still our allies,” Charlie said firmly. “It doesn't count for nothing, and we have Mom too. Do what you can to sway some of them, Dad. I believe in you.”

Her smile was gentle but determined. Charlie stood and bent to kiss him on the cheek. “I've got to get the day going, but I'll make sure we're ready to help you in the morning. See you later, Dad.”

Rising from their seats, Lucifer trailed after his daughter and the two angels with her, coming to stand at the railing of the second floor balcony and looking down as Charlie pointed and gestured to the residents and staff gathered below. Her voice was clear and commanding, nothing cruel in the way she spoke. Pride filled him at the sight and he grinned up at Alastor coming to stand beside him.

“She looks like a queen,” the demon nodded, his smile grim but not unkind. “You've raised her well, even with your absences. Charlotte has turned out to be quite the extraordinary woman, after all.”

“She takes after her mother.” Lucifer shrugged slightly, not taking his gaze off his daughter. “Lilith had more of a hand in raising her than I did, though not for lack of trying. She wanted a child so badly, and there was nothing I wasn't willing to do for her. I couldn't say no to her even then.”

“Don't sell yourself too short, Lucifer; Charlie is more your child than you think, though you seem inclined to pass all the credit for her to others.” Alastor hummed thoughtfully and turned away, and Lucifer made to trail after him, but stopped to look back at Charlie as she commanded the forces under her.

He smiled, watching the bright future at hand unfold before his eyes.

Chapter 25

Summary:

Having secured the power from the Overlords to defend the Pride Ring, and the allegiance of his daughter and two angels on his side, Lucifer jumps into action.

Notes:

-kicks off the War Arc into full gear-

Happy Saturday, dear lovely friends! <3

The pinnacle of the Pride Ring was the circle of mountains looming tall against crimson skies in a surrounding arch around the crater where Pentagram City was nestled. It wasn't often that Lucifer left the confines of the bustling metropolis, his own palace centered at the very heart of the city, but today called for a trip upward past the layers of hazy smog and clouds threatening acid rain. The air chilled only a fraction as his feet landed on a cleft of rock on one of the higher peaks, winds tugging at his coat as they were stirred into a frenzy from the rhythmic beats of his wings.

From up here, Lucifer could see everything.

His gaze swept across the jagged peaks of Hellish rock turned to mountains under his guiding hand long before there was even a people to call this place home, blackened stone softened under the guise of snowed-over crests. It was just ash, a byproduct of industry and Pride's own temperamental atmosphere, but it looked nice as a snapshot on a cheap post card.

Down the slopes of the crater, Lucifer could pick out the attempts at farming made in the patches of fertile soil; most of the industry occurred on the other side of the mountain ranges and was transported in by railway, an old design he hadn't deemed in need of revamping from steam powered days. The few farms still operating within the realm of the Pentagram had long ago converted to wealthier pursuits; high value textiles and food production, while others still had been purchased by leading members of Hell's aristocracy as out of the way vacation homes when Lucifer required their presences outside of their own rings.

The fact that this hadn't occurred in over two centuries, even with the memories of those days still as sharp and clear as yesterday, had Lucifer shaking his head and turning his full focus on the city itself, the beating heart of the Pride Ring. It was where all human souls resided, the border of the city slowly encroaching across the circle of cleared land and up the edge of mountainous slopes while the city reached higher like folly draped towers of old.

It was the only solution, Lucifer knew; back when the constraints of a deal made in the face of defeat had restricted all human souls to this Ring. They had been pulled back from other rings and across the expanse of this one, converging and layering one over the other until the populace was a cancerous growth at the heart of Pride. His ring, his people- made to suffer at the hands of another.

It made his blood boil with a fury that some days Lucifer wasn't sure how to contain.

It had been so much easier when he could turn his face away from the cameras and limelight that came naturally with the throne; those had been the spaces Lilith thrived in, gracefully tossing her influence across not just the city or the ring they presided over, but across all of Hell. She'd been praised and lauded for the streamlined way of life the sinners of Pride now enjoyed without much thought to who had put them in place, but Lucifer?

Little secret that he was the reclusive good for nothing king at the helm, content to let the structures his ex-wife had put in place crumble under his own neglect. It was why the Overlords controlled so much power, unchecked and unrestricted in the absence of Lilith's rulings. Maybe if none of the current events were happening- Charlie's push for redemption, Michael's continued meddling, Lucifer's own shame and cowardice on full display- then he could have continued to exist quietly and out of sight in the shadows of his palace.

But for Charlie and her dreams, he was ready to cast off the shroud of the past that had weighed heavily on him for far too long. He was done hiding.

Lucifer inhaled deeply of the thinner atmosphere here at the height of the surrounding peaks and turned his attention to the pair of winged figures approaching through the cloud cover. It had been second nature to let the larger span of his wings unfurl outside of the restrictions of the city below but Lucifer had still hung back to keep pace with Emily and Vaggie, considering it unfair to outpace them so easily. It was only at Charlie's insistence from where she was nestled safely in her girlfriend's arms that Lucifer pushed forward, his daughter's unburdened, joyful laugh chasing after him as he let thought melt away into nothing and focused on just flying.

There was hardly anything Lucifer loved more than flight. It was a different kind of love, he'd determined long before now; his love for Charlie was purposeful, a blinding all encompassing thing Lucifer didn't have to even contemplate, but flight?

Flight was something deeper, more instinctual. His wings leaned into the wind without a thought and the joy that flooded him whenever he took to the skies was something that ran far deeper past the boundaries of time. Lucifer let his eyes drift closed, instinct taking over past purposed thought to let his wings take him wherever they willed. This was what he was made for- not the mortal ideas of ruling a society, trussed to the nines in whatever new ideas would fashion him into a king or the idea of one. He was more than that, he'd always been; and up here in Hell's skies, even if it was far away from the expanses he'd once cherished, Lucifer felt free.

He tilted his gaze back in the direction of the approaching trio, pressing a hand to the brim of his hat as the winds kicked up with Emily and Vaggie landing on the wide ledge of rock alongside him. Charlie slipped out of her girlfriend's arms with ease, pecking Vaggie on the cheek.

“Hey Dad!” Charlie reached for his hands, her smile wide. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Not bad,” he grinned back and turned to the other two angels standing safely on the mountain platform. “Are you ladies ready?”

“Ready,” Charlie answered and the other two nodded.

Lucifer copied the movement, unexpected nerves rising to the surface of his mind. The energy he'd been keeping a tight lid on since the day before was crackling with excitement, power from thousands of souls thrashing beneath his skin to be put to use. Even with the benefit of having done this before, Lucifer could admit in his own mind at least, he was nervous. It had been desperation that led him to ask for Charlie's and Emily's aid the night before; the last time he'd performed this act, Lilith had been present enough to act as anchor and magnifier. But without her, his daughter and the Seraph were his only options.

 “This is going to take a lot of both of you, so if you don't think you can handle it, it's really no big deal-”

“Dad,” Charlie grasped his hands tightly, her expression of conviction matched on the faces of the two other angels behind her. “We can do this, all of us together. It's going to be okay. You're not alone.”

“Alright,” Lucifer breathed, nodding again. “Then we get started. Vaggie, you'll carry Charlie eastward. Emily, you've got the western corner. I'm going to stay put as the anchor point; I'll be pouring a dilution of the power into you both but all you have to do is act as a conduit.”

Charlie and Emily nodded and Vaggie flexed her wings. Before either angel could lift to the skies again, Lucifer fixed all three women with a firm stare.

“The second it feels like too much, you tell me. Emily, Charlie, I'm not going to risk burning either of you up just for this. Vaggie,” he focused on the former Exorcist who regarded him in return with equal parts understanding and awe. “Make sure Charlie doesn't push herself.”

“Dad!”

Lucifer shook his head and stepped back as the two angels shifted upward, Charlie held firmly in Vaggie's arms. “Be careful yourself!” Charlie called back down, the winds already rushing forward to snatch her words away. He lifted an arm in acknowledgment and then turned back to the sprawling city laid out below. Vaggie and Emily remained in view in his peripheral, hovering midair roughly twenty feet above him. It was as close as he would dare keep them for the start of this; near enough for metaphorical touch but safely beyond the boundary of the power surge he was about to tap into.

Lucifer turned his focus inward and the power screamed soundlessly under his renewed attention. It was a simple thing to feel his soul expand outward beyond the realm of flesh and bone; here he was taller, stronger, more than anything his diminutive form could ever hope to be. Pressing physical lips together, Lucifer plunged immaterial hands into the writhing mass of power he had gathered from the Overlords and pulled it upward as his consciousness expanded.

When he was large enough, the crown of his head level with the gleaming point of the mountain's peak and clouds brushing against and through his ghostly presence, Lucifer turned his focus on the other presences nearby. They shone bright as stars in his inner sight; Charlie and Emily as fixed points on a compass in conjunction with his own standing as true north. Lucifer reached toward them and the power wrapped up in their beings, reminiscent of his own, reached back. It was instinctual and though they stood as individuals removed from himself, the power that had shaped them at his hands, or at the hands of those he made before, craved to be returned home within his heart.

“Brace yourself!” he heard the baritone set of his physical form say, words plunging downward through the whirlpool tether to his body where he stood on the rock ledge with both arms lifted toward the hovering angels. Lucifer ignored the burning agony around his throat and limbs, a scream escaping clenched teeth as he pushed the energy upward to his daughter and the Seraph.

It was too much, he thought belatedly, the idea striking him half a second too late as he watched through eyes that didn't feel like his own. Charlie stiffened in Vaggie's grasp, her physical body pushing against the onslaught of power while her soul flickered and warped beneath the strength of it like a guttering flame. Emily's wings seized and halted mid-flap and she dropped several feet before catching herself in an uneven pattern of wing beats, her own essence flickering in a similar way to Charlie.

Lucifer, his own body convulsing beneath the onslaught from two fronts, dug his claws deeper into the power to pull it back.

“We've got it!!” Charlie's voice echoed through the mountain peaks, riding the wind in circular loops and echoing over itself. Lucifer blinked and for a moment, he saw the glimmer of her soul standing high and proud outside of the bounds of a physical form. Six wings arcing outward in a sunset shower of light, a burning halo of the most holy fire crowning her.

He flicked his gaze to Emily and though she didn't shine as brightly as Charlie in the lens of sight beyond mortal existence, Lucifer could see she was made of sterner stuff than he'd imagined. She glowed fierce and bright to overwhelm the shade of power crackling in her hands and he couldn't help a thrill of pride at the sight of them both.

“Alright, let's go!” Vaggie's shout thundered toward him and as one, the two angels split off from each other with the power held safely in their grasps. Lucifer watched the tethers of it shift outward from the starting point where he held it from the rock ledge, an anchor for their work. He watched them weave around each other, crackling lines of power manipulated away from the portion they held, endless loops of the soul energy cast outward in a formless pattern. And whenever the substance in their hands dimmed and shrank, he pushed against the endless burning of his physical body to pull more and send it outward into the waiting hands of Emily and Charlie.

And then when the power had been stretched nearly to the breaking point, he sent a singular thought zipping up the lines of it to the two beacons in the fading daylight. They grasped the woven strands in tandem with Lucifer and together, pulled. The lines snapped outward in a canopy of a woven net, invisible to all save these three in this state outside of physical existence. Lucifer couldn't dredge up any more notes of his pain shattered voice, directing Charlie and Vaggie and Emily through mere thought alone. The net drifted on the evening winds until it snagged against the adjoining mountain peaks as he commanded, anchored there by the glyphs he had etched into stone beforehand.

Minutes or hours later, he could barely think. Lucifer shuddered and let himself drift back into the confines of his sweat drenched body, blinking to clear the last effects of his double vision as Vaggie and Emily landed once more. Charlie wriggled out of her girlfriend's arms in an instant, heels scraping against stone as she flung herself toward him.

“Dad, oh my god, that was amazing!” Her golden eyes were brimming with light, a leftover of the power coursing through her. Emily too was glowing with a bit more brilliance than before, the after effects wearing off in increments. Charlie sucked in a breath and reached for Lucifer, expression shuddering. “Dad, your hands.”

Lucifer shook his head and ran his tongue over parched lips, pointedly not looking at the cuffs burning white hot around his wrists. He knew the collar was equally visible at his throat, sizzling past the control of his illusions, but any pretense otherwise was beyond his control.

“It's okay, Charlie.” The words escaped in a rasp and he found himself caught in his daughter's firm embrace, the solid warmth of her love enveloping him. Charlie held him tight, her cheek against his hair, and Lucifer sighed in relief. “I pushed a little harder toward the end there. It's okay.”

“Is it going to be enough?” she asked when she pulled away, her touch cool against his heat ravaged skin when she took his hand. Lucifer rolled his shoulders, the deep ache from hours of labor settling heavily on them, and cast his gaze out across the wide valley of the crater. In this body at least, he could only make out the faintest glimmer of the soul power woven like a net over the entirety of the city and the surrounding pockets of habitable landscape, a canopy which he knew would prove a deterrent to anything Heaven hurled down.

“It will be; not my first time pulling this old trick.” Lucifer smiled slightly, relief palpable. “You three did amazing, I honestly couldn't have done it without you. Seriously, this is because of you- now Pentagram City is going to be okay whenever Michael and the Host march on it.”

“You're sure he will?” Charlie didn't let go of his hand as she spoke. “I mean-”

“He will,” Emily slipped into the conversation, her gaze fixed on the leftover shimmers of the exposed chains on Lucifer's wrists and throat. “He's done it before, he most definitely will do it again. It's why I was created, after all.” She breathed out and shifted forward, holding out her hands to Lucifer. “I'm sorry.”

“None of this was your doing, sweetheart.” Lucifer took Emily's offered grasp with his free hand, his other still held in Charlie's hold. They moved as one again to pull Vaggie into their midst and in the evening twilight, Lucifer let himself relax in the comfort of a group hug with his family.

---

Lucifer didn't particularly care what anyone else said; hot baths were the greatest things ever created.

Right up there were ducks, naturally. Satan, if only the rest of creation would get on board with the duck as a concept- it was ingenious, truly. The patterns of flight, instincts, even the variations of coloring in the plumage. Ducks were the second best thing. Baths, then ducks.

He chuckled to himself as he toweled off his hair, folds of an overly fuzzy robe draped around him. His wrists and neck still itched and chafed from the day's events, he really had pushed himself too far this time and Michael's chains had shoved back in the only way they knew how, burning through flesh and muscle straight down to the bone underneath. That aspect had been hidden before Charlie or the others could see, though it hadn't stopped his daughter from insisting on bandaging each wound herself. The salve she had applied had stung at first but it settled into a cooling ache against the slowly healing flesh.

The quiet evening had concluded early with Emily announcing her exhaustion first, Charlie and Vaggie following suit. It had become something of a habit for Lucifer to find himself in their company in the evenings, at least before they went their separate ways. He couldn't help a smile as he watched all three retreat to their shared bedroom, fragile trust and feelings slowly strengthening and blooming in close and chosen proximity.

For his part, Lucifer had considered paying a visit to a certain Overlord, but the grit and smoke of the day's events still clung to his clothes. A bath was in order first.
Stepping out of the steam fogged bathroom, Lucifer glanced at the bedside clock doubling as a radio. It had clicked on sometime while he'd been occupied under the endless stream of hot water and a soothing jazz tune was now drifting languidly through the room. His smile widened and he brushed a light touch over the little object as if somehow that could translate into something the demon responsible would be able to feel on the other side of the airwaves, and then Lucifer looked down at his phone.

He'd left it plugged in on the nightstand for the duration of the shower and beyond the lit up screen showing the charge at fifty percent, there were a few notifications. A couple texts from Charlie in the form of emojis wishing him a goodnight, unbroken sleep, and pleasant dreams (not particularly in that order), a few emails, but it was the final notification that had the smile slipping from Lucifer's face as he thumbed it open.

He didn't recognize the encrypted number in the sender's field but a prickle of familiar unease ran down his spine at the simple words of the text. The block letters stared back at him, simple lines of black somehow giving off more urgency than they should rightfully be capable of. Lucifer tightened his grasp around the device, fingers blocking out the chilling words, and made himself breathe.

In, out. In, out.

He stared at the ceiling, picking out faint details his mind supplied among the blank canvas of pale cream it was painted. It was nothing but the buzzing drone of his own thoughts making patterns where there was none, and if Lucifer focused past the magnetic pull of non-thinking, he could feel the hotel settling down for the night to sleep. Further down the hall he could hear the sleepy giggles of his daughter and her partner as they talked through the events of the day, conversation peppered by Emily's lighthearted tone here and there.

Beyond them, he could feel the other residents settling down, little blips of life slowing down with the end of the day. Somewhere else in the building, glasses clinked together in a nightcap shared between friends. A smaller presence darted into one of the vent openings, crawling through the ducts with the singular laser focus of a hunt.

And then, Alastor.

Even from here, Lucifer could sense the demon. Some after effect of their deal, he supposed, and yet the idea of being able to locate him so easily didn't bring the same anxiety Lucifer was expecting. He found the tension in his back and shoulders melting away just from the subtle presence, as if Alastor was in the same room with him. He could even picture it; the deer lounging with a book in either the arm chair or the bed, an easy smile on his face. It was...nice.

And completely inappropriate.

Blinking back to awareness, Lucifer nudged that line of thought out of the way for a more careful study on the far side of never and glanced back down at the text. He stiffened and lifted a hand to snap his pantsuit back on, a portal glimmering open to the hallway just outside of Alastor's door. He didn't look too closely at the intention to take him there, a problem for a much later time- Lucifer lifted his hand to knock firmly.

“Well, well, I didn't think to see you this evening!” Alastor's voice floated through the door as he opened it, stepping into the open space in lieu of the barrier. His smile faltered slightly, just the edges drooping slightly though the usual set of his grin remained. “What is it?”

Lucifer took a steadying breath. “I need you to come to the embassy with me. Please.”

Chapter 26

Summary:

Having placed a veil of protection across the entirety of the Pride Ring, Lucifer turns to the unresolved tension between himself and Alastor.

But a request for a meeting at the embassy from an unknown number puts all those thoughts on hold, and Lucifer considers the future of Hell in case he falls as he and Alastor prepare to meet the mysterious guest.

Notes:

Happy Saturday!

I'm just gonna...go ahead and leave these here

*places box of tissues around*

*runs away*

Lucifer didn't bother with old fashioned travel, snapping his fingers to open a portal straight to the embassy right there in front of Alastor's door. The demon didn't protest the conjured thing but he sniffed with a hint of disdain, tugging at the cuffs of his coat sleeves, and followed Lucifer through the gleaming opening.

“I can't imagine what could be so serious to warrant your immediate presence,” Alastor said, casting his gaze around the cavernous and gleaming space. The embassy was as silent as ever save for the chime at the far back of the meeting room Lucifer had portaled them to, the only sign outside of the text that he'd been summoned at all.

“Not helping,” Lucifer snapped, not even looking at the demon beside him. His whole focus was on the two gleaming figures materializing at the far end of the room, the conference table kept squarely between them and him. “I needed you here in case this was a trap.”

“Expecting trouble, Majesty?” Alastor's steps echoed in tandem with his as they approached the holographic display, both archangels turning as one to watch him.

“Given what I spent all day doing with Charlie and Emily,” Lucifer flicked his gaze up, startled to find tense lines of worry marring Alastor's grin into an almost grimace. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Lucifer,” Alastor stopped him with a firm grasp around his arm, claws digging past the barrier of coat and shirt to the skin underneath. “You know having me here serves nothing. Those are archangels; what do you suppose I am to do if they push into the realm to harm you?”

Lucifer swallowed but held Alastor's gaze, watching as understanding filtered through the red depths there. Alastor hissed sharply and let him go, stepping back. “I am not going to simply run back to the hotel to tell your daughter that...”

“You're outclassed here, Alastor, and right now there's no one I trust more than you to make sure Charlie is prepared in case I fall.”

“Fuck you,” the demon muttered, shaking his head and then falling silent.

His previous meeting with Gabriel aside, it had been years since Lucifer had seen either of his brothers together in the same room, and yet the sight of both of the twins standing shoulder to shoulder filled him with a choking kind of nostalgia that Lucifer fought to swallow past. Gabriel's gaze slid past him as it had previously, but Raphael fixed him immediately with the dark burning coals of his gaze.

“Lucifer.” The rich tone of his brother's voice filled the empty space and Lucifer fought the urge to drop into the nearest chair and weep; it'd been far too long since he'd been in the same room as Raphael, and the Archangel of Healing had a soothing presence no one could match.

But he made himself stand steady, Alastor's presence a warm comfort at his side. Lucifer glanced between the twins, noting the varying levels of concern in their expressions.

“Gabriel, Raphael. What is it? What happened?”

“Lucifer,” Gabriel spoke this time, a furrow in his brow as he turned the full sightless scope of his gaze on the Devil. “Tell me you didn't do what I think you did today.”

Lucifer crossed his arms after gesturing Alastor to one of the nearby seats, dropping into the nearest open chair while the hologram of his brothers also moved to sit.

“I'm running low on options down here, all things considered. And Michael pulled some bullshit recently, so yeah.” Lucifer fixed them both under his gaze, and Raphael at least had the decency to lower his gaze, shame darkening across his features. “I am doing whatever it takes to protect Pride, just like before.”

“This is practically a declaration of war,” Gabriel warned, tone guarded.

“You think I don't know that? And it's been a war for years, or have you both forgotten?”

Gabriel lowered his gaze and for a moment, the two may as well have been one man split in two to mirror each other; dusk hued skin just short of a shade of evening, and dark hair down to their shoulders at the same length. The only difference was where Gabriel's wings were pure white and fit for the highest courts of Heaven, Raphael's were a deep midnight hue bordering on black. He shifted slightly and the feathers caught the light, turning to a shimmering kaleidoscope of blue, purple, and green.

“We didn't come here to argue with you, brother,” Gabriel murmured, shaking his head. “We have other things to discuss, if you are willing.”

“Lucifer,” Raphael spoke again, lifting his gaze slightly, and the tenor of his voice trembled under the weight of barely contained grief. “Is Emily alright? Please tell me- I need to know she is safe and unharmed.”

“She is.” Lucifer offered his younger brother a faint smile. “We caught her moments after her Fall; she's safe under my domain.”

“Thank Father...” The Archangel slumped back in the seat and rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressed to his brow. For a moment there was only the sound of his barely contained sobs, just the slightest of sighs from beneath the press of his fingers.

Lucifer glanced toward Gabriel who shook his head slightly, the matter put aside for the time being. He'd known back in the early days of how Raphael's gaze had been drawn to the High Seraph as she stood in Lucifer's shadow, and though he'd only recently become acquainted with Emily, it was evident how much Healing cared for the younger Seraph.

“I swear it, Raphael, she will not come to any harm under my wings.” Lucifer shifted back in the seat, glancing between the two. “Now you can tell me something in exchange, truth for truth.”

“Name it,” Gabriel said, tone giving mind the crashing of waves against a storm draped sky.

Lucifer kept his gaze fixed on the pair of his brothers, not even daring to glance at Alastor. The demon had made himself a nonchalant fixture of the background, draping himself in one of the chairs as if he was bored with the entire proceedings like they were somehow beneath his notice. Raphael and Gabriel thankfully did not even glance in his direction or question his presence, a small mercy.

He exhaled softly. “I want to know where you've hidden the Horn.”

“Lucifer-”

He lifted a hand to cut off Raphael's protest, other hand pressed flat against the table as an anchor. “I'm going to level with you both completely- we're in a fucked up spot. Past grievances aside, and I'm not interested in rehashing all of that,” Lucifer didn't miss the way both archangels flinched sharply, but he continued anyway. “There's far too much happening for me to not know this at least. Tell me where you hid it so I can deal with it.”

The brothers exchanged a look, sightless eyes meeting their darker counterpart, and then Raphael sighed. The crests of his wings puffed upward in agitation, fingers drumming soundlessly on the table before him.

“I was the one who hid it,” he admitted, tone still guarded. “In the last days of the war- the rebellion. It seemed the best course at the time with so many on either side meeting their end.”

“It wouldn't have been necessary-” Lucifer started but cut himself off before he could tap fully into that endlessly deep well of resentment and grief. “Just tell me what you did with it. Michael isn't going to stop, you both know that. He's proven that plenty in the past few days alone.”

“I gave it to Azrael to smuggle into Hell,” Raphael says, holding his gaze thought there was a flicker of a lie in his eyes. “Where he placed it after it left my hands, I do not know. You know he holds secrets like the...well, like the grave.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Lucifer muttered, matching the rhythm of fingers tapped against the table surface. Just the thought of the reclusive archangel brought a fresh wave of anxiety. Of all of them, Azrael was going to be hell to pin down for answers; his penchant for sneaking around beyond the scope of the other six was old history even back in the days when Lucifer had been on good terms with his brethren.

He scowled and focused on the pair before him again, shapeless frustration channeled into something he could actually grasp at and understand. Lucifer leaned forward slightly, letting slip his more demonic attributes. Gabriel and Raphael were Princes of Heaven, there was no denying the aegis of their divinity, but he was a king.

“So why ask for a meeting? Why now? After everything, why come to beg an audience with me?” Lucifer flicked his gaze between the two, watching as the shift in his tone took hold and both archangels shrank subtly under the power presented. “Why should I entertain your requests?”

“We've wronged you, we're not denying that.” Raphael lifted his gaze for just a moment, coal dark eyes hinting at genuine remorse. He just as quickly looked back down. “I have no right to beg your forgiveness.”

“Yet you do regardless.” Lucifer sighed, his own countenance softening. He inwardly cursed the gulf of space separating them, his brothers within reach and yet he couldn't grasp their hands to pull them into an embrace, peace restored. “I have no quarrel with you, either of you. Your sins were not of your making.”

Raphael straightened and reached a hand out, a chime sounding through the cavernous hall. A second later a golden key plunked down onto the table before Lucifer. He stared at his brother.

“You cannot buy my forgiveness like that, Raph. I'm giving it to you anyway.”

“Consider it a token, then, to make up for the years I have spent wronging you, Lucifer.” Raphael spread his hands, empty palms turned upward in supplication, and he shifted forward as if he meant to kneel.

“Raphael, there is no need-”

The room split with a crack of thunder that Lucifer could feel deep to the core of his bones and the next few moments passed like snapshots from a camera. He felt himself rise from the chair, felt the extended presence of Alastor beside him in full demonic fury. Gabriel and Raphael turned a fraction too slow, wings extended as if that alone could block out the fiery presence of their brother newly arrived.

Michael burned in fragments the hologram couldn't keep up with, his brilliance glaring against the white backdrop of the embassy halls. His snarl was lethal, wings fanned out wide as a display of threat.

But it was the sword in his hand that grabbed Lucifer's attention.

Long since he'd seen the Hand of Wrath wielded and yet he still remembered with perfect clarity the searing heat of its divinity as it had cleaved through flesh and bone straight to the intangible soul. It was the weapon Michael had snatched from the hands of their enemy, turning it back against those who had created it for the sole purpose of cleaving angels apart, their very existence torn asunder into truth nothing. Lucifer had seen it firsthand when he had pointed Michael toward the front lines of that long ago war, knowing in his heart what his brother had been capable of even then.

Horror clawed at him at the sight of the flame wreathed blade in Michael's hand only meant for one purpose, but any protest he had was too little too late, and far too away to be of use. Lucifer reached out anyway, knowing what he saw was delayed by the flicker of the hologram catching up as Michael moved faster than a lightning strike.

“Wait!”

He could only stare in horror as Gabriel's features twisted in agony, mouth open in a silent scream. His whole body spasmed with the force of death clawing at him. His wings flared, white hot brilliance searing through the room to match the fiery sword splitting his chest in two. From somewhere to Lucifer's left, Alastor hissed sharply in pain. Lucifer blinked past the sudden stream of tears in his eyes to pick out the silhouettes in shrouded black against the onslaught of glory unleashed, and Michael stared back at him with something like a feral grimace.

“Michael-”

“You've chosen war, Lucifer.” Michael's voice thundered through the space. Lucifer reached a hand out as if his touch alone could reach past the barrier of the hologram to the flesh and blood and power therein, as if he could pull away the destruction burning through Gabriel as he watched. His brother's sightless eyes rolled back and the embassy around them shuddered and cracked as the archangel dissolved into ash.

The hologram cut out.

In the stillness, Lucifer could still see the burning forms of his brethren against the interior of his retinas, like staring into the sun too long. Gabriel's anguish, Michael's fury, Raphael's horror.
|
He lurched forward from the chair, knees slamming against the stone as his legs gave out beneath him. Chest heaving with sobs, Lucifer scrambled forward to the spot where his brothers had stood, claws raking the empty air as if that could conjure them back.

“He- they were-” Words fell uselessly against his own ears and he was barely conscious of the clawed hands grabbing at his shoulders to pull him back. The world tilted and Lucifer found himself staring at a flood of crimson. He blinked and focused on details of Alastor's face, the white flecks against red fur and the overwhelming pity and fury in the demon's gaze.

“Stop! Lucifer, you can't help them now!”

Alastor yanked him close, the demon's claws pressing against his back and head to keep him locked in the sudden embrace, and there Lucifer shook and screamed his anguish up to the unhearing heavens above.

Chapter 27

Notes:

Good morning my darling friends!!!

Bit of a softer chapter for all of your today, my attempt to soothe the heartbreak from last week <3 I hope this chapter finds you all well!

Also just a heads up I won't be posting a chapter next week on the 30th because I will be away at a con for the whole weekend! I am super excited for it but will miss you all dearly in the meantime.

Lucifer stared at the blank wall of his room.

He'd left the lights purposefully off, not even a bit of contrast to filter in from the hallway beyond. Like the heart of his quarters, the rest of the palace was draped in the shadows of his own melancholy. It had been instinct that had him fleeing to the safety of his palace; far away from the reach of the embassy, the hotel, everyone Lucifer failed over and over again just by existing near them.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the last seconds of Gabriel's expression, the dawning horror in his clouded eyes as he realized there was nothing anyone could do to save him. Lucifer could still feel the moment his brother's essence had ceased, the crumbled shape of Gabriel falling like dust through his grasp.

He was gone.

His younger brother was gone.

Lucifer curled tighter against himself, dragging the blankets into a deeper cocoon as if that was remotely enough to block out the howling chasm of nothing in his heart where Gabriel had existed. He had always been able to feel the muted presences of his siblings before; never tangible enough for him to grasp or connect with, but in the darkest moments they had been a source of comfort. Even with the sting of their betrayal, Lucifer had always counted on being able to feel them in his soul.

But now there was a hole in his heart, the torn edges of Gabriel's existence drifting listlessly, and he didn't know how to fix it.

Around him, the palace stirred- not of its own volition, Lucifer had never given it any real sentience; but the wards hummed and weakened to invite someone, and that had his attention. He shot a glare in the direction of the ceiling as if the wards had the capability to interpret it (they didn't but it made him feel better).

“Dad, come on.” Charlie's voice drifted through the halls and for once Lucifer didn't curse the maze-like quality of the palace he'd designed. It reflected his mood without any prompting, opening up new halls to lead any intruders far away from his resting place. It meant disappointing her again, Lucifer wasn't fooled, and yet how could he look his daughter in the eye knowing he hadn't even been able to protect her more powerful uncle?

Another voice drifted to the front of Lucifer's focus and he latched onto it without much thought, his subconscious reaching an invisible hand to the lilting and mocking tone like it was a lifesaver thrown to him as he drowned. A door clicked open from nearby and Lucifer groaned, burrowing deeper under the blankets as two sets of footsteps approached. Damned palace, leading them straight to him on the whim of his instincts to seek out comfort.

“Well, there you are, Your Majesty!” Alastor said with forced cheer, his shadow falling across the heap of blankets. Lucifer scowled in his direction, thankful at least the barrier of the coverings kept him from seeing the demon's smirking glare. “We were beginning to wonder.”

“Please go away,” he mumbled from beneath the cocoon. “I really don't feel like talking.”

The bed dipped under seated weight and it was Charlie's hand that came to rest lightly against his back. Lucifer shuffled onto his side to peer out from under the blanket's edge, meeting his daughter's concerned gaze.

“Dad,” she said, heartbreak in her tone even as she smiled. Heartbreak for him, Lucifer realized a moment later. It was an unbearable thought and he made to fling the blanket back over him; at least that way he'd be out of sight.

Charlie grasped the end of the blanket to tug it back. “Not so fast, Dad. Alastor told me what happened at the embassy and I am so, so sorry.”

Lucifer groaned and rubbed a hand over his face but sat up. “It's okay-”

“It's not okay!” Charlie grasped his hands tightly, her tone vehement. “I can't even imagine how I'd be feeling if I lost a sibling. Not that I have any, and none that I haven't talked to in hundreds of years, but still!”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening and for a moment Lucifer thought she was going to break into tears on his behalf. Honestly, it would have been a relief; all of his tears had dried up hours ago, though it hadn't lessened the heavy weight of grief still resting in his heart.

“You're allowed to be sad,” Charlie said gently. “But I don't want you hiding out here because you think you have to grieve alone. That's why Alastor and I came to check on you.”

Lucifer glanced at the demon in question who met his gaze coolly, eyes half lidded as if the entire thing bored him. Alastor shrugged slightly.

“Thanks, sweetie.” He focused on Charlie again, offering what he hoped was a reassuring enough smile. “That means a lot, really. I'm okay, I promise.”

“So you're going to come back to the hotel?” Charlie clasped his hand again, expression shifting into something hopeful. Lucifer inhaled and saw the moment realization flickered through her gaze, disappointed. “Dad...”

“It's not that I don't want to, I just-”

“Actually, Charlie,” Alastor cut in smoothly, stepping closer and placing one crimson claw on her shoulder. “What your father means to say is he won't be coming back to the hotel tonight because he and I have plans.”

“You do?” Charlie glanced between them, her tone hesitantly hopeful.

“Indeed!” Alastor grinned and Lucifer scowled at the demon, though it did little in the face of his daughter's brightening countenance. “Rather serious plans, actually! A night out on the town, and you know how much I love a good crowd, Charlie.”

She whirled toward Lucifer and he flashed her a grin a half second later, praying it met his eyes. “Dad, that is seriously amazing! I can't even remember the last time you went out in public with- well, with anyone! Ever!”

“Well, you know me,” he laughed shakily, glancing at Alastor and then back to Charlie, grin firmly in place even if it felt strained. “I love to get out there, and Alastor is a great...dance partner.”

“I am so happy for you!” She threw her arms around him in a bone crushing hug, chin resting against his shoulder. Charlie sniffed loudly. “I always thought after Mom, you wouldn't ever- well, I'm just happy for you!”

Letting him go, Charlie sniffed again and swiped her sleeve over her eyes, and laughed. “You have to tell me everything! Well, please not everything, but-”

“Charlie,” Alastor interrupted again. “As endearing as this is, I believe we should let your father get ready. Can't have him going out in his pajamas!”

“Oh my gosh, you're so right! Okay!” She jumped to her feet. “I am gonna go, but you two have fun!”

Alastor tutted and placed a hand on her back to nudge her toward the door, Charlie waving enthusiastically before slipping out. The second the door closed, Alastor turned back toward him with his smile vanishing. He gestured curtly as he approached.

“You've wallowed here long enough. Come on, up with you. Moping is not a good look.”

Alastor grasped the end of the blanket to tug it away. Lucifer glared at him while keeping hold of the opposite end, both of them tugging back and forth for a moment. He let go with a long sigh and flopped back against the pillow.

“Why can't you leave me alone? I mean, that's what you want, isn't it?” Lucifer dropped an arm over his eyes. “Just let me rot here.”

Alastor sniffed. “Your behavior is childish and unwelcome. Get up, or I'll drag you out of that bed myself and I can promise it won't be pleasant.”

Lucifer lifted his arm slightly to look at the demon, Alastor's glare settling heavily on him.

“As tempting as it may have been once, I am not going to stand by while you let yourself hide for another few decades. Hell is at a tipping point, your daughter needs you, and lest you forget,” Alastor poked a clawed finger at Lucifer's chest, his scowl deepening. “You owe me a date.”

Lucifer pushed himself to sit up, staring at Alastor. He stared back with narrowed eyes, his signature grin a lethal thing. “My brother just got fucking murdered in front of me, war is basically declared. I am not really in the mood to take you out for dinner and dancing, okay?”

“Aha!” Alastor lunged forward to grab his ankle, yanking him from the comforting embrace of blankets and pillows. Lucifer flailed for a half second before he slammed to the floor, not even the sudden appearance of his wings enough to cushion his fall. “So you did have a plan in mind!”

“You are such an asshole!” Lucifer leapt to his feet, tail whipping against the floor behind him.

“But you had a plan in mind, admit it!” Alastor reached for him, claws digging against his shoulders. Unlike the last time, though, there was a gentler edge to his grasp and Lucifer found himself relaxing anyway. Alastor's expression softened in degrees and after a moment he lifted his hand to brush gently against Lucifer's hair.

“What happened with your brother was a tragedy, but laying here while Heaven continues to stand on our necks helps no one. So come now, your grieving is warranted but at least give yourself some time to exist without that burden.”

“I don't know if I can.” He forced his gaze to lift up to Alastor's even as the sight of the pity in the demon's gaze had him wishing to dive back to the safety of his mangled bed. But he held still as Alastor stroked his hair, touch surprisingly gentle. “I remember when our Father breathed life into him, Alastor. I was the first soul Gabriel ever laid eyes on, I watched him take his first steps into a universe that wasn't broken or tainted. I have known him since the dawn of time; how am I supposed to look forward when he's gone?”

“He isn't gone, Lucifer.” Alastor's tone was as gentle as his touch, claws carding through golden strands. “He is going to live on in your heart, and in the hearts of those who loved him. I think that's worth something after all, don't you?”

“...it hurts.” His tone broke in a whine and Lucifer knew how pathetic it sounded but he couldn't bring himself to care, curling tighter into Alastor's welcoming embrace. At least this was something he could count on, the lanky sinner had pushed and cajoled him endlessly through the past few weeks, but Alastor was present.

It was more than Lucifer could say for countless others.

Alastor hummed softly and continued stroking his hair and Lucifer found himself calming in degrees until the weight on his shoulders was a little more bearable. It was still heavy, there was no doubt about that, and he wondered if the true scope of it would ever ease, but for now it was easier to carry.

“Now, come on- cease your crying. Go clean yourself up, Lucifer.” Alastor let his hands fall away and he stepped back, reaching out to swipe away the last tear running down the Devil's face.

“Alastor, I really didn't make any plans. Not for...” Lucifer gestured toward the doorway, shoulders slumping. His hands curled, claws aching to dig against flesh as he brought his arms up to wrap around himself.

Alastor clicked his tongue and reached forward to take his wrists, stopping him.“Don't worry your pretty head about it for now. We're not going anywhere tonight, but neither am I leaving you here alone. So go wash your face and change your clothes, then come back here.”

“...strangely cryptic, but alright.” Lucifer breathed out, the weight lessening a fraction more, and he nodded. “I trust you, Alastor.”

Alastor smiled slightly and let him go, giving him the briefest of nudges toward the doorway to the adjoining bathroom suite. Lucifer stopped with his hand on the knob, turning to look back at the deer demon.

“I'll be right here, Lucifer,” Alastor said gently with a knowing nod, his smile kinder. “Take your time and be at peace knowing you're not alone."

It was a strange comfort and yet Lucifer embraced the idea of it as he slipped into the bathroom, door drifting shut behind him. He studied the thought in equal turn even as he knew to look at it too closely would vanish some of the magic and allure of it. The infamous Radio Demon, devourer of souls, was as gentle and kind as the most innocent soul, and he was choosing to bestow that kindness on the most hated being in all creation. It was humbling in a way that had Lucifer wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees on the bathroom tile, arms and wings wrapped around himself.

He'd been pushing thoughts of Alastor away over and over again, and yet they kept slithering back like snakes through grass in a more perfect garden. The fear of giving it a name, defining it beyond the realm of something abstract they were both skirting around as if the idea had claws and teeth to rend and bite and tear…

But it persisted and now it was before him with nowhere left to hide from it's existence, and Lucifer found he couldn't bring himself to look away. He didn't want to look away.

Opening his heart previously to Lilith had barely taken any thought or will of his own; Lucifer had seen her in the Garden and felt deep in the unknowable reaches of his soul how right it had been to love her. Even now after the centuries between them, the ardor cooled to something almost nonexistent, Lucifer could still admit in his heart that he loved her. There would always be a part of him that did, she had been the beacon in the night he'd been drowning in for so long.

Alastor was as far from the type of person Lucifer would ever have chosen, and yet there was something about the man he found himself turning to again and again. Seeking out Alastor's approval or agreement, turning to the sinner as a source of comfort with an alarming ease that had his blood racing. He was arrogant and self serving in a way that should have disgusted Lucifer- it had initially on the scene of their first meeting, and yet now Lucifer saw Alastor's actions for what they were. He was just another soul stuck down in the mire-like maze born of Lucifer's mistakes, trying to make the most of his situation while fighting to survive.

Choice, free will; the qualities Alastor wore proudly like a crown. Lucifer could already hear the man chastising him for the previous line of thought, because of course Alastor didn't view himself as trapped or locked away for things out of his control. Circumstances may have fucked him over but he wasn't take the defeat lying down. Every choice he made, Alastor fought tooth and nail for the right to make them. Even his mistakes!

It was a quality Lucifer found he craved, one he was beyond curious about. And there was the crux of his own inner conflict; he'd spent so long languishing under the mistakes he'd made and those others had made on his behalf, he'd forgotten that the source of free will had been planted in his heart. It had bloomed with careful tending and the fruit of that seed of hope for something better had been passed through the generations of countless humans.

Lucifer lifted his gaze to his reflection staring back at him from the vanity mirror, the room brightly lit from the chandelier overhead bouncing off the pristine white tile and fixtures. Dark circles under his eyes gave him an air of permanent exhaustion, a broken laugh escaping him at the thought chasing the sight of those sleepless bruises. What would he be like if he was more than the depressed angel turned devil he'd become, the weight of his sins shackling him for eternity?

And more importantly, what would it be like to choose to love someone willingly?

Chapter 28

Notes:

Good morning and happy Saturday my lovelies! Gah, I missed updating last week, but con was so much fun!

Bit of a soft chapter this time around but don't worry, the plot is still ramping up!

Happy reading! <3

The thing about Hell is that it was never actually fully dark. The red ambiance of the entire realm dimmed only slightly during the hours assigned to the night, but it wasn't a true darkness. The sun never really set, though calling it a sun was generous. Lucifer could still recall the early days in the real darkness of Hell when he'd scraped together the remnants of his burning wings and cast it upward to create some form of light.

Cracking one eye open into the pitch black hue of his room, he was relieved to see the curtains were still pulled across the windows to block out the red light from the world beyond, as well as the curtains around his bed. It had become something of a habit to pull the extra fabric closed when he went to sleep, brass rings clicking as they slid along the posts to be pulled shut.

Now his room also had the added warmth of another person present, something Lucifer hadn't felt in years. The presence lingered comforting at the edges of his consciousness and he had half a mind to snuggle back down under the blankets, a sleepy smile on his face. The night before had been quiet enough, Alastor's presence a balm in the gaping hole of loneliness in his soul, and Lucifer found it was still lingering with the idea that the demon had stayed even after Lucifer had fallen asleep.

But then the grief came slipping back in like the tide, a slow moving thing that threatened to pull him back down into its drowning grasp. Lucifer sighed and stared up at the shadowed ceiling of his bedroom and focused instead on the presence of the Radio Demon nearby.

“Done sleeping?” Alastor said somewhere off to his left, smug tone barely disguised as something cheery. Lucifer scowled and sat up, claws reaching for the curtain to pull it back from around the bed. Alastor turned a grin in his direction from where he sat in an armchair dragged nearer to the bedside, a book opened across his lap.

“I'm guessing you didn't sleep at all,” Lucifer cast a quick look at the stack of books by the demon's feet, wings ruffling out from behind him as he lifted his arms overhead in a deep stretch. He could feel Alastor's gaze on him like a gentle weight and normally the idea of being watched would make his skin itch with discomfort, but this was something else entirely. There was no judgment in the demon's gaze as Lucifer climbed from the bed, claws running through his sleep rumpled hair while the oversized pajama shirt chose that moment to slip completely off his shoulder.

Alastor shrugged slightly with an almost disdainful sniff, turning back to the book he held. “Sleep isn't a luxury I indulge in; at least not since arriving in Hell. You'd be surprised how many assassins fall for the cliché idea they have to attack at night. Well, they can't surprise me if I'm not sleeping.”

Lucifer blinked at him, mouth open for a moment. “Wait, so you just sat awake all night while I slept?”

“I see no issue with that.” Alastor held his gaze, one hand carefully holding the next page in the book to turn. “I require little sleep and you seemed unhappy to be left alone, so it was little trouble for me to watch over. Besides, I promised I would.”

Breathing out softly, Lucifer held Alastor's gaze for a long moment, watching as the demon's eyes softened with something almost like affection. They'd been skirting around this thing for so long and while it didn't feel like the right moment to address it, the idea of it still too fragile and new to be of substance, it was nice to see he wasn't the only one affected.

Alastor's grin sharpened, the moment gone. “So, are you planning to mope around some more today?”

Scowling, Lucifer shook his head. “No, I am not going to mope around. With everything going on, I can't afford any more inaction. I've been fighting it for so long because I didn't want another season of upheaval in Hell, but complacency has made us weak.”

He breathed out, looking at his Fall blackened hands. “It's made me weak.”

Alastor stood, his progress across the space marked by the rustle of his coat and the muffled press of each step on the carpet, until he was right by the bed. He reached out to lift Lucifer's chin on a clawed finger, his touch gentle, and held Lucifer's gaze for several moments before speaking.

“Weak, perhaps. But you're not broken, so there is always the merit of strengthening yourself back up again. That's not something to discredit, my dear Devil.”

Lucifer grinned up at the taller man. “That's new for you- decided lording my past mistakes over my head was too much effort today?” He said it teasingly, watching the flicker of agitation in Alastor's gaze smooth over with humored understanding.

“Don't tempt me, Sire; the day is still young. Now!” Alastor stepped back, clapping his hands together once. “As I seem to recall before this entire mess with the Archangels at the Embassy, you had a trip you were preparing for. I take it that little plan is still in the works?”

Smile fading, Lucifer nodded. “Michael killing Gabriel like that throws more than one wrench into everything, but I can't put this off. The barrier is already set over Pride, but that's not enough if I'm to protect all of Hell. I need the Sins and the Ars Goetia to stand with me. It's more than time for us to muster to full strength.”

“And naturally, Charlotte will be accompanying you as is her right as your heir. Vaggie and Emily will be going as well?”

“They're part of my house now, yeah.” Lucifer moved toward the adjoining bathroom, running a clawed hand through his hair before he stopped short. Alastor watched him critically in turn, one brow raised in expectation. “Alastor. I meant what I asked before- will you come with us?”

Will you come with me?

He swallowed past the real question, watching the demon's expression. Alastor seemed content to let him wait for an answer, crossing the width of the room to one of the towering shelves packed with an endless array of books and scrolls. He lifted an arm to one of the shelves just shy of reach, the tip of his claw barely brushing against the spine of a book. His shadow twined around his arm to pluck the book from the grasp of the shelf into Alastor's waiting hand, and still he remained with his back turned.

“Are you commanding me, my King?”

Lucifer sucked in a breath, hands clenching to fists. An anchor point of welling pain as his claws sliced against his palms, something to keep him grounded as he fought to find the right words.

“No- I mean, that is...no.” He watched as Alastor's shoulders hunched, stiff against some blow Lucifer couldn't find the source of, and he cursed himself anew. “That's not what I was intending at all. I know we made a deal and for that alone, maybe I should command you to come with me. I mean, it's not like you have to stay in Pride at all anymore, but...”

Lucifer exhaled and spread his hands, golden blood lining his shredded palms. “I don't want to ask anything more of you than you're willing to give, Alastor. Please; not as your king, I'm asking you to come with me on this trip.”

Alastor turned slowly, his eyes bleeding black. “Even knowing the consequences of keeping me close? You're either more foolish and naive than I initially believed, or...”

“Or?” Lucifer prompted, his voice barely a thread of a whisper. He stepped forward and watched as red flickered back to life in the demon's eyes, knowing it was Alastor who watched him once more. The reminder of what dwelt within the sinner's lanky form was chilling, the thought that at any moment Alastor could be locked away in the confines of his own mind and soul, and something else would be staring at Lucifer from behind the demon's eyes... Safe to say, Lucifer didn't like it.

Alastor shook his head, teeth bared in a pained smile. “Command me to go with you, Lucifer. I will not stand at your side under any other circumstance.”

Lucifer sighed and held his hand out, a silent choice offered even with his next words. “Come with me.”

His smile was no less pained but there was a flicker of respect in the depths of his gaze. Alastor pressed one hand to his chest as he placed the other in Lucifer's grasp, bowing forward slightly.

“As my king commands.”

Lucifer let him go and Alastor grinned down at him, more civilly than before. He slipped into the bathroom but left the door slightly open, listening to the shuffle of pages as Alastor thumbed through the newly acquired tome.

“You know, I still hate being your king,” Lucifer called back through the doorway as he turned the faucet on and splashed water against his face. “Imagine what it would be like if we were friends instead.”

The following silence was deafening and Lucifer swallowed past his rising nerves, hands braced against the vanity top as he made himself stay where he was. The urge to move to the doorway and then beyond to see Alastor's expression, his reaction, was far too strong and yet it was like walking a tight rope in the hopes neither of them would fall.

“Are we friends, Majesty? I was under the assumption this began as a mere business transaction.” Alastor paused and even from where he stood in the adjoining room, Lucifer could hear the agitated click of his claws. “Tit for tat, as they say. You couldn't have been expecting anything more than my allegiance and obedience when we made that deal.”

Exhaling softly, Lucifer snapped his fingers to swap soft, comfortable pajamas for his suit, gold buttons gleaming and black boots spotless. He adjusted the hat on his head and grasped the apple topped cane in one hand before moving to the doorway to find Alastor was already watching him.

“I think we're a little past the boundary of professional, Alastor. I mean, you did tell me to take you on a date, unless that was an excuse for me to foot the bill in the name of a business expense?”

Alastor barked a laugh, the sudden jerk of the sound disrupting the elusive softness Lucifer glanced in his expression. He shook his head and held an arm out to Lucifer, ever the gentleman.

“I hardly need an excuse to make you foot the bill, Sire. But points for trying.”

“Asshole.” And yet Lucifer found himself smiling up at the taller demon, taking note of the subtle freckles on Alastor's nose and cheeks, the way his eyes softened again almost immediately following his sudden laugh. Lucifer shook his head, his own laugh escaping softly, and then he glanced back toward the empty armchair. Frowning, he turned back to Alastor who smiled innocently back at him.

“Alastor, where are my books?”

The demon sniffed, shrugging. “I set them aside for safekeeping; don't fret, Lucifer. I won't leave a single page out of place, on my honor.”

Lucifer snorted. “You have enough honor to fit on the nail of your little finger. Some of those are incredibly rare and fragile.”

“All the more reason you'll trust me to be careful with them.” Alastor grinned and then gestured at the door again. “Charlotte is waiting, so if we could please get a move on. I'm sure the princess abhors her time being wasted as much as I do.”

Rather than turning the handle and stepping through the door, Lucifer snapped his fingers to conjure a portal straight to the hotel lobby. He adjusted his hat for a moment in an effort to disguise the nerves zinging beneath his skin, and then he stepped through with breath held. Alastor was only a step before him, humming to some off kilter tune.

The lobby was oddly quiet though Lucifer glanced at his pocket watch as the portal fizzled out behind him. Mid-morning usually meant the resident souls of the hotel were deep into whatever therapy groups Charlie had set up with the help of the staff, though this morning she was waiting by the front parlor door. Her face broke into a wide smile the moment she saw him, rushing forward to wrap Lucifer in a tight hug.

“I hope you're feeling okay!” Charlie grasped his shoulders to look him over, her exuberance quickly turned in Alastor's direction. “And you both had a fun time?”

“The best,” Lucifer said with a wobbly laugh, not trusting himself to look at the Overlord. “Are you guys ready? I figure we should get going before it gets too much later.”

“Everything is arranged.” Charlie nodded, stepping back so she was standing evenly with Emily and Vaggie on either side of her, a united trio. “We're ready.”

“Alright.” Lucifer exhaled forcefully, nerves alight with anxiety. “I've already sent word ahead; we're going to be convening in the palace of Wrath since it's the biggest court space we have available. The Ars Goetia will meet us there and we'll have the chance to address them formally for an audience.”

“Decided against the democratic way of it?” Alastor asked, his grin wide. “How very kingly of you.”

Lucifer frowned, his thoughts turning inward. “Nothing about this is remotely ideal. Normally, I wouldn't force any of them into this conflict, give them the choice to stand with us. But we're far past the threshold of easy choices. At the very least we'll be able to lay all the facts on the table.”

He paused, sighing. “And I have to head to Envy first to talk to Leviathan without the others."

“Aw, I haven't seen Auntie Levi in ages; can we come too?”

Lucifer hesitated and then smiled, nodding. “Sure, why not? I've already let her know I'm en route; she'll be thrilled to see you, Charlie. You can show Emily and Vaggie and Alastor around New Sheol while we talk, and then we'll head to Wrath for the full meet up.”

Charlie placed  her hand on his shoulder, her smile bolstering enough that he could outwardly put forward a mask of confidence. “You're going to do great, Dad.”

“I hope so. Alright, let's get going.” Lucifer gestured to the front doors, shoving the thoughts aside. He could already see the limo parked out front, another small mercy of his own foresight the night before.

“Can't we just portal to Envy?” Charlie asked as the group followed him out and down the steps to the open door of the vehicle, the driver standing silent beside it.

Lucifer shook his head. “That would be impossible; the other Rings are warded against portal travel from exterior sources. It helps to keep down on the threat of invasion.”

“And that's been a common problem?” Alastor's tone carried just a hint of snideness as he settled into the seat across from Lucifer in the back of the limo.

“You'd be surprised, Overlord. You've only been in Hell for not quite a century; even you, Charlie, have barely seen the full scope of our history. Hell hasn't always been this quiet or stable.”

Lucifer paused as the two angels shuffled into place, Emily tucking her wings in close in an effort to take up less space. He could feel Alastor's gaze burning on him, a prickle of heat that was surprisingly becoming something he craved. He glanced up to meet his gaze and Lucifer smiled. The chatter around them was enough distraction to keep any words from being exchanged as the limo maneuvered through the city until the harsh press of the buildings fell away into the emptier landscape of Pride. Minutes ticked by until the car slowed, though Lucifer could feel the ripple of power extending outward in a steady thrum to announce their arrival.

The gates warded around the only means of leaving the Ring glowed faintly as if in greeting as Lucifer exited the car. The chatter of the others fell back into an indiscernible hum of noise as he approached the gates rising tall and imposing with the elevator locked behind them.

“Hey,” Lucifer murmured and felt the power in the gates sharpen in expectation, a greeting if he'd ever heard one. He placed a hand against the gleaming metal and the power snapped back, eagerly drawn back into the core of his essence where it belonged. Lucifer breathed deeply as it flooded through him, a surge of untapped potential he could only feebly grasp at before it was gone, welled up beneath the constraints of his chains.

The elevator hummed to life the moment he stepped onto the platform, another echo of his power thrumming through the machine in its own way of greeting. The others stepped on after him, conversation dwindling as they stared at the abrupt drop of Pride's edge down into the unfathomable array of other worlds below, nothing but endless blackness surrounding them in the space between Wrath far below, the other Rings stacked far beneath that.

“Ready?” Charlie beamed at him and Lucifer took her hand, though his gaze drifted to where Alastor lounged carelessly against the railing of the elevator across from them, his gaze purposely turned toward the distance where the mountains rose around the crater of Pride.

Lucifer smiled as the elevator lurched slightly, their trip begun. “Ready.” 

Notes:

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