Chapter Text
The wind on the roof of the Hazbin Hotel was howling, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside Maverick. Alastor stood near the edge, his coat flapping violently in the wind, his smile stretched wide and terrifying. He didn't offer a handkerchief. He didn't offer a hug. He offered a target. He had conjured a series of shadow puppets—grotesque, distorted figures that vaguely resembled the shapes of angels, or perhaps just generic demons. They stood in a circle around the teenager. "She called you a stray,"
Alastor’s voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the wind like a knife. It was amplified, distorted, echoing in Maverick's ears from all directions. "A charity case. Something to be pitied until you are inevitably... discarded."
"Shut up!" Maverick yelled, tears streaming down their face, hot and angry. They wiped them away furiously, but they kept falling.
"Why should I?" Alastor tilted his head, his eyes glowing with radio dials.
"Is it not the truth? You heard her yourself. Even the King couldn't deny it. To them, you are fragile. Weak. A pet." Maverick gritted their teeth, the grinding barely a soothing release for the pain. "I am not... weak."
"Then show me!" Alastor roared, his voice dropping into a demonic bass that shook the floorboards. "Use it! Don't let those tears go to waste on pity! That burning in your chest? That is not sadness, my dear. That, is power."
Alastor snapped his fingers, and one of the shadow monsters lunged at Maverick. Instinct took over. Maverick threw their hands up, screaming in frustration. But instead of cowering, they shoved that feeling—that horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of being unwanted, of being the "problem child" in every house they lived in—outward.
The roof tiles shattered. Thick, crimson vines erupted from the concrete like jagged spears. They weren't the pretty, green vines of nature. These were twisted, thorny, and pulsing with a sickly red light. They impaled the shadow monster instantly, tearing it into wisps of smoke.
"Good," Alastor purred, stepping closer. "Again. She thinks you will die in the next extermination? Prove that you are the one who does the killing."
Another shadow lunged. Maverick swung their arm, and a vine whipped out, covered in thorns the size of steak knives, decapitating the shadow figure.
"I'm not a stray!" Maverick screamed, the ground trembling as more vines tore through the roof, spiraling around them like a protective cage.
"No," Alastor whispered, leaning down right next to their ear, his hand resting on their shoulder, claws digging in slightly. "You are a weapon. And weapons do not weep."
-
Down on the top floor, Charlie was pacing. She had heard the shouting from the library—she couldn't make out the words, but she knew her Dad’s voice when he was upset. And then, the slamming of doors.
"I should go check on him," Charlie worried, biting her lip.
“Babe, give him a minute," Vaggie advised, sharpening her spear on the couch, "If he was yelling, he probably needs to cool off."
Suddenly, with a boom, the chandelier in the hallway shook, dust falling from the ceiling. "What the hell was that?" Vaggie stood up instantly, spear ready.
"That came from the roof," Charlie realized, her eyes widening. "Is the hotel under attack?"
Without waiting for an answer, Charlie sprinted toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, Vaggie close on her heels. The sounds of destruction got louder as they ascended—cracking stone, whipping wind, and... screaming? Charlie burst through the door to the roof, ready to fight off an exterminator or an invader.
"Stop! Whoever you are, get away from—" Charlie froze. The words died in her throat. It wasn't an attack. Not in the way she thought. In the center of the roof, surrounded by a writhing nest of terrifying, blood-red thorny vines, stood Maverick. But they didn't look like the shy, sarcastic teenager Charlie had been joking with earlier. Maverick’s stance was aggressive, hands raised like claws, controlling the vines that were currently ripping apart shadow demons. They looked... dangerous. But what made Charlie’s blood run cold was Alastor. The Radio Demon was standing directly behind Maverick, looming like a shadow. He wasn't helping them. He was conducting them. He was whispering into their ear, his smile sharper than the thorns, feeding off the misery radiating from the kid.
"Again!" Alastor commanded, and Maverick let out a guttural scream of effort, a massive vine smashing a chimney stack to dust.
"Maverick?" Charlie whispered, horrified.
Vaggie stepped up beside her, her eye widening. "Este hijo de puta... Alastor, what are you doing to them?!"
The shout broke the trance. Maverick whipped their head around, the red glow in their eyes fading instantly into panic as they saw Charlie. The vines, sensing the loss of focus, slumped lifelessly onto the roof, one of them narrowly missing Alastor.
"Charlie?" Maverick gasped, their chest heaving. They looked down at their hands, then at the surrounding destruction. "I... I didn't..." Alastor straightened up, dusting off his coat as if he hadn't just been psychologically torturing a teenager in his free time. He turned to the two women, his smile polite but his eyes deadly.
"Ah! An audience!" Alastor exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Just in time for the end of the first act. Maverick here is a natural, wouldn't you say?"
"You..." Charlie stepped forward, her demon horns poking out slightly as her protective instincts flared. "You're hurting them! Look at them, Alastor, they're terrified!"
"Terrified?" Alastor laughed, a static-filled sound. "No, my dear. They are motivated. Unlike your father, I do not coddle potential until it rots."
Maverick flinched at the mention of Lucifer, looking away from Charlie. "Mav," Charlie softened her voice, ignoring Alastor and walking slowly toward the vine cage. "You don't have to do this. Whatever he’s telling you, it’s not—"
"Don't," Maverick stepped back, putting a wall of thorns between themself and Charlie. Charlie stopped, hurt flashing across her face.
"Mav?"
"Just... leave me alone, Charlie," Maverick muttered, their voice cracking. "I'm tired of being the one everyone has to worry about. Alastor is... he's teaching me how to not be a burden."
"By turning you into a monster?" Vaggie snapped, glaring at Alastor.
Alastor placed a hand on Maverick’s shoulder again. "Come along, dear. The air up here is getting rather... stale. We have much work to do if you are to survive this cruel, cruel afterlife."
Maverick hesitated, looking at Charlie one last time—a look of desperate apology—before turning and following Alastor into the shadows. Charlie stood on the ruined roof, the wind whipping her hair, staring at the spot where her friend had just been. "He's twisting them," Vaggie growled, retracting her spear. "He's using whatever happened downstairs to get his claws in deep."
Charlie looked down at the smashed chimney and the jagged red vines left behind. "I need to talk to my Dad," Charlie said, her voice low and serious. "Right now."
-
Charlie didn't even use the stairs properly. She vaulted over the banister, landing in the foyer with a thud that cracked the floorboards, Vaggie right beside her. They didn't stop to check the damage. They sprinted down the hallway toward the library, following the trail of residual magical energy and the lingering smell of ozone and sulfur.
The double doors to the library were already open—or rather, one was hanging off its hinges, and the other was scorched.
"Dad!" Charlie screamed, rushing inside.
The library, usually a sanctuary of silence and dust, looked like a hurricane had passed through the emotional center of the room. Books were scattered on the floor, not from a fight, but from sheer, chaotic energy release.
And there, sitting on the floor in the middle of the mess, back against a heavy oak desk, was Lucifer.
He wasn't crying. He wasn't drinking. He was just... staring. He was staring at the empty space in the center of the room where the portal had closed minutes ago. His hat was on the floor next to him, his hair a mess, and his eyes were wide, seeing something that wasn't there.
"Dad!" Charlie slid to her knees in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. "Dad, hey! Look at me!"
Lucifer blinked slowly, his eyes shifting from the empty air to his daughter’s face. The red glow faded, replaced by a dull, tired yellow.
"Char-Char?" he croaked, his voice sounding like he hadn't used it in years. "You... you shouldn't be in here. It's dusty."
"Screw the dust!" Charlie shook him slightly. "Dad, what is happening? The roof is destroyed! Alastor has Maverick, and he’s... Dad, he’s hurting them! He’s turning them into some kind of soldier, and Maverick looked terrified! They wouldn't even talk to me!"
At the mention of Maverick, Lucifer flinched violently, pulling away from Charlie’s grip as if burned. He pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in his hands.
"I know," Lucifer whispered, the sound muffled. "I know. I did that."
"What? No, Alastor is doing this!" Charlie argued. "We have to go get them back. Come on, get up!"
"No."
The word was quiet, but it stopped Charlie cold.
Lucifer looked up, his expression hollowed out by guilt. "I can't, Charlie. I tried to help. I thought... I thought if I could just be there for them, show them they weren't broken... but I just proved that everyone leaves. I scared them. I got angry at... at someone else... and I let that anger out, and Maverick saw, and they flinched. They looked at me like I was a monster."
He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "If I go up there, I'm just going to make it worse. Alastor... Alastor might be cruel, but at least he's consistent. I'm just unstable. It's better if I stay away. It's better if I let them be."
Lucifer started to turn away, retreating into his shell, ready to lock the doors and isolate himself just like he had for thousands of years.
"So that's it?" Charlie asked, her voice trembling, but this time not with fear. With anger. "You're just going to ghost them?"
Lucifer paused. "I'm protecting them from me."
"No, you're not!" Charlie yelled, standing up. "You're running away! Dad, do you realize what you're doing? You're doing the exact same thing to Maverick that you did to me!"
Lucifer froze, his back to her.
"My whole childhood, Dad!" Charlie continued, tears pricking her eyes. "You thought you were 'protecting' me by staying in your room, by keeping your distance because you thought your depression or your 'evil' would hurt me. But it didn't protect me! It just made me feel like my dad didn't want me! It made me feel like I wasn't worth your time!"
"Charlie, I—" Lucifer started, turning around, pain etched on his face.
"And now you're doing it to Maverick!" Charlie pointed a shaking finger at him. "Maverick already thinks they're a burden. They already think they're unlovable. And if you sit here in this library and hide while Alastor twists their mind, you are proving them right! You are abandoning them exactly when they need you to fight for them!"
She took a breath, her voice breaking. "If you let Alastor take them now... if you let him turn them into a weapon because you're too scared to show up... you are never going to get them back. They won't be the Maverick we know anymore. And you won't get a second chance like you did with me. You'll lose them, Dad. Forever."
The silence that followed was deafening. Vaggie watched, holding her breath.
Lucifer looked at his daughter. He saw the pain in her eyes—pain he had caused years ago, pain he was currently inflicting on another child he had promised to help.
You're doing the exact same thing to Maverick that you did to me.
The realization hit him harder than any angelic steel. He wasn't being noble. He was being a coward. And his cowardice was about to cost Maverick their soul.
"He told them..." Lucifer whispered, his voice changing. The self-pity began to evaporate, replaced by a simmering heat. "Alastor told them... that they were a stray. That I pitied them. That I would discard them."
"He said what?" Vaggie stepped forward, disgusted.
"He used my own fear against them," Lucifer realized, his hands clenching into fists until his knuckles turned white. "He listened to me fall apart... and he used it to convince that kid that I didn't care."
Lucifer stood up. The slouch was gone. The tired, broken man on the floor vanished, replaced by the King of Hell straightening his spine.
"You're right, Charlie," Lucifer said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, distorted growl. "I am not doing this again. I am not losing another kid to silence."
He snatched his hat off the floor, jamming it onto his head. He didn't bother dusting off his suit. The air in the room grew hot, the smell of sulfur intensifying.
"Where are they?" Lucifer demanded.
The roof," Charlie said, wiping her eyes. "But Dad—you have to be calm. If you go in there scary, you prove Alastor right."
Lucifer adjusted his cuffs, his eyes burning with a terrifying, focused determination.
"I won't be scary to Maverick," Lucifer promised. "But Alastor? Alastor is about to find out why you don't touch things that belong to the Morningstars."
-
The shadows on the roof were thick, like tar, swirling around Maverick and Alastor in a suffocating dome. Inside, Alastor was looming over the teenager, his antlers fully grown, his smile stretching past the boundaries of his face.
"Again," Alastor commanded, his voice vibrating the very air particles. "You are hesitating. hesitation is death."
Maverick was panting, on their knees, hands scraped and bloody from the rough roof tiles. "I... I can't..."
"You can," Alastor hissed, his shadow rising up to strike. "Because you belong to—"
"ENOUGH!"
The shadow dome shattered like glass. Golden light flooded the roof, blinding in its intensity. Alastor shielded his eyes, his ears pinning back as the light condensed into a small, furiously impeccably dressed figure standing ten feet away.
Lucifer Morningstar didn't look like a depressed recluse. He looked like the entity that had ignited the stars. His six wings were unfurled, glowing with holy fire, and his eyes were burning red slits.
"Lucifer," Alastor greeted, his voice dripping with static, though he took a subtle step back. "To what do I owe the pleasure? We are in the middle of a private lesson."
"Lesson's over," Lucifer growled, marching forward. "Maverick. Come here."
Maverick looked up, eyes wide and fearful. They scrambled to their feet, their instinct screaming at them to run to the golden light, to the safety of the King. "Lucifer, I—"
They took a step, but suddenly gasped, clutching their chest. A spectral green chain materialized around their neck, jerking them back violently. Maverick choked, falling back to their knees.
"Ah, ah, ah," Alastor tutted, wagging a finger. "We made a deal, my dear. A quarter of a soul. You don't get to leave until I dismiss you."
Alastor turned to Lucifer, his grin widening, radio dials spinning in his eyes. He grew in size, looming over both of them, shadows dripping from his coat like ink. "And I did not dismiss them, Your Majesty."
Lucifer stared up at the Radio Demon. And for a split second—just a fraction of a second—his brain betrayed him.
Oh no, Lucifer’s internal monologue screamed. Why does he have to look so terrifyingly majestic? Look at those antlers. The way the shadows frame his waist. The power radiating off him...
NO! BAD LUCIFER! He mentally slapped himself. He is torturing your ward! He is a psychopath! He is manipulating a child! Focus on the murder, not the aesthetic!
"You think a quarter of a soul stops me?" Lucifer scoffed, forcing himself to look Alastor in the eye (and definitely not at the way his suit fit). "I invented the concept of the soul contract, Bambi. I know the fine print better than you know your own jambalaya recipe."
"Is that so?" Alastor challenged, leaning down, his face inches from Lucifer’s. The static was deafening.
Okay, he smells like ozone and old books and blood, Lucifer thought, his heart doing a traitorous little flip. This is unfair. This is harassment. I am going to smite him. I am going to kiss him. No, smite. Definitely smite.
"Yes, that is so!" Lucifer snapped, snapping his fingers. A golden scroll appeared in thin air, unrolling to hit the floor. "Hell Code, Section 8, Article 14: The 'Sanctuary Clause' regarding Royal domiciles."
Alastor blinked, the static pausing. "I beg your pardon?"
"You are operating within my house," Lucifer declared, walking past Alastor to stand over Maverick. He pointed his cane at the green chain. "And under the Hospitality Act of the Seven Rings, a host has the right to veto any transaction that causes 'undue distress or structural damage' to the host's property."
Lucifer looked down at Maverick, his expression softening instantly. "And this kid? They're under my protection. Which makes thm property of the Crown."
"That is a severe stretch of legal interpretation," Alastor narrowed his eyes, his claws twitching.
"I'm the King!" Lucifer threw his arms up, wings flaring. "I am the law! I interpret it however I want! Loophole established: Your lesson is endangering the structural integrity of my hotel and the mental stability of my guest. Contract suspended!"
Lucifer slammed the tip of his cane onto the chain.
With the flutter of golden glitter, the green chain shattered into sparks.
The pressure on Maverick’s chest vanished instantly. The sudden release of tension was too much. The adrenaline that had been keeping them upright evaporated, replaced by a wave of exhaustion so heavy it felt like gravity had doubled.
"Lucifer...?" Maverick mumbled, their eyes rolling back. Their knees buckled.
"Gotcha!" Lucifer moved with supernatural speed, catching Maverick before they hit the hard roof. He scooped the teenager up into his arms, their head lolling against his chest.
Lucifer held them close, feeling how light they were, how much they were trembling even in sleep. The rage flared up again, hot and righteous.
He turned to Alastor. The Radio Demon had shrunk back to normal size, looking mildly annoyed, like someone had interrupted his favorite song.
"You are lucky," Lucifer hissed, his voice low, "that I am holding a sleeping child. Because if I wasn't..."
I would probably pin you against that chimney and—NO. STOP IT.
"...I would unravel your existence thread by thread!" Lucifer finished, hoping his blush looked like rage-flush. "Stay away from them, Alastor. I mean it. The 'lesson' is over."
Alastor simply straightened his bowtie, his smile never wavering. "For now, perhaps. But they have tasted power, Lucifer. You cannot un-ring a bell."
"Watch me," Lucifer spat.
He turned on his heel, shielding Maverick with a wing, and teleported away in a swirl of gold and glitter.
The teleportation landed them gently in Maverick’s bedroom. It was quiet here, safe. Lucifer walked over to the bed, carefully pulling back the covers with magic.
He set Maverick down as if they were made of spun glass. He took off their shoes, fixed the pillow under their head, and pulled the blanket up to their chin.
Maverick stirred slightly, their brow furrowed in a nightmare. "No... don't wanna be a stray..." they whimpered.
Lucifer’s heart broke all over again. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair out of their face.
"You're not a stray," Lucifer whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not a stray, Mav. You're... you're part of the family."
He sighed, rubbing his temples. He was exhausted. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him with just the confusing, messy reality of his life.
"Why do I always pick the complicated ones?" Lucifer muttered to himself, looking at the door as if he could see Alastor through the walls. "He's evil. He's manipulative. He literally tortured my kid."
Lucifer groaned, putting his face in his hands.
"So why did he look so hot doing the shadow-monster thing? I hate myself. I genuinely hate myself."