Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1930, Earth, Louisiana

„So, you are saying that my … hunting skills … would improve significantly?” Alastor smirks, but his eyes are vigilant.

“They will be unparalleled, I dare say.” His visitor mirrors Alastor’s expression.

“Just to be clear … what prey are we talking about exactly?”

“Any prey.” The visitor now dons a sinister grin, letting Alastor know that they are indeed following the same line of thought. That man knows.

“But there is a downside to it.” It isn’t a question. An offer like this has a price, Alastor is sure of it.

“Well … if you think of a hunger that can never be satisfied for long as a downside, then yes. You could devour a star and still not feel … sated …”

“Hmph”, Alastor chuckles. “To taste a star … wouldn’t that be something?”

“Maybe you would be the first one to find out?”

“Oh please, now you’re just mocking me. And here I started to get intrigued by your little sales pitch.”

The other man lifts both hands in an apologetic gesture. “Apologies, but I didn’t mean to ridicule. Who really knows what comes after? What possibilities lie ahead?”

“Hell, you mean?” Alastor knows that he is far beyond seeing the Pearly Gates.

“Hell, or whatever else comes after death for my people.”

Alastor’s eyes narrow a little at the last words. His unexpected visitor clearly is of Native American ancestry, although he cannot say if he is of mixed parentage or not. And he definitely doesn’t know enough about the Natives as to guess a tribe. But then again, does it really matter right now?

“Tell me, friend, what do you get out of this … proposal?”, he asks after a few moments of silence.

“Don’t worry, friend, my reward is my concern alone, and it is not for you to give.”

Alastor tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so? No strings attached? And I am to just believe that?”

The man shrugs. “That is what I know to be the truth. However, I can’t speak to what they might load unto your shoulders if you … expand your horizon. And capabilities.” The stranger nods towards the antique wardrobe, which houses not cloths, but Alastor’s Loa shrine.

Alastor glances over for a moment. How does that man know? It is one more question on the list of things he needs answered before he makes a final decision. Right alongside of how the man has found him in the first place, out here in his hunting cabin in the middle of the bayou; or how he knows about Alastor’s … free time activities. But there will be time for those questions later.

“Well, I must admit that my curiosity is piqued. If I were indeed to consider your offer, how would we proceed exactly?”

The man smiles and leans forward on the table they both sit at. “That would be simple, really. Nothing you haven’t done before. First, I would teach you a rite. And then you would kill and eat me. Completely.”

It takes Alastor about four weeks to leave no trace of the man.

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1933, Hell, Pride Ring

Lucifer jolted awake, panting heavily. For a brief moment, he thought he was still surrounded by the darkness that had swallowed him in his dream. Then his eyes adjusted to the dim twilight of the nights sky coming in through the curtains of the windowed balcony doors, revealing the familiar palace bedroom. Next to him, a tall and slender figure stirred beneath the blankets. Purple eyes blinked sleepily.

“Oh, did I wake you? Sorry, hun, didn’t mean to. Go back to sleep.”

He tried for a soft and reassuring smile, but something in his expression must have betrayed him. Lilith frowned slightly and pushed herself up, leaning on one arm.

“What’s wrong, Luci?”

Hearing his pet name made a warm feeling blossom in his stomach. She didn’t call him Luci often anymore. It reminded him of times when their love for each other had been more … lively. For the last century, they had been living alongside each other more so than living together. Lilith managed most of the political affairs regarding the Pride Ring, leaving him with any duties towards the other Sins and their Rings – which wasn’t a lot. Lucifer let them rule as they saw fit for the most part. To say that his wife was not fond of his lazy attitude towards being King and actually ruling would be quite an understatement. It was the main reason for their arguing and fighting. Raising Charlie was the only topic they did agree on. Mostly, anyway.

“Nothing, really, just … just a bad dream.” He sunk back into his pillow, looking up at the canopy. His breathing hat calmed down, but his heart rate had not.

“Care to tell me about it?” Lilith’ tone was more earnest than curious. It was not even a question almost. Lucifer wasn’t even surprised that she saw right through his façade – that woman knew all his tells. He was worried, she knew it, and Lucifer knew that she knew. He sighed.

“Well … I was in a forest. Not The Garden, just … just a normal forest, I guess. It was mine, though, I knew that. And it was rather peaceful, until … Until I looked up, and there was a comet, or something like that. A bright red light, followed by a tail of black smoky tendrils. It shot across the night sky and crashed somewhere in the distance. But it wasn’t a big impact … no shockwave, no leveling of the trees around … it landed in a clearing, actually. Like it didn’t really matter. The animals fled, though …”

Lucifer paused. He remembered being curious about it rather than worried, while also being aware that he was dreaming. And there had been another ominous feeling, one he desperately tried to convince himself of its non-existence. But it still lingered, even now.

“So you went to investigate?”, Lilith encouraged him to keep on talking.

“Yeah, I did. Like I said, it landed in a clearing, but … well, that’s the weird part. There was no real crater, just a … hole. Cracked earth at the edge, yeah, but inside just … blackness. A Void. I didn’t know what I was seeing. Still don’t, truth be told. And then …”

And than I died, he thought, and frowned at that rather impossible wording, especially since that wasn’t what had happened.

“Something came out of it, lightning fast, and it grabbed me or … or bit me, I’m not really sure, but it fucking hurt, and it pulled me inside, and …”

And swallowed me whole …

“And then I woke up.” His breathing was hitching. His memories of the dream were still fresh and vivid, no trace of the mind fog that usually clouded his dreams quite rapidly.

But this was no ordinary dream, was it? Oh, please no, please, please no, no, no, no …

But Lilith seemed to have the same thoughts he had.

“Do you think this dream-“

“No!” Lucifer almost yelled, and he winced at the despair in his own voice. “It’s not like … like that time …” His voice broke, and he covered his eyes with his hands and rubbed his face. For holding the title of #father of Lies’, he was quite bad at it. Especially when it came his wife. He didn’t need to look at her to know that she didn’t believe him, that despite his words his answer to her question was a resounding Yes.

It had been a dream like the ones before his Fall. The ones he did not heed.

“Lucifer.”

He let his hands fall down beside him but did not look at her. Lilith placed a hand gently on his cheek, the warm touch soothing his swirling mind instantly. She slowly directed his head to look at her.

“Promise me something?” There was concern in her eyes. Was she worrying about him? Or the dreams? Or both?

Lucifer pushed himself up, resting on his elbows. “Yeah, sure.”

“If you have more of these dreams … tell me. Please.” She smiled softly. Pleading, yet also reassuring.

He turned towards her, lifting one hand up to where her fingers touched his cheek. He laid his hand on top und leaned into the touch, the warmth. He looked down in defeat before any arguing over this topic even began.

“Okay. I promise.”

Three days later, Alastor manifested in hell. The impact of his arrival was not felt immediately.

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Six months ago, Hell, Pride Ring

It was the forest again, as always. Lucifer sighed. He was dreaming, he knew it, and even though it had just begun, he was already frustrated. Because he knew he wouldn’t wake up until he had at least tried to search for his prey, although he would not find it. He never did. He had that dream now in irregular intervals for – what, some decades? Almost a century? – and he had never gotten more than a glimpse of that damn deer. Originally, he had been excited when he finally found a hoof track, or when he first saw a shadowy movement between the trees in the distance. But no matter how much he hurried, no matter how much he tried, he never really tracked it down. Lucifer had thought himself clever when he took the form of several different animals to take new approaches in his hunt – the superior smell of a wolf’s nose, the sharp eyes of an eagle, the fine hearing of cat ears. But the deer remained elusive. It was like hunting a ghost.

It had been a while though since the last dream. Lucifer frowned. Actually, if he thought about it, the last time he had one of these ‘Hunting Dreams’ as he called them, was … Oh. Yeah. The day of the fight between him and Lilith. Not that they hadn’t fought before, quite the opposite, they had been separated for years by that time with Lilith demanding full custody of Charlie and the both of them living at the summer palace near the beach.

But that night, when Lilith had come over to get some papers, the ensuing fight had been …. major. Well, whom was he kidding – that one had been final. Literally. She had accused him of rotting away in his self-pity (which was true), completely disregarding his kingly duties (also true), and not doing anything about his dreams, of not heeding their warning or call or whatever they were supposed to mean (definitely also true). Which was the whole point, as Lucifer saw it, to not do anything about them. The last time he had tried to explore their meaning, to let them guide him, it had ended in disaster. It had ended in The Fall. And all that had followed with it. How could he dare to make the same mistake again?

But Lilith had been determined, and he had locked himself in his workshop again, and by the time he had re-emerged, she had been long since gone with whatever it was that she needed before the extermination the next day. Which had already come and gone, too. Over the next couple of months, he learned through text messages from Charlie that Lilith had left the summer palace and … vanished. She hadn’t told their daughter were she would go or what she was doing. She had just disappeared from the summer palace. Lucifer had never heard from her again, and no one he had asked did know where she had gone.

It was ironic, really, that the dreams had seemingly left with her. Which was far from the truth, surely, haha, what nonsense to think that his wife leaving them had anything to do with the dreams stopping. His mind had been in a dark place for quite a while before then, and probably still was, yeah, so he must have just forgotten that he had had any Hunting Dreams since then.

Maybe he should consult his dream diary about the date of his last entry to ease is mind when he woke up. Yeah, that should do it.

Although he didn’t need to, really, because look at that, here he was, stuck in a Hunting Dream. He should get to it, then.

Lucifer started walking in the direction of a nearby creek. He usually found the hoof prints at the bank of the small stream, and then he could try to track them. No need to shapeshift into an animal and rush it, he could just kill time taking a little stroll. He could already hear the soft splashing of the fast-running water. When he reached the bank of the creek, he was greeted by fresh hoof prints in the mud. They seemed somewhat bigger than he remembered them. Lucifer shrugged. Following this track was better than searching for another.

The track stretched on in a winding path between the trees, but they were heeding in the general direction of a clearing Lucifer knew quite well. He didn’t expect to find anything there, since he wasn’t really trying to hide his presence and every animal in the vicinity could hear him, so when he stepped beyond the tree line and saw the stag, he froze.

What in the actual FUCK?!

It was not just any deer, it was THE deer, THE stag, there was no doubt in his mind. It was as tall as an elk but slender, its fur a bright crimson with black trim at the flanks, the tail and the mane. Its black legs ended in red hooves as if they were covered in blood. They looked sharp, too, almost claw-like. Imposing jagged black antlers crowned the head, and piercing ruby eyes stared right at him.

As if it had been waiting. As if it wanted to be found.

“Oh great, after decades of tormenting me, now you show your ugly face?! You got to be kidding me!”

The angry exclamation would have spooked any normal animal, but this creature wasn’t normal, was it? Something about it felt off, or maybe it was just the nature of the dream, but Lucifer suddenly sensed unease creeping up his spine. And that angered him even more, because this freaky deer had no right to be this … creepy!

As if reading his mind, the crimson stag raised its head and bugled, a sound that started in a low growl and rose fast into a high-pitched screech. It challenged him, HIM, the King of Hell! The fucking audacity!

“Okay, I see how it is. Well, two can play this game!”

Lucifer let his cane vanish and turned into a white and golden stag. A flame sparked between his bright red antlers, but instead of being spooked by the flame, the crimson stag angrily stomped one of his front legs and blew an almost steaming cloud of breath out of its nostrils. It shook its head from side to side in a brazen display of confidence, and Lucifer lost his cool. He lowered his head and stormed the opponent, antlers meeting in a thunderous clash.

The crimson stag didn’t budge an inch, holding its ground and pushing back instead. It jerked its head to the side, the branches of their antlers interlocking, forcing Lucifer to follow the movement for a few steps before he could redirect. They circled each other, noses almost touching the ground. The pressure against his skull was immense, and pain jolted through his neck muscles every time their antlers slammed against into each other.

Lucifer knew that he could overpower the other at any time, no problem at all, he was the King of Hell and the most powerful being in his realm. He would not let himself be pushed around by an obnoxious deer, he was just letting of some steam, and it was not infuriating at all that this red fucker disrespected him by being literally facing off against him!

Pointed antler tips scraped through his fur and almost nicked his skin, and that was enough, Lucifer drew the line at drawing blood – HIS blood, that was. The flame between his antlers flickered to gold, and then he blasted the damned crimson stag in a surge of blazing angelic energy. The creature was torn to shreds instantly, blood splashing in wide puddles, with pieces of meat, bone, and viscera strewn all around. Were the remains hit the ground, they turned black and sunk into the soil.

The ground started to shake, fissures tearing the earth apart in all directions. Shapeshifting back into his true form, Lucifer watched in horror as the ground crumbled into an abyss of pure darkness. He spread his wings and flew into the air, but he was pulled down into the void like into a black hole, unable to escape, consumed …

Lucifer jolted up from the bed, panting heavily and covert in sweat. It still felt as if teeth were all over him, ripping him apart in the void, and his hands had to investigate all over his body to make sure he was not hurt. Which was stupid, really, a dream could not hurt him, not directly anyway. Still, he checked himself to make sure he was okay, physically at least. Mentally, though? Emotional? He didn’t know yet. His thoughts were spiraling. This end to a dream hadn’t occurred since … well, since the first time he had had those dreams. He had forgotten how that had felt and was now shaking from the reminder.

When the dreams hadn’t been more than the hunt, like it had been for the last century or so, nothing like this ever happened. They would just end like any other dream, not that Lucifer dreamed a lot or, as a matter of fact, slept a lot to begin with. Would he have these dreams even more often if he slept regularly? What a dreadful thought. What if this new scenario repeated itself for another century, always ending in him being devoured by darkness? Maybe his insomnia was not that bad of a curse than he thought …

Lucifer groaned and fell back on the pillow, one hand over his eyes and the other gripping his hair. He was both exhausted and highly alert. His breathing and heartrate had calmed, but his mind was still racing. He needed to distract himself, with a new rubber duck design maybe. Yeah, that sounded good, he could work on the back-flipping one and build another gimmick into it, for example a water gun or a flamethrower or something like that. That would be quite difficult given the tiny size of the common rubber duck, but surely he could make it work, even if he had to make every tiny piece of the build-in weapon of his choice from scratch …

With a sudden burst of determination, Lucifer got out of bed and magically dressed with a snap of his fingers and went to his workshop.

He worked several days straight before exhaustion took over and forced his body to shut down and rest. He would sleep without dreaming for twelve to sixteen hours before waking, feeling drained, before dozing off again into a much lighter slumber, where the dreams could find him. Sometimes it was a Crimson Stag Dream – yes, capital letters to name them, he wasn’t exactly hunting anymore, was he? – with their namesake in the clearing. Lucifer tried to approach this new development via different angles. He turned into various animals to try and scare the stag away, but it always chose to fight. He would kill it eventually, be it by accident or by choice, and then the world would shatter and swallow him.

After waking up again, he would dread the dreams so much that he’d rather get up, barf down some magically conjured food that tasted rather blunt but kept his body going, and went back to the workshop. And from there the cycle would repeat.

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One month ago, Hell, Pride Ring

By the time the new rubber duck was completed, he got an unexpected call from his daughter. To say he was deeply concerned about her request for a meeting with the higher ups in Heaven was a grave understatement. But his emotions made a full turn around when she suggested for him to come by and see her work. At least he had the common sense to schedule his visit an hour later, which was enough time to take a long shower, put on fresh clothes and portal in front of the main entrance of the hotel.
The place where his precious daughter tried to make her unattainable dream come true.
And where, unbeknownst to him, the crimson stag resided.

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Two hours later

Sitting on the bed, Lucifer ended the call and had to force himself not to instantly toss the phone away. He had to text his daughter first and tell her, that he had gotten her the meeting with Heaven. The portal would open in three days at 10 am sharp, she could be accompanied by one person (excluding Lucifer himself) and arrangements were made to have them stay one night if necessary. He pressed the send button and THEN tossed the phone far from him. This call had drained all the energy out of him he had had left after leaving the hotel. With a deep sigh Lucifer let himself fall onto the sheets, arms stretched wide to either side.

He hadn’t been outside for years, and although seeing his daughter again and finally reconnecting with her had left him giddy and energized to the brim at the end, dealing with Sera over the phone had sucked all the excitement out of him. He could still hear the cold contempt in her voice, and somehow it didn’t feel like a victory at all to have pushed through the argument and have the head seraphim agree to hearing his daughter’s case.

Lucifer was sleep deprived and exhausted. His eyes already started to fall shut. Maybe sleep would come to him today as a friend, merciful, without dreams about radio fuckers waiting in the clearing for a sparring exercise, or impudent crimson stags in his daughter’s hotel … oh wait, he had gotten that mixed up …

Golden and red eyes shot wide open.

Wait, WHAT?!

He slowly sat up again, desperately trying to hold the thread of thought his dizzy brain had just spun.

That demon with the radio voice, what was his name again, Alastor. He was a deer demon, Lucifer had noticed the ears and the antlers. Black antlers, to be precise. Red hair, red fur, red coat. Crimson. Piercing ruby eyes. Posing in the hotel lobby like it was his territory, and challenging him, Lucifer, like a rival who had just set foot into his domain … into his clearing.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Or well, easy might be the wrong term, because if it would have been easy, he would have known sooner, right? If he had known the dreams were hinting at an actual sinner, someone who could be found, someone he could have searched for, like …

His heart ached and tears welled in his eyes. Lucifer burrowed his head in his hands. Guilt wrapped around his heart like an iron chain, tightening, squeezing.

Like Lilith had wanted him to. She had always pushed him to investigate the dreams. And he had dismissed it, had rejected the idea that they tried to tell him something, out of fear that he would make a mistake again, a mistake so profound that his world would shatter and collapse again …

His chest tightened even more at the sudden realization. He couldn’t breathe. Lucifer gulped, but couldn’t get air into his lungs.

His world collapsing.

Crumbling into void.

Swallowing him whole.

His lungs started burning from the need for air, the need to breath. He couldn’t. He started trembling.

He had almost blasted that insufferable demon like he had the crimson stag. Alastor had managed to creep under Lucifer’s skin with such ease as if he had been waiting for it. Playing him like the proverbial fiddle – the irony was not lost on him – and Lucifer had been too dumbfounded to put a stop to the sinner’s insolence before his anger boiled over. If they hadn’t been interrupted by that other sinner’s – Mimzy, was it? – sudden arrival, he might have … he had been tempted to …

Lucifer bit the knuckle of his thumb, drawing blood. The sharp pain finally let him gasp for air, his lungs drawing heavy breaths.

He had been so close to make the mistake he dreaded, hadn’t he? Because he hadn’t looked, hadn’t listened. He was such an idiot, an ignorant moron. That’s why Lilith had left him. Because he didn’t think, therefore making a severe mistake by acting on impulse, and then wallowing in guilt and self-pity afterwards …

He curled inwards, wings sprouting from his back and enveloping him in a feathery cocoon. Tears flowing freely now, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Lilith, where are you…? I-… I need you…”

He grabbed at his hair, tugging tightly, scraping the skin. He needed to calm down, he needed to get his shit together, he needed to think, he needed to breath …

Lilith would know what to do, would have an outline of a plan, or at least the bare minimum of an idea. She would guide his fears into a controlled train of thought. But she wasn’t here, and so the storm in his mind grew into a hurricane of spiraling thoughts that shackled him to the ground.

He was so stupid, so ignorant, his dreams were real, he had found the deer, but what to do now, how much time had he wasted, was it already too late to do something about them, to fix his mistakes, he had almost MADE a crucial error, because he was so stupid, so ignorant, his dreams were real, he had found the deer, but what to do now, how much time had he wasted, was it already too late to do something about them, to fix his mistakes, he had almost MADE a crucial error, because he was so stupid, so ignorant- …

Chapter Text

Six months ago, Heaven, Outer Perimeter

There were two plates and two sets of cutlery set on the dining table, but Lilith currently sat alone, eating. Alastor played the piano because she liked to hear music during dinner, and since she appeared to be tentative, he opted for a light tune. Not too chipper though, as to not annoy her in her current mood, but lively enough to keep her from brooding. Because brooding always let to the more disagreeable aspects of her research.

Like the removal of organs or the amputation of limbs while ritualistic magic or newly invented and highly experimental spells intermingled with his demonic regeneration. Trying to twist, to corrupt, to gain some tiny bit of insight whether the monstrosity inside him was affected by any of it. The beast tethered to his very soul, the embodiment of a void that hungered to consume creation itself.

That was what she had told him, anyway. No matter how subtle or nonchalant he had tried to coax more information out of her, he had not been successful. But he did know for a fact that this endeavor was more important to Lilith than anything. Afterall, she had given up her family for it.

He shot her some side glances now and then to assess the situation. Whatever she was mulling over in her head, it was either the finer details of the next invasive experimentation or deeply personal for her not talk about it. She usually liked hearing a second opinion, particularly since he wasn’t allowed to lie to her.

“I have a task for you”, Lilith said suddenly while putting her wine glass down.

“Of course, my Queen. How can I be of service?” Not that he had the option to deny her request.

“I need you to go back to Hell.”

Alastor missed the next note and decided not to bother recovering his slip up, letting the melody die in dissonance instead. He turned around on the stool, facing her expectantly with a smile that bared his teeth. Lilith leaned forward in her chair on her elbows and laced the fingers of both hands together.

“My daughter has founded a hotel to try and redeem sinners. It is about to open, and she needs help. You will go there, and protect and support her in any way you can. With a few restrictions of course.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Of course there would be conditions.

“I suppose I am to abstain from soul deals, my Queen?” This one was obvious. She wouldn’t want for him to grow his powers.

“And no devouring souls either”, she confirmed and extended the restriction. Alastor’s lips curled into a silent snarl.

“Am I allowed to eat at all, or will this be another iteration of the starvation experiments?” His voice was thick with static and resentment. Lilith shot him a warning glance.

“There is no need for further restrictions on your diet.” Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes. “For now, at least”, she added.

Alastor knew better than to push the subject further. “Is there anything else, my Queen?”, he asked instead.

“Indeed, there is.” She paused, unsure how to word her command in a way that would convey her expectations and at the same time allow for the leeway Alastor might need to fulfill them. “It is about my husband … Sooner or later he will get involved, somehow, in some way. When that happens, I need you to … get him invested. For Charlie’s sake.” Lilith sighed, frustration evident in the strained breath. “She needs at least one parent to support her.” Since I can’t.

The demon leaned forward a bit, intrigued by the possibility to interact with the King of Hell. He was curious to which extent the stories and rumors about the Devil himself were true. Despite living with the Queen for seven years now, he hadn’t managed to learn anything of value about he husband. She was rather protective of her privacy regarding her marriage to Lucifer. Which Alastor found quite hypocritical for various reasons.

“Having the King engage with your daughter’s project might pose some risk regarding this arrangement of ours. I take it that you do not wish for him to find out about your whereabouts?” Or everything else …

“Of course not. You will neither say nor imply a word about our deal, my deal with Adam, or anything else that has happened here.”

Alastor nodded his understanding. There was nothing unexpected here, he had just wanted her to say it. To be bound by a command was useful on rare occasions, such as not to be able to spill secrets, may it be by a slip of the tongue or by force. Now that this was settled, he moved on to the next topic.

“When will I be leaving?”

“Right now.”

That caught him by surprise. His snarly smile fell only a little bit, but lost its sharpness entirely. His ears flicked to the side.

“With all due respect, my Queen, but that’s on rather short notice.” He tilted his head questioningly.

Lilith sighed. “Because I’ve just decided to send you.”

“I see.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Lilith noticed Alastor glancing at the other plate on the table. The one where a picky eater had left all the vegetables untouched.

“May I at least bid my farewell properly?” He made it sound casual, but his voice lacked any radio filter. He was all but indifferent to this request.

“You may.” Her tone of voice was softer now, a rarity in his presence. “But make it quick.”

“Well, I should waste no time then!” Alastor stood and walked towards the stairs that lead up to the upper floor, one hand behind the back and the other twirling his microphone.

Lilith waited for him to be out of sight before pulling out her phone. The last voice mail of her daughter she had received just yesterday lit up on the screen, and the Queen pressed the play button once again.

~Hey mom, sorry for bothering you again …~ Charlie’s voice trailed off apologetically. The pause lasted only for a moment, but it broke Lilith’s heart nonetheless every time she heart the message. What she would give to be there, to tell her daughter that she was no bother, and never had been. ~I just wanted to tell you that we finally have our first guest! He’s only with us for two weeks now, but he’s already making amazing progress! Oh, and can you believe it, tomorrow I have an interview with 666 News to promote the hotel! So we’ll have lots more people staying with us after that! I have to go now and prepare for the interview, wish me luck! And … love you, mom. Bye…~

She wished for her daughter all the luck in all of the realms, but even that wouldn’t be enough. They were talking about Hell. Charlie needed more than just luck. She needed her parents. Their power, their influence. But Lucifer had become a recluse according to her daughter’s voice mails, and Lilith was basically imprisoned in a golden cage. All because she had let herself gotten backed into a corner by Adam when she needed a safe place in Heaven …

The screen of her phone went black. She didn’t know how long she stared at it, lost in thought, until Alastor returned from upstairs. Sending him to her daughter’s aid was a risk, and not an insignificant one. But he was powerful, exceptionally so for an Overlord. Even with the restrictions she had set upon him, there were few who could get the upper hand in a fight. He had risen fast and high in Hell’s hierarchy of power, but more important, he had remained there. Lilith was confident that he would navigate whatever changes Hell had undergone in his seven-year absence.

Lilith rose from her chair and lead the way into the basement, the demon following her without a word. Unlike her husband, the Queen did not possess the power to open portals randomly at will, so she had set up a portal room. There were other magical installments down there, too, that served other purposes.

Alastor hated coming down here.

Lilith opened the portal with a short incantation. The darkness of a long-abandoned basement greeted them on the other side, only illuminated by the light that flooded from their room into the partly caved in cellar.

Alastor recognized the place. “Lovely”, he commented dryly and was about to step through the portal, when Lilith called for his attention once more.

“Alastor.”

The demon stopped and turned his head.

“Don’t get yourself killed down there. Here, take this. In case of an emergency.”

She handed him a small crystal the size of a quarter coin. Its surface was cool and smooth like a smoky black pearl. Streaks of light blue and light golden magic swirled lazily inside. Dormant.

Alastor took the small artefact and pocketed it. His smile grew sinister. “Wouldn’t dream of it! After all, all of creation would cease to exist if I did, and we can’t have that, can we now?” It sounded almost mockingly.

Lilith clenched her fist and her eyes started to glow.

“I am serious, Alastor. Do. Not. Die.”

He spun around into a deep bow. “As you wish, my Queen.” Not that he could do more than fight for his life, and that he certainly would. Alastor wasn’t keen on dying anytime soon. Second death might come for him one day, but it would be as a free man, and NOT as the Queen’s pet.

Still bowing, he stepped backwards through the portal. Alastor held the angry woman’s gaze until the swirling magic collapsed in on itself. With the light from the other side and the portals magic gone, the cellar was plunged into darkness. Not that it mattered much, the demon’s red eyes were glowing and thus provided a dim light source for his exceptional night vision.

Alastor straightened up and took a long breath of stale and hot air. Hell’s air. The sulphury stench was sharp and tingled on his tongue, an ever-present smell and taste in this realm but one he had nearly forgotten over the last years in Heaven. He hadn’t realized that he had missed it until now, even though he knew he would soon grow accustomed to its presence to a point where he wouldn’t consciously be aware of it.

Speaking of being aware … He could feel the radio waves around him, above him. Frequencies brimming with transmissions, everywhere. Radio, television, telecommunication … no matter the sending or receiving device, they used his waves. His signal in Heaven had been limited to a fraction of his capabilities due to the remoteness of the region where the beach house was located. It had been suffocating. But now the radio waves were crawling pleasantly over his skin and vibrating in his soul, and for a moment Alastor was tempted to just let himself fall into them, to reach and blast every single device that was something other than a radio, to plunge all of Pentagram City into a deafening broadcast of Carl Orff’s O Fortuna to announce his return in a grandiose display of power …
His musings were interrupted by the toll of a bell somewhere on the surface above him. The demon knew that bell, of course. The bell atop the Heaven Embassy, setting the counter to the start of another year until the next Extermination. Which meant that he had returned to Hell right at the very end of the current one.

Exactly seven years, to the day, since the Queen had … abducted him, for the lack of a better term.

The thought was sobering in a way. He was not back because he had regained his freedom. He was back because he had a job to do, one that required of him to aid the Queens daughter in her foolish endeavor. The princess was a wild card, since she had never been active in Hell’s political landscape and therefore not worthy of his attention. There was no telling whether a city-wide intimidation maneuver would be helpful for his mission or backfire spectacularly. A silent return and gathering some intel first was the wiser move to start with.

Alastor sighed and wiped some specs of dust off his coat. His red eyes traced the jagged cracks in the bricked cellar wall until they settled on a large rusty colored stain, the substance so dry that it flaked off like old paint. But it wasn’t paint, of course. It was blood. His blood. And Alastor remembered with absolute clarity how it had been spilled.

The Extermination is in full swing, and he hides from the angels in this mostly abandoned building complex. Since it’s already partly in ruins, the chance of attracting the Exorcists is slim. The cellars of this and the neighboring buildings are all connected underground, which makes for an easy change of venue on the rare occasion that the angels do come to close for the demon’s taste. Alastor has spent quite many Extermination days here.

But this time, someone else is here with him. Someone powerful, someone who’s magic seems surprisingly familiar, like he should know this person. But they sure aren’t acquainted, or else he wouldn’t struggle to remember.

He feels uneasy about this power, so he retreats deeper, into the cellars. The entity follows, draws closer, and Alastor can’t help but feel threatened. That feeling becomes certainty when a black and purple force field blocks his way, and he hears the deliberate steps behind him in the adjacent room. The very moment even a hint of his pursuer emerges in the doorway, Alastor attacks with his tentacles, trying to impale the tall figure. But the shadowy tendrils are swiped away, and three angelic spears appear hovering in the air, glinting in the flickering light of the single light bulb behind …

… behind the Queen of Hell, Alastor realizes. He recognizes her magic from her concerts, when her power had flooded the city with the sound of her siren voice. Her last performance was decades ago, though, no wonder he has not immediately remembered how her power feels like.

He can’t think of a reason why she would be here, why she was essentially hunting him down in the middle of an Extermination, but he has no time to ask. The angelic spears strike to attack, guided by her magic. The Radio Demon holds his own for a moment, deflecting the weapons with his tentacles, before one of the spears pierces his defense and impales him through the abdomen, nailing him to the wall he is backed against. The blessed metal drains his powers instantly, and he rips the spear from his stomach to regain them despite the agonizing pain and the gush of hot blood. The dark magic fills him again, but a little too slow. The shadows have only just wrapped around him when the next spear hits him in the left shoulder, dissolving them, keeping him corporeal, pinning him again to the wall.

Another jolt of pain shoots through his right thigh as a second spear pierces flesh and stone, and Alastor hisses in anger and frustration. The blood loss is already weakening him since he can’t heal the profusely bleeding hole in his stomach while the angelic steal is stuck in his flesh. He could rip the spears out again, but there is no point in trying, really. The Queen will just impale him once more, the third spear is already hovering at the ready … but she hasn’t hurled it at him, yet. She could have killed him by now.
Instead, the Queen steps closer, halting within arm’s length. It’s much too close for Alastor’s comfort, but then again, there is nothing even slightly comfortable about this situation. The demon tries to calm his heavy breathing under her watchful eyes, and he stares back, unblinking.

“Your Majesty … to what do I owe this … unexpected … pleasure?”

His radio filter is flickering in and out of existence while he tries to ban any traces of distress from his words. He fails at that, but his voice is at least steadier than the pain should have allowed for.

“I have come to take you with me, Radio Demon. You can either do so by binding yourself to me, or I will drag you from here by force.”

She states it matter-of-factly, and the demon is stunned. She is here, in the middle of an ongoing Extermination, to make a deal? To get his SOUL?

Alastor laughs, he can’t help it. A manic giggle, that soon enough dies in a coughing fit. He tastes blood on his tongue and can feel it drooling hot between his teeth and down his chin.

“No.” The snarling grin that is his smile overstretches just a little bit more as the Queen’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“No?” She steps closer again, towering right over him, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his face up. The demon can’t help the way his body flinches slightly under the unwelcome touch.

“Should I take that to mean that you would rather die?” Her voice is sweet like honey and betrays nothing of the anger he sees glinting in her eyes briefly. And yes, the thought sings loudly in his head, to just deny her what she came for. To die refusing the Queen of Hell, but free. Alastor values both his life and his freedom highly, and right know he is considering making a choice that does not favor his captor.

“My dear Alastor, death is not an option. You will come with me, and you will live, but it will either be on a leash or in a cage. Choose your poison, but hurry up – this offer is limited.”

And she is right, Alastor has not much time left to make a decision before she decides for him. His head starts to feel dizzy from the amount of blood he has lost. The blessed angelic steel is canceling out his demonic regeneration, and although a living human might have already lost consciousness or died by now, he knows that he will not last much longer.

If any Overlord would have managed to trap him in this situation, he would rather take the cage, confident that he would manage to break out at a later time. But it is the Queen of Hell that threatens to imprison him, and he has no doubt that she will be able to hold him in a cell for eternity if she so chooses to. With a deal, he gets something for himself out of it, at least. Being on a leash usually come with tasks, with options. Deals can be amended, maybe even broken. And if the leash holder dies …

“Fine”, he finally concedes through gritted teeth. “Leash it is.”

“Good boy”, the Queen croons with a pleased smirk, and Alastor can’t stop his ears from turning back.

“What is it then that you desire in return? Power, perhaps?”

It would be the obvious answer for a deal with a being as powerful as the Queen. It’s also a trap. To wish for power, only to be forbidden from using it. Alastor is no such fool. If he is forced to sell his soul, it has to be for something only the Queen can give.

Or do.

An idea crosses his mind, something he has only daydreamed of, knowing that it was not achievable. Not for him, at least, or any other Overlord. But maybe ... she can. It’s an opportunity he can’t let pass. It might even be worth the price she demands.

“I want a letter to be delivered to a specific person in Heaven”, he says through shallow breaths. “A person I will name at a later time … The letter is to be delivered to that person and only that person, through the fastest means possible … The contents of the letter shall not be altered before or after delivery, nor shall it be destroyed … and neither shall the memory of the recipient.”

There is a hint of surprise in her expression, and she tilts her head with an amused smile.

“My, you sure are a deal maker, aren’t you?” She retracts her finger from his chin, finally, and places it against her cheek in contemplation.

She could just deny him, like he tried to do. Wait until he falls unconscious or knock him out right now if she is impatient, and then drag him off to God-knows-where. Cage instead of leash, choice be damned. His field of view is slowly narrowing, darkness creeping along the edges that doesn’t stem from the dimly lit cellar.

“Stipulation: the recipient cannot be a seraph or another higher-ranking angel.”

How interesting, he thinks, storing the information in his mind for later. He has no time to ponder the implications of this limitation right now. It doesn’t hinder his request anyway.

“Clarification: the recipient of said letter will be a winner.”

The Queen lifts an eyebrow at that. “Hu? A remnant of a long past life, perhaps?”

Alastor doesn’t respond to her assumption. Still, the Queen seems to take his silence as enough of an answer.

“Very well, we have a deal then.”

It’s not a question. She extends her hand, and the demon has to muster much more strength than he likes to take it. The power of the deal drenches the room in green and purple light, shaking and cracking the walls. Alastor feels the weight of the soul collar form around his neck, and he loathes the sensation. As soon as the deal is sealed, the spears are recalled from is body, and the demon slumps down against the wall, his legs too weak to support him.

“Now be a dear and fix yourself, we have places to be.”

His powers seep back into him and start to power the demonic regeneration capabilities immediately, without needing him to direct them. It’s helpful though to concentrate on the healing, it keeps him conscious while also stops his mind from spiraling about the turn his afterlife has just made. Alastor watches the Queen through half-lidded eyes as she turns to the middle of the room. His ears pick up the short incantation of an unfamiliar spell, then a crunching sound like the breaking of glass, and in a swirl of light blue and golden magic a portal opens. A brightly lit room with white marble walls awaits on the other side. The light is blinding, the Queen a shadowy silhouette in front of it.

“Come now, pet, the portal won’t hold long.”

She beckons with on hand, but he isn't even remotely finished healing, and when he doesn’t stand fast enough, the purple collar appears, the chain connecting to her hand. The Queen yanks the demon forward as she steps through the portal, dragging him behind as he scrambles to follow …

Now that he was back and unsupervised, he could start on working to … rectify the situation he was in. To explore his options and carefully craft a plan. Alastor held no delusions as to the severe difficulty of regaining his freedom. His chances of success were slim, but not impossible.

In the corner of his eyes, something moved in the darkness. Like an ink blot, a stretching spot of black connected to himself. Alastor smiled, and the blackness smiled back with jagged teeth.

“Good to have you back, old friend, it’s been to long. Shall we begin?”

Chapter Text

When Lucifer finally clawed his way out of the darkness of his mind, he didn’t know how long this episode had lasted. Then again, he was too exhausted to even care. It seemed to be night outside, which didn’t mean anything to him. It was just something his mind registered half-consciously, and then pushed to the sidelines. It didn’t matter. Night or day, it was still Hell, and he was still here.

He would never escape. Ever.

But right now, Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care about even that. All he felt was a numbness that had settled deep inside his bones. Every muscle felt sore. His eyes were so dry that they stung, while his tongue seemed to be swollen and glued to the inside of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. When a soft groan escaped his vocal cords, his throat felt hoarse and burning.

All in all, he felt like shit. And yet, moving felt like to much of a strenuous task.

Drifting off to sleep sounded nice instead. It didn’t require any kind of action from him, which was a plus. Should be something rather easy, right?

Wrong. His mind was tired, but not sleepy. Lucifer tried anyway but had to admit to himself at some point that it wasn’t working. Something tugged on the edge of his mind, something that yearned for attention, but each time he tried to give in to the pestering thought, it slipped him. Slipped, and left nothing than an ominous feeling that he was supposed to remember something. Something important.

Lucifer sighed in frustration and managed to roll around at last. Unfortunately, he failed to notice in time that he had already been laying on the edge of the bed, and promptly landed on the carpet with a surprised yelp and a dull thud.
Fallen angel once again. The thought pained and amused him equally, just a little bit. It was better than the numbness at least, so he would take it.

The wings he had landed on were aching, and he tugged them back in once he got back on his feed. The faint throbbing left him with a vague feeling of guilt. He was neglecting his wings, he knew, but he just couldn’t be bothered to take proper care of them. It was impossible to do thoroughly on his own, anyway.

Slow, dragged steps took him to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he was greeted by a stranger. Horns protruded from his forehead, but the flame between them was nothing more than a little flickering spark. Big dark circles under his eyes. Eyes so bloodshot that it turned his red sclera an orange colour. Lucifer watched himself for a long moment and came to the conclusion that he looked like he was feeling. Like shit.

He retracted his demonic features with a sigh. The inversion of his eye colours to golden sclera and red irises now hid the tiny blood vessels, which was an improvement, even if a marginal one. Turning on the cold water – or as cold as water could get in Hell, which was not cold at all, or cool even, lukewarm was as good as it got out of the tap – he washed his face and neck, not caring how wet his hair got in the process. When he looked up again to meet his reflection, the water dripping from his skin made him look even more like a mess. Task failed successfully, take an L. And he didn’t even feel refreshed. Double-L it was. Fucking great.

Lucifer burrowed his face in his hands. There was something he had been wanting to do, right? Or needed to do? Something … important? His memory was hazy, and the fallen angel wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember at all. He had spiraled because of it, had he not? So if he remembered, wouldn’t he spiral again? Maybe. Perhaps not. Right now he felt … empty. And he knew from experience that if he wanted to confront whatever had messed him up this time, he should do it now, for the window of opportunity would be closing sooner rather than later. The problem was: doing that usually required some effort. Which he, of course, could not muster right now.

Fucking damn cycle, who the fuck had decided to wire brains like THAT …

He dragged his hands down his face with a frustrated groan, when a glint of something shiny caught his eye. A flash of gold reflecting in the mirror. Still clasping his cheeks with both hands, Lucifer stared at his wedding ring, and the golden glimmer pulled the nagging memories that had persistently tugged at the edge of his thoughts to the forefront of his mind. The gold reminded him of –

– the golden dragon soaring in the sky. It circles, then stops, and releases its fiery breath upon the forest beneath. Fire so hot that it’s not an orange flame, but an almost white one. The trees go ablaze instantly, and hot black smoke thickens the air. Lucifer is frozen from shock an irritation. Why is there a dragon suddenly in his dreams? Where did it come from? Should he fight it? Or should he search for the stag instead?

Lucifer watched as his reflection blinked slowly. Ah, yes, he remembered now. The Crimson Stag. The deer sinner. Lilith had been right about his dreams, and now she was gone. THAT’S what had undone him this time. The fallen angel bit his lower lip, as feeling of guilt and regret and sorrow started to creep up on him again. Breath, he told himself.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

Repeat.

Still, he felt the darkness approaching again.

Lucifer grabbed the edge of the sink, leaning heavily against it, and closed his eyes.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

In his minds eye, the image of the Crimson Stag flashed for a brief moment. Standing in the clearing, stomping his front leg in a taunt. Mocking him. I am here. What are you going to do about it, little monarch?
Lucifer opened his eyes, glaring at his reflection with a sudden spike in determination that surprised even himself.

“Oh, just you wait, I’m going to SHOW you! You better buckle up, buck boy!”

To be totally honest, he wasn’t sure what exactly he would “show” that radio prick. YET. He needed a bit more information about that sinner first. Which was easy as pie for him, King of Hell and all. Lucifer let go of the sink and snapped his fingers.

His brows furrowed when nothing happens. Odd.

He tried again. Same result.

A wise man once said that the true definition of madness was to repeat the same action, over and over again, expecting different results. A genius that man, truly.

Lucifer snapped his fingers, over and over again, because … it SHOULD work! There was exactly one being in Hell with the authority to summon a sinner’s record from the archive without the need to go down there in person, and it was HIM.

But it did, in fact, NOT work.

“Are you fucking kidding me know?!”

The irritation was a good thing, at least. Vexation tingled under his skin, leaving him energized. Lucifer dried himself off and changed into his usual ringleader attire with another snap of his fingers – the fact that it worked this time was somehow not as reassuring as it should have been – and portalled down to the entrance of the archives. Located within the palace dungeons, the heavy double winged door might have almost looked unassuming, if one were to ignore the gold- and silver-plated carvings. Runes and sigils were woven together in an intricate pattern across the stone arch in which the door was set in, and across the iron-cladded dark wood. Spells of protection, of preservation, but only for what was stored inside.

There was no need to actually open the doors – Lucifer just walked through, the magic of the spells recognizing him instantly and letting him pass into the pocket dimension that was the Archive of the Lost. Those souls who had been deemed ‘Damned’, and those who were classified as ‘Erased’.

Stone shelfs stretched before him, rows and rows and rows, to his left and his right, but also up and down towards a ceiling that could not be seen, and neither could the floor. Lucifer was not sure if the archive even had a floor, or a ceiling for that matter. The archive was endless on purpose and could not be traversed without wings or some kind of substitute magic that enabled movement in the air. Two self-igniting torches were the only light sources right at the ledge behind the entrance where Lucifer stood, illuminating the edges of the first shelves and the tightly stacked records therein, and nothing more. Darkness swallowed the vastness of the archive.

Darkness everywhere. In the archive, in his mind, in his dreams. There was just too much of it, in Lucifer’s opinion. He took a deep inhale, trying to clear is mind. He needed to focus, he was on a mission, after all.

Every living soul that had ever existed had a record.

Every. Soul. Ever.

No matter if they were still alive. No matter if they had already gone to Heaven or Hell.

No matter if they had died a second time and were erased.

The archive did not forget. Lucifer had always thought of this space as the memory of creation. Because in regard to souls, it was. Literally.

I am standing in a brain, he thought, as he did every time he had come here, the amount of which he could count on one hand. One reason being the unsettling feeling that anatomical comparison evoked in him. The sheer thought of billions of lives that currently were, and billions more that had been, stacked neatly in endless rows and ordered by an unfathomable will.

The other reason for his rare ventures into the archive was his disinterest, to be frank. Lucifer had no access to the records of winners or the souls who were still alive. Those who had already been erased did not need lamenting, either, in his opinion. And sinners earned their stay in Hell because they had fucked up in life, no need for details there. Their stories were repeating mostly anyways, from what Lilith had told him.

Lilith … had been much more interested in the lives and afterlives of her people. If she met someone she deemed worthy of her notice, she would read up on them, and often she would tell him the bits she found most interesting. It was one way for her to uphold her status as Queen, to hold power over the Overlords by knowing some of their secrets. Even if the older Overlords grew to no longer care about the details of their former lives, it was an advantage she knew to use well during their rise to power. As for Lucifer, he had never cared what she did with that knowledge, since he had at some point stopped to interfere in the politics of Hell a few thousand years ago. Lilith had thrived leading on her own, and he had been content with it.

Lucifer forced himself out of his train of thought. He didn’t want to think to much about his wife, he had come here for another reason. Enough with the stalling. Now that he stood within the threshold of the archive, there should be no interference with summoning the deer demon’s record. Lucifer concentrated and snapped his fingers.

Nothing. Happened.

The fallen angel felt a migraine incoming. This was ridiculous! The one time he actually needed to get information on a sinner, and he could not summon the record?!

This was a cruel joke, wasn’t it? Someone was pranking him, and if he found out who that somebody was, he would DECIMATE them! He pinched the bridge between his eyes, gritting his teeth. Fine then, if the direct approach wasn’t working, he would take a different approach.

Step 1: I am looking for a sinner with the name ‘Alastor’ somewhere in their birth name, or has taken that name while in Hell.

Upon the snap, records lit up with a golden glow within the shelves. Millions of them. Lucifer felt them all, their numbers suffocating him with their presence upon being called to. He needed to reduce that number quickly.

Step 2: Of those, all of the Erased can be sorted out.

Another snap, and that suffocating number became significantly smaller. The fallen angel felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders, from his mind. Still, the records were too many to look at all of them. He needed another filter option, like a title or –

Wait … the sinner had used some kind of nickname or title for himself before attacking the loan sharks that had come to the hotel in search of that Mimzy girl. What had he called himself? Ah, yes …

Step 3: Of those, the sinner uses the alias ‘Radio Demon’.

Snap.

Lucifer felt the light of every record vanish. He had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming in frustration.

Back to step two.

Snap. Snap.

Maybe ‘Radio Demon’ was not an alias that was commonly known on a level that it would make it into the record. Maybe it was just a wannabe title that egotistical prick had bestowed upon himself, and nothing more.

How about an official title, then? That guy had clearly been powerful enough to be an Overlord, and that status was put down in the records whether the residents of Hell recognized that title or not.

Should have thought of that sooner, really.

New step 3: Of those, the sinner holds the Overlord title.

Snap. In his mind, the lights of the records vanished again – except for two. Lucifer’s lips curved into a smirk.

Finally! I got you!

The fallen angel made his wings appear und lunged himself into the depth of the archive. The two records were stored quite a distance apart from each other, but three pairs of wings could make for high speed. Torches ignited on their own when he neared and extinguished after he had passed, illuminating his way in a flickering fiery trail. Lucifer turned left at an intersection and descended, feeling the first record getting closer und some levels beneath him. Turning right again, he could see a faint golden light in the distance and stopped before the glowing file. He pulled the record out and opened it.

The parchment on the left listed some basic information and a summary of the sinner’s life on Earth, but it was the right page Lucifer focused on. It showed a full body image of the sinner – painted, mind you, the archive didn’t need anyone to take an actual picture – but this sinner wasn’t a deer, but a mantis. The fallen angel sighed, but his smile didn’t falter. It meant that the other file was the record he was looking for. He slid the documents back in place and started maneuvering along the shelves again.

Left, right, left, up, up, up. Lucifer felt energized, excited even, for the first time in a long time. He was getting shit done! Alastor’s record wouldn’t get him all the answers regarding his dreams, but it would be a good start, and he would discern what steps to take next after getting an overview to who the demon was.

The golden glow came into view, and Lucifer almost couldn’t contain a giggle. Stopping at his target location, he took a long inhale and pulled the file. His eyes landed of the picture of –

– a boar demon?

Smile frozen in place, Lucifer blinked slowly one eye after the other.

That … was not the Alastor he was looking for. Certainly not. He scanned the information on the left page anyway, but there was no being mistaken. Nope, that was not the demon with the static laced voice and annoying grin.

Which meant that he had a completely different problem at his hands.

Alastor’s record was missing from the Archive of the Lost.

Which … was not impossible, he supposed, but it definitely should not have happened. And in theory, the list of possible culprits was rather short: the only beings with access were Lilith and him, and regarding this matter he could exclude himself.

But using the information about specific sinners had not been Lilith only way to spread her power and influence. She had also used her access to the files to grant other demons favours in return for a significant price. First and foremost to the members of the Ars Goetia, for whatever reason they had to be interested in a certain soul, but he also remembered Lilith telling him about some Overlords or regular sinners who had sought out the Queen on their quest of revenge and sold their soul in the process.

It was possible that one of those demons were in possession of the missing record.

Alternatively …

She would have told him, wouldn’t she? If Lilith had concluded that his Hunting Dreams had been about a deer demon, and had then determined for that demon to be Alastor, surely she would have used that information to make Lucifer see the truth of his dreams? To get him to care, to investigate? She wouldn’t have left on her own and gone into hiding to fuck-knows-where, and stolen the record to … do what exactly? AND leaving Charlie behind?

No. No, he couldn’t imagine that she would have done something this cruel to her daughter. To him, maybe. But Charie? No. No way. Lucifer banished the thought.

So, the record was gone, his only source of information the sinner. Well, not the only only source, there was the demon himself, right? At the hotel. With Charlie. Living at the Hotel, digging his claws into Lucifer’s daughter, pulling her away …

Well, he couldn’t let that happen, could he? He had been an absent father for so long, he should be double-damned if he let that distance between them grow any further. Going back to the hotel and helping his daughter, and making up for lost time was the very least he could do. And while being there, he could keep an eye on the Radio Demon and learn about him. Get to know him while mending the relationship with his daughter, and not the other way around! It was bad enough to have made that decision only now because he needed information about the sinner, and Lucifer loathed himself for that very fact. Now that the decision was made, he needed to get his priorities straight –

The sudden boom of angelic energy echoed through the pocket dimension, making the fallen angel jerk up in high alert at the sensation. That had felt like a giant portal opening, like the one during –

No. NO. He hadn’t spent another six months lost to a depressive episode, had he? No way, it hadn’t felt like that much time had passed! But the Exorcists couldn’t be back this early!

Lucifer flapped his wings hard, zigzagging through the shelved corridors at high speed in a desperate need leave the archive and find out what was going on. There was another wave of power, but it had a different feel to it, one he had witnessed once before, during his visit at the hotel.

The golden dragon roars and sets the forest ablaze with fire. Birds fly up in flocks, the earth-bound animals flee in all directions. The dragon swoops down and the bleat of a deer in pain bellows over the roaring fire …

Oh no, was Alastor fighting during an untimely Extermination? Why did he not hide like the rest of the city did? Why did he not stay at Charlie’s side, reveling in the protection his pure hearted daughter would undoubtedly bestow on him and her friends?

… the dragon circles the sky again, hunting everything that moves. It rains down more fire with its breath, burning creatures and sending trees crashing. Suddenly the earth shakes and rumbles, and Lucifer knows all too well what that means by now. Something akin to a gravitational pull topples the trees inward in a growing circle, and even the golden dragon starts to get pulled down, down, down … Lucifer knows he can’t do anything at this point, so he lets it happen …

Just as the entrance to the archive came into view, the powerful magic that was Alastor’s broke. Lucifer almost let out a desperate cry. Was he already to late? So many dreams, so much time on his hands and he had royally fucked up, fucked up, FUCKED UP!

Lucifer flung himself through the double-winged doors and opened a portal to the highest palace balcony the very next moment. There he stopped midflight, shocked at the sight before him.

There was indeed a heavenly portal in the sky, right next to the Hazbin Hotel. An army of angel Exorcists swarming the surrounding area and attacking the surprisingly large crowd of demons gathered there. Angelic weapons glinting in the light of the dawn and the portal above. Lucifer could still feel the diminishing traces of the Radio Demons magic, but there seemed to be no sign of the sinner himself. But there was another figure that stood out on the battlefield. An angel with golden wings and a horned mask.

The ground wasn’t shaking, yet, the maw of the void had not opened. Maybe there was still time.

And Lucifer had never felt more rage rising up.

Chapter Text

Extermination day, Hell, Pride Ring

“Alastor.”

“Don’t get yourself killed down there …”

“I am serious, Alastor. Do. Not. Die.”

Lilith’s voice rang in his head as he fell to his knees on the floor of his collapsed radio tower, still laughing maniacally. It shook his body, sending jolts of excruciating pain from the cleave in his torso through the rest of his body. He was somewhat aware that he was having a breakdown, that he was loosing his mind. But the irony of it all was draining his self-control.

Here he was, struck down by Adam of all fucking people. Adam, who had happily granted Lilith to bring a servant with her to Heaven because he either respected her royal status somewhat, or just wanted to please her after successfully cutting her off from her family when he had the chance. Adam, who didn’t care enough about said servant to ever inquire about his identity or whereabouts when he came by, while Alastor hid in the basement.

Lilith had been sure that she could wrap the First Man around her finger and get what she wanted from him, and she had been right, but she had also severely miscalculated what kind of person Adam had become in the millennia that had passed. She had not accounted for his resentment against Lucifer and at the life she had built with him. Alastor had often imagined how furious she must have been at the realization that Adam somehow had seen right through her facade of casual superiority when she turned to him for help and used her desperation as leverage to name a price so high the Queen had almost not been willing to pay. But the end ultimately justified the means – Alastor knew that was what she told herself in the dark hours of regret.

And now all her sacrifices were almost made in vain, rendered fruitless by the very same man that had demanded them. Oh, the bittersweet irony. He would revel in it if it hadn’t come at the cost of his own humiliation.

A raspy coughing fit finally ended his laughter. Blood splattered to the ground and drooled down his chin. His body was instinctively channeling his power to amplify his regeneration, but it didn’t work as well as it should. There was no angelic steel stuck in his body, and yet his magic could not mend the wound. There was a burning sensation inside his chest and abdomen where the large gash had torn through muscle, bone and intestines, like acid slowly dissolving flesh.

Alastor winced bending forward on his knees, his body seeking some form of relieve from the pain but not finding it. He clenched at his wound with one clawed fist, as if he could hold his flesh together and will it to reform and heal. His clothes were soaked in blood and the dark pool beneath him steadily grew.

Well, his situation definitely qualified as an emergency. He reached into his pocket, only to find it empty, the fabric torn. No crystal. Fuck.

He immediately sent his shadow out to find it. There was no way he could search for it himself. Moving around would just speed up his blood circulation and make him bleed out faster. His regeneration was trying to account for the blood loss he was currently succumbing to without scrambling through the rubble, moving around would do him no good. Dizziness already tried to cloud his mind …

“When will you be back?” The little voice sounds unhappy. Rightfully so.

“I don’t know, mon cœur, it might take a while.”

“But why?”

“I have to do something for your mother. It’s important, and important things take time, unfortunately.”

“But you wanted to show me how the radio works …” The audible disappointment claws at his heart like nothing else in his afterlife ever has.

“I know, and I’m sorry … but we’ll get to it as soon as I’m back. How does that sound?”

“Promise?” Hopeful. Such a dangerous emotion.

“Of course, mon cœur, I promise.”

He promised.

Alastor blinked, then gasped. The sharp inhale was followed by an equally sharp pain in his chest, clearing his mind of the fog.

He had to keep that promise. Which should have been a ridiculous notion. It was not a formal deal, and therefore should be far down on his list of priorities vying for his attention, starting with the command to not die, let alone his will to survive.

And yet, that promise was the only thing he cared about right now. Alastor could have tried to convince himself that it was out of spite for that woman to prioritize the silly promise above the leash, no matter how hard the compulsion was tugging on his soul.
But he knew better, didn’t he? How low he had fallen. He had thought that he had hit the lowest point when Lilith forced him into their deal, but he stood corrected now. Instead of hitting the ground, he had crashed into some kind of ocean and had been sinking below the waves ever since.

Pathetic. He was being pathetic. And dying. Right, he needed to do something about that, no matter what reason.

The battleground had gone quiet a while ago, he had felt the heavenly portal closing. It wouldn’t be long before the others – whoever had survived – would find him, and he couldn’t let that happen in the state he was in. He was running out of time in more ways than one.

The pain made breathing so much harder.

And the hunger made it difficult to concentrate.

The hunger was a constant in every cannibal’s afterlife, a punishment for the sacrilege of consuming human flesh. But Alastor’s hunger was more than that and he knew it. More importantly, Lilith knew it, too. It was an aching in his stomach that had nothing to do with the burning gash across his torso, a growling he could feel in his soul, like teeth gritting in agitation. And it was growing louder, stronger, now that his powers were dwindling, consumed by the task of keeping him alive.

His shadow was the only thing that could spare him now from his demise, but it, too, was limited. It could not detach from its master. Alastor felt it stretch long and thin while it searched every nook and cranny in the rubble, its desperation seeping into his consciousness more and more each second that passed. Contagious. Alastor tried his best to stay calm and slow his breathing. A heightened heartrate would only spell his doom.

A dulled sense of triumph and relieve washed over him as the shadow located the crystal beneath torn and bent plates of steel. Alastor extended a tendril to retrieve it, his breath hitching at a new flare of pain in his chest and a gush of warm blood spilled between his claws as he diverted some of his power that had been otherwise occupied at keeping him alive. He banished the tentacle almost too soon, the glowing marble clinking on the floor, but thankfully rolling towards his knees.

Red claws fished the crystal from the ground and placed it in front of the demon. Alastor leaned forward, pressing his entire body weight on the frail looking artefact.

“Aperi!”, he chanted, the static nearly absent from his raspy voice, the incantation allowing the marble to break as if made of glass, releasing the magic that had been contained within.

In a swirl of light blue and golden magic a portal opened. Alastor stood on shaky legs and stumbled through, only to fall back on his knees with a pained groan moments later. Silence greeted him as the portal closed behind him, shrouding the demon in blissful darkness for the duration of a heartbeat before the bright white ceiling light flickered on, activated by his presence. Alastor squinted his eyes against the brightness, taking in his surroundings.

The room hadn’t changed since his departure. An ornate wooden bookshelf filled with grimoires and parchment scrolls about magical practices and rituals to his left. An apothecary style cabinet next to it, its drawers filled with vials, crystals and other ingredients one might need for said rituals. Medical equipment, too, funny how these things were connected more often than most would think. On the right side of the room, the wall extended into a ten-by-ten feet recess with steel bars separating the niche from the rest of the room. A prison cell, hidden from unassuming eyes and guarded by layers of magic seals.

The cage.

He had spent some time in that accursed holding area during a few of the Queen’s experiments. It would have been his “home” if he hadn’t chosen the leash. Still, it was not the furnishing Alastor despised the most.

That sentiment was reserved for the large marble table in the center of the basement. It served different purposes for Lilith’s research, be it a ritualistic altar, a desk for sketching and composing new spells, or … an operating table.

The room was silent, except for Alastor’s labored and shallow breathing and the quiet dripping of blood on the marble floor. At least Lilith wouldn’t get mad at him for making a mess – in the seven years they had lived here, more of his blood had been spilled in this room in total than he had in his body.

Speaking of … where was the damned woman? She had to be aware of his sudden return, the wards protecting the house surely had alerted her to the activation of the portal. Lilith had to conclude that this was an emergency, since she had given him the dormant crystal in the first place, and yet the Queen took her goddamn time … Alastor’s smile curled upward manically. The thought of bleeding out because his mistress couldn’t be bothered to leave her breakfast unfinished was kind of amusing.

He had not enough breath left to call for her, but even if he had, he wouldn’t allow himself to sink this low, holding tightly onto any shred of dignity that he had left. But he could try an reach out to the radio in the living room and make her aware how … dire … his predicament actually was.

The demon cautiously expanded his senses, searching for the radio somewhere on the upper floor. He couldn’t find it. Had it been moved? There was a faint aura of his magic, no radio, just traces left, unreceptive, and that was an entirely different reason for concern –

His ears twitched as a door was slammed shut upstairs. The front door, he realized. Someone entering from outside, rushed steps, not the clacking of heels but the quieter taps of bare human feet, running down the stairs to the basement.

The door was thrown open and the steps halted. Alastor could feel her eyes on him, her assessing gaze while the demon was still on his knees and curled in on himself to accommodate his hurting body. It dawned on him that Lilith couldn’t really see his injury from her point of view, but he couldn’t move. Even lifting his head to look at her was task he couldn’t muster any longer, and to honest, he didn’t want to see the look on her face right now.

“Apologies … my Queen …”, he rasped, and that earned him a hiss he couldn’t decipher.

Her magic enveloped him, lifting the demon up and almost throwing him on large table. Magic straps restraint his ankles, wrists and throat in an instant, straightening his body which sent jolts of pain trough his chest and abdomen as the wound was stretched tight. Alastor choked on a scream and gritted his teeth hard, muffling the screeching feedback that tried to escape. Another wave of magic washed over him, stripping him bare, the cold of the marble suddenly biting into his back, arms and legs. He couldn’t suppress the flinch, but the restraints held his body firmly in place.

Now there was a gasp as Lilith could finally see in full the damage Alastor had sustained, an expression of shock he almost missed as the room started spinning after being tossed around carelessly. He tried to stay awake, fought the sweet promise of the approaching darkness to take the pain away. He could endure this, he was stronger than the pain, he was NOT weak, he would NOT die to a scumbag like Adam …

His head was lifted by a hand on its back, the touch itching under his skin even through the hair. DON’T TOUCH ME!, was a thought that always screamed in his mind but he didn’t dare voice anymore. His eyes fluttered open. Lilith stood to his side, slightly bent over him. Something was pressed against the bared teeth of his pained snarl.

“Drink, and don’t waste a drop!”

The liquid was cool and bitter, utterly revolting, but it dulled the pain to a faint stinging the moment he swallowed. Alastor had to hold back a moan of relieve. He could breathe again. His head cleared. It wasn’t enough to relax his tense muscles, yet, but that was due to other circumstances. Heeding the Queen’s command, his tongue curled around the vial still on his lips and pulled it into his mouth, teeth crunching the thin glass. He could feel the shards cutting the inside of his mouth, could taste his blood mixing with the remnants of the liquid the vial had contained, but there was no pain. Whatever this substance was, it was potent.

He caught a glimpse of surprise in her expression, followed by a slight narrowing of her eyes, but she didn’t scold him. There were, however, hints of anger beneath the surface. Also, the feeling of hurry – of time running out – had dissipated. Alastor no longer felt on the very brink of death. Whatever concoction she had given him, pain relief seemed not to be the only effect it had. And since it was Lilith who was intent of him not dying, even more so than he was himself, he could trust her judgment in that regard.

Her eyes traced along his body, searching for more injuries that might be not as obvious as the glaring gash in his torso, and making him uncomfortably aware of his nakedness. This setting was nothing new, though, and it wasn’t shame he felt so much as vulnerability, a dreaded sense of exposure, of helplessness.

“This is no ordinary angelic wound”, she finally declared. “What happened?”

“Extermination.” His voice was still hoarse, but his normal level of radio filter came back to him without effort. He didn’t have to divert all of his powers to his regeneration, he noticed, although it was still a significant portion.

“Nonsense! It has only been six months since the last one!”, she snapped back, but there was a hint of uncertainty beneath the fury. She knew he couldn’t lie to her.

“I regret to inform you, my Queen, that Heaven had moved up the next Extermination shortly after you sent me in aid of your daughter. I’m afraid I had no way of informing you about this unfortunate development.”

She was clearly taken aback by that, a look of betrayal crossing over her face briefly before she turned away, putting one hand to her hip and the other to her forehead in frustration.

“She didn’t tell me …” A quiet whisper. Charlie hadn’t left her another message since Alastor’s arrival at the hotel. The demon was cautious not to show the malicious joy he felt.

“Has the First Man not paid you a visit since my departure?” Would Adam have even be able to NOT gloat about slaughtering sinners twice in a year?

“No, he didn’t”, she answered, clearly vexed now, whipping around and grabbing him be the throat, magic restraints notwithstanding. Her hair was flowing in strands in the air like erratic snakes. “And apparently, he won’t ever again! Did HE do that to you? What did you even THINK fighting Adam, let alone KILL him?!”

Alastor’s eyes grew wide. Adam had been killed? No wonder she was furious now, her deal with the First Man was void … Fuck.

“I didn’t, my Queen, I - … The angels were targeting Charlie’s hotel specifically, and we devised a strategy to defend ourselves! The plan was for me to distract Adam, to keep him occupied, to make him call for retreat once enough of his army was decimated! Lucifer must have –“

“Lucifer got involved?!”

“Yes, he arrived after … after Adam struck me down. I don’t know what happened, but the Exorcists retreated shortly after his arrival.” He swallowed, too aware of her hands on his throat, the touch burning and itching, and left the implication of his statements open.

“He wouldn’t … No, he wouldn’t …” Lilith didn’t finish the sentence, and to Alastor, that said enough. Slowly, she let go of him, leaning slightly back and crossing her arms instead. Her gaze was wary.

“What did you mean, the Exorcists ‘targeted’ the hotel?”

“You daughter had a meeting with Heaven – “

“She WHAT?!”

“– that ended with Adam declaring the hotel and its inhabitants as his primary targets.”

“How did she get a meeting with Heaven?!”

“Lucifer.”

She frowned at that but said nothing. After a moment of silence, Alastor understood that to be a request to continue.

“He agreed to visit the hotel at Charlie’s request but appeared to be rather dismissive at first. So, I did as you asked and … encouraged him to show more passion for his daughter’s project.”

“And how did you do that?” She had noticed the little pause. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped now.

“I challenged his position as a fatherly role model.”

The Queen cocked an eyebrow in disbelieve. The demon held her stare as the moment stretched on.

“Interesting. And you lived to tell the tale, no less”, she said finally.

He allowed his smile to turn a little smug. Lilith didn’t seem to be amused, but more importantly, she didn’t seem to be angrier than before, either.

“My Queen, may I inquire …?”

“What is it?”

“How do you know that Adam died?”

Lilith sighed and walked over to the apothecary cabinet, pulling out different drawers and gathering surgical equipment.

“Lute was just here. She informed me of his fate and brought his halo as proof.” Her voice became a snarl when she returned to his side. “Though she didn’t care to elaborate how that happened.”

No wonder she hadn’t come down to check on him immediately. There had been an uninvited guest to handle, and after that … she hadn’t even changed clothes, yet, still wearing her purple swimsuit, the sunglasses tugged in her hair … he had heard her running bare feet towards the stairs …

Alastor watched the instruments in her hands as she placed them carefully next to his head, neatly sorted. A scalpel. Tweezers, some pointed and some rounded at the tip. Different sized forcipes. A small round dentist’s mirror on a telescope handle. Cloth, a small metal bowl fille with water, and medicinal alcohol for cleaning. Measuring tape. No bone saw.

One should learn to appreciate the small mercies when they presented themselves.

“What are you going to do now, with your deal nullified?” Alastor’s voice was quiet, and his eyes still fixed on the instruments that would soon enough prod his flesh, giving her the option to pretend that she had not heard him. He didn’t expect for her to let out a short snicker. He looked up at her to see her smirk.

“Well, my dear, fortunately that is where Lute and you are both wrong.”

He stared at her in bewilderment. Did she really mean to say that her deal with Adam had not been broken?

“How?”

By the look of amusement she gave him, he knew that she had no intention of answering.

“Let’s see how bad Adam messed you up, shall we? I need a full assessment of your physical condition.”

With a snap of her fingers, she summoned her laboratory journal and a feathered quill. Both items hovered in the air behind her, writing down and sketching out any thoughts the Queen wanted to preserve while she worked on Alastor.

She started with cleaning the coagulated blood around the wound. Her movements were methodical and quick, the applied pressure careful but firm to get the job done and expose the true dimensions of the gash that split his body. Lilith was not concerned with causing him pain due to the potion he had consumed, and neither was Alastor – that was not the reason why shivers crawled over his skin like spiders, why his muscles twitched uncontrollably where the fabric wiped away dried blood. Not to be able to feel pain momentarily did not mean that he couldn’t feel at all. But the fact that her touch caused him discomfort had never stopped her before and never would, it was something he was used to endure by now.

What he was not used to, however, was somebody rummaging in his insides.

Lilith was careful, cautiously pushing intestine to the side, slightly lifting one of his lunges, prodding at severed muscles. She watched and measured, humming to herself in confirmation, frowning questionably, and never speaking her thoughts aloud. The quill scratching over the paper of the journal, scribbling. All the while the object of her study, the demon on the table, twitched and wriggled in his restraints. The thought crossed his mind that maybe, for once, she really tried to not hurt him more than he already was. To Alastor though, the Queen might as well have dug her claws into him and ripped him apart, a vivisection made even more harrowing by absence of pain, leaving him no distraction from every cursed tap and nudge and tug.

Instinctively his body tried to get away, pressing against the marble as if he could push himself through the stone to escape. The restraints held him firmly in place, he knew he couldn’t break them, and yet he fought them anyway. Red claws left scratches on the white and light gray surfaces in an attempt to grab and tear something. Alastor caught himself holding his breath until he had to gasp for air, only to stop breathing again, and again. He did not scream, but tried to make as little noise as possible to lay claim to the shreds that were left of his dignity. Though it didn’t help his efforts that the air was thick with static, undulating in its intensity, painting an all too clear picture of his distress. His teeth were clenched so hard together that he absent-mindedly wondered what would break first, the teeth of the jawbone.

Pain would have been better.

Pain would have been a relief.

He wanted to shower, wanted for the scalding hot water to burn, burn, burn everything away.

To set himself on fire and dance in the flames until there was nothing left to feel.

There was a gasp from the Queen and a jerk backwards that caught his attention. She had been surveying his cleaved sternum and broken ribs, lifting and moving aside shreds of torn muscle and tatters of skin to reveal the bones underneath. Alastor breathed fast and shallow at her halted investigation, studying her face. She looked concerned. Almost … frightened? It piqued the demon’s curiosity instantly. It also provided an excellent distraction from his current predicament.

“Bad news, I take it?”

The Queens eyes were still locked on his chest.

“Hunger level?”, she demanded to know instead of answering.

Alastor closed his eyes for a moment in contemplation. Her treatment of him had pushed the gnawing sensation to the back of his mind, but it had not been diminished.

“Five, verging on six.” He looked at her again to observe her reaction. She seemed to stop herself from cursing, only a drawn-out hiss escaping her.

“That’s a recent development?”

“Since the battle. It took all my power to stay alive. I feel … drained.” Craving.

“I see. You took care of yourself down there? Fed regularly?”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Sinner meat?”

“Almost daily.”

“No souls?”

“Obviously not, as to your instructions.”

A slight frown, a click of her tongue against teeth. She took her journal in hand, turning the pages and skimming her notes. Lilith was concerned about something other than the wound, he realized. How interesting.

Lilith turned and walked towards the bookshelf to consult one of the grimoires. As his eyes followed her, he caught a movement at the door. A small figure hiding behind the frame and the staircase wall, the little head poking out just enough for one red and lavender eye to peek into the room. It widened as their gazes met, the sudden realization of having been caught peeping.

Alastor turned one of his hands palm side up and beckoning with a curled claw for the child to enter. The boy took a hesitant look at the distracted Queen, then ducked and tip-toed on golden and black cloven hooves towards the table to hide under it. Alastor smirked, straining his arm and wrist to let his claw tips dangle down the edge. One of them was grabbed by small, equally clawed fingers.

This touch he welcomed, the first one a long time.

But he had to break the contact when Lilith turned around.

“Well, there are bad news and there slightly less bad news”, she said as she walked over again, her voice somehow more optimistic sounding than her words let on. She dismissed the restraints with a wave of her hand, and Alastor moved to slowly sit up. He looked at the injury that was no longer bleeding, but that wasn’t healing and knitting itself back together, either. The Queen continued speaking.

“Adam’s attack must have been infused with Holy Fire. It’s still burning your flesh, which is why the wound isn’t healing. The potion I gave you counters the effects for now, but it will not last. The Holy Fire will kill you, if not extinguished.”

“Lovely”, he sarcastically retorted, ears drawn back.

“Luckily for us, there is exactly one being in Hell that actually can heal you, and you should be able to gain access to him through Charlie.”

They locked eyes. Alastor’s ears pinned back flat.

“Lucifer.”

“The King of Hell and former arch angel, yes.”

Of course it had to be him. What a cruel joke. The irony of it all!

“How much time do I have?”

She narrowed her eyes at that. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I can’t just go and beg for his help without being asked questions I can’t answer or demanded a price I can’t pay. We are talking saving my life after all. And we don’t want the King finding out about this, do we? But if I am to play my cards right to get the desired result, I need an estimate as to how long I can risk dragging things out.”

Lilith considered his explanation and finally studied her journal again, contemplating. Meanwhile, Alastor turned around, his back to the Queen and letting his long legs hang from the edge of the table. He felt pointy claws poke at his hooves teasingly, his ankles twitching at the tickling sensation. The demon started to hum, seemingly to himself, to drown out and hide the quiet giggles from under the table.

He turned his head around to look at Lilith when he heard the journal shut with a clap.

“My best estimate with regards to the limited data at hand … would be two weeks. Up to four if you restrain your use of magic and physical activities.”

That … was not much time, but he could work with that. He would come up with something, he always did. If things got dire, he could use the favor Charlie owed him, either directly or as leverage. But it was more beneficial to him to keep the favor for later, if possible, so he would treat that option as an emergency plan only.

He nodded his understanding, but the Queen leaned in with such a stern expression that the demon tensed reflexively.

“Let me be clear, Alastor – I don’t usually care about your little games, but you are getting reckless.”

She summoned the purple chain and pulled him closer, their faces almost touching. Alastor had to catch himself from leaning back to far with his arms propped behind him.

“I will keep a close eye on you this time, and I don’t care if you have to bend over backwards to get Lucifer to heal you, but if you fail me again, I will summon you no matter the consequences. Understood?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Good.” She banished the chain. Alastor quickly leaned forward again to distance himself from the woman. He pulled up his legs to sit cross-legged, out of reach for little tickling hands.

“And we need to find a way for you to report back. I don’t have another crystal for you to take with you.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

There was a pause, and Alastor turned his head again in her direction.

“Four weeks. If I sense through the chain that you are being healed before that, I’ll grant you another four weeks for reporting. Otherwise, I’ll summon you regardless.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“It is, and don’t you ever forget that. Now be a dear and stitch yourself back together, will you?”

And with that, she left, closing the door behind her. Alastor waited for her steps to quiet down before he stood from the table. What had that woman done with his clothes? He tested his magic cautiously, dressing himself in underwear, pants and boots, leaving his upper body bare. He bent slightly down at the hips, craning his neck to look at the grinning boy crouched underneath.

“If your mother had found you peeping, she would have dragged you out by the ear and spanked your little butt for disobedience. You know that, right?” He wasn’t scolding, merely … checking, one eyebrow raised.

“But she didn’t find me!”, was the cheeky and overly confident answer as the little demon left his hiding place. Alastor straightened up and huffed.

“Just because I covered your slip-ups. Alexis, what did I tell you about depending on someone else’s mercy?” Now he was scolding, voice deepening and eyes narrowed.

The boy lowered his eyes, smile falling. His ears – deer one’s like his father’s but with blond fur and black tips – sagged downwards, as did his shoulders.

“That I must avoid it. But you and mother –“

“Exactly, your mother and I! You did see me strapped to this very table, didn’t you? Did that look desirable to you?”

Alexis shook his head, still looking at his hooves.

“Good. Remember that.”

Alastor knelt down carefully as to not aggravate the gash in his chest, and opened his arms in an invitation. The little demon lifted his head and lunged into the embrace. He felt the impact rattle his body much more than he liked, and he couldn’t help the short screech of static that escaped him. Still, he allowed his son to squeeze him tightly as he held him. It suddenly reminded him of Charlie.

“Now, now, mon cœur, enough of that, let me look at you!”

Alexis let go of him and took a step back, eyes now bright with joy again and smiling. Alastor looked him up and down in astonishment.

“Damn, boy, you grow like a weed …”

And that was not just a phrase. Technically, Alexis was only three years and a few months old, but he grew thrice as fast as a normal child would, giving him now the appearance and maturity of a seemingly ten-year-old. His blond hair, interspersed with red streaks and black tips, had grown to a medium length and was tied low into a little ponytail. The horns had grown a bit more prominent, too, following the skulls curvature with the tips bending up. The tips had also split into two points each, Alastor noticed. He took his son’s hand in his own and examined them. The golden claws had grown and sharpened, the skin up to the elbow had darkened a couple of shades. They were not black yet, like the short fur at the legs, but they would probably get there.

“I got more teeth, too! Look!” The boy opened his mouth wide to show the various gaps where milk teeth had fallen out and new pearly white and razor-sharp teeth were growing back. Alastor hummed in appreciation, and Alexis stood proud at the praise, his long black scaled tail with the blond and black tuft at the tip was swiping through the air in excitement.

“Excellent! Now we have to convince your mother to –“

He was interrupted as the stinging sensation of activated wards rushed through his body. They had both felt it, Alexis’ eyes growing wide. He darted off to run upstairs and hide in his room as he had been trained to do, but Alastor stopped him by catching his wrist. There was an angelic presence already at the front door. A strong one. His ears, raised forward in high alert, had already picked up the sound of banging from upstairs, and the clacking of high-heeled boots walking towards the entrance.

“What –“

The demon hushed his son with a single claw to his lips. Alastor’s eyes traced the ceiling, following the muffled sounds. He could discern two female voices, one of which was Lilith, and both sounded angry. They were not yelling, but he got the impression that this could change any moment. Voices and steps moved around the house, at one point ascending the stairs to the upper floor. Alastor suddenly realized that the unknown entity was surveying the building, with Lilith following instead of leading. When the steps returned to the ground floor, they moved across towards the basement stairs, and it became evident that the Queen would not be able to stop the visitor from entering the basement.

For a moment, Alastor contemplated letting himself be discovered. It would surely get Lilith in more trouble than she apparently already was in. To be in Heaven due to a deal with Adam was one thing, but that deal did not officially include any other demon. But that also meant that there was no protection in place for him, and he had no doubt what this angel would do the moment they laid eyes on him.

And what they might do to Alexis was a whole different can of worms.

He scooped up his son and stood in a swift motion. It was a good thing now that the potion suppressed any pain. There was no time left to go about this gingerly.

“Not a sound!”, he commanded in a harsh whisper. The boy clung to his side, arms slung around his father’s neck and legs around his waist, supported by Alastor’s arm. The fabric of Alexis’ pants was scraping against his oversensitive skin and the lower edge of his wound, making him shudder. That potion was a miracle right now.

The steps descended the stairs, the voices arguing.

Alastor cleaned the room of any droplet of blood with a snap of his fingers, vanishing the surgical utensils back into their respective cabinet drawers, and hurried over to the cage. As the cell door shut behind them, a glow of purple, silver and blue magic pulsed the runes on the bars and walls, activating seals of containment and illusion. To any onlooker other than Lilith, the front of the cell niche appeared to be nothing but an empty marble wall. Nevertheless, Alastor retreated a far as possible, pressing his back against the wall. His lips were curled into a silent snarl against the nearing threat.

The basement door was pushed open. A giant female angel stepped inside, so tall that her glowing halo would have scraped the ceiling if she weren’t constantly tilting her head down with a condescending look. Three pairs of wings were folded behind her back. A white and light bluish-gray dress contrasted with her darker skin. Her long her fell in voluminous locks down her back. Silver eyes surveyed the contents of the room with a frown.

“– outrageous, Sera, High Seraphim or not!” Lilith’s voice vibrated with concern in the disguise of contained fury. The angel was probably unable to tell the difference, unlike Alastor. Their eyes met through the shimmer of the illusion, and he could see the moment her fear turned into relief upon spotting Alexis and him behind the protective barrier.

“What is truly outrageous, your Majesty, is the existence of this deal in the first place! Not to mention how long this has been going on!” She motioned vaguely at the room and turned to face the Queen. “What is all this for?”

Lilith crossed her arms, having reigned in her emotions a bit more. “You are privy to the contents of the deal now, Sera, I am sure you are aware of what I’m doing here.”

“I am aware of your so-called research, your Majesty. But what exactly is it for? What are your intentions?”

“And what does that matter? I can’t go back to Hell to use any knowledge gained to ‘rile up my people’, as you put it.” The Queen cocked an eyebrow, contempt seeping into her voice.

Sera lowered her head close to the Queen. “Your intentions matter insofar as to influence my decision if this arrangement will be dissolved or not!”, she threatened.

For a few long moments, both women glared at each other, until Lilith straightened her posture a little more without breaking eye contact. Her expression softened a bit but stayed firm overall.

“I think we have a lot to discuss then. I am sure I will be able to dispel your … concerns.”

The High Seraphim contemplated the offer for a moment, before straightening up herself with an aura of righteousness.

“Very well, follow me then. We shall discuss the details in my office.” She walked past the Queen and out the door.

Behind the angels back, Lilith snarled silently at being ordered around but followed without complaint. Before closing the door behind her, she cast one last look at the two demons hiding at far end of the cage. She let the lock click open with a small wave of her finger.

Still, Alastor didn’t dare move or let go of his son until he felt the angel’s presence vanish outside of the house. He had to pry the boy from his body, who looked at him with fearful eyes, ears pinned flat.

“It’s alright now, mon cœur, they’re gone.”

“Who … who was that?”

“Someone dangerous.”

Alexis frowned at that. “Will mother be okay?”

“Most certainly.” He had no doubt that Lilith would talk her neck out of this noose. “Now, this injury needs stitching. Would you like to assist me?” A distraction. One the boy jumped at.

“Really? Oh yes, yes, yes!”

They left the cell and Alastor leaned against the table, summoning a curved suturing needle with green glowing thread. He explained the basics of how hold the needle with the claws, how to puncture skin and muscle correctly, and how to knot the thread. He made the first few stitches himself to demonstrate, then let his son try his hand at the next, correcting where needed. The boy worked slowly and needed to redo several stitches, but that was fine, Alastor needed time to think.

The High Seraphim’s visit had been … interesting. It was clear now that Lilith’s deal with Adam must have been transferred over after the First Man’s death, making Sera the second party of the agreement. Which was unexpected, to him at least. Had Lilith known about this transfer in the event of Adam’s demise, or had she also been surprised? Lute seemed to not have been aware of this fact, although privy to the existence of the deal itself.

It was obvious, however, that the High Seraphim hadn’t been aware of Adam’s actions and was not pleased at finding out. No matter what outcome the Queen was able to negotiate, he had the distinct feeling that the game had now changed. Again.

“Alexis?” The boy looked up at him. “Do you know what happened to the radio?”

The child’s face was riddled with guilt.

“I – … It fell down and … broke.”

Alastor observed his son’s face attentively.

“Mon cœur, you’re not good enough of a liar to trick me.”

The boy bit his lower lip and und looked down, and that just wouldn’t do. He lifted thelittle demon’s head up with one claw underneath his chin. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’m … I’m sorry! You said you would show me when you came back, but you were gone for so long and I got bored and … and I took the radio apart to figure out how it works and now I can’t put it back together …”, he sniffled, eyes glistening wet.

“Shhh, son, there’s no need to cry. I’m not mad.” He rubbed a thump soothingly against Alexis’ cheek.

‘You were gone for so long …’

“You’re not?”

“No, mon cœur. You tried, and you failed. Now learn from that failure.”

Alexis frowned, but nodded.

‘You were gone for so long …’

“How about a little quid pro quo: you finish stitching me up, and I show you how to repair the radio. What do you say?”

The boy’s face lit up again.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good boy!”

A faint noise made his ear twitch and Alastor shifted his gaze to the side. Lilith stood in the door, leaning against the frame, watching quietly with an expression the demon couldn’t quite decipher. She must have been exceptionally convincing for the discussion with the High Seraphim to be this short, or maybe they had agreed to postpone some of the topics for another meeting. Either way, she didn’t appear to be in a hurry to pack their belongings and go back to Hell. Or for the angels to come and take them into custody.

He looked down at Alexis, the child’s face grimacing in high concentration with his tongue sticking out at the side of his mouth, as he worked on suturing his father’s flesh and skin together as best as he could. When his eyes darted back to the Queen, he suddenly understood the look in her eyes that were now watching her son.

Longing.

Not for him, thank the stars, but for a concept, an idea. No, he corrected himself, worse yet: for a memory. For something Alastor neither could give her, nor wanted to.

After a few moments, Lilith turned and left father and son to themselves.

Alastor was allowed to spend the rest of the day and the night to recover and reassemble the radio.

Chapter Text

3 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

BANG!

Lucifer jolted awake … and could not, for the life of him, tell what had startled him. There had been a sound, right? He was almost sure …

BANG!

There it was again! That sounded like –

BANG! BANG!

Gunshots! Gunshots at the hotel! And they had been close, too, loud as they were. Lucifer threw the duvet aside and jumped out of the bed. He portalled one floor below his apple shaped tower where he thought the shots had come from, ready to rain down Hellfire on whatever threat had been able to work its way this far up the hotel – tail slashing, wings spreading wide and horns protruding his forehead. Golden irises on red sclera looked around frantically to find –

The Radio Demon stood on the balcony equipped with a hunting rifle. He looked out towards the city, head high like he was searching the sky for something. Niffty was pressed against the bars of the railing, literally vibrating and cackling with maniacally glee.

“That’s four out of four, sir! Oh, there’s another one!” The little demon maid pointed somewhat left, and Alastor turned his head to follow her direction. Then his eyes narrowed, grin widening mischievously.

“Well spotted, my dear!”, he exclaimed, aiming the rifle at whatever target she had proposed.

Lucifer watched, mouth agape, as the barrel of the rifle followed an obviously moving target he couldn’t see.

“What in the unholy FUCK is happening here?!”, he yelled, baffled by the situation. His form reverted to his usual appearance.

“Language!”, the deer demon chided in a sing-song voice without even looking at the King. A red claw tightened around the trigger and –

BANG!

This time Lucifer could hear what sounded like a small explosion in the distance as something met its demise at the impact of a .22 caliber bullet.

Niffty cheered and jumped on the railing, little hands fisted into the air on apparent victory. Alastor ejected the five-round box magazine and handed it to the one-eyed demon to restock with ammunition, before pulling out another full magazine from his coat pocket to reload the rifle. His movements were quick and efficient. Trained. He didn’t need to look what he was doing, turning his head around to finally face Lucifer instead.

“Well, good morning, your Majesty! Or rather, good afternoon, I suppose.”

The demon’s voice was entirely to chipper for Lucifer’s taste. Red eyes trailed over the fallen angel, sizing him up. He felt judged by the way one dark eyebrow arched up, which opened up a pit in his stomach. And for good reasons, it seemed, because apparently, he had overslept despite promising Charlie that he would take part in her activities. Oh no, he was failing her already, and they had just rebuilt the hotel …

Fuck, how long had he slept?

Lucifer reached for his phone when the next unpleasant revelation hit: he was still in his pajamas. His baby-blue duck pajamas. He had hurried to defend the hotel and hadn’t spared a single thought about his appearance. Which would have been fine if there had actually been a threat, but with it just being the annoying buck boy shooting at things … Well, better to push down the rising embarrassment that already started to colour his cheeks in a golden hue and focus on the anger about said shady activity instead.

After a quick change of clothes, of course. Lucifer snapped his fingers and felt immediately better in his usual attire.

“Alastor, what are you doing? What is the gun for?”

“Pest control!”, was the cheerful answer that did not clear up anything at all. “Niffty, dear, how about scouting the other side of the building. I think we’re done here for now.”

With a yelp of excitement, she scurried away.

“Pest control? What do you mean? Are you shooting at potential guests now?” And why hadn’t Charlie shown up yet to put a stop to this insanity?

Alastor secured the rifle and slung the weapon over his shoulder with a strap. He tilted his head and gazed at the King with a sharp look through narrowed eyes.

“And why would you think that, your Majesty? Are we sinners all vermin to you?” And with that, he strode past Lucifer towards the other side of the hotel, humming quietly along a lively jazz tune that suddenly accompanied his very being. Forcing the King to follow him if he wanted to rectify his question.

Which was precisely what the fallen angel did.

“NO!”, he yelled a little too loud, embarrassment rearing its ugly head again, and bringing a friend named ‘guilt’, too. “That’s not what I meant, asshole, and you know it! I was rather under the impression that YOU would look down on your fellow sinner brethren like they’re all cockroaches under your boots!”

“Hmm. Fair enough. Although I’d hardly call them ‘brethren’.”

Lucifer stumbled over his feet at the admission, still trailing behind the demon. This guy!

“Uh, and what would you call them, then?”

Alastor eyed the King from the side. The light background music became dissonant. His grin grew wide, maliciously, razor-sharp teeth at full display. The shadows gathered and the nearest hallway light flickered, accentuating the demons glowing red eyes.

“P̸̟̺̪̣͗r̵̬͖͆̀ë̶̢͍͚͇̘̀y̴̧͙̘͚̖̱̆͜.“

In an instant the surroundings changed back to normal, replaced by an amused snicker due to Lucifer’s gawking face. This guy!

“Uh-hu, because that’s so much better than – wait, you ARE shooting at sinners, aren’t you?!” Did sinners tend to explode when shot at? Was that a thing?!

“Heavens, no! I’m merely getting rid of some flying little nuisances –“

“Sir! There are two more! Over here!” Niffty’s excited voices called over to them, her little head poking out of the small sitting alcove that was situated in the center of the hallway right outside the elevators. Each floor had one of those social meeting or waiting areas, although with only a hand full of residents, most of them staff, they weren’t used much. If at all.

“Ah, speaking of!” Alastor stopped at a wall section between two hallway windows. Taking the rifle back in hand, he neared the next window staying close to the wall. He then stopped at the edge of the window frame, back pressed against the wall, cautiously peeking out as to not be seen himself by …

His prey. He’s on a hunt. Stalking.

The music had stopped, too. Suddenly, it was far too quiet. With barely two handful of residents, the empty hallways of the grand new Hazbin Hotel were deathly silent without people making noise.

And Lucifer just … watched. That was he was here for, right? Besides helping Charlie with her hotel and trying to reconnect with his daughter in the process, which he was already failing by oversleeping and NOT attending her scheduled meetings and … yeah, so, uhm, besides that, he was here to learn about this sinner. To find out as much as he could, to understand the demon and, hopefully, understanding his dreams in the process.

Lucifer summoned his phone to check the date. It was the third day since the failed Extermination. He was somewhat relieved that he had only slept for one and a half days instead of a week or more. The actual fight had been over rather quickly, everything considered, leaving an entire day’s worth for starting with the reconstruction. Which they had done, after treating the wounded. There had been no need for burying the dead – the cannibals had taken every corpse with them to Cannibal Town, be it Exorcist or one of their own.

The rebuilding had taken roughly 24 hours, thanks to Lucifer’s powers, and right at the end as they put on finishing touches, Alastor had suddenly reappeared after having been missing in action. Which had annoyed the fallen angel immensely, if he was honest. To cause Charlie such distress for disappearing during the battle and not to be found after amidst the survivors – although Husk and Niffty had both reassured her that the deer demon must be still alive – only to show up like nothing had happened right after all the heavy lifting had been done!

Charlie had been unbelievably relieved to see him, though … She had flung her arms around the sinner in a tight embrace, eyes glistening with tears of joy. Alastor’s signature smile had been smug as his and Lucifer’s gaze met, and the King had rolled his eyes at that, but when he glanced back …

For a moment, the demon hadn’t looked at him but Charlie, expression surprisingly soft. For a moment, Lucifer could have believed that Alastor genuinely cared.

Right now though, all he could see was a hunter on the prowl.

Huh, curious. In his dreams, he had never perceived the Crimson Stag as a predator. Something to keep in mind, perhaps?

“Niffty, be a dear and open the window where you’re at.”

Lucifer blinked his straying thoughts away. Alastor’s eyes weren’t searching anymore, instead being intensely focused on something outside.

“Okay!”

Niffty did as she was told, opening one of the windows directly at the little sitting area. The target the deer demon was observing seemed to suddenly move, ruby eyes with slit pupils gazing upwards. Alastor smirked and vanished into his shadow.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

There was no answer, of course, only the little maid giggling. But he didn’t need to search long, pinpointing Alastor’s presence on the roof. Lucifer instantly opened a portal and stepped through.

BANG!

He could see it now: a little flying drone, having just lost one of its rotors, was slowly sauntering downwards, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it. Alastor spun around while quickly cycling the action to take another shot at a second drone that tried to leave the perimeter of the hotel in haste.

BANG!

A small explosion, scattering pieces of metal and plastic in a short burst of electrical sparks, and that was that.

“Nice shot, too bad you missed the sweet spot on the other one!”

Lucifer stepped a little closer to the edge of the roof to follow the downward spinning drone with his eyes. The device tried its best to stay in the air, sputtering and jerking, but unable to really control its flight with only one functioning rotor. He heard the metallic ringing of a cartridge being ejected and hitting the roof top, then steps approaching. The fallen angel looked up when the other man stood just a few feet beside him.

“Unfortunately, it seems as though my perfect score is indeed ruined. What a shame.”

The demon’s red eyes watched the spiraling drone with a look of distaste, his smile thin.

“You know what … Bonus points if you can take it down before it hits the ground. Think you’re up for that?” The King flashed a toothy grin, one eyebrow raised in a challenge.

“Oh? Is that a wager I hear?” Alastor turned his head, mimicking Lucifer’s expression in addition to his ears perking up, the acceptance of the challenge unspoken but evident nonetheless. For some reason it sent a thrilling tingle down the fallen angel’s spine.

“Sure, why not? Looser has to, uhm, make dinner for everyone?”

“Hmm, I suppose Niffty would welcome a relief from cooking duty. Fine then!”

Alastor took aim. The stuttering drone was jolting its way down the hillside from the direction of the main entrance, maybe 20 feet in the air and still tumbling downwards.

Eighteen feet.

Fifteen feet.

Two figures came running up the hill to the hotel. Lucifer’s eyes widened in recognition and sudden realization.

Ten feet.

“WAIT! DON’T –“

BANG!

The drone was reduced to pieces in a plume of smoke and sparks, merely 50 feet from the oncomers. Charlie and Vaggie halted their steps in surprise and shock, turning their heads to look up. Vaggie’s cursing could be heard even from that distance.

“You SHOT at my DAUGHTER!” Lucifer threw his hands to his temples in utter disbelieve.

“Oh, calm down, I did no such thing!” There was the sound of the rifle’s bolt action being cycled.

The King spun around, grabbing the taller demon by his lapels and pulling him down close to his face. His horns sprouted from his forehead, eyes glowing bright red, and tail slashing.

“That was far to close, you bitch! You could have hurt them!” Flames licked from his mouth, but Alastor didn’t flinch. There was a look of surprise, though, that was quickly replaced by something between annoyance and anger. Or both. The demon grabbed the fallen angel’s wrists with one larger hand in an attempt to free himself from the King’s grasp but found himself struggling – Lucifer was far stronger than his small figure let on. Alastor would not be able to get away if Lucifer wouldn’t allow it.

“Don’t try to pretend now that you expected me to miss my mark that spectacularly, your Majesty! I wouldn’t have taken the shot if it had put Charlie or her paramour in harm’s way”, Alastor growled.

The deer demon seemed to be sincerely offended. Huh. However, Lucifer just couldn’t figure out whether he took offense with regards to the fallen angel doubting his marksmanship or his unwillingness to endanger Charlie. Probably the former, Lucifer was decidedly NOT convinced that this violent psychopath in front of him would even hesitate to harm Charlie, given the right circumstances. He had seen what the Radio Demon could do to other sinners firsthand, and all with the same gleeful malice Niffty expressed while killing roaches.

“And don’t you EVER dare!”

“If I wished for harm to befall the Princess, I would have let the angels do their job!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who BAILED in the middle of the fight!”

Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dials at that, and his antlers grew a third set of spikes.

“Says the miserable excuse of a FATHER who was absent from the battlefield until the very last moment to play hero!”

Now that was a dagger straight to the heart. It took the wind right out of Lucifer’s sails, to the point where his eyes reverted to their usual colours. There was no clever retort, at least none the fallen angel could come up with.

“Fuck you!” He let go of the demon, pushing him a few steps back. The irony of those words now leaving his lips in a reversal of their very first meeting was not lost on the King, but the taste was bitter.

“Tsk. No, thank you!” Alastor straightened with a snarl and smoothed out the creases in his lapels with one hand while slinging the rifle over his shoulder with the other. Without another word he vanished into his shadow, leaving Lucifer alone on the roof top.

He sighed in exasperation, frustrated at how fast the situation had escalated. And it was his fault, when he thought about it, of course it was. He had encouraged the final shot, and even if Alastor was the one to propose a bet, Lucifer had agreed to it. Of course a prideful prick like the Radio Demon would take the shot, no matter who was in the vicinity. Alastor had proven beforehand that he could hit a moving target in midflight with a rifle instead of using a shotgun. Of course he would be confident in his assessment not to hurt anyone nearby with a stray bullet. And Charlie hadn’t been that close …

But just the mere thought of her being hurt, being injured, again … He couldn’t bear it.

He hadn’t been there to prevent it three days ago. Alastor was right about that, he had swooped in only a heartbeat before Adam could do the unthinkable.

Last minute hero.

Pretty little lie, if there ever was on. The truth hurt so much more. The truth that none of that should have happened in the first place. If Charlie had just told him about the early Extermination, he could have prevented the entire thing from ever happening! He could have reminded Heaven that the agreement had been for annual Exterminations and that a second one the same year would be in breach of that contract. Even if Heaven had remained stubborn in its attempt, he could have kicked Adam’s ass the moment the heavenly portal opened.

But she hadn’t, and Lucifer couldn’t even blame her for that, nor would he EVER let her take responsibility for HIS neglect in this matter. HE was the one to wallow in self-loathing for a fucking month, not calling his daughter to hear how the meeting with Heaven went. He was the one to never step outside the palace, or even on the balcony to look at the city, HIS city, and to never notice the infamous Doom Clock of the Ambassy to display a much shorter countdown than agreed upon.

By Father, the fact alone that Heaven had gone through with this with a half year notice beforehand and apparently banking on him not noticing or intervening …

Charlie could never know. Never learn how many lives that had been lost in the defense of her hotel could have been saved. That her snake friend, Sir Pentious, who’s memorial mow decorated the lobby, could have lived. A daily reminder to Lucifer that cut as deep as Alastor’s words had.

Alastor, who’s portrait might have been right next to Pentious’ if he hadn’t bailed out of whatever situation he had found himself in.

Or … maybe not.

Maybe … there wouldn’t be a new hotel to commemorate anyone.

Which was absurd to think about. How could one sinner’s life or death effect any of this to give rise to such a thought?

The answer to that was easy: It couldn’t – and wouldn’t – were it not for the dreams. Which brought this whole spiral of thoughts back to the beginning of their encounter this morning … or rather afternoon: Alastor hunting drones with a rifle and being a damn good marksman doing it. There was a story to that, or maybe even a few.

Lucifer sighed again, this time a little less frustrated but still unenthusiastic. With the way their banter had ended, the deer demon was probably a little more on the unreceptive end on the chattiness spectrum towards the King right now.

He would have to appease the demon first, which he could do, yeah, no worries. Alastor did wear his pride like a second overcoat after all. A compliment or two, then an unassuming question sprinkled with a little more praise should do the trick.

But perhaps he should talk to Charlie first and see how she was doing after being maybe-almost-shot-at.

Lucifer opened a portal and stepped into the lobby. He was greeted by the sight of Charlie and Vaggie scolding the Radio Demon. Or rather, Vaggie was doing the scolding while Charlie looked more concerned than anything else, although he couldn’t tell if she was more worried about the incident or Alastor’s reaction towards being berated. And Vaggie wasn’t diplomatic with how she felt about the hotel being used as a shooting range.

The King glanced around to see if anyone else was currently present to witness the dispute. Husk was manning the bar as always, there was no sign of Angel, Cherry or Niffty.

Meanwhile, Alastor stood tall and looked down at the former Exorcist with an expression of mild condescension, one hand on the strap of the rifle and the other on his hip. He didn’t seem impressed in the slightest with her tirade.

“– is unbelievable! What where you even thinking?!”

“Are you quite finished?” Alastor let go of the shoulder strap to check his claws in a display of disinterest.

“What Vaggie means to say is”, Charlie interjected hastily, “that gunshots at the hotel don’t send the best message regarding the safety of the guests …”

“My dear, tell me then, what would you have me do instead to get rid of theses pesky flying safety hazards? I could take care of them by changing into a more monstrous form and the use of my tentacles, for al of the city to witness, I suppose?”

“No! That, uhm, that’s not really a better option … And what do you even mean by ‘safety hazard’, Alastor? They are not armed, right?”

“Not with what your paramour would consider weaponry, but with something just as equally dangerous. My dear, you want your hotel to be a safe place for all its residents, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course!”

“And is privacy not another aspect of that safety, equally as important as their physical well-being? You do always emphasize how important it is that what is said in group therapy, stays in group therapy –“

“In which YOU never particpate in, despite being present!”, Vaggie cut in, which earned her an annoyed eye twitch from the demon.

“Irrelevant!”, Alastor snarled, turning his attention pointedly back towards the Princess. “Do you wish for those sessions to be secretly recorded and exposed via the frivolous picture box?”

Charlie gasped. “NO, that would be terrible!”

“And do you wish for all the hard-earned moments of vulnerability you are so fond of to be taped through the windows, in the supposed privacy and safety of your guests’ rooms? The tears? The self-harm? The intimacy? All of it to be used as blackmail?”

The Princess’ expression was a look of pure horror, and it pained Lucifer to see her so distraught. Charlie buried her face in her hands.

“No”, was the quiet answer and Alastor looked satisfied at that.

Vaggie glared at Alastor but did nothing to refute Alastor’s arguments, opting to try and comfort her girlfriend instead.

“You’re disgusting”, she growled in a low voice, but the demon seemed unphased.

“Whatever for, my dear? Telling the truth? Preventing the very thing I know for a fact Vox would do given the opportunity?” He bent down at the waist, closing in on the former Exorcist. “You should be grateful I take my job seriously”, Alastor growled in an equally low voice that made his words sound more like a threat.

Lucifer finally moved, stepping closer and preparing to intervene if things should suddenly get ugly between the two. But before he could say anything, Charlie let go of her face and lifted her face to look at Alastor with an expression of renewed determination.

“You’re right, Alastor”, she said, which made Vaggie turn to look at her with concern. “You did your job as best as you could – you always have, and I’m sorry for having doubted you in this.” Charlie smiled at him, a little uncertain but genuine.

Lucifer felt jealousy coil in his gut like a snake posing to strike, and he had to restrain himself from charging the demon who garnered such attention from his daughter. It certainly didn’t help that said demon put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and the sharp smile softened just enough to feel genuine, too.

“It’s quite alright, my dear. All that matters is that you saw reason. Now that that’s settled, you will be pleased to see that you father is up and about, as requested. You wanted him to be present for some kind of announcement?” Alastor gestured towards the King, who was caught off guard by the unexpected inclusion into the conversation, change of topic notwithstanding.

“Dad! How are you, did you have a good rest?” Charlie turned towards her father and her face lit up. Lucifer felt his heart melt at the exuberant smile she gave him. Him, and only him. Take that, radio freak!

“Uhm, yeah, I think so? Sorry, sweety, for sleeping so long, I, uh, I didn’t mean to …”

“No, Dad, no need to apologize! You did look like you needed it after, you know, using so much magic to rebuild the hotel. I’m glad you’re feeling better!”

And she did, truly, he could see it in her eyes. What had he done to deserve her?

Nothing. He had done nothing. He wasn’t worthy of her. Yet. He wanted to be, oh so badly …

“So, what’s the announcement, Applepie?”

“Oh, right, I wanted to have all of you together for – wait, where are the others?” Charlie looked around the lobby but when finding only Husk at the bar, turned to the Radio Demon for answers instead.

“Well, Angel Dust had left for work this morning shortly after you and Vaggie went to town this morning. And I believe he sent Miss Bomb a message to let her know that he was done soon, so she went to fetch him –“

The main entrance doors flew open.

“Cavalry arrived, where’s the trouble?!”

Angel Dust stood there, four arms out and a Tommy gun in each. Next to the spider was Cherry Bomb, tossing one of her signature weapons up and down in one hand, fuse already lit. Both seemed more than ready to ‘fuck shit up’, as they say.

The rest of the group were staring at the two. Charlie was the first to recover, or at least the first to speak.

“Angel, Cherry! What are the guns for? Did something happen?”

“Did somethin’ – what do ya mean?! We heard gunshots comin’ from the hotel and came runnin’ as fast as possible to help!”

Lucifer sighed. He was awake for less than an hour and he felt already exhausted again. Too many people. Too much going on. Too much chaos. How did his daughter manage all this? How did anyone?

“Yeah, so about that, turns out it was just the bellhop over here sniping down some of these drones that belong to … who was it, again? Box or something?” He glanced over at Alastor who in return stared at him with an expression that was hard to read – something between irritation and curiosity? – and deer ears twitching.

“So what, you’re saying there’s no fight? Laaame!”, was Cherry’s response. She carelessly threw her bomb over her shoulder and walked towards the bar. A pinkish explosion occurred just outside the entrance only a moment later.

“Whoa, wait a second!” Angel approached the group while putting away his guns. Lucifer wasn’t sure where those four fairly clunky Tommys went, but then again, maybe it was better if he didn’t know. This was Angel Dust after all.

“Whadda ya mean, Smiles sniped Vox’ drones? I took ya more for a knife guy, not a – IS THAT A WINCHESTER?!” Angel had gotten close enough to take a look at the rifle, and now he was downright gushing at the weapon.

“Indeed, my good fellow! Model 52.” Angel’s proclaimed appreciation for Alastor’s choice of arms seemed to stroke the deer’s pride in just the right way. The spider let out a short laugh.

“Of course, shoudda known ‘King Roach’ would shoot the ‘King of the .22s’, if anything! Can I get a closer look? I haven’t seen one of those in ages!”

“Perhaps I indulge you later, but for now, I think our dear Princess is quite eager to share some information?” Alastor tilted his head, first at Angel and then at Charlie. He let the rifle finally vanish, absorbed in green magic and shadow.

“Oh, yes, right! Everyone, meet me in the Conference Room in ten minutes!”, the Princess proclaimed, enthusiasm radiating from every word.

The group scattered, people going to change clothes or grab a drink or a quick bite to eat. Lucifer watched the Radio Demon stroll in the direction of the Conference Room. Niffty suddenly appeared from somewhere, a little bag thrown over her shoulder. Bits of torn wire and shards of scorched metal were poking out through the tattered fabric. The little demon climbed up the much taller man to sit on his shoulder, and Alastor didn’t seem to mind.

Weird. Both of them.

Lucifer blinked slowly, one eye at a time, and started to follow the strange pair, having nothing better to do for the next ten minutes.

Chapter Text

3 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

The Conference Room was a new addition to the hotel’s interior design. It was a spacious room with a whiteboard, a pinboard, and a projector screen for Charlie to brainstorm and showcase her ideas in any way possible. And by the looks of it, the Princess had already made good use of both of the boards, judging by the scribbled notes and pinned drawings.

Alastor took a moment to take the room in. Its design was one of the first things he had changed, right after customizing his own new suite and radio tower to his personal style, making both truly his. But while those adjustments were a matter of taste when it came to his apartment and of usability regarding his tower, the redesign of the Conference room had been for his … comfort.

The centre piece of furniture was a table, naturally, that much was integral to the purpose of the room. But why did it have to be white marble? The demon had felt the cold and smooth surface on his bare skin the moment he had laid eyes on it, his stomach turning violently at the unwelcome memory. He had decided then and there that he would rather peel his skin of in bloody stripes than conduct meetings at this monstrous piece of stone.

So, he had changed it, white marble transforming into ebony wood, and while at it, reshaping the rectangle form into a slender oval shape. No need to be reminded of those tedious Overlord meetings, too. And since the rest of the furnishing didn’t quite fit anymore, he changed it as well. Matching carved ebony chairs with dark red cushioning. The wallpaper had been replaced with neoclassical walnut panels. The gray and white floral-patterned carpet turned into shades of scarlet and crimson. And with that, the rooms atmosphere had become somewhat foreboding as Charlie had put it, but Alastor had argued that it felt rather regal as was appropriate for a place where the Princess of Hell made important decisions. She had relented at that, reasonable girl that she was.

Alastor’s eyes skimmed over this week’s schedule but found no new additions to the usual lesson plan. He noticed, however, a prepared but still empty task list with all the resident’s names on it. No doubt Charlie planned to include them all in whatever idea she wanted to announce. Alastor already had a pretty good guess what that was, and if it turned out that he was mistaken by any chance, he could still pitch that idea himself. Though he would prefer for Charlie to be the one to set things into motion, it would allow for his own machinations along the way to be much more subtle. Afterall, it was a crucial part of his scheme to get just far enough into the King’s graces to be healed by the fallen angel without simultaneously getting indebted to him.

He wasn’t aware of his hand having wandered to his chest until he felt the dull pain under the light touch of his claws. At times he didn’t feel the wound at all until a wrong movement reminded him that his torso was still essentially split in half and only held together tightly by glowing green stitches. The pain was never sharp but always easily tolerable, the Queen’s potion still working its magic. But Lilith had insisted that time was of the essence, and after one day of recovery and two days of plotting his strategy, it was time to act. There were still some wrinkles in the plan to iron out, but he would have to figure that out while the dominoes were already falling.

Niffty climbed down his arm and coat to inspect the room for any signs of bugs to torture or stab, whichever crossed her little mind first. The Radio Demon walked to the head of the table, where Charlie would undoubtedly take her seat, to claim the chair to her right. He crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap to patiently wait for the others to arrive.

He didn’t have to wait long. In fact, mere moments later none other than the King himself entered the Conference Room. Alastor’s ruby eyes narrowed slightly. Was this coincidence or was Lucifer still following him around. The demon wasn’t sure whether he should be flattered or perturbed. Yes, he needed the King’s attention, but not too much too soon.

Lucifer stopped almost at the same spot as Alastor had, but instead of admiration he observed an annoyed eyeroll in the monarch’s face.

“Really now, since you weren’t here to have a hand in the hotel’s design, you can’t help yourself but revise other people’s hard work?” The fallen angel sounded both vexed and disappointed.

“Au contraire, your Majesty, you misunderstood my intentions. The hotel’s style is tolerable overall, but this room was not. It had not an ounce of charm, to be frank.”

“What? It’s a meeting room! It was light and inviting, a breeze of fresh air compiled into comfortable furnishing! We can’t have every room be dark and creepy and … red!”

“I beg to differ, red is part of your family’s royal crest and colours, is it not? Besides, the previous design was much too sterile, the Hazbin Hotel is not one of those modern companies. If anything, the Conference Room’s functionality corresponds to the Princess’ council chambers, and it should reflect as such, wouldn’t you agree, your Majesty?”

The expected retort from the King, be it angry or condescending or something else entirely, did NOT come. Alastor watched with growing bewilderment as the fallen angel gave the room another critical look-over, as if assessing the redesign again … and doing so in earnest?

“You know … You might have a point there, I’ll give you that.”

Alastor perked up, eyes wide and a short record screech underscoring his surprise. Lucifer didn’t seem to notice, still looking around the room and taking in the changes, which allowed the demon to quickly school his face into a more neutral expression. For the King to concede an argument that easily was … suspicious. After their first encounter the demon had expected the little monarch to be as adversarial as possible towards him, but perhaps it was just a matter of time for that side of the Devil’s temper to make itself known.

The restyling of a single room in a grand hotel was a trivial matter after all, and Alastor would not be fooled by Lucifer’s apparent lack of willingness to take their little banter to the level of arguing.

“But if you were going for a royal theme here, it’s still missing a little … splendor”, Lucifer continued, twirling his apple-tipped cane with one hand and casually flicking his other wrist.

Golden magic pulsed about the entire room, snaking like wafts of fog across the walls and embellishing the centre of the wooden panels with golden apples and crowned snakes. The magic washed over the chairs, lacing the cushions with golden embroidery, and carved a golden snake in an eight-shape into the dark wood of the table.

The magic drifted over Alastor, too, like a cool breeze and when it traced over his chest –

The Holy Fire flared up, pulling some of the angelic magic inside and feasting on it, like fuel added to a campfire. It sent a sharp spike of pain through the demon, pulling an involuntary gasp from his lips. Like answering a call, a deep growl – not from his throat, but his stomach – vibrated through his body and the hunger surged, the want and need to sink teeth into yielding flesh and to rip, to tear, to make bleed.

“Six”, he hissed quietly under his breath, as he waited for the pain to dull down again, which it did almost as quickly as it had erupted.

“Huh?” The King turned to face him with a questioning look. “Did you say something?”

Alastor froze, just now registering that he had spoken the word rather than thinking it. Spoken, no matter how quietly, the number he attributed to the ferocity of his hunger on a scale of zero to ten. Spoken, because Lilith was fiercely insisting on being informed about any change occurring to his hunger level under any circumstances – and wasn’t he such a good pet, so very well trained, as to obey her even now in her absence?!

Alastor felt bile rise in his throat as well as anger at himself for this humiliating slip-up. He bought himself a moment of time with fake cough to collect himself and slip the mask back on with a polite smile that was entirely too sharp. It didn’t matter though, since the goal was not to appear genuine, but just to mask his fury and shame.

“Why, no, your Majesty, just –“

He was spared coming up with an excuse as Charlie and Vaggie entered that very moment.

“Oh, you changed the room again?”, she asked, looking both at her father and the Overlord, apparently unsure whom to address with this question.

“Well, uhm yeah, sweetie, I thought I might just add a teeny-tiny bit of decoration as a final touch?”

Alastor smirked at the obvious uncertainty in the King’s demeanour, as if he expected to be admonished for his impulsive decision. Lucifer really didn’t know his own daughter very well, did he now?

She assured him that it was fine, of course, that the golden emblems looked beautiful. The Overlord bit his tongue to hold back any snide remark, because firstly, the King had relented in their argument over the design, therefore Alastor traded him the concession over the decoration, and secondly, yes, the gold on ebony black and red was, in fact, quite lovely to the eyes.

The rest of the residents now trickled in. Charlie took her position at the head of the table, as expected, with Lucifer seated to her left and Vaggie next to him, followed by Angel and Cherry. Husker took the seat opposite to the spider demon, leaving the chair next to Alastor empty. Niffty took advantage of that and hopped on the seat between the Overlord and the bartender.

With the whole crew assembled, Charlie greeted them all and without further a due came quick to the topic she had been waiting to announce: a grand re-opening celebration for the new and improved Hazbin Hotel. Music, dancing, catering, and everyone would be invited, hellborn and sinners alike. But she didn’t want the festivities only to be in connection with the hotel’s reconstruction, but also to be a victory celebration and a commemoration to the fallen.

There was of course not a single voice of disapproval towards her idea and everyone was eager to help with the preparations. The Princess was quick to jump into action and to write down everyone’s responsibilities on the whiteboard. Alastor waited for her to finish the assignments before he raised his voice again. Although he was pleased to find that Charlie’s idea was the very one he had expected of her and played well into his own plans, there was one point of concern he had to rectify.

“Charlie, dear, may I suggest moving up the date of the celebration? Usually, an event like this should be held within a fortnight of its occasion.”

“Within a fortnight? That would be in, like, ten days, maybe eleven?” The Princess seemed a little uncertain, but not entirely opposed.

“Yeah, isn’t that a little rushed? This is not supposed to be a small deathday party, this needs a lot more planning and stuff to be organized!” Of course the former Exorcist had to chime in.

“Well, I have come to understand that his Majesty is staying at the hotel to help, yes? I am sure that the King can take care of almost every wish the Princess has for a grand ball, so the rest of us can focus on tasks that can’t be accomplished with magic alone. I see no need for four weeks of preparations, ten days will be more than enough for that.”

He threw Vaggie a confident smirk and did his best to NOT look directly at Lucifer despite talking about the King in his presence. The Radio Demon was not exactly happy to point out the fallen angel’s immeasurable power as the obvious advantage that it was, but right now he would use every tool or argument available to him to get what he wanted. And by the way he could see Charlie get all puppy eyed in his peripheral vision, it was working.

“Besides”, he continued, “one can’t wait too long to honour fallen comrades, lest the surviving allies will interpret any delay as disrespect or disregard of their sacrifices. I’m sure I don’t have to remind anyone here that the late Sir Pentious was not the only casualty on our side.”

“The Boss’s got a point there, Princess. A number of cannibals got killed fighting for you, an’ you should better make a big show of how grateful you are. It could’ve been just us there three days ago.”

Alastor glanced at Husker from the side, he hadn’t expected the cat demon to say anything during the meeting, let alone agree with the Radio Demon. The again, Husker had been a soldier once in his human life, and he understood the value of a life sacrificed to protect others. Honouring comrades in arms, and all that.

The atmosphere grew sombre for a moment. Angel and Cherry exchanged looks. Vaggie leaned back and sighed in defeat, a reaction Alastor silently relished in.

And the King looked guilty, as if all these double-deaths weighed upon his own consciousness. Well, one could argue that was deserved. It was the same look that had crossed the fallen angels face when Alastor had called him out on being late to the battle, only this time it dawned on Alastor that the anger in those golden and red eyes was directed at Lucifer himself. Huh, that was a detail worthy to be filed away for later.

Charlie deflated a bit at the stern reminder but straightened herself with renewed determination. Good girl.

“Alright guys, thanks for bringing this up. I honestly wasn’t aware that this was such a big issue, but you’re right, we shouldn’t wait too long. A fortnight it is then, that leaves us eleven days. We’ll have our usual meetings and activities, but if you have to skip a session to get the preparations done, go ahead and do it!”

She took another look at the task list.

“Dad, if you don’t mind staying a little longer, we should go over your tasks again and talk this through. But everyone else, you can go and – oh, uh, yes Alastor? Do you have something else to discuss?”

The Radio Demon took his hand down, leaning on the table with his elbows and intertwining the fingers of both hands.

“As a matter of fact, I do, my dear. I might come across as rude, I’m afraid, to dare and bring this up while we are planning a victory celebration, but we shouldn’t postpone the topic of Heaven’s retaliation too much.”

“What do you mean, we just defended ourselves!”

It was Lucifer who answered his daughter’s question.

“Yes, you did, but Adam died as a result and Heaven will not take lightly to that. They will spin this around as some kind of unjustified act of aggression to execute the First Man.”

“Execute?! But we didn’t, we –“

“I know, Char-Char, I know, but that not the stance Heaven will take. If anything, they’ll push for compensation at best or come down again with an even bigger army at worst.” The look on Lucifer’s face was pained. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but that’s how Heaven thinks.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me?!”, Angel cried out, “We saved our own asses just for Heaven to wanna fuck with us even more?”

The King’s expression turned even more agonized. He sighed and nodded slowly.

“Well, fuck!”, was Cherry’s elaborate commentary.

“But there must be something we can do?”, Charlie exclaimed, her voice a mixture of hopefulness and desperation.

“Well, my dear, we certainly could – and should – take initiative in that matter instead of waiting for Heaven to make the next move.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Isn’t Heaven’s fear of sinners uprising the goddamn reason for the yearly slaughter? And now you want us to go on the offense?” This time, the feline demon didn’t hesitate to state his opposition to the demon who owned his soul. Alastor glanced at the cat in amusement.

“Husker, Husker, Husker, please refrain from putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But … you have an idea, right?” Charlie gave him a hopeful look.

“Why, I wouldn’t have addressed the topic in the first place if I didn’t, now would I? If you were so gracious as to indulge me for a moment?” Alastor stood from his seat.

“Of course!” The Princess’ excitement was now radiating of her body as she swapped places with the Radio Demon, sitting down in the chair he had just occupied. To his surprise, Alastor found himself being struck with a bit of pride by this little detail, something he would have to dissect later. For now, he had an audience to win over. He cleared his throat, mentally switching into broadcast mode.

“As we all now, Charlie’s goal to redeem sinners does aim simultaneously at replacing the Exterminations as a means to control Hell’s overpopulation by saving souls instead of erasing them. We are also now aware of the secrecy with regards to the Exterminations, and therefore to the Princess’ project as well.”

Laying down the factual foundations to set a baseline.

“But If Heaven’s authorities don’t want to hear about the Hazbin Hotel and try to sweep its noble cause under the rug, then we should take it upon ourselves to spread this information throughout Heaven’s population, and I know just the way to go about it!”

A short moment of pause to build a little bit of anticipation. Now for the main act. A stage performance was akin to a hunt. He already had the prey’s scent, now to drive into the designated killing area with the general idea of the pitch, trapping it …

“The idea is for a new and very special broadcast I call Words Left Unspoken. Every sinner has something he regrets not saying when he had the opportunity in his lifetime. It is a fundamental part of every mortal soul on Earth to always hope for a tomorrow to do and say what they didn’t dare today. But all too often fate takes a cruel turn and tragedy strikes, leaving oneself bereft of the chance to let their secret thoughts and feelings be known to those who mattered most to them. But what if there was a way to do just that, even though death has torn you apart?”

Now, on to the details, shoving the knife right though the ribs …

“That last regrettable fight you had with your significant other, where those harsh words spilled from your lips in the heat of the moment that made them storm off, just to have their life ended in that horrific car crash? Reach them in Heaven through Words Left Unspoken and let them know how sorry you are, how you didn’t mean any of it, and how you have wished for nothing more than to reconcile and rectify your mistake?”

… plugging on heartstrings, twisting the blade …

“Do your loved ones in Heaven even know what happened that dreadful night when you went for a quick trip to the store before closing to grab something insignificant you had forgotten earlier in the day? Tell them that you didn’t just ran away and started over elsewhere, but that you were snatched and killed and dumped in the river, never to be found? Give them closure and make peace with your untimely fate yourself!”

… going for the throat, leaving the prey bleeding and breathless …

“Or what about your child you only knew for a few months before you were deployed abroad, only for an enemy bullet to end your life? Tell them how proud you are to know they made it to Heaven, and how much you mourn the missed opportunity to see them growing up and to be there for them. And don’t forget to apologize to your spouse for making them a widow so young and not keeping your promise to come home.”

… and now for the argumentative coup de grâce …

“After all, your path to redemption starts with saying ‘Sorry’, and maybe one day you get to keep that promise and be reunited with your beloved, and nevermore have to bear the burden of those Words Left Unspoken.”

Again, a deliberate pause, but longer this time. Alastor relished in the stunned silence that spoke louder to him than thundering applause. Ruby eyes trailed over shocked faces, starting at Lucifer’s unreadable expression and ending at Charlie’s watering eyes.

Hook.

“What in the actual fuck …” Husker’s quiet muttering was the first sound to break the silence.

Alastor’s sharp grin widened. He could see the metaphorical spell that held his audience captive slowly breaking, so he raised his voice again. But his tone was quieter now, lower, less showmanship and more conspiratorial.

“The history of mankind teaches us that revolutions are started by the common people, never by the ones in power. Let the populace of Heaven know of their loved ones trying to be with them, let them know about the Exterminations which aim to prevent this – and Heaven will have an uprising on their doorstep not from Hell, but from within.”

Charlie couldn’t contain her sniffling and sobbing any longer. She sprung from her seat und threw herself at the deer demon in a crushing hug, and although Alastor had anticipated this reaction and braced himself for it, he hadn’t expected for her impact to send his torso aching again. Static blared and screeched, making the Princess jump back and apologizing profusely.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to, I – I just wanted –“

“No, my dear, I know you meant well and I must apologize to you, dear, that was a bit of an overreaction on my part, I’m afraid. I’ll take it that you like my idea?” Alastor cleared his throat and smoothed the wrinkles in his coat and shirt in and attempt to downplay and hide the true reason for his slip in self-control.

“YES, this is such a great way to promote the hotel and recruit more sinners, and Heaven will just have to listen to their own people and –“

“– And where was this idea six months ago? Or three months, or when we met with Heaven?” Vaggie threw her hands in the air in outrage. The former Exorcist was always more perceptive than Charlie, although this particular question was an obvious one that would have come up rather sooner than later. And right now, it even played into his hands.

“Ah, yes, glad that you ask! You see, although my signal is powerful enough to reach beyond the Pride Ring and down to Sloth, I must unfortunately admit that accessing other realms is not within my power –“

“So, what you’re saying is you can’t even DO this broadcast you just made a big show of?”

Oh, the impatience of this one! Alastor’s eye twitched.

“Yet. I can’t do it right now, BUT … if I were to obtain some sort of amplifier to strengthen my signal enough to reach Heaven, then we’re in the game. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a tinkerer myself to build such a device, and I will certainly NOT entertain the idea of having anything VoxTek-related near my radio tower. Besides, I’m sure their devices wouldn’t be of use anyway. I’m probably not wrong to assume that any craftsman would need to be exceptionally skilled to be able to account for both demonic and angelic magic?” He let his eyes linger directly on the King.

Line.

Lucifer stared back at him, a look of unease and wariness on his angelic features. Everyone else was looking at them, waiting with bated breath for the King’s verdict, or decision, anything.

“Because your signal would have to get through Heaven’s wards somehow, you mean?”, Lucifer deduced, talking slowly, tentative. “Well … you’re not wrong, I guess …”

“Ya can do it … right?”

Angel had been quiet since Alastor’s speech. Everyone turned to him. The spider had his eyes locked on the fallen archangel, pleading. His lip was quivering.

“Ya can build this … this thing that Smiles needs, right? The amplifier?” His voice was hitching.

Alastor tilted his head. How interesting, he hadn’t expected Angel to get this emotional over his pitch. But then again, the spider demon had quite the soft heart underneath his porn star mask.

Angel shifted is desperate gaze to the Radio Demon and visible swallowed.

“And then I can speak … I can speak with Molly?”

There was an audible gasp from Charlie, and something that might have been an extremely quiet curse from Husker. Cherry laid one hand on Angels back in attempt to comfort the spider.

“Usually my magic would allow for the recipient to reply if I want them to, but broadcasting into Heaven would be somewhat uncharted territory, so I won’t make any promises I might not be able to keep. But you could certainly talk to her.”

Angel didn’t need to know that Alastor was also banking on the possibility for a two-sided conversation, although it should technically satisfy Lilith’s request for regular reports to only send a message without being able to receive an answer. The spider demon nodded slowly and glanced back to Lucifer.

“Dad?” Charlie’s voice was soft and hopeful. Pleading.

And Sinker.

Alastor had to suppress a smirk.

The Princess reached over the table and took her father’s hands into her own.

“If anyone can make this possible, it’s you. You will help with this, right? Please, dad?”

The King took a deep breath and then smiled hesitantly.

“Of course, duckling, anything for you.”

Oh, that sweet girl could make her father tear out his heart and give it to her on a silver platter.

Maybe one day she will, if her mother is ever allowed back in her life.

.
…
.

Walking through Pentagram City could be almost called pleasant if it weren’t for the constant surveillance. It didn’t take long for Vox to catch sight of him, cameras turning everywhere to follow and record his every step. Fortunately, there was not much power needed to distort the images, his magic shielding him like an aura, invisible to the naked eye but glitching each and every recording.

Other demons on the streets changed directions or crossed the street the moment they laid eyes on him, leaving him undisturbed. As he turned to enter the Scarlett Rose bar, the door swung open and the sinner who had tried to leave jumped backwards as the Radio Demon towered in the entrance.

“Appreciated”, Alastor remarked with a sharp grin while stepping through the open door, and the sinner fled the moment the demon’s red eyes left him.

“Alastor, dollface! I hadn’t expect to see you at this early hour!” Mimzy greeted him with a hug.

“True, which is why I have to apologize, my dear. We’ll talk later, for now I shall take the backdoor, if you don’t mind.”

“Gotcha, prying eyes don’t make for good business, eh? Later, Al!”

He waved and walked through the Staff Only door next to the counter, vanishing into his shadow and slipping out the backdoor that let into the alley behind the bar. From there he took the shortest route to the Carmine Armory Headquarters. Alastor materialised at one of the side entrances behind one of the workers who was passing by.

“Hello there!”

The beetle demon spun around with a shriek, pulling a knife from his sleeve and swinging it in a flailing motion at the unexpected intruder. Alastor caught him by the wrist, twisting it sharply until bones cracked and the blade fell to the ground. Red radio dials in black eyes bore into the whimpering sinner.

“Try that again and I’ll bite your hand off! Understood?”

There was a pained hiss and a quick nod.

“Splendid! Now have your mistress known that I wish to speak with her. Please.” Alastor let go of the broken wrist, and the beetle hurried away.

The Radio Demon wated patiently for a few minutes until the metal door slid open. One of Carmilla’s daughters invited him in, the one with the darker skin and curly hair. Her name was Clara, he recalled.

She led him through the building to her mother’s office. Carmilla was handing her other daughter, Odette, a stack of papers when he entered.

“Alastor, I was not expecting a visit from you. Did you come for business on behalf of the Princess?”

“Good afternoon, Carmilla, thank you for welcoming me despite the short notice. And yes, I’ve come on behalf of the Princess, but the business part is an entirely private matter.”

Carmilla raised one eyebrow, but otherwise her facial expression remained neutral.

“I see. Please, have a seat.”

As they sat down, Carmilla sent her daughters out with a wave of her hand. The girls nodded and closed the office door behind them.

“Well?”

Always right to the point, straighter than an arrow, Alastor mused, but kept his thoughts to himself.

He reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a black and white invitation card with golden trimming and elaborate decoration. It had only taken about an hour for Charlie to decide on the design and craft two nearly identical cards, one intended for Carmilla and the other for Rosie.

“I have the pleasure to personally deliver the Princess’ invitation to her victory celebration, which will also mark the official re-opening of the Hazbin Hotel. The event will be open for attendance for every sinner, which will be announced soon, but as one of her closest allies it is only appropriate for you to receive a formal invitation.”

Alastor watched the other Overlord study the card. There was no indication on her face of what she thought about the rainbows inside. But there was a hint of a smile when she sat the card down.

“Please inform the Princess of my gratitude. My daughters and I will certainly attend.”

“Lovely. Now to business then.”

The Radio Demon flicked his wrist to summon his microphone cane. Or rather the two parts that were left of it. He placed the broken pieces on the desk for her to inspect, which she did without touching anything.

“It broke during the battle?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t repair it yourself?” There was no mockery in her tone, yet Alastor felt slightly offended anyway.

“I could, but I thought this to be a good opportunity to … improve it.”

Carmilla quirked an eyebrow again.

“And what did you have in mind?”

“Well, your specialty, of course.”

She leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingertips together.

“That can be done.”

They stared at each other, unblinking. Alastor just waited, Carmilla was already contemplating her response to a question he didn’t need to ask aloud.

“A favour.” Not a question, but a price firmly stated.

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement. “I would prefer it if you had something specific in mind.”

“I do.”

“Wonderful! And what, pray tell, can the Radio Demon do for you?”

“Since the failed Extermination all of Pride is aware that angelic weapons can not only be used to permanently kill a demon, but angels too. My weapons are more valuable now than ever, but that means that third parties, who have previously been uninterested in accumulating a larger arsenal, now have their eyes on what’s mine. Or try to, at the very least. It has only been three days and the current level of espionage attempts is already unacceptable.”

“Hmm. And here I thought I was imagining the increased number of drones in your territory.”

Carmilla’s lips curled for a moment.

“I have decided to protect my wares by relocating my angelic arsenal into a more secure and undisclosed warehouse. But for the transport to remain discreet, a distraction would be … most helpful.”

Ah. That’s where his services would come into play. Alastor snickered.

“You want me to wreak havoc at the Vee-Tower? And for how long?”

“Three to four hours would be beneficial.”

Alastor clicked his tongue in thought. That was quite a lot of time he would need to constantly exert his power, and possible even fight if he had to confront Vox directly. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about it, but Lilith’s warning echoed in his mind.

Then again, there was an opportunity here, a problem he previously had no solution for reshaping itself into a puzzle piece and slotting right into place. With the right timing, this could help him achieve his current primary objective and get rid of some blackmail material he was sure existed.

“May I suggest a date?” He reached over, one red claw tapping on the invitation card. “Four hours around noon?”

“The day of the celebration? Why?”

Alastor smirked.

“Would be a shame if Vox were to miss the event because he had to repair his precious servers.”

They went over some more details, then shook on the deal, a burst of magic sealing their arrangement. Alastor left Carmilla’s headquarters satisfied and travelled in is shadow back to the Scarlett Rose to keep his promise for a chat with Mimzy, before heading over to Cannibal Town to see Rosie.

Chapter Text

7 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

“You … MONSTER!”

Angel’s voice rang through the kitchen and out into the hallway, and for a moment, everything stopped. At least in the kitchen it did, the rest of the hotel surely being unaffected by the outburst. Lucifer whipped his head around and then halted all movement, as his eyes trailed the accusatory finger of the spider demon, that pointed straight at … not him.

The imaginary line missed his head by a few inches, leading to something or someone behind him. Lucifer turned around slowly, careful not to cross that invisible space connecting that angry fingertip with its target. Judging by Angel’s the expression of righteous fury that could rival even an archangel’s wrath, he wouldn’t be surprised if the air in that specific area was able to actually burn anything that came to close.

Then again, it was highly unlikely that anyone would spontaneously combust because of a pointing finger, even if said finger was shaking in outrage.

Especially not someone like the Radio Demon.

Huh, when had the deer demon entered the kitchen? Lucifer must have been deep in thought not to register the constant buzz of static that always accompanied the Overlord. Or maybe ‘spaced out’ was closer to the truth since he couldn’t remember a single thought, instead being entranced by the repetitive motions of kneading dough. Feeling the soft texture under his palms, pliant and malleable, the mixture of ingredients becoming something else, something more than just its components, was strangely soothing. A little bit like working on his rubber ducks, yet different.

He had been somewhat aware of Angel’s voice but hadn’t really heard a single word. Maybe there had been a second voice at some point, and maybe there had been static … Oh, who was he kidding, his mind had been gone from this plane of existence until Angel had cried out, he was as surprised to see the Overlord as Alastor apparently was by finding himself confronted with Angel’s outburst.

The red sinner stared wide eyed at the pink gloved finger pointing at him, ears pinned forward and grin frozen in place. The comparison to a literal deer in headlights came to mind. Static popped and crackled, followed by red eyes blinking slowly and out of sync. Slitted pupils flicked upward to the spider’s face and with a sickening crack Alastor tilted his head to the side much farther than need be.

“How astute of you to notice, Angel –“

“Oh FUCK OFF, that wasn’t a damn compliment ‘n ya know it!”

Angel was still fuming while the Radio Demon was already composing himself, straightening his posture. Lucifer’s gaze was drawn to the red clawed hands twitching as if trying to grab or hold onto something before being positioned firmly behind the demons back. The fallen angel frowned. He distinctly recalled the Radio Demon having a weird microphone for a cane, although he obviously didn’t need it for his voice to sound filtered as if coming from a speaker. But now that he thought of it, the King couldn’t remember seeing the deer demon with said microphone.

Did something happen to it? He couldn’t imagine someone as prim and proper like this grinning maniac displacing it. It probably had its own stand in the demon’s room.

Or maybe he has the microphone up his ass instead of a stick, and now he can’t get it out, ha!

Lucifer couldn’t hold back a giggle, which was promptly noticed and addressed.

“Angel, although your little tantrum seems to be amusing his Majesty, I’ll advise you to cease your antics. You asked me a question, and I merely answered.”

“You –“

“Guys, what’s going on? I heard yelling!” Charlie entered the kitchen, concern evident in her face and voice.

Lucifer’s face lit up instantly, as it did every time he saw his daughter. He couldn’t help it, nor did he want to. She was the light left in a life constantly threatened by the darkness of guilt and remorse and failure. He should have never allowed Lilith to take her away, but then again, he shouldn’t have done allowed a lot of things or allowed them to happen.

She should have been the main reason why he was here now. Not the damn dreams and that bloody cannibal sinner. Helping her with her dream should be his main focus, not a convenience happening at the same place and time as this cursed investigation he barely made progress in, even if helping meant nothing more than making pizza with Angel.

Which was fun, he had to admit. He had often made breakfast for Charlie when she was still very young, and it had filled him with joy. After she had left with her mother – no, after Lilith had taken her away – Lucifer had not bothered with cooking for himself anymore. But making dinner for a whole group of people after losing the bet against Alastor four days ago had been unexpectedly fulfilling. To be fair, pancakes was an unusual dish for dinner, it was certainly not an unreasonable one, thank you very much, any entitled deer demon may leave their complaints at the door.

Alastor had not eaten a single bite, stating his dislike for sweets and claiming that Lucifer had yet to pay his debt since the wager had been for dinner for everyone at the hotel. They had bickered and argued the entire evening, while everyone else took seconds. It had awakened a warm fuzzy feeling inside the fallen angel, the realisation of having done something good hitting hard, and Lucifer had vowed to himself he would repeat this experience.

Maybe Charlie had read his mind or come to the same conclusion, because the very next day she proposed cooking together as a bonding activity. Every two days a pair of them would get randomly selected to prepare dinner for the whole group. An exercise in communication and working together, and – in case of sinners – learning about each other’s former culinary culture.

“I’ll tell ya what’s goin’ on, Charlie! I asked Smiles what topping he wanted on his pizza ‘n ya know what he said?!”

Charlie looked at the Radio Demon, who seemed unashamed.

“Did you ask for … uhm … sinner meat?”, she asked hesitantly. “Alastor, we’ve spoken about this –“

“No, my dear, of course not. I assure you, I take our agreement about my food preferences quite seriously.” There was a hint of disappointment in that filtered voice that made Lucifer cock an eyebrow, but he didn’t interrupt. “I requested ham and pineapple.”

“Which is even WORSE!”, Angel burst out. “PINEAPPLE! ON PIZZA!”

“Oh?” Charlie’s eyes switched from Alastor to Angel. “What’s wrong with … that?”

Oh, his sweet, sweet girl. Sometimes her unwavering determination in overcoming any difference or obstacle didn’t let her read the room.

Angel gasped, his upper pair of hand grasping his hair, while the lower pair got pressed to his chest right over his heart.

“NO, Charlie! Not you, too!”

Lucifer would have rolled his eyes at the dramatic reaction if the spider demon didn’t sound so genuinely wounded.

Charlie, who now started to understand that there was a greater issue at hand than a simple difference in taste, apologized to the spider while simultaneously trying to get Angel to explain why he was so affronted. It didn’t help that Alastor was chuckling allthewhile, which did nothing to calm the spider down. Lucifer had to shoo the deer demon out of the kitchen before they could as much as think about resuming making dinner. Angel decided not to accommodate anyone’s requests for pizza toppings, going for the original Italian variants of Marinara and Margherita only.

“He’s such a prick!”, the spider complained while spreading self-made tomato sauce on the dough. “And a hypocrite, too! Findin’ it funny to fuck up a perfectly good pizza but don’tcha DARE say somethin’ negative ‘bout his mom’s recipes!”

Lucifer blinked and stopped slicing the mozzarella. “What, he cooks?”

“Yeah, learned it from his good ol’ mom he said. Who’d have thought that Mr. Tall ‘n Creepy is a mama’s boy, eh? Besides myself, I mean. Clocked him right the first time he knocked on the door, ha!”

“And? Is he any good?” Now the King was curious. Maybe getting paired with the red sinner for cooking duty wasn’t that bad of an idea then to get him to talk. He could hand him the reigns over the kitchen and get a talkative deer in return and … hopefully learn something useful.

“Hate to admit right now, but yeah, Smiles knows what he’s doin’ when it comes to food. That Creole cooking of his is fuckin’ delicious!” Angel stopped and leaned towards the King. “Please don’t tell him that I said that, or I’ll never hear the end of it after today, okay Short King?”

Lucifer smiled and patted the taller demon on the shoulder. “Yeah, sure thing, don’t worry.”

Angel sighed and went back to the pizzas. After a few moments of comfortable silence between them, he resumed the topic.

“Ya know, for a guy who takes such pride in getting’ praise for his cookin’, he rarely does it. Vaggie caught him once eating an animal carcass. Raw. And he has a whole stack of ‘special meat’ in his personal fridge – on which Charlie insisted, by the way – an’ I don’t think he’s cooking all of that. I mean, I know it’s a cannibal thing, but why cook at all then?”

Lucifer smiled softly as he finished with the mozzarella and started picking basil leaves from a potted plant. It had taken an entire afternoon just to find a store who sold those and when they came back Alastor, asshole that he was, had been quick to remark that he could have told them were to go if they had just asked. And now the fallen angel knew why.

“Why did you pick homemade pizza for today’s dinner?”

Angel took a long look at the pizzas on the table. Some already finished and waiting to go into the oven, some in the process of being topped.

“Yeah … that’s a stupid question, ain’t it?”

“Nah”, Lucifer shook his head. “Besides, you probably don’t know much about a cannibal’s food requirements since you’re not one yourself, right? Being a cannibal by Hell’s definition isn’t exactly a choice.”

“Huh, it’s not? I thought he kinda liked that stuff?” Angel’s anger had fully subsided by now, leaving room for curiosity.

“He probably does, or else needing to eat sinner meat is hell of a lot more of a punishment than it is already – pun intended! You see, a cannibal who tries to only eat normal food would starve to death, over and over again. That is, if they’re not going crazy from hunger first and then going on a killing spree if they have enough strength left.”

“But, why?” The spider demon didn’t look shook, just confused. Murder sprees weren’t exactly rare in Hell.

“Well, a cannibal’s hunger is not normal, it’s a curse. Consuming another human’s flesh corrupts the soul beyond the usual tainting through sin, because in doing so you also consume some of the remnant energy of the former soul and –“

“Wait, what? Cannibals are eating souls?!” Angel had opened the preheated oven, a wave of heat singeing the air.

“NO, nononono! Imagine it like, uhm, a bottle of booze, yeah, I think that works. When you die, all the alcohol spills out, leaving not a single drop. That’s your soul, okay, just leaving your body in an instant on to the afterlife. But there remains the smell, and a little bit of moisture, not enough to form a single drop but it’s still there. That’s the residual energy of your soul left behind.”

They placed the pizzas on racks and into the oven.

“’Kay, I think I get it somewhat … But that’s about dying the first time, right? What’s with down here? Ain’t we all, like, our souls taking shape?”

“Nope, you still have a body, therefore it works the same, or else you wouldn’t regenerate whatever part of your body a cannibal eats if they were directly eating your soul. Oh boy, can you imagine what would happen if cannibals could permanently end another sinner’s existence by eating their soul?”

For a moment, the King and the porn star thought about implications. They both shuddered in unison.

“Anyways, what I actually wanted to say is that a cannibal’s real nourishment comes from the remnant soul energy. Once a soul is changed by it, you’re cursed to sustain the intake to properly function.”

“It’s an addiction. That’s what ya saying.” The spider seemed shocked by the realization.

“Well, one without high, and there’s no getting clean either.”

“Ain’t that a pretty shitty deal …”

“It’s not, that’s the whole point. It’s a punishment.”

.
…
.

Dinner had been pleasant, all things considered. The tension had been palpable at first with Angel still being a little upset about the culinary faux pas that had happened earlier, even when the praises came in quick succession after the first few bites. Charlie was of course still apologetic about the shole incident, which didn’t really help to lighten the spider’s mood after the third apology.

It was only after Alastor declared the meal to be ‘agreeable’ that Angel relaxed just a little bit. Flipping the Radio Demon off for commenting about the lack of meat might have also played a part in dispersing the tension, although Lucifer was under the impression that the gesture was only half-heartedly aimed at the deer. The spider demon looked less offended by the politely phrased complaint and more … conflicted.

Was he contemplating their conversation about cannibalism? Probably, and so was the King while chewing on a piece of delicious but nonetheless vegetarian self-made pizza. He hadn’t given it much thought until now, cannibals might have been a minority among the citizens of Pentagram City, but they were by no means a rarity. Until now he hadn’t considered this detail about Alastor to be of much importance – after all, his dreams about the Crimson Stag hadn’t focused on that matter even once in any way, had they?

It only occurred to him now that being a cannibal was an integral part of who the Radio Demon was. It impacted his motivations and needs, the way he viewed the world and other people. Cannibalism was not vice. It couldn’t be replaced with something else, something less, there was no turning one’s life around and stop being a cannibal. He had to keep that in mind.

“Another drink, Majesty?”

The King looked up in surprise. Husk had one eyebrow raised questioningly, the bottle of rum already in hand and motioning towards Lucifer’s now empty glass. Huh, when had he finished his drink? He remembered sitting down at the bar to relax, briefly talking to the cat demon about a recommendation for a mild rum, taking a sip to find that yes, the bartender knew his beverages well and then …

Well, apparently he had gotten lost in his own head again. He sighed.

“Yeah, sure, why not.”

Husk nodded and poured him a second rum. At least Lucifer hoped that this was just his second. He didn’t feel tipsy yet, which was a good sign.

“Somthin’ on ya mind, Short King?”

When had Angel joined him at the bar? Damn, he had been quite zoned out …

“Well, yes and no … I tend to think about everything and nothing all at once, you know, and then I … I kinda get lost in it sometimes …”

He was rambling, dear Father, why couldn’t he just come up with a smooth lie instead of a half-truth that made him look either completely crazy or outright foolish. Angel and Husk exchanged a glance and he could see the flicker of pity, much more noticeable in the spider’s face than in the schooled expression of the bartender. Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please, don’t give me that look.”

There was the soft swooshing sound of magic, and the air crackled with static.

“And what look would that be?”

Of course, speak of the Devil and he come running – which should be reserved for him alone, since he was the literal DEVIL, but maybe the pesky deer demon was enough of a fiend to have that saying also apply to him. Lucifer rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed groan.

“Oh, THAT look? Hmm, I’m sure you’ve earned it somehow.” The Radio Demon chuckled.

“Asshole.”

“Eloquent as always, your Majesty.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Again, I’ll have to decline the offer.”

Lucifer felt his anger flare. It was bad enough that he had that obnoxious demon almost constantly haunt his thoughts one way or the other, was it really too much to ask to NOT have some kind of stand-off every time they met in person?!

“The usual, boss?”

Husk’s casual sounding interruption was the moment the King needed to compose himself instead of pouncing at the deer. He took a gulp of his rum to keep his hands occupied with something that would hopefully help him relax soon.

“That would be desirable, Husker, thank you.”

The Radio Demon sat down next to the spider, with one empty bar stool between the deer and Angel, therefore leaving the space of two seats between the King and the Overlord, additionally separated by the porn star as a living barrier.

Well, that makes his presence at least somewhat tolerable right now.

Husk placed a glass was an amber liquid quite similar the one Lucifer was currently drinking much too fast in front of the cannibal sinner. The bottle was a different one, though. Whiskey. Rye, to be precise. Not really what Lucifer preferred. He could do with a mild bourbon, maybe, but rum was better. Sweeter, not as hard on the palate. If memory served him correctly, the rye served to the Overlord was a peaty one, yikes, who did like to drink a swamp?

Lucifer motioned for the bartender to fill his glass again, which the cat demon did with a cocked eyebrow and not a single word. The fallen angel was grateful for that. He didn’t want to retire to his chambers already, but he needed a bit more alcohol to endure Alastor’s constant teasing, who wouldn’t, really, thanks for not judging.

But for now, there was only silence. Silence and quiet sipping and the white noise crackling of static. Then the radio at the top of the shelves sprang to life with a click, and soft jazz started to play.

Lucifer wanted to roll his eyes again out of impulse but found that he actually didn’t mind the music. It was a lively tune but not too up-beat. It lifted his mood just enough to keep him from downing his third glass outright.

“Angel, if you don’t mind me asking, was that a family recipe you shared today?”

The spider seemed as surprised by the question and the casual tone of the Radio Demon as Lucifer was. Alastor didn’t look at the other sinner, he just stared into his drink, slowly swirling the liquid, and then took another sip.

“Yeah … my nonna’s recipes, actually.” Angel’s tone was wary, as if he was expecting some kind of setup. Lucifer silently agreed and waited with bated breath for a jab or a pun no one but Alastor could laugh about.

Now the Radio Demon turned his head, not saying a word. After a moment he raised an eyebrow, a wordless question, as if that alone was enough communication. Well, apparently for Angel it was.

“That’s Italian for ‘grandma’”, he clarified and – ohhh, Lucifer had forgotten that he was the only one here that could understand every language …

“Hmm. I see. I didn’t know you were of Italian heritage.”

“Am. I am of Italian heritage.” Angel sounded offended for some reason. “And here I thought ya would’ve known that by now, gatherin’ intel on all of us an’ shit.”

Alastor chuckled. “Dear Angel Dust, I assure you that I’m doing exactly that about anyone of importance.”

There was it, the verbal stab, and right where it hurt. Ouch. Lucifer had to give the spider demon some credit, though, Angel just glared at the Overlord.

“But regardless, I fail to see what gain there is to be had from that particular information. Hell doesn’t care for those kinds of distinguishing details in the same way Earth did. Personally, I don’t find them to be useful.”

It sounded condescending, or rather, it was supposed to sound condescending but there was more to it. An edge of revulsion in the way filtered voice got even more static laden. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ears of the cat demon tilt backwards, the slitted eyes fixed on the one who owned his soul.

Interesting, Husk doesn’t like where this is going.

The alcohol should have dulled his senses and his mind, but the slight prickle he felt was not light-headedness. Something was happening, but Lucifer couldn’t place the finger on what it was.

“So what? I ain’t gonna stop caring about my family’s origin just because you don’t –“

Alastor’s head spun around with a crack, eyes flaring to red radio dials on black, lights flickering. The music from the radio coiled into a dissonant screech, and black and green voodoo sigils – vèvè – starting to appear in the air.

At the same time, a Pink Lady cocktail was placed with ringing clank in front of the spider, which startled Angel enough to break him out of the just ensuing staring contest with the irate Radio Demon. But the Overlord didn’t plan on letting the spider off the hook that easily.

“Care to finish that sentence, Angel Dust?”, he challenged.

The air was thick with Alastor’s magic. Lucifer’s whole body had tensed, ready to intervene at any moment this situation went south further. His eyes flicked to a sudden movement behind the deer demon, a darkness in the shadows created by the dimming bar lights. Alastor’s own shadow had grown in size, elongated teeth snapping in silence. It wasn’t mirroring the movements of its master, it acted on its own.

“Nah, ain’t worth the headache.”

Angel stared at his cocktail with a frown and gritted teeth. The spider’s eyes trailed to the bartender and lingered on the cat, who in turn focused his attention on polishing a glass as if nothing precarious was happening. A pretence of indifference with regards to the situation, the patch of bristled fur along his spine and the swishing tail giving away his inner turmoil.

The Radio Demon hummed in satisfaction, an unspoken ‘That’s what I thought’, and turned back to his rye. His eyes turned back to normal, the dark magic subsiding and the lights stabilizing. Lucifer’s eyes searched for the shadow entity but it, too, had vanished.

With the adrenaline leaving his system and the silence stretching on, the rum started to catch up with him. The King felt his muscles relax in the alcohol induced warmth that spread through his body. The radio played music again, and the fallen angel caught himself tapping his foot alongside the beat.

“So, uhm, Smiles … ya said you would show me your big boom stick?”, Angel finally asked breaking the silence.

Lucifer wasn’t sure if the spider tried to sound casual or suggestive, but judging by the narrow-eyed look from Alastor he hadn’t imagined the undertone.

“You’re trying my patience here, Angel Dust. I’m certain I said no such thing!”

“Your rifle, boss. He’s talking about the Winchester.” Husk gave the porn star a warning look, but the spider demon only smirked.

“Ah, I remember indicating that I might grant your request.”

Alastor finished his whiskey and the bartender filled his glass again without prompt. The Overlord took another sip.

Nothing else happened.

Angel frowned. “But.”

“But I currently find myself not in the mood to indulge you.”

Look at that, the Crimson Stag is a petty bitch. Who’d have thought.

Angel’s must have thought the same, but his only response was an annoyed huff. Lucifer propped himself up with one elbow on the counter, chin laying on his knuckles.

“Perhaps you’ll indulge me, then?”, he asked, smiling generously.

Alastor gave him a suspicious look.

“Why?”

Lucifer shrugged.

“Because I was too distracted by your shooting skills to take a good look at it.” And because you shot at my daughter, he thought but refrained from saying it. Stroking the Overlord’s ego would probably work better if he didn’t antagonize at the same time.

He could see the gears turning in the deer’s head. Angel sat right next to the King, therefore showing off the weapon to Lucifer would also let the spider get what he had asked for and were denied previously. An internal battle of pride versus pettiness.

“Very well.”

Pride it was.

The rifle appeared on the counter at a flick of the Radio Demon’s wrist, materialized out of the shadows that vanished in a green glow. Both Lucifer and Angel leaned over to inspect the weapon up close. The Winchester was in pristine condition, obviously very well cared for. There were of course some signs of wear, tiny scratches from claws handling the rifle. Lucifer’s expertise on human weapons was limited, though, so he couldn’t tell more than that it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

Angel however ogled the rifle with awe.

“My dad had one of these for his hunting trips. Tried to teach me once, but I ain’t patient enough aiming. I prefer my Tommys.”

He laid one of his own guns next to the Winchester, and Lucifer wondered once more where that had suddenly come from. The Thompson gun – or Tommy, as the spider called it – was shorter and much bulkier with its big drum magazine.

“Never liked the Thompson. Too heavy, low range, and poor precision”, Alastor commented.

“Sure, but ya ain’t needing precision when ya can just riddle the enemy with bullets.” Angel then pointed at the Winchester. “That beauty ain’t helping ya much in the big city and in close combat.”

“That much is true. Besides, up close I always did prefer a more personal approach at killing when I was alive. Still do, actually, I’m not in need of a knife anymore, though.” The Overlord smirked.

“Ha, I knew you were a knife guy, Smiles!”

“How come?” Alastor looked curious now.

“Because strangling ain’t bloody enough for ya!”

“HA! I drink to that!”, was the cheerful answer.

And then he held out his glass to the spider, grinning widely. Not a trace left of the earlier anger. Angel blinked, baffled by the change in demeanor, but then raised his glass to silently toast with the Radio Demon. To Lucifer, it felt like a truce.

On one hand, the fallen angel wished that his daughter could have witnessed this. But then again, her exuberant joy might have killed the peaceful atmosphere, ironically.

Mulling over the latest bits of information about the deer demon, Lucifer decided to use the relaxed mood and try his luck a bit more.

“Soo, Alastor, I take it that your sin is murder, then? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

The fact that the red sinner was a cannibal had already been a pretty solid hint, but not evidence. His violent nature was another indication, but could also be explained as an adaptation to Hell’s dangerous environment.

What was surprising was the fact that it was Angel who now burst into laughter, while the Overlord just shot him an amused look.

“Are ya kidding? Murder is a bit of an understatement! Smiles here is a bloody serial killer!”

And the deer looked damn proud of that title.

“Of course, why am I even asking”, Lucifer deadpanned.

“That term wasn’t even invented while I was alive. They had a different name for me back then.”

“Huh, how do ya know about serial killer, then? No offense, Smiles, but ya ain’t the type to go with the times, ya know?”

Alastor snickered. “Just because I despise all this new frivolous technology you waste your time with, doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with worthwhile pastimes.”

“Such as what, criminology?”, Lucifer teased.

“No, your Majesty. Music, of course! And dancing.”

It was the alcohol, clearly, that made the fallen angel perk up. “You dance?” The words stumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.

It had been ages since the last time he had danced …

There was a shift in the air, Lucifer could almost taste it. Angel and Husk exchanged looks. The King found himself held captive by the eyes of the Radio Demon, ruby in red and glowing and hungry –

– until Alastor tore his gaze away and chucked the rest of his whiskey down.

“Anyways, it’s getting late and I have a morning broadcast to prepare. I’d greet you all farewell until then, but none of you are early birds so I’m not expecting you to be tuning in.”

He stood with no indication of inebriation and waved nonchalantly, vanishing the rifle on the counter in the process.

“’Night, chums!”

And with that, the Overlord left the way he had arrived, through his shadow. Lucifer stared at the spot for a moment before he let out an exhausted sigh.

“Oh boy, that guy is a lot, hu?”

He turned towards the remaining two sinners, expecting some token of agreement.

“Whatever ya say, Short King.”

Well, that definitely was a verbal approval, but Lucifer could do without the suggestive tone. Or the eyebrow wiggle.

“What?”, he asked in confusion, cheeks flushing involuntarily – from the alcohol!

“Oh nothin’, Short King, nothin’ at all.”

Chapter Text

10 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

There is blood on the ground.

There is blood on the ground, staining the grass a dark red.

There is blood on the ground, staining the grass a dark red, a trail leading to the other side of the clearing.

And the Crimson Stag is nowhere to be seen.

Lucifer can’t take his eyes of the blotchy line of liquid life force. He tries to tell himself that it’s not from the deer he knows to be Alastor. Could be anyone’s – anything’s – blood. Alastor is a cannibal after all, and therefore the Crimson Stag is a predator … the blood could be his prey’s.

That must be it. He’s almost convinced.

Then why can’t he shake the feeling that eventually the ground will crumble and swallow him whole if stands here for too long?

Fuck.

Lucifer starts running. After a few steps he remembers that he has wings, summons them and flies at high speed towards the edge of the forest. Navigating between the trees gets difficult soon, with more and more vines hanging from the moss-covered branches.

It takes a moment for him to realize that the forest has become a swamp – which is odd at best. There has never been a swamp in his dreams before, no matter how far he had ventured in search of the then still elusive deer.

And the blood trail is gone, washed away by the water that is overtaking the area the further he flies. He has to take a different approach in searching for the deer.

Lucifer spots an island of soft grass within the slow-moving stream – therefore making this wetland a bayou, not a swamp, although he doesn’t know why he even bothers to correct himself – and decides to land to collect his thoughts. But the moment his boots connect with the greenery, he sinks knee-deep into the murky water.

“Ugh, fucking great!”, he curses. His boots are flooded, socks and pants soaked. Cold and wet and –

There is another splash of water nearby. Lucifer freezes.

Slowly, he turns to his left.

The water is tainted red where the Crimson Stag stands.

Lucifer feels his stomach turn and bile rising but he can’t stop staring, his focus drawn in by the grizzly sight before him.

The stag’s entrails are hanging out.

It stands in the shallow water, looking at him warily, and its entrails are hanging out through a gash in its torso.

Gutted. By Father, what happened? Or rather, what WILL happen to Alastor? Because these dreams are supposed to be prophetic, are they not? And the Radio Demon is up and running, manipulating the other hotel residents left, right, and centre at his gusto. But THIS, this looks like …

… like near death.

Lucifer swallows the rising acid down that’s already prickling at his throat. He wills his body to move and wades closer to the injured deer, while trying to ignore the way its intestines loop in and out of the body cavity, the murky water washing the blood from the slick, visceral muscles.

The Crimson Stag changes its stance slightly as the fallen angel gets near, causing the hanging guts to shift and another coil of intestines to slosh out with a sickening sound.

Lucifer dry gags and closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself. It’s not like he hasn’t seen somethings this gruesome before, he lives in Hell for fucks sake, and he hasn’t always been a recluse. He knows what sinners do to each other on a daily basis. Heck, he can’t even say that it has gotten worse over the centuries; mankind seems to have been very creative from the start in torturing their kin …

But there’s a difference in knowing of horrific injuries like disembowelment and seeing it on someone he knows.

He should think of something positive, like, the fact that the deer isn’t running away is a good thing, really, otherwise its entrails would probably all fall out or get caught on something and rip –

Shit, that’s not what he wanted to think about at all! His stomach is tightening violently.

Breath, he tells himself, just concentrate on breathing!

Breath in. Breath out. He can do this! It’s just a dream!

Lucifer opens his eyes slowly. The stag is still standing there, almost within arm’s reach, watching. He can’t even tell if it’s in pain or not. It should be, by all means, it should be bellowing or bleating or whatever sounds deer make when hurt.

“I guess, if I just end your misery and blast you, I’ll get swallowed by the void again, hu?”

That’s how this goes, how it always has ended if the Crimson Stag dies. Lucifer has understood that much by now.

The deer doesn’t answer of course, but maybe it somehow understood him regardless, because it snarls silently, exposing sharp yellow teeth fit for a predator. If the King would have any doubts left that this was indeed Alastor, they would be dispelled right now.

“You know, YOU should get these cursed dreams about yourself, perhaps you’d be a bit more careful and less keen on fighting everything and, I don’t know, NOT get yourself involved in whatever will fuck you up this bad?”

He closes his eyes again and massages his temples. Is he really expecting the stag to understand sarcasm, let alone getting a reply? Nope, of course not, he just needs to get it out of his system. Who else could he talk to, after all –

There is a static filled chuckle all of a sudden. It sounds strangely humourless.

“’These violent delights have violent ends.’ I’ve found that to be the way of things.”

Lucifer jolts and almost falls backwards into the water.

The Crimson Stag is gone. The Radio Demon stands at the very same spot now, posture straightened and hands held behind his back, red eyes looking down at the King in amusement.

And his entrails are hanging out.

WHAT?

Lucifer can only stare, unable to comprehend why the dream has suddenly changed, why he is so shocked to see Alastor instead of the Crimson Stag, why the Overlord is cleaved open and does not react to it at all, and why is he quoting Shakespear?

Alastor doesn’t give him much time to come to terms with this new development. The demon takes one step towards Lucifer, stepping ON the water now as if it were a solid surface. He extends one hand and bows down at the waist and – DEAR HEAVENS ABOVE, his intestines are falling out don’t look don’t look don’t look –

“Would you honour a lowly sinner as myself with this dance, your Majesty?”

The fallen angel blinks. He was used to the dreams as they have played out until now, the landscape being a familiar one by now, the elements reoccurring and only changing slightly by comparison. But this … this is like stepping out of his usual dreams into a completely new one, a gory nightmare, and his mind refuses to understand.

Well, if he doesn’t understand, at least he could play along and see where this was going. Perhaps then it would start to make some sense?

“I may, if you think you can keep up with the King of Hell on the dancefloor?” Lucifer somehow musters the wit to come up with a reply he might have used if this was real. Not that THAT would ever happen!

“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent dance partner”, Alastor retorts with no hesitation at all.

“Your skills might be excellent, but are they fit for your sovereign?” Why is he teasing the demon? And why does it excite him? He’s losing his mind in this jumbled mess of a dream, isn’t he?

“Only one way to find out, my King!” Alastor’s grin is wide and challenging.

Lucifer is definitely losing his minds, because he can’t help but take the offered hand. The demon pulls him closer and now the fallen angel is standing on the surface of the water, too. It feels as if he’s standing on a soft carpet, his boots sinking in ever so slightly.

He’s entranced, there is no other explanation for it, as he places his free on Alastor’s upper arm near the shoulder, while the demon places his on the King’s waist. There is no music, no cue other than the deer’s guidance as they start moving. For some reason he had expected the Radio Demon to play the music they’re dancing to, but he doesn’t. There are no other noises than the natural sounds of the bayou, the soft splashing of their steps and white noise buzzing quietly.

It's eerie. Lucifer feels the hairs on his neck stand up. There is a danger here that is different from the previous dreams –

He steps on something squishy and it’s followed by a wet ripping sound coming from Alastor as they spin, and something falls into the water beneath their feet, Lucifer stumbles as he tries desperately neither to get entangled and fall nor to look down while the demon is relentless in leading the dance and –

Lucifer has had ENOUGH. The dreams have been haunting before, but this is nightmarish and he wants it to STOP.

He halts his movement, interrupting the dance, and grabs the Radio Demon by the lapels.

“What is happening?! Tell me! You know something, don’t you? DON’T YOU?!”

The dreamworld stops. The sounds go silent. It may have been eerie before, but now it’s terrifying. The shadows pool around Alastor and expand, drenching their surroundings in darkness.

It’s only them now.

Alastor’s head falls to the side as if he suddenly couldn’t hold it up anymore. His eyes turn completely black. No radio dials, but their darkness isn’t empty either.

Lucifer let’s go of the demon and takes a few steps back.

“Alastor?”

The sinner’s body starts twitching.

“Lucifer.”

It’s a whisper with almost no static clouding it. It’s also the first time he hears the Radio Demon call him by name, and it sends a chill down his spine.

“Beware the eyes of green.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen. What?

The twitching gets stronger. Alastor’s head rolls to the back and he starts to bend backwards. The split in his torso cracks and widens, blood sputtering out in rhythmic gushes as the heart pumps the red liquid through broken vessels.

“Beware the eyes of green!”

Lucifer is frozen in place. He watches in horror as skin and muscle peel back from the ribcage and the cartilage breaks that fuses the ribs with the sternum, splitting the demon’s torso open like –

A maw. It’s a maw, the ribs are already being reshaped into pointed teeth as they grow, and what’s left of the entrails starts moving like tongues searching for their meal –

“B̶͎͠e̸̺͝w̵͔̽a̵̱͝r̴͈̐ē̷̖ ̶̮͝t̸̂͜h̴̯̎e̵̠͠ ̵̠̄e̵̤̎ý̴̻e̴͎̐ś̸̝ ̷̝͛o̵̯͂f̴̦̂ ̴̦̀g̷͖̈r̴̙͑e̴̥͊e̴̙͝n̴̜͒!̷̬̂”

It’s a distorted cry, pained and barely understandable that sends an icy wave through Lucifer’s body and shakes him to the very core and –

– Lucifer woke with a scream lodged in his throat.

.
…
.

Even two hours later, Lucifer couldn’t shake the images from his mind. They played repeatedly in his mind’s eye, variations of what-could-I-have-done and what-could-have-been. He was tired, but sleep just wouldn’t embrace him again, and if he was being honest with himself, he was glad for it.

If he was even a little more honest, here in the solitude of his bedroom where there was no one else to witness this childishness, he might be able to admit that the King of Hell was afraid of going back to sleep.

Back to the dream, that was still lingering in his subconsciousness, waiting for its prey to let its guard down.

It was so damn frustrating. Lucifer had spent days on end to help Charlie with the preparations for the upcoming celebration. His daughter was full of ideas, which oftentimes was a blessing and sometimes proved to be a curse. Usually, she would have sketched out every single one to go over with Vaggie, iterations upon iterations of concepts for the decorations, the food, the ambience. With Lucifer being here to help, the sketches were replaced by him conjuring whatever she told him to, which did make for outstanding visualizations but did nothing at reducing the amount of time or effort to get everything right. Lucifer might have been the most powerful being in Hell, but this much use of his magic and creativity – especially after centuries of not creating anything major besides having just rebuild an entire hotel not even two weeks prior – still took its toll on his energy reserves.

Long story short: the fallen angel was exhausted. He needed to rest. He needed to sleep. He needed to NOT have a nightmare that left him even more drained than before going to bed!

Lucifer glanced at the clock on the wall. Eight minutes past three in the morning. With a frustrated groan he stood and walked to the window. The view from his apple tower was nice, if one could consider the panorama of the city with its burning and smoking buildings as such. Or in tonight’s case a city drenched in the acid rain of a thunderstorm. To be frank, the stroboscopic effects of the reddish lightning did cast the buildings in a glow that could be called hauntingly beautiful, if ominous and eerie was to one’s liking.

Lucifer was willing to bet his favourite rubber duck that a certain deer sinner would indeed enjoy the scenery.

And there his thought’s had wandered back to the deer again. Great. Absolute fantastic.

The King glanced over to the other side of the hotel where the radio tower loomed. The windows were dark, no light shining from inside. The deer demon was probably fast asleep while Lucifer was unable to get any rest, and now that was totally unfair, it was the sinner’s fault that he suffered from these dreams turned nightmares, so he could at least have the decency to be awake as well and …

And then what? What was he expecting? It wasn’t like they would keep each other company, they were not friends, barely friendly even. They tolerated each other and that was it. Whether Alastor was awake or not right now didn’t change anything, Lucifer still had to deal with his insomnia on his own.

He changed into his day attire and sighed. If returning to bed was not an option, he might as well busy himself with a new rubber duck design or two, but first he could grab something to eat from the kitchen. The fallen angel didn’t feel like using any more magic to conjure some food or open a portal, so going for a little late night – or rather, early morning – walk might actually do him some good.

The hallways were silent and dipped in twilight, illuminated only by the far away glow of the city lights downhill and the lightnings scraping the dark clouds. Lucifer didn’t bother turning on the lights, he could see quite well in even deeper darkness. He passed the elevator and opted for the stairs, the echoes of his steps his only company.

That was until he reached the first floor.

Music.

Lucifer stopped and listened, convinced that he had misheard, but there it was again.

A piano was playing. For a moment the King’s mind and stomach argued about going down the last flight of stairs and to the kitchen versus investigating who was making use of the music room at three in the morning. It was a rather short debate, and he wasn’t that hungry anyway.

The melody was a simple one, slow and melancholic. With the rain tapping against the windows, the lightning and the rolling thunder the word ’creepy’ was also high on the list of descriptive terms.

Lucifer could pretend all he wanted that he didn’t have an idea who of the handful of people at the hotel would play eerie piano music in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm. To be fair, the little one-eyed maid was also creepy and deranged enough to pull this stunt, but there was really only one sinner he associated with a piano.

He couldn’t be this lucky cursed as to run into Alastor during this ungodly waking hour as he had just hoped imagined up in his tower, could he?

The door to the music room stood slightly ajar. Lucifer slowed his pace and cautiously pushed it open further.

The Radio Demon sat at the black grand piano, playing with only the right hand because cradled in his left arm was – A BABY?!

No, nonono, this had to be wrong, that blanketed bundle couldn’t possibly be wrapped around an infant, right?! Because firstly, there were no babies in Hell and secondly, this was the cannibalistic serial killer Radio Demon of all people!

One of the Overlord’s ears flicked towards Lucifer, but other than that the deer gave no indication that he had noticed the King’s arrival. Until he spoke, that was.

“My, my, stalking sinners in the middle of the night now, your Majesty? I’d call that quite inappropriate behaviour for royalty, wouldn’t you agree?”

Shit, had Alastor cued in on the fact that the fallen angel more often than not was seeking him out during the day to observe and learn? Lucifer quickly schooled his expression to not have the guilty verdict written all over his face as he approached the other man.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not here because of you.” Yes, he was, for more reasons than one, but Alastor didn’t need to know that, did he now?

The sinner shot him an unperturbed look, his never-fading smile rising on one side into the tiniest of smirks, and what was that supposed to mean now, hu?! The fallen angel decided not to fall for the taunt, his eyes trailing to the bundle in the demon’s arm instead. It was moving slightly, breathing, it was indeed a little body tucked at the deer’s chest, it was –

Niffty?

Lucifer blinked in surprise, gaze switching between the sleeping little demon and Alastor, who still played that simple little tune he seemed to be improvising on the spot.

“Is she alright?”, he asked, his tone more bewildered than concerned.

Alastor turned his head to face him and cocked an eyebrow, an expression on his face that conveyed without words how utterly ignorant he deemed the question to be.

“She is now.”

Okay, yeah, obviously something had happened before that was sorted by now, geez, his question had been aimed at that, just worded more tactfully, but a certain deer demon always seemed to take one’s words for either courtesy or rudeness just as he saw fit. He sighed.

“What I meant to ask was what happened.”

“Then I would advise you to do so, your Majesty.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes in annoyance. It hadn’t even been five minutes yet, and the sinner was already getting on his nerves again. The demon’s quiet snicker of amusement didn’t help either.

“What happened to Niffty that I find you here, at this early hour in the morning, cradling her like an infant while playing piano?” If that didn’t cover all the bases now, Lucifer would lose is shit. On purpose!

There was a hum of satisfaction and the King contemplated smacking that pleased smile right out of the Overlord’s face.

“Nightmares. She always has them when it thunders outside.”

There was a flash of lightning outside, quickly followed by rolling thunder. At this moment, Lucifer wouldn’t put it past the Radio Demon to be able to command the weather just for dramatic effect.

Niffty whimpered in her sleep but didn’t wake, and the fallen angel’s features softened. He knew by now that the maid, despite her childish appearance and occasional demeanour, was indeed a grown woman, but right now she looked just like a little girl. She reminded him of Charlie when she had been much younger, although thunderstorms never had been an issue. But his daughter had had nightmares, too.

“I see. To be honest, I didn’t think anything could scare her, though.”

Alastor shrugged.

“Everyone is afraid of something. Even angels, don’t they?”

Lucifer didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“What are you afraid of, then, hu?”, he teased back at the demon instead.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”, Alastor chuckled.

The King leaned against the instrument for a little more comfort. They said nothing for a short while, only listening to the rain, the thunder, the soft piano and their own thoughts.

“So, do you do this every time a thunderstorm happens?”, Lucifer tried to keep this conversation going.

He had to admit that he really was curious. Such a display of caring from the infamous Radio Demon was extremely unexpected, much more sincere than any declaration of support for Charlie and her cause could ever be. There was no gain in comforting a scared soul, at least not something that someone like Alastor would find useful. Yet, here he was.

The demon turned is head again. Ruby eyes, glowing red in the dim twilight, flickered down to the little demon in his arm and then back towards the King.

“I do care for what is mine.”

It took Lucifer a moment to shove the implication of Niffty being Alastor’s daughter aside for the correct meaning of the words, that being property.

“Right. You own her soul.”

The deer demon only hummed in affirmation.

“I’ll take a guess then that she’s one of your favourites? Can’t imagine you’re holding the hand of the others when they get scared?”

Alastor tilted his head in a silent question, which made Lucifer frown in return.

“Your other possessions? Since you’re an Overlord you must have thousands and thousands of souls under your belt?”

For some reason that made the demon burst into a laugh which he quickly stifled as to not wake Niffty.

“Yes, yes, ‘under my belt’ indeed! Well, I assure you that your concerns are unfounded, your Majesty. They are all well taken care of!”

There was a detail here that he was missing. He knew it by the glint in those hungry red eyes and the way that grin grew far too wide. Another secret to uncover, another mystery to unlock. But not now, because despite the obvious amusement, he could sense that the Overlord’s guard was up now.

“I would ask if I said something funny, but then again, enslaving souls for a quick power grab must be rather amusing to you Overlords, isn’t it?”

To the King’s surprise, that assumption had a sudden sobering effect on the Radio Demon. The melody he played died in sudden dissonance. The deer’s smile grew sharper, the eyes narrowed, and the slit pupils were on the verge of turning into dials. If the lights had been turned on, they surely would have started to flicker right now. The flashes of lightning outside did make up for that, though.

Could he really be certain that Alastor had no control over the weather?

“I can’t speak for any other Overlord, of course, but I for one don’t find slavery to be a joke! It is, however, an integral part of Hell’s inner workings, and the fool who let’s their distaste for the rules of power get in the way of climbing the ranks, will find themselves crushed under the heels of those who embrace them!”

The words were hissed as to not wake up the cradled demon maid, but still intonated with such vigour that it left the King speechless for a moment. Glowing red eyes used the pause to scrutinize him, turning condescending.

“I understand that the King of Hell has no need to bother himself with the laughable power struggle of lowly sinners, but I had assumed that you were at least aware that Hell’s hierarchy is based on the principle of eat or be eaten.”

Lucifer grimaced. “Of course you would choose the comparison to a food chain”, he replied, distaste evident in his tone. He crossed his arms before his chest.

Alastor seemed to have a retort at his lips but decided against it, content in seeing the weak jab for what it was – a deflection. The Radio Demon had a way with words that turned them into knifes, and now Lucifer was bleeding quite profusely, his pride wounded by his own ignorance and absence he had accumulated over the last centuries.

Sinners were violent psychopaths, he had told Charlie. A statement that made for a firm but unnuanced believe, a generalisation that was, yes, ignorant. A soul could get condemned to Hell for less than murder and abuse, on a scale from white to black the majority of sinners would probably get placed somewhere in the middle to darker gray area. They got thrown into Hell for the rest of their afterlives and scrambled by, fighting day to day for survival. If they turned more and more ruthless, more and more destructive, it was because Hell demanded it.

That was what Charlie saw in them. Desperate souls in an unrelenting environment that left them no choice but to bite back or get broken to pieces.

And here he was, Lucifer, King of Hell, who had all the power to at least try and do something about it, and he left them to themselves.

“Why do you hate sinners so much?”

Apparently, Alastor had dissected his brain and read his thoughts. The guy got creepier by the minute.

“I don’t. I don’t hate sinners … as individuals. I hate what they did with my gift.” He felt his hands clenching. Holding himself.

“Your gift … The knowledge of good and evil?”

Lucifer nodded. “The knowledge of the consequences of your actions. To choose.”

The King gritted his teeth. “And now everywhere I look I see the fucked up choices you mortals have made in life, and you don’t even regret it; no you revel in it and just keep making everything worse for everyone!”

“Please, your Majesty, keep your voice down or you’ll wake her.”

The demon’s own voice was calm, almost soft. It pulled Lucifer right out of his flaring emotions that had started to rile him up to the point that his eyes had inverted their colour and his tail had appeared, swishing angrily.

“Right, sorry”, he muttered and looked away, ashamed of his outburst. He had almost ruined another thing, like he always did.

Alastor started playing again, not picking up the last topic to Lucifer’s relieve. When he spoke again, he tied into an earlier topic instead.

“With regards to your apparent distaste for soul ownership, I should probably warn you that Niffty might approach you at some point. Unless you are – and I quote here – ‘not enough of a bad boy’ for her.”

“Excuse me?”, the fallen angel deadpanned, and the deer snickered.

“Niffty has a strong desire to belong, your Majesty, but her owner must be according to her liking. The more violent the better, I presume, which means that tempting another soul into eating a forbidden fruit might exclude you from being considered, unless you start demonstrating your vast power by levelling city blocks regularly. In that case she might ask you to kill me and take her soul for yourself. I would be much obliged if you were to decline the request.”

Lucifer still deadpanned. Then he blinked owlishly. He made a point of looking at the little demon still cradled by the sinner who owned her soul and was soothing her through a thunderstorm.

“You think she would do that?”

The Radio Demon chuckled. “Certainly. That’s how I came into her possession. She approached me to ask for a change of ownership.”

“But … I thought she liked you! I’ve seen that bizarre roach crown she made you! And you let her crawl all over you and sit on your head!”

And I also know that you made her a little scrap metal tiara with angelic blood smudges and bestowed her with the title of ‘Princess Bloodstain’ in honour of slaying Adam, because she burst into my father-daughter-dinner with Charlie and proclaimed that they were sisters now!

“Yes, she might be quite fond of me, but I wouldn’t take that as a guarantee for her not to consider someone she deems more suitable. Loyalty is a brittle thing in Hell unless firmly cemented by a deal.”

Lucifer didn’t want to believe it. Speaking of Hell in general, Alastor’s assertion was certainly true, but the fallen angel looked at the scene before him and couldn’t believe that these moments of sincere care would be wiped away without a second thought for the prospect of someone stronger, with no regard to the treatment that might come with it.

But Alastor openly admitted that he deemed Niffty’s betrayal a possibility.

Or … perhaps he didn’t allow himself to trust in the bond he and Niffty clearly had developed.

“Well, it’s a good thing then that I’m not inclined to level city blocks anytime soon, so she will be stuck with the cannibalistic serial killer a while longer.”

Lucifer tried to sound cheerful, and to his judgement he made a decent job of it. The deer demon smirked.

“I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.”

Another pause, filled with only soft piano notes and rain. It would be comfortable, if Lucifer’s mind wasn’t plagued with thoughts of broken trust and betrayal.

“You have something good here, do you know that? Do you really think she’ll just toss you aside?”

The Radio Demon’s body went rigid, the red-tipped claws stumbled over the keys, but this time Alastor didn’t stop playing.

“Whom are you referring to, now?” It was a whisper in a low voice, almost a croak. The red eyes were narrowed, wary.

It took the fallen angel a moment to realize that his question is worded vague enough to not only refer to Niffty, but also to Charlie and her hotel, and Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat.

Could it be that while Lucifer is prepared to protect his daughter from any treacherous scheming with regards to the Overlord, the Radio Demon was also afraid of being betrayed by Charlie?

The King didn’t answer, and Alastor didn’t repeat his question.

“You really do always expect everything to burn down at some point, don’t you?”, Lucifer asked, a quiet, sombre question. One he felt in his gut because it was a sentiment he was familiar with.

Then, a static filled chuckle, but strangely humourless.

“’These violent delights have violent ends.’ I’ve found that to be the way of things.”

Lucifer’s stomach dropped and his blood ran cold.

Images of the dream flashed before his eyes in rapid succession. The Crimson Stag in the bayou, disembowelled. The air smelled of water and decaying plants. Alastor bowed, reaching out for him, torso split open. Blood in the water, intestines sinking below the surface like dead snakes.

His eyes slowly trailed to the side, to the demon sitting just out of reach. To his relief, Alastor wasn’t looking at the King, or else he would have seen the shock on the fallen angel’s face at quoting not just Shakespear, but also his dream-self.

The dreams had never been this straightforward before. They had always been purely metaphorical, which made them hard to interpret. Or that’s what he had thought. Now he had gotten a prediction word-by-word, and he still didn’t know what it meant. How was he supposed to solve this mystery?

What were the ‘eyes of green’? What had Dream-Alastor warned him about? There was nothing of importance he could think of that had to do with the colour green, especially not eyes. Would the real Alastor even know what Lucifer was talking about if he asked him? He had to, right?

“What?”

The question snapped Lucifer out of his thoughts and – oh shit, the Radio Demon had caught him staring, those red eyes already narrowing in suspicion and ears standing high and alert, and the fallen angel couldn’t reign in his shocked expression anymore, he had to come up with a lie, with something believable, and fast –

“I … I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect you to quote Romeo and Juliet of all things. You don’t strike me as that type of guy.”

Did he do it? Did he manage to distract the deer from the cold panic that had held the King in a chokehold there for a moment? Lucifer waited with bated breath if the prideful sinner would jump at the carrot danged in front of him.

“And what type would that be? The well-educated one?”

Thank Father, he took the bait. The King forced his tense muscles to slowly relax.

“No. Romantic.”

Alastor snorted.

“Oh please, Romeo and Juliet is a comedy at best”, he scoffed.

Now it was Lucifer’s turn to stifle the sudden outburst of a laugh.

“It’s not a comedy! It’s the most famous tragic romance ever conceived by human authors!”

The deer demon wasn’t persuaded at all.

“I beg to differ, your Majesty, there is nothing romantic or tragic about two children being obsessed with each other for all of four days after meeting once, only to finally succumb to the consequences of their moronic actions. A good laugh at the stupidity of it all is the only value one can get out of that miserable tale. I recommend watching a play, it’s highly entertaining.”

Lucifer wanted to frown, he really did. But the way the Overlord phrased the synopsis of one of humanity’s most famous stories was just too funny. The King couldn’t help but giggle.

“Alright, whatever. You’re not one for romance, I get it.”

“Unless it’s Rachmaninoff in A minor.”

The fallen angel perked up. He knew exactly what Alastor was talking about, one of the earliest works of the famous Russian composer, conductor and virtuous pianist. As that, most of his pieces were written for piano, but the one the demon was referring to was a duet known as
Romance for Violin and Piano in A minor.

“I know that one! Do you want to play?” The words tumbled out of his mouth without thinking and far too excited.

Now it was Alastor’s turn to blink owlishly and Lucifer bit his tongue. Shit, what was he thinking springing that request on the Overlord, especially after their first very much competitive musical number a few weeks ago? He wasn’t thinking, that was the answer and the problem, and there was no way the Radio Demon would even consider –

“If you happen to have the sheets at hand, your Majesty, I would be willing to indulge you.”

Yeah, no way at all, right? He was still dreaming, that had to be it, just something pleasant for a change that would hopefully not turn into a nightmare again. And if he could keep his mind long enough from thinking about blood and entrails, then perhaps he would be able to coax this dream into letting him do something he loved and longed for and wake up well rested after …

Lucifer conjured the sheet music in front of Alastor and watched the demon wrap his shadowy tentacles around his own chest and pin a softly snoring Niffty in place to free his left hand for the performance. Which looked so utterly adorable that the King quickly busied himself with summoning his golden violin to not say a damn thing about it.

Alastor studied the sheets for a moment and let his fingers hover over the keys, then side eyed Lucifer.

“Violin goes first, your Majesty.”

“Oh, uh, right!”

Lucifer knew the notes by heart, as he did with every music piece he had ever played at least once, which was almost every single one ever composed. The first notes rang out and he was almost instantly lost in the music, every thought and worry melting away into insignificance. It would only last for a few minutes, but those were blissful, the melodies of both instruments sometimes taking alternating turns but mostly combining and complementing each other.

The last tone rang out and Lucifer couldn’t stop smiling, letting himself bask in the lingering atmosphere of virtuously composed music that had been played passionately. Finally, he sighed contentedly and turned to face the other man.

“Well, Alastor, I must admit that –“

The demon was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher, eyes a bit wider, the slit pupils dilated into oval shapes, ears tilted to the side –

“Sir, are you alright?”

Demon and fallen angel both looked down to the one big eye covered in a blanket. Niffty might have felt the need to elaborate at that, because she continued:

“Your heart is beating really f–“

An ear-piercing screech of feedback interrupted the little maid.

“Niffty, my dear, feeling better I presume, yes?”

Alastor retracted the tentacles that held her in place and pulled her from his chest to sat her down on his knee.

“Yessir! I dreamt about a rat army that was swarming the city and eating all the sinners and hellborn, and I was their queen!”

Well, that was disturbing and totally on brand for the one-eyed demon as far as Lucifer knew.

“Lovely, dear! Which reminds me that I saw that rat family you told me about in the laundry room last evening.”

Niffty gasped. “I can catch the children and start building my rat army!” She jumped und scurried away, the blanket swaying behind her like a cape. The King wasn’t worried about her realizing her plan, it was much more likely that those rats would fall victim to a sharp and/or pointed object.

Yes, he was quite sure that would be the outcome …

… but perhaps he should keep a closer eye on how that developed. Just in case.

Alastor pulled out an old pocket watch that was chained to the inside of his coat to check the time. Which was an odd choice to keep a timepiece like that. Concealed. The accessibility was unfavorable at best. Lucifer’s eyes were instantly drawn to it. The watch was old, vintage or even antique, the casing a tarnished silver with worn flowery engravings. Besides the ‘old-timey’ aspect of it, it didn’t fit the Radio Demon’s style at all. He observed as the sinner infused the timepiece with a spark of green magic that made the little hands spin until they settled on a time. Did the watch not work anymore?

“Hmm, 04:56 am. I have a morning broadcast at 05:30.” He put the watch back in the inside pocket. “Coffee, your Majesty?”

He had spent almost two hours here with the deer demon? Minus the time it had taken him to leave his chambers and come downstairs, so maybe it was only an hour and a half, but still … it hadn’t felt like that much time had passed. Although that explained why he felt awake now and not so damn tired anymore. Still, a cup of coffee couldn’t hurt.

“Sure. By the way, is that watch broken? Because I could fix that, if you’d like?”

The demon gave him an incredulous look.

“That won’t be necessary, your Majesty, I assure you that it’s working just fine for me, but I appreciate the offer. Besides, I think you already have other projects to address.”

Ugh, like that damnable amplifier for Alastor’s Broadcast-to-Heaven idea, which was a headache on its own and a topic he didn’t want to discuss right now. So all he did was shrug.

“Alright. Coffee, then.”

The King opened a portal to the kitchen, and both men stepped through.

Chapter Text

13 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

There was no sun to set or rise in Hell, yet there was something akin to day and night. The sky changed colour from a pale red to a dark crimson, making nighttime darker than the day, and that was all. Even the dark pentagram moon and Heavens bright white orb where fixtures in the sky with no movement to signal the passing of time. If it weren’t for the great clocktower of the Heaven Embassy, it would be all too easy to forget which day it was, or which months, or year. Even with the clock, the passing of time became an afterthought after a few decades.

What was time to a millennia old being? Wouldn’t it be safe to say that the concept of a timespan less than a century wasn’t even worth noticing to, let’s say, an archangel?

It was a matter of perspective, was it not? Every human being knew that they lived on borrowed time, but even what was considered a long life was usually below the hundred-year mark, not to mention all the souls that perished from something other than old age. Timewise, a human lifespan was insignificant. One could consider it a cruel joke as to how much importance was attached to choices made in that short time frame, considering that they impacted a soul for the rest of eternity.

Choices that were only made possible due to a certain archangel’s actions. What would humanity even have been without that? What had been the plan originally? Would humans truly have been immortal like the angels, as Genesis 2:16-17 might have indicated?

What would mankind have become without Death breathing down its neck?

Death was a certainty – the fear of it arose from the uncertainty of the When, maybe even the How, and of course the question of What-Comes-After. A lot of people had concrete ideas about that, actually, and the thought that every single one of them would be surprised when they finally entered the afterlife was somewhat amusing.

Alastor had never pondered life after death during his time on Earth, even though his mother had tried her hardest to teach him the Lord’s words. He had tried for her, of course, but true believe never had sunken in. Not when the world taught him differently day by day.

Not with a father who choose at random which psalm and verse wife and son were negligent to obey at any given time, and punished them for it.

How his mother had kept to her faith during it all and managed to gain entrance into Heaven was beyond his imagination, but he was glad that she had managed that miracle. Life had been unkind enough, suffering Hell would surely have broken her. She wasn’t made to endure its man-made horrors, let alone thrive in them.

Unlike him.

Alastor had never been afraid of death, and he wasn’t afraid of double-death now. There was no point in fearing the end of consciousness – there would be no waking up to care over the aftermath of being extinguished, no mourning over a legacy torn to pieces, no humiliation to be felt over being defeated. If anything, surviving on the very bottom of existence was a fate far worse to – literally – suffer.

He had the inkling that a certain fallen archangel might agree with that sentiment …

Alastor growled in frustration over the King of Hell infiltrating his mind for the third time in mere minutes.

The problem was that he had to think about Lucifer almost constantly; how to handle each interaction to work his way oh so slowly into the Devils good graces, while not appearing to be desperate; taking care not to reveal his injury until he could be sure to ask the King for help without paying too high of a price.

The position of fatherly rivalry he had instigated at their first meeting now had its pros and cons – he already had Lucifer’s attention from the very first day, but it was one of wariness and opposition. Fortunately for the Radio Demon the King had proven himself not to be too resentful and even reasonable to arguments. Still, it was a tightrope act to banter and jab but not mock, to vie for Charlie’s attention but let Lucifer earn some praise from his daughter while neither being too obvious about it nor so discreet as to not have it noticed by the monarch. But cozying up too much wasn’t advisable either, lest he appeared like bootlicker, not worthy even a shred of the respect he was owed …

Just one more day, he told himself, sitting on the rooftop of the hotel close to his radio tower and watching the meagre change of light that was Hell’s version of dusk. Tomorrow is the grand finale of this particular performance. And then …

And then he had to focus on the project that was establishing contact to Lilith. A little time gained until the next deadline, nothing more. Well, having an angelic injury cured that would have killed any other sinner by now was not exactly ‘nothing’, to be fair. It was just that the pressure on his shoulders and the weight on his mind wouldn’t stop after having that problem solved.

The phantom weight of chains was heavy on his neck. The demon wanted to claw at the shackles and tear them from his throat. But all he did was clenching his hands and scratching claw marks into the roof tiles.

And the effect of Lilith’s potion had started to fade. Not by much, he wasn’t in pain – at least the dull but ache across his chest and the itching of strained stitches through irritated flesh was not what Alastor considered painful. But in the days since his return to the hotel he had at times forgotten that he still had the wound. Now the rhythmic throbbing was a constant reminder, like a clock ticking in his body.

Time was running out.

If he would head Lilith’s warnings as he had until now and use his magic sparingly, he might have another two weeks as she had predicted. But that was not an option unfortunately, he had a deal with Carmilla to uphold, and that meant handling Vox of all demons for four hours straight.

Red eyes fixed on that ugly neon-lit tower in the distance of the city.

Alastor felt his shadow stretch and coil around where he was sitting, antlers and teeth growing in anticipation. This time, the audible growl came from his stomach, but there was not much imagination needed to attribute the sound to the shadow.

Ah, yes, that was another detail that demanded far too much attention by now. His hunger was heavy, and even eating twice as much as usual was barely containing its growth. Sometimes even his teeth were aching, wanting to grow and rip flesh apart. No wonder his shadow was suggesting sinking their teeth into the TV Demon, to tear limbs and cables and to consume, to devour –

“Sorry, old friend, I’m afraid we can’t have him, yet.”

The shadow frowned angrily and snapped its maw a few times in the direction of the Vee-Tower, but Alastor shook his head.

“One day, my friend, but not tomorrow. Not in our current … state. Be patient, the day will come.”

‘The day’ should have already been thirty years ago. When things had ended between them with catastrophic finality, one of them should have ended up erased from existence.

He had made a mistake back then. One he should have corrected in the years that followed, and yet he had been … reluctant to do so. And now here he was, forced to deal with a problem that could have been eradicated previously.

Those were the dangers of attachments – thin strings, fragile looking, until they grew stronger, weaving into ropes that pulled you under. Or up, a noose of one’s own making to hang oneself with. If you couldn’t cut the strings in time to free yourself.

The Radio Demon huffed in annoyance, not liking where his thoughts were wandering. Usually, he would be busying his mind by familiarising himself with the layout of the building he was planning to infiltrate and go through every bit of gathered intel.

Only there was none. It had been too risky to scout the perimeter around the Vee-Tower due to Vox’s surveillance. He needed the element of surprise and therefore decided to forego any reconnaissance to not give his enemy even the slightest hint that he was interested in the building. He always used to avoid the entertainment district if he could, and Vox knew that. Getting caught on one of his cameras would raise suspicion.

It wasn’t like he had never entered the tower, but the last time had been decades ago, and he couldn’t be certain that the little that he had seen still was as it had been then. He would have to rely on his wits and strike quick and hard, then toy with his prey until he could make his retreat.

Four hours.

Four hours of nonstop using his powers. Quite the opposite of what the Queen had advised.

No matter how much he wanted to oppose her in any way possible, he was fully aware of the risk he took engaging in this encounter.

Still, he was going to see this through. He had to, anyways. And he would be lying to say that a part of him wasn’t excited about a high-stake battle of wits and prowess.

Alastor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a half empty pack of Woodbine cigarettes. He pulled one halfway out before letting the slim tip of his tongue coil around the smoke and pulling it between his lips and teeth. The demon pocketed the pack with one hand and lit the cigarette with a little green flame summoned at the tip of his claw of the other.

He took a long drag that burned a quarter of the Woodbine, the thin paper hull and dried tobacco turning into orange and yellow and green embers for the briefest of moments before crumbling to ash.

Alastor inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs and held it there, savouring the flavour and the warmth carried by the fumes. If only they wouldn’t cool so quickly traveling through the windpipe, if only there was more heat filling his lungs, radiating from the inside out, burning and burning and burning –

“Ah, so that’s where you’re hiding!”

A swoosh of air, the rustle of feathers. High-heeled boots clicked on the roof tiles. Alastor’s shadow turned around, its hungry grin stretching wide and tongue licking languidly over too long teeth. The Overlord turned his head a little, side-eyeing the King. The wings were already tugged in and vanished, he noticed with a surprising tang of disappointment.

“Since I’m very much out in the open, I would hardly call that hiding, your Majesty.”

“Well, you weren’t anywhere in the hotel where I expected to find you, so that’s hiding in my books.” Lucifer stepped closer, standing a few feet next to where the deer demon was sitting. “What are you even doing up here? Besides ruining your lungs?”

“The King of Hell, concerned about my health? I must say I am flattered, your Majesty!”

Was that a look of being caught on the Devil’s face, faint golden blush and all? Alastor didn’t dare to call himself lucky just yet, but this …

… this is perfect, he thought.

“Pfff, don’t be, I don’t care what you do to yourself”, the King deflected. “Now, would you kindly answer the question?”

Lucifer sounded annoyed, but if it was because of Alastor or his slip-up, the Overlord couldn’t tell. It was amusing either way, and he chuckled.

“What does it look like to you?”

The counter question earned him an eyeroll, and Alastor’s smile grew a fraction.

“Like brooding.”

“Hmm, close. Scheming.”

The incredulous look on the Devil’s face was priceless. Alastor barely managed not to burst into laughter.

“You should see the look on your face, your Majesty!”, he snickered. “For a being as powerful as yourself, you are too easily flustered, oh Mighty King of Hell!”

Said King of Hell huffed, wounded pride evident.

“Oh yeah? And for a manipulative Overlord, YOU are far too obvious, oh Scary Radio Demon!”

The amused expression didn’t leave Alastor’s face, but he ceased his giggling. There was a warning in those words he hadn’t missed. He took another long drag from the Woodbine.

“Oh? Pray tell, how’s that?”

“Well, how about getting Charlie to ask me to build that amplifier for you? It was clear as day to everybody but her what you were doing there!”

That had him smirk. And here he had wondered if concern was in order. “It’s hardly a manipulation if everybody is aware, isn’t it?”

“Charlie clearly wasn’t aware!”

“Sounds like an overdue lessen to me, then. One a parent should teach her.”

The demon made a point of looking at the fallen angel to underscore the words that hadn’t been spoken. You’re her father, this is your responsibility, so act on it. Take your chance before I have to step up and do it for you, again. A silent invitation, a silent threat. By the way Lucifer bared his teeth, the King had clearly understood and wasn’t pleased. But the Devil didn’t explode on him, didn’t threw a tantrum, and Alastor took that as acknowledgment.

With most other demons Alastor would have interpreted the lack of a verbal retort as weakness and jumped at the opportunity for another jab, digging his claws in deeper to make the victim bleed, even if only metaphorical. But given the circumstances he recognized this moment as a line he shouldn’t cross if he wanted to achieve his goal. So the Radio Demon backed off, prioritizing civility over complacency.

With another drag of the cigarette, Alastor redirected the conversation, breaking eye contact while casually flicking off the ash.

“Besides, you could have said no.”

“Ha!” The fallen angel let himself slump down theatrically where he stood. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t count on the very fact that I can’t say no to my little girl, asshole!”

Despite the snarl in the tone the words didn’t have nearly as much bite than they could have had, which was a good sign.

“Touché”, he relented, pleased with himself. “If I may inquire … Would you have agreed to build the amplifier if I had asked you directly?”

Lucifer scoffed half-heartedly. “Probably not.”

“Hmm.” The Radio Demon nodded and let the Devil’s answer stand on its own otherwise. There was really nothing more to say to that.

The King let out a long sigh.

“I hate you.”

Lucifer’s voice was so heavy with exhaustion that the demon perked up in surprise. Luckily, the fallen angel wasn’t looking at him but out over the city drenched in neon lights, allowing the deer to quickly school his expression.

The demon didn’t share the sentiment. Alastor had no reason to hate Lucifer. As far as he knew, the King’s crimes boiled down to being a negligent ruler and an absentee father, and while the latter vexed him more personally, those misdemeanours were hardly the worst of crimes. One could even argue that leaving the sinners of his realm to themselves was on brand for the fallen angel that had bestowed humanity with the gift of free will.

A deed he had been judged and sentenced for by Heaven, and that even to this day earned him condemnation on Earth. Yet, what Lucifer was truly owed by mankind was gratitude.

Dare he even say … worship.

“Hmm, I’m aware.” A careful answer, purposefully without reciprocation, but there was no indication that Lucifer noticed. He seemed to be caught in his own head again, a behaviour Alastor had observed a few times by now.

As the moment stretched on, the Radio Demon smoked his cigarette in silence, watching the King. Dark bags under his eyes were contrasting the otherwise porcelain white skin. Ah yes, Lucifer didn’t seem to sleep much. Alastor had caught the Devil wandering the hallways of the hotel more than once at night, but had stayed hidden in the shadows and never approached.

Did the King need to sleep like a regular sinner? By the looks of it, the answer appeared to be Yes, although how much sleep he needed was another question entirely. Whatever that answer was, apparently the fallen angel didn’t get enough.

There were tiny movements in the King’s face, little shifts in the facial expression. A minuscule eye twitch. A tiny pull on the corner of his mouth. The bottom lip was sucked in softly, chewed on and then released a few times. The look in those yellow and red eyes was so distant that the demon had no doubt that they were directed inwards instead of the city as they appeared to be.

Lucifer was trapped in his own thoughts, spiralling. And Alastor didn’t know how to feel about that.

It occurred to him then that the fallen angel had come to him for a reason he still didn’t know, since they had started bickering immediately. And as long as the Devil remained in this inappropriate state of mind, he wouldn’t find out.

Well, this just wouldn’t do.

Clearing his throat loudly, Alastor found himself irritated that it wasn’t enough to get the King’s attention. After a moment of consideration, he reached over with one hand, snapping his claws near Lucifer’s head. Still no reaction.

Alastor didn’t like to be ignored.

His eyes flickered to radio dials as a loud shriek of feedback pierced the late evening air.

The fallen angel startled and almost toppled backwards.

“W-What? What happened?” Lucifer looked around in confusion, his eyes finally settling on the Radio Demon.

“Exactly, you’re welcome!”, he smirked, eyes turning back to ruby on red. “I was wondering if you had a specific reason you stopped by, since you have apparently searched for me?”

“Ah, yes! Right, I wanted to speak to you about that amplifier request of yours, because, uh, you see, that’s in fact not as easy a thing to build as it seems, haha …” Lucifer’s voice trailed off in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.

Alastor stared at him, taken aback. “But … you’re already working on it?” It took him a moment to remember proper manners. “Your Majesty?”, he added.

Now it was Lucifer who looked perplexed. “What, you went through the trouble of using my daughter to get what you wanted and still expected me to refuse? Didn’t we already establish that I can’t say no to Charlie?”

The Overlord shrugged. “I wouldn’t have put it past you to agree for Charlie’s sake and then declare later that it simply wasn’t possible to achieve. It wasn’t a deal after all.”

The King blinked owlishly, as if that possibility had never even crossed his mind, something Alastor had a hard time to comprehend, yet the look on the Devil’s face seemed terrifyingly genuine.

And Alastor suddenly found himself envying the Devil. How must it feel to be so powerful as to not spare a thought whether someone tried to trick or betray you, and therefore not bothering to outplay anyone? To not be afraid of slipups and miscalculations, because of what consequence was a mistake if you could simply obliterate anybody who was dumb or ruthless enough to wrong you?

“No”, the fallen angel finally said, after a long moment in which both men had stared at each other, trying to come to terms with the other’s way of thinking.

“No, I don’t want to disappoint Charlie again. She … she is really looking forward to this broadcast idea of yours.” The King’s expression hardened. “So, when this stupid thing finally works, I expect nothing less than the very best from you in that endeavour, or I’ll rip your vocal cords or voice box or whatever you have in your throat there right out! I hope I have made myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, your Majesty. I wouldn’t have pitched that idea otherwise.” That he would use his widened reach for more than just that particular broadcast was a detail Lucifer didn’t need to know. “So I take it that you somehow need my assistance with this project?”

“Yeah, well, I hope so.” The King sighed and pulled out his phone. “That you can help, I mean. You see, I have done something similar before. This phone can reach up to Heaven, but can only connect to certain people. Or rather, their devices, to be specific – you know what I mean, right?”

Alastor could indeed accept the factual truth of that statement – it was an easy enough explanation how Lilith’s phone could still receive Charlie’s messages. Besides that, any magic effect was always easier to achieve if aimed at a specific target instead of a general area or other vague target parameter for the purpose of some kind of mass effect.

“Right. I assume the difficulty you’re alluding to is due to the extensive nature of the desired effect?”

Lucifer nodded.

“Yeah … And in combination with possibly needing to bypass some of Heaven’s protective shields because of your power's demonic nature, this is a real headache. So I thought … maybe it would help if I could inspect your radio tower? Get a feel for how your magic works operating it? I mean, it IS infused with your magic, right?”

Alastor stared at the Devil.

“You want to inspect my tower.”

“Well … yes?”

The Radio Demon felt his eye twitch slightly. He wanted to refuse. The mere thought of another soul entering his tower would make his stomach growl under normal circumstances, but with his hunger already at a distractingly high level he felt his mouth watering. And to picture Lucifer of al beings in there, to imagine his angelic voice echoing from the walls while his screams were burned onto tape –

Alastor tore his eyes from the fallen angel and turned his head towards his tower as if contemplating the request. Yet the hand he brought up to his lips in a tentative gesture was bitten on, the taste of his own blood grounding him to reality.

Lucifer didn’t know what he was asking.

His gaze fell to his shadow, which had stretched and grown, sprouting an impressive rack of antlers, its maw agape in a wide grin and long teeth.

He needed to refuse.

But he also needed the amplifier.

Alastor commanded his shadow into a shapeless pool at his feet and composed himself before turning back to the King.

“Fine. But noone can know!”

“Hu? Why not?”

“Because nobody who entered my tower has ever left alive to tell the tale, and I can’t have the rumour start that someone did, even if that someone was to be the King of Hell himself!”, he snapped, much more agitated than he wanted to let on.

Lucifer huffed. “Geez, fine, I’m not telling a soul! Calm down, it’s not like the tower is your sanctuary! And if you’re going to do that Words Left Unspoken show, you’ll have guests over anyway, won’t you?”

The Overlord snarled silently.

“Yes, but for the purpose of a broadcast, obviously, not some private tour!”

The King grumbled something inaudible and rolled his eyes, turning to look over the city.

The fallen angel just didn’t understand how unfathomable intimate his request was. He probably would understand if Alastor confirmed to him that yes, the radio tower was indeed a sanctuary in terms of power, but he’d rather bite his tongue off than letting the King in on this secret. It was one thing to have his victims there before their final death, or supervising a carefully selected guest for the upcoming show, although that was something unprecedented, too.

But to have Lucifer at his station while demonstrating his routine and the inner workings of his broadcast or whatever the King would request of him during his visit? That was a whole different story.

And all that for the Devil to find a way to get the amplifier to work as intended.

Is it worth the ability to reach Heaven? Yes. Yes, it is.

Because reaching Heaven meant an increase in power without the consumption of souls. And Lilith had forbidden the latter, but not the first, assuming that he couldn’t achieve one thing without the other.

Which left him standing in front of a backdoor to his restraints that Lucifer was working to pry open for him.

“Alright”, Alastor sighed, and Lucifer looked up again. “But after tomorrows celebration. It’s going to be a very busy day and you look like you need your beauty sleep, your Majesty!”

The King let out a snort. “Sure, same goes for you, buck boy!”

His lips twitched at the pet name, but other than that he let the remark slide right off.

“I don’t sleep.”

“Pff, yeah, sure you don’t!”

Alastor shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Wait, you’re serious? You don’t ever sleep?!”

“I’m stealing a few minutes here and there, but I have no need for a bed, no.”

The fallen angel looked at him owlishly once again, and then suddenly burst into laughter.

“Well, that explains your face at least, hahaha!”

He should be angry at a joke being made at his expense. Yet, the trilling angelic laughter didn’t feel malicious. Rather than being ridiculed, the King’s laughter seemed directed at his own joke instead of the demon.

Well, he could let the Devil have a bit of fun. Probably. Though, not without at least a bit of a jab.

“How very funny. Your Majesty has such a mature sense of humour”, he said as dryly as he could muster, which for some reason send the fallen angel howling and dropping backwards on the roof.

Such a childish, unkinglike behaviour. But the tension about the previous topic had evaporated, so that should count as a win.

Alastor just watched while the King’s laughing fit slowly died down. Lucifer sat up, wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Jokes aside, what do you do all night if you don’t hit the sack? Don’t tell me you’re always working!”

“Well, some of us take their responsibilities quiet seriously, your Majesty”, he smirked.

Lucifer deadpanned. “Yeah, my bad, should have seen that one coming from a mile away. You’re such a killjoy sometimes.”

His grin only sharpened.

“That was not a compliment”, the King added.

The Radio Demon opened his mouth to speak when the sound of a car driving up the hill caught both of their attention. A white van pulled up in front of the hotel and a female demon exited the vehicle.

“Uh, isn’t that one of Carmine’s daughters?”

“Indeed!” Alastor got up. “It’s business, then. I’ll handle it.”

“Uhm, sure.”

Falling into his shadow and stepping out a few moments later in front of Odette Carmine, the wound in his chest sent a sharp sting through his body. But it couldn’t be helped, he didn’t want this business conducted in the lobby with the other hotel residents as witnesses.

“Good evening, Miss Odette”, he greeted the young woman, who nodded politely and retrieved a long and slender package from the passenger side.

“Mother sent me to deliver your order. She expects the payment to be handled as discussed.”

She handed him the package and the Overlord expressed his gratitude with a slight bow.

“Of course, my dear, send your mother my regards and let her know that I’m a man of my word.”

“Very well, have a pleasant evening, sir.”

She didn’t wait for a reply and Alastor didn’t mind. Before vanishing into his shadow again, he turned to look up and caught the remnant light of a portal closing. And in the apple shaped tower on the far left of the hotel the lights flickered on.

Very well. Their conversation had been entertaining overall, but all Alastor wanted to do now was inspect his delivery in the privacy of his tower. So that’s where he went, ignoring the aching of his injury as best as he could.

Impatience now building high, he tore the brown paper packaging from its contents.

His microphone looked as good as new, although the long black rod was a little thicker than before. But that was by design, and after a moment of careful examination the demon unsheathed the slender angelic steel blade hidden inside. It glinted even in the dim evening light shining though the large windows. A nasty little surprise for anyone that dared to confront him outright.

Right on time for tomorrow’s endeavour. If all went well the weapon wouldn’t be necessary, but it was better to have and not need, than to need and not have.

He sheathed the blade again and gave the microphone a twirl, familiarizing himself with the new weight. It felt good to have his signature accessory back to add flourish to any performance and keep his hands occupied. To be honest, he had missed his microphone quite a bit, not feeling entirely complete without it.

Then again, he never truly felt complete, the eternal hunger in his stomach forever craving to fill an endless void.

Still, he felt better now. More like himself again, yes, that was the correct way to phrase it.

In the twilight of his tower, the Radio Demon’s smile grew.

Chapter Text

14 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Lucifer’s day started with a BANG. Literally, because Alastor was engaging in his so called ‘pest control’ with his Winchester again, as he had done a couple of times over the last two weeks. Since the sounds of the shots already came from the roof, the fallen angel seemed to have slept through a few already.

Lucifer yawned and rolled on his back, listening to the deer demons drone hunt. He could picture the demon in his mind’s eye, dressed immaculately as always in red and black, the hunting rifle at his shoulder, head bent slightly to take careful aim over the iron sight …

The fallen angel counted four shots before the weapon fell silent permanently. He knew he should get up and start the day. Charlie was probably up and running around already, too, with Vaggie trailing behind her and trying to keep her girlfriend’s excitement contained to a manageable amount. Lucifer smiled groggily. They were a cute couple, his daughter and her paramour, and he was happy that Charlie had found someone she loved and could rely on.

Lucifer yawned again, eyelids fluttering low. He should let them know, he realized. Let them know how thankful he was, that he approved. Not that his daughter needed his approval, but a part of him was certain that she would be happy to hear it anyway.

And what better opportunity than today, with the celebration of comradery tonight?

He smiled, closing his eyes. Just five more minutes, he told himself, or maybe ten, the King of Hell could indulge in a bit of luxury, could he not? Just –

With a crackle of static and short whine of feedback, the radio on his bookshelf sprang to life and the Radio Demons filtered voice sounded cheerily through the speaker. Which was a rare thing for the demon to do, he usually didn’t force his audience to listen to his shows. Although now that he thought about it, Lucifer remembered the initial announcement of the ball to have been advertised in the same manner. And then there were those infamous scream broadcasts Angel had told him about. He even remembered hearing the very first one decades ago, when the radio in his workshop had suddenly burst alive with ear-piercing screams of torment and agony, and he had instantly chucked the damn thing out the palace window …

>>Salutations, dear sinners of Pentagram City! Apologies up front, for today’s morning broadcast will be cut short due to me, your gracious host, being quite busy this morning.<<

There was a track of disappointed voice’s Aww’s and Oww’s from a non-existing studio audience that made Lucifer smirk involuntarily.

>>I know, dear listeners, I know, I am as grieve struck as you are! Feel free to put your complaints into writing and send me a letter to the Hazbin Hotel, but make sure to put your name and address on the envelope to get your individual and very personal response, ha ha!<<

The Devil chuckled at that thinly veiled threat but than covered his mouth with one hand when he realized that some of the more recently deceased residence of Hell might actually take the Radio Demon up on his words, oblivious to who Alastor was and what he would do to them. He needed to remind Charlie to check the mail thoroughly in the next days.

>>But you might ask yourself, dear listeners, what in Hell could be more important than my radio show? Well, the answer is: nothing, of course, ha! BUT, as with everything, there might be a little exception now and then, and as I might remind you all, we have a very special celebration tonight!<<

Wait, WAIT, had the Alastor just implied, if only maybe a teeny-tiny bit, to prioritizing the hotel over his show? Even if it had been in an almost condescendingly casual way? The RADIO DEMON?!

>>The Hazbin Hotel invites each and every one of you wayward sinners to its grand reopening, as we celebrate our victory over Heaven’s exorcists during their last and very much failed Extermination attempt! The hotel’s doors open for you at 6 pm sharp and welcome you to mingle with Hell’s royalty and ruling Overlords! But don’t be afraid, we have a strict No-Fights and No-Deals policy in place for this evening! The buffet opens at 7 pm to sate your appetite, and I can personally guarantee you all that there will be something for everybody’s taste, so you may feast to your liking! Be careful not to overconsume, though, or you might find yourself unable to hit the dance floor from 8 pm onwards!<<

A track of a cheering crowd played as the King stared at the radio, almost not listening to the words that informed the city of the evening’s schedule and entertainment.

>>With that said, I bid you all farewell until tonight, when we all meet and greet in person – if you dare that is, ha ha! But for now, have this little offering to start your day, as I present to you ‘Morning of Hope’ by Wake Up Happy, composed by Reuben Upstone. Yes, I agree, that sounds too tacky for my liking, but the music is pleasant enough to get out of bed regardless of the artist’s lack of taste in naming their work. Enjoy!<<

A guitar began to play, accompanied by a piano. A cheerful tune, playful in its gentleness, but to lively to just turn around and fall asleep to it. Lucifer found his fingers tapping to the beat first, quickly followed by his feet, his sleepiness being replaced by restlessness. Alastor had been right, there was simply no staying in bed to this music.

The fallen angel tossed the sheets aside and almost jumped out of bed, falling into little dance steps on his way to the bathroom. The song ended and the radio clicked off on its own while he brushed his teeth. Lucifer mourned the loss a little and started humming to himself, just to let the energizing effect linger a little longer.

He took a long, long shower just to enjoy the feeling of the water running down his skin. Pretending for it to be rain like once upon a time in Eden. Giving in to the temptation to sing some his favourite arias and duets. And no, it didn’t matter if the two voices had to cross, he could do that and more, he was part of the First Choir! Two vocals were child’s play!

Physically towelling himself dry was another thing that was another little pleasure on a good day. Doing everything with magic was handy, sure, but it could not be called enjoyable. Sometimes even the simplest of acts was soothing.

His reflection in the mirror looked … better. Sleeping for at least six hours without interruptions and dreams for once had done wonders to banish the most obvious signs of worry from his face, which was a relief with regards to his first public appearance in centuries tonight. He didn’t count his participation at the battle, for that was hardly what one could call a social event.

The celebration, however, was very much social and public. Everyone was invited. How many sinners would actually show up was another question altogether, and the uncertainty of it all made the King feel a little anxious already. Would his presence at the hotel draw people in tonight, or repel them from attending? How many Overlords aside from the Radio Demon and the two guests of honour Carmilla and Rosie would cease the opportunity to acquaint themselves with the King? He had been an absentee ruler for centuries; would they even deem it worth their time and reputation to strike up a conversation if they thought him irrelevant to the ongoing politics? Should he even care if they did or not? Did he even want to get involved in that despicable web of deals and fragile alliances and decades long animosities? He should, he knew that, it was his duty as King, wasn’t it?

But all he wanted to do was to be here for his daughter and help her with the hotel. To make up for lost time, even if that meant to participate in some of the more uncomfortable activities like group therapy.

Although he missed most of the sessions due to oversleeping because Charlie thought it a good idea to hold those in the mornings to not have anxiety build up over the day, as if building up anxiety over the whole night was any better –

Lucifer blinked.

Group therapy. In the morning. Oversleeping, which he did NOT do today! Which day was it? He scrambled out of the bathroom and to the calendar, which was enchanted to always indicate the correct year, month, and day.

Today was a Sunday, which meant there was a therapy session. A part of him dreaded attending, but then again, he probably didn’t have to say anything, he just had to listen. To be there at all. And she would be so proud of him!

A glance at the clock told him that it was – holy shit, only half an hour left, and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet!

The King magically dressed and quickly portalled down to the kitchen, hopping through the portal like a circus acrobat through a ring before it had even opened fully.

He crashed into a body –

– there was the quickest flash of a feeling he could not help but associate with Heaven, as if brushing against another angel –

– that greeted him with a deafening screech, something shattered close by, and a claw gripped him by the back of his collar and flung him across the room.

Lucifer’s wings burst free on instinct, trying to steady what felt like falling sideways. They hit against the furniture, the wall and the ceiling, toppling some chairs and sweeping down dishes from the countertops, the wingspan to wide even for the dimensions of a kitchen that was designed for cooking on a grander scale than currently needed.

The fallen angel managed to successfully find his balance and land on his feet, although gracefulness was not among the list of words he would use to describe his landing.

“What the –“, he started but was rudely, and loudly, interrupted.

“LOOK AT THE MESS YOU’VE MADE!”

The static that hit him was almost physical, a sound wave that thickened the air to the point that it became nearly visible. Lucifer’s hat, that he had somehow managed to hold onto while being thrown across the kitchen, was blown off his head.

Still baffled by what had just happened, the King looked.

The Radio Demon was fuming. His eyes had turned to radio dials again, as they used to do when the deer got angry. His body had grown by at least three feet, which wasn’t that much considering the monstrous form he could change into, but with his elongated extremities and neck he still already managed to look haunting. The antlers had sprouted into an eight-pointer rack.

All in all, Alastor was successful in expressing his ire while simultaneously managing to contain it. Well, somewhat.

Lucifer noticed a dark wet stain on the demon’s coat, and a broken mug surrounded by spilled coffee at his feet.

Oh. Oh.

“Oops.” He let his wings disappear and retrieved his hat.

“Is that all you have to say to ramming into me and ruining my coat?”

“He did WHAT?” Angel popped his head through the open kitchen door. The spider demon used the moment of irritated silence to analyze the situation further and frowned.

“Neva mind, it ain’t as interestin’ as I thought”, he commented before disappearing into the hallway again.

At least the little interruption helped to calm Alastor’s anger a bit –

Angel popped his head back in. “But ya know, when ya get there, let me know ‘kay?”

Nope, never mind, Lucifer thought as static screeched and hissed and the Radio Demon threw the first thing he could grab – a teaspoon – with such force at the fleeing spider that it stuck in the wall with a cartoonishly ringing wriggle. A fucking spoon.

“Okaaay, alright, let’s calm down before someone gets hurt. Please?”

He approached the irate sinner with both hands held up in what he hoped was understood as him not being a threat and apologetic. The deer demon’s teeth were still bared in a snarl, but Alastor made indeed an effort in composing himself, shrinking back to his usual size.

The King felt encouraged to continue.

“Look, it was my fault –“

“Indeed it was! Foolish and reckless and –”

“– and I’m sorry for that, okay?! I’ll make everything right again, okay? I’ll clean your coat and repair your mug and make you another coffee!”

He was close enough now to reach out and do exactly as he said, starting with Alastor’s coat.

The Overlord recoiled as if the fallen angel was threatening him with an angelic blade.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Which had Lucifer flinch back at the unrestrained aggressiveness in that growling voice, teeth snapping at every word as if threatening to bite the offending hand off. The demon couldn’t hurt him of course, couldn’t even nick the fallen angel’s skin without angelic steel or some form of holy energy, but there was no doubt in the Devil’s mind that Alastor would try regardless.

But there was also something else buried under the thick layers of aggression, something he caught only a brief glimpse of in those glaring red eyes and the instinctual abruptness of the demon’s flinching motion.

Fear.

Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, able to obliterate any sinner before him with a snap of his fingers and erasing them permanently if he wanted to. He could not only level city blocks on a whim, but the entirety of Pentagram City. Fearing the King of Hell should come naturally to any demon, yet frankly, he hadn’t actually expected it from Alastor. The Radio Demon’s display of bravado and cockiness might be derived from madness, but that had been refreshing (if also annoying), because it had felt genuine. And, somehow, it still did.

That spark of fear, however, felt wrong.

Considering that six weeks ago a single moment of putting the deer demon in his place would have deeply satisfied him, this was an odd sentiment, wasn’t it?

“Okay, okay! No touching, got it! Would have been a little easier, but it’s not needed!”, he assured the Overlord while backing away a few steps.

With a snap of his fingers a tint of golden magic washed over the demon to clean his garments thoroughly. He was baffled to see Alastor shudder and take a quivering inhale which the deer demon couldn’t completely hide, one of his claws flying to his chest where the stain had been.

This felt wrong. All of it.

Or was that his anxiety clawing at his mind, tainting everything in unnecessary worries?

Again, Alastor tried to compose himself, wiping imaginary remnants of imaginary dust from his coat, which Lucifer could identify for once as a self-soothing gesture.

“See? Good as new!” The King tried for a cheerful tone that was not reciprocated.

“Which is the bare minimum after that stunt of yours, your Majesty!”, the Overlord snapped, and then visibly reigned his vexation in. “It’ll do. Thank you”, he added with a begrudged sigh.

Lucifer was surprised by the relief that washed over him. Even more so that he instantly acted on it, fixing the broken mug with another finger snap and cleaning the coffee spill on the floor in the process. After levitating the repaired mug – pale red with a black Oh Deer! inscription and painted on blood stains – to his hand, he presented it to Alastor like a peace offering.

The Radio Demon took it, careful not to connect his fingers in any way with the monarch’s hand.

“Much obliged, your Majesty”, Alastor commented and turned towards the counter. “Regarding your offer to renew my morning drink I’ll have to decline, though. The beverage you tend to call coffee is an abomination.”

Alright, if there was any indication that Alastor had his temper under control again, it was this.

“Excuse me? That was perfectly conjured coffee the other day!”

“Exactly!”, the deer grimaced, “conjured! No wonder it tasted bland.”

“So what, if you put cream and sugar in it you don’t even notice the difference!”

Alastor sneered at that while preparing his beverage anew. “It truly takes an unfathomable creativity to come up with a way to ruin conjured coffee even further.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Hmm”, the Overlord tilted his head without looking at the King. “No, I don’t think I will.”

And Lucifer was rendered speechless. He wanted to pout. He wanted to call Alastor names. Yet he got the feeling that his little mishap was being forgiven at the low cost of fixing the mess he had created and a few shallow jabs. Which he could live with, actually, it wasn’t worth continuing to fight over this stupid accident he had already apologized and made amends for.

Ah, speaking of a mess … There were still broken dishes strewn around and a teaspoon stuck in the wall next to the door, maybe he should take care of that, too. The fallen angel put his magic to work and when he was finished, the sinner was also done with brewing his coffee, turning around with a steaming mug.

“I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you out of your chambers this early, your Majesty. This is quite the unusual time for you to be up and about!” The demon took a sip of his brew and let out a contented hum.

“Well, uh, that’s because of your broadcast, actually”, the King confessed and felt his cheeks grew warm, dear Father, why was he blushing, there was NO NEED for blushing!

“Because of the music!”, he added quickly, maybe a bit too quickly. “You were right, you know, about getting out of bed to that tune?” This was embarrassing.

“I see”, the Radio Demon replied with a smirk and far too pleased with himself, and oh boy, why did that smug grin bother him so much, why did it even affect him at all?

“I take it that you will be joining your daughter’s therapy session then?”

There was a curious undertone in the deer’s voice. Almost expectant. Lucifer jumped at the opportunity that presented itself.

“Why, would it make your day if I did?”, he asked with a sly grin and the way Alastor choked on his coffee was all the reward the Devil needed to feel like a player in this game of taking jabs at each other…

Wait, was that what this had become? A game? No no, friends played games, but Alastor and he weren’t friends, they were … uh … not enemies either, right? There was still tension between them, a wariness of sorts, but it certainly didn’t feel malicious – not like the first time they met. So they were … acquaintances? Associates? Yeah, he could settle with that for now.

“Well, although I personally consider these sessions to be vain, but the suffering of others is always somewhat entertaining, and I’m sure your Majesty has an interesting collection of misery to contribute.”

That hurt. It hurt, but not as much as it could have. The casualness with which the words were spoken made all the difference. Heck, there was all the distaste in the mentioning of the group therapy and not one ounce of mockery with regards to the fallen angel’s suffering. It turned the words from being a knife twisted in his gut to a blade being drawn delicately over his skin with just enough pressure to bleed. Heavens, one could even interpret the proclaimed interest as a kind of praise, as if the stories of his despair were something worthwhile to listen to.

Perhaps to someone like the Radio Demon they truly were.

And Lucifer craved so desperately to be heard. To be seen.

Understood.

What an utter fool he would be to make the same mistake twice …

“I hate you.” A whisper.

And there was that smug smile again, just not as sharp but softer, knowing …

“I don’t believe you.” Red, half-lidded eyes over a steaming mug as Alastor took another sip. Low voice. No filter.

The air in the kitchen must have grown cold suddenly, why else would there be a fucking shiver running down his spine?!

Then the great grandfather clock in the lobby struck 9 am, its chimes echoing through the hallways, breaking the spell.

“Wonderful, looks like we’re already late to Charlie’s session because of you. Come along now, your Majesty!” Alastor already turned towards the door and started walking.

“I know where the damn therapy room is myself, prick!”, Lucifer bristled and opened a portal, stepping through and closing it decidedly to NOT be followed by that insufferable deer.

He almost bumped into Charlie while doing so.

“Dad! You’re here!” Charlie hugged him in her typical crushing way she definitely had inherited from her mother. And the fallen angel felt all his irritation about this whole kitchen incident melt away in their embrace.

“But of course, anything for you, duckling!”, he replied happily, and he meant it. With all of his heart. He would grant her every wish if it was within his power, she just needed to ask, and she knew that.

She knew that, right?

Then again … it was one thing for her to know, or at least assume, that he would do anything for her, and another thing entirely to trust him enough to actually ask. Because when she had finally approached, after holding off and trying on her own for months, he had … dismissed her. Or tried to. Hard.

All to protect her from Heaven, look at the irony, but of course it had done more harm than good.

It had needed a violent, manipulative Overlord, who had supported Charlie more in a few months than Lucifer had her entire life, and a tearful song to agree to her request, and even then …

She hadn’t told him about the moved-up Extermination that had been only four weeks away at that point. She hadn’t called or texted how bad the meeting with Heaven had gone – even if he might have missed her attempts to reach out at that time because of his depressive episode, there had been no missed calls or messages. Charlie had expected to be alone in this, and to only rely on those she had grown close to.

Which was not Lucifer, her father, one of the very first people she should be able to come to for help or advise. He was –

“Dad?”

– spiraling again, fuck.

The fallen angel let go of his daughter and took a step back.

“Ah, sorry Char-Char, I’m just … so happy to be here!”

She didn’t quite buy it, he could see the hint of uncertainty in her eyes, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Or just didn’t want to pry, which was fine, he was thankful either way.

Or maybe she doesn’t want to deal with your problems, too, right now, said that ugly little voice inside his head he instantly tried to smother with an imaginary pillow.

“I’m happy to have you here, too, Dad! Please, have a seat, we’re about to start!”

The chairs had been arranged into a half circle facing a whiteboard. With the exception of the two at the right end all had been already taken. Angel sat on the left closest to the door, the King noticed, maybe he was a little wary of Alastor’s mood after the kitchen incident and had secured himself the best access to an escape route?

Speaking of the Overlord, the deer demon strolled in, coffee mug still in hand, as Lucifer took a seat.

“Alastor! I wasn’t sure you would join us this morning!”, Charlie greeted him without a hug, although there was a little bouncing step towards the sinner as if she was considering it and holding back at the last moment, and Lucifer didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Good morning, my dear! I apologies for my tardiness, but someone made a mess in the kitchen that held me occupied.”

“Hey now, you didn’t clean shit there! I did!”, the Devil interjected, realizing too late that he was outing himself in the process as said someone.

“Which was your responsibility after making said mess in the first place”, was the nonchalant answer, but Charlie looked a little concerned.

“What happened?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, dear, it was just a little accident. It’s been well taken care off”, Alastor assured the princess before claiming the last empty seat next to the King.

And see, there was the sinner’s infuriatingly confusing way of playing with words again! It seemed to imply that the Radio Demon had taken care of the problem, although Lucifer had already proclaimed to be responsible, so actually he was being praised for a clean-up well done after having been blamed for it? Uhm, or having blamed himself for it, geez, Alastor hadn’t even ratted him out …

“Good morning everyone, and thank you all for coming! Before we start, remember as always that what’s shared during group therapy –“

“– stays in group therapy…”, an out of sync and vaguely enthusiastic chorus answered, existing only in the first place as to not disappoint Charlie.

Only Lucifer and Alastor didn’t participate in that rehearsed answer. Lucifer because he hadn’t known, and Alastor because … he was Alastor. ‘Vain’ was what he had called these sessions, maybe just being here was what the demon considered enough participation.

“That’s right! Now, today is a BIG day for all of us, so first things first: Thank you guys, all of you! You all helped as much as you could to set up this very special celebration and to make it as grandiose as it could possibly be! And let’s also remember that this is not just for the hotel, but for every one of you, too! But I know that a grand event like this can have elements that some of you may be uncomfortable with, so in order to make tonight as enjoyable as possible, I want us all to share something we fear could go wrong, or feel anxious about, or alternatively hope for! So that we can look out for and help each other in case a situation arises that one of us feel uncomfortable with!”

It was a great idea in Lucifer’s opinion. He listened to the woes and expectations of the other residents but felt out of place to actually take part in their discussions about possible solutions or ways to intervene should one of them find themselves in an undesirable situation this evening.

Next to him the Radio Demon shifted in his seat, placing one leg over his other knee and leaning back. A display of comfort, or maybe boredom if the nonchalant way he inspected his claws was any indication. Yet his smile was thin and a little strained at the edges.

Lucifer’s best guess regarding the deer demon’s apparent mood was of annoyance. He remembered that Vaggie had accused Alastor of never actually participating in these sessions, and the demon did indeed keep his opinion on the discussed topics to himself, although the fallen angel was certain that Alastor had a repertoire of mocking comments at the ready. His ears were twitching and constantly pointing in the direction of the person currently speaking, so he did in fact listen in on the discussion, despite acting as if he didn’t care.

Was that him ‘gathering intel’ as Angel had called it? Going through a chore to please Charlie, while trying to get at least some information out of this supposed ordeal?

“Dad? Do you have something you want to share?” Charlie’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, uhm, actually … yeah, I do!”

All eyes were on him now. Oh Father, ALL eyes. He could feel the side-eyed stare of red and ruby on him, and he tried not to think about what that meant to suddenly be the one to gain the deer’s full attention.

“So, I … It’s been a while since I attended a social event this big … or any social event, really, in … well … in a long time. So, I guess I’m kinda … nervous about it?” He could feel his face grow hot in embarrassment. He was the King of Hell, dammit, he should not be scared of meeting a few people!

“Aww, dad! Thank you for telling us, now we can watch out for you not to get crowded! Besides, it’s really enough for you to just be there, you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel up to. And if it still gets to much, it’s okay to just portal out and take a break, alright? I want you to know that it’s fine to take care of yourself, okay dad?”

He didn’t deserve his daughter. Didn’t deserve such a kind-hearted, well-meaning and caring child that showed him more support and understanding than he had ever offered her as a father. His eyes were watering and NO, he would not have a breakdown here in front of everyone, NOPE, not gonna happen!

The King cleared his throat. “Thank you, duckling, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Of course, dad”, she replied softly. “Anything you hope for tonight?”

“Well, ha ha, yeah, I kinda look forward to maybe dance a bit!”

The moment he spoke those words a snippet of his last dream hit him.

– Alastor stands on the water, taking on step towards the King and bows, one hand outstretched and his torso gaping open to expose organs and intestines, which fall out as the demon bends down –

“Would you honour a lowly sinner as myself with this dance, your Majesty?”

Oh no, fuck, the dreams had something to do with the ball tonight, hadn’t it? What if Alastor would ask him for dance tonight, just because Lucifer had expressed the hope to get that opportunity. No, fuck NO, had he just kickstarted the events of his dream somehow, or would this part have happened regardless?

Something was about to happen there, something that would hurt Alastor severely. What else could it be? A lot of sinners might heed the invitation and attend the event, not to mention other Overlords, and most of those were aggressive and powerful. Alastor undoubtedly had enemies among them, but would anyone really be that outrageously brazen, that unspeakably foolish as to attempt an attack in the presence of the King of Hell? Was he regarded that lowly as to not be considered a hindrance or a threat to such a plan?

Or … would they only strike in his absence, in a moment when he had reached his limit of tolerating a crowd of people and would take a break, just as Charlie had recommended to do, to seek refuge in the solitude of his chambers?

Well, he wouldn’t do that, no matter what. It was as simple as that. He would stay at the celebration all night, from dusk till dawn if needed and make sure that the danger to Alastor the dream clearly warned him about would not come to pass. He could endure a little discomfort – a small price if it meant preventing the evisceration of the Radio Demon.

If the ground they walked on would not shatter and crumble, be it figuratively or literally. Lucifer didn’t have a clue what that part of the dreams was supposed to mean exactly, but overall, the message was clear enough: something really fucking bad would happen if the Crimson Stag were to die.

“Alastor, what about you?” It seemed that Charlie wouldn’t let the demon get of the hook today as she usually did. Now it was the King’s turn to side-eye the man next to him and observe.

And oh boy, there was the eye twitch.

“Well, my dear, there is nothing to fear whatsoever regarding this evening’s festivities!”

“Right …” Charlie had picked up on the brevity of the answer and its dismissive nature, but the Princess wasn’t easily discouraged. “What about your hopes then?”

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes at that. He couldn’t lean back in his chair anymore, so he leaned on his left armrest instead, distancing himself a little further from Charlie and her question. He waved his right hand dismissively as he spoke.

“Ah, that’s an easy one: I don’t have those.”

What?! Charlie wasn’t the only one looking baffled.

“But if I might voice a request, Princess?”

“Of course!” His daughter would always jump at the opportunity to help, but Lucifer suspected that this request wasn’t quite what Charlie expected.

“When you give your laudatory speech tonight, I would kindly ask of you not to paint me in a too benevolent light. I have a reputation to keep afterall.”

Yep, she hadn’t seen this one coming. Neither had the fallen angel, to be fair, but it did make sense for an Overlord like Alastor. Or any Overlord.

Of course, Charlie had a different opinion. It was what made her so determined to begin with. It was also her biggest flaw.

“Alastor, you have done so much for this hotel, people should know how grateful I am – how grateful we ALL are – to have you here! I can always rely on you no matter the task, while also keeping the hotel safe and –“

“And the latter if perfectly acceptable to swoon over as much as you want, but if people get the impression that I let myself be commanded around like a leashed pet, they will believe me weak. Or worse: trying to be part of your redemption agenda. I can’t have that!”

The deer demon sounded downright insulted. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw Husk’s ears twitch and he shot the bartender a glance. The cat demon’s eyes were full of wariness and fixed on the Radio Demon. Hu.

Charlie’s features grew soft and she had that look on her face like she braced herself before talking to an unreasonable child. Oh no, didn’t she feel the air growing heavy with low frequency white noise? Alastor was angry, yet tried to be polite about it. For now.

“But redemption is a wonderful thing! To grow into the best version of yourself, and to earn your way out of this realm of misery and reach Heaven for the best afterlife imaginable!”

Lucifer could feel the vibration in his diaphragm, and judging by the looks of the others, they could too. Charlie seemed to be the only one unaffected, or maybe she simply didn’t care. Probably the latter.

“Charlie, dear, I already told you that I’m not here for that. I thought I made that clear the very first day.”

Though his words were still phrased politely, any attempt at courtesy was gone from the demon’s face. Unfortunately, his daughter seemed to have no sense for self-preservation. Or she truly trusted Alastor not to get violent with her. The King, however, didn’t. The demon’s claws were digging into the armrests. Lucifer was ready to jump and intervene any moment.

“I know you said that you just wanted to help for the entertainment, but I think that wasn’t the only reason you came here, Alastor. And I do get that you probably think that you don’t deserve redemption with all the things you did on Earth and have done since coming to Hell to become an Overlord, but –“

“Charlotte Morningstar, Ś̵̡̛̞̺̞̼͔̭̝͎̀̉T̸̨̢̛͓̘̮̥̹͕̽̉̉̃̔̑͠Ǫ̵̨̹̞̮̱̦͈̥̗̗̽͛̾̾̈́̿P̵̢͖͇͈̣̜̻̗͔̦̈́̉͂̐͐̂͂͂́̕͝ ̸̛̟͎̏͗͑̄̇̈̕͠ͅI̴̡̧̛͖̹̩̦̩͇͖̮̋́̆̽̒̐̉̈́T̴̗̐!”

Alastor’s distorted voice was accompanied by a screech that sounded almost more pained then agitated. The demon had leaned forward suddenly as if wanting to pounce and yet holding himself back. He rose slowly from his chair, putting his mug down on the seat behind him, and the fallen angel watched his every move like a snake ready to strike at the next sudden movement. He could feel his eyes turning and horns sprouting from his forehead, but he did not stand up.

The King couldn’t tell whether the Radio Demon failed to notice the threat next to him or if he willfully ignored it. Those ruby eyes hadn’t turned into dials, but they were fixed unblinking on the Princess.

„It appears that I have not been clear enough with regards to my lack of intention to be redeemed. Allow me to correct this misconception of yours, my dear”, Alastor continued through gritted teeth, taking a few steps towards Charlie, and the fallen angel slowly rose to his feet himself.

A few seats over Vaggie did the same, spear at the ready, but then Husk grabbed her by the arm, holding her back. It was this interference that made Lucifer stay where he was behind the taller sinner and just observe.

Alastor’s back was ramrod straight, his entire body rigid. He only bent the neck to look down at the Princess. Then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyed irritation.

“Where to even begin …? I don’t expect you to know much about what’s called ‘racial segregation’ on Earth?”

He could hear an almost inaudible ‘Oh fuck’ from Angel muttered under the spider’s breath, while Charlie faltered under the Overlords piercing stare.

“Well, I read about it … a little bit …”

“Splendid, so you know almost nothing! Well then, let’s paint a pretty picture for you, shall we? Imagine being a child of a demon and an angel – and I don’t mean a fallen one, I’m talking about an actual Winner. You’re part Heaven and part Hell, but neither realm stakes claim to you! Heaven despises you for your demon traits, Hell loathes you for your angelic blood! Both sides oppose their rules on you that are always prohibitions! You don’t belong anywhere, and you know what the cherry on top is? Not only can’t you be either angel or demon, but neither can you be yourself! Because society as a whole will punish you for doing what you want, what you crave!”

Charlie’s eyes had gone wide with sorrow. But Alastor’s agitation only grew while narrating his story.

“But then, something beautiful happens: you die! You shed that miserable, restricting skin of yours, and you find yourself in a new place where you can finally be yourself without any restrictions! No more hiding what and who you are, no more depending on being just enough of an angel or a demon to get some of the scraps from either side! You can start anew, you can make a name for yourself and get the acknowledgment you were always owed, and you can finally truly be yourself! You finally belong!”

Something manic had entered the demon’s static-laden voice, tethering on the edge of madness. But the demon wasn’t done yet. He loomed over the Princess, arms spread wide in a gesture of presentation. And as he continued to speak, he leaned in even closer, his face mere inches from hers.

“Do you see now, Charlie? I already am the best version of myself – the one where I choose what and who I want to be! Because I need you to understand that, when it comes to my own person, I loathe your enthusiasm to try and evict me from my HOME!”

His voice had suddenly fallen from high-pitched mania to a low and soft rumble, that grew in sharpness and anguish at the end.

Desperate, Lucifer thought as he stared in disbelieve at the Radio Demon, and for a moment he wondered why it was this word of all things that crossed his mind.

Then it hit him.

In Alastor’s mind, Charlie was persistently threatening him with changing his personality. His sense of self. And in doing that, conveying the impression that the demon was something lesser than he could be.
Which is what his fellow humans had done all his life.

Lucifer didn’t need to know everything about that ‘racial segregation’ thing to understand that. It was enough to have been regarded as a troublemaker by his brothers and fellow angels when he had still been an archangel in Heaven. It was enough to have been cast out and forcefully changed into something other than he had wanted to be.

The Morningstar knew the raw and painful essence of it, and that was quite enough.

“I … I’m so s-sorry, Al! I didn’t … didn’t know …”

Charlie was sobbing, and once the tears were flowing she couldn’t stop herself anymore. She took a step forward to hug the deer demon, but to her shock he stepped to the side to evade her, hands tugged behind his back and straightening his posture as he composed himself.

“Don’t be, my dear, I’m glad we could clear up this little misunderstanding”, Alastor said, as if this conversation hadn’t riled him up at all and made Charlie break into tears.

The demon glanced at the clock above the door.

“And look at the time! I’m afraid I must leave you now to finish this session without me, but I have a very important appointment scheduled.”

“What, you make Charlie cry and now you run away, asshole?!”, Vaggie shouted, outrage clear in her voice.

“Not at all, my dear, but some business simply cannot wait.” Alastor’s voice was laced with venom as he regarded the former Exorcist. Then he turned and headed for the door.

“But be assured that I’ll return in time to oversee the final preparations for tonight. Until then, have a pleasant day, chums!”

And with that, he was gone. The door closed with the softest of clicks, but somehow it sounded louder than if the demon had thrown the door shut.

Vaggie rushed to console her sobbing girlfriend, but other than that, no one dared to breathe a sigh of relief yet.

Lucifer’s mind was spinning, and he sat – or rather flopped – down on his chair again.

It was the cat demon who broke the silence first.

“Congratulations, Princess, you made the boss talk in group therapy. That’s a first for sure, well done.”

Vaggie shot him a glare. “Husk, really?!”

“What? I’m not mocking her, I mean it! ‘Course I knew he must’ve suffered because of that whole racism bullshit when he grew up, the man’s Creole for Christ’s sake! Those times were goddamn hard on his people, and as he just said himself, he never considered even havin’ a people! All that the boss had was –“

Husk went silent, catching himself before said more than he should.

“Whatever, ain’t my place to tell ya’ll more about that. Let’s just focus on the fact that even I never heard him speak of this topic before. Like, EVER, if ya know what I mean. So yeah, congratulations to gettin’ him to talk.”

“Fuuuck”, Angel groaned. “Now I get it why Smiles said that he ain’t interested in someone’s heritage … It’s because he tries not to be a frickin’ racist asshole!”

“Yeah, what’s the point in that anyways down here, right? I mean, just look at you an’ me, we barely lookin’ human anymore”, Husk added.

Hell doesn’t care for those kinds of distinguishing details in the same way Earth did.

That’s what Alastor had said a few days ago at the bar. Lucifer remembered it word for word.

“I’m sorry, but could you maybe explain what this all is about? In, like, simple terms? That whole angel-demon-parentage thing was a little over the top, right? For dramatic effects?”

By the looks Husk and Angel gave him, there wasn’t much hope for that to be true. Not like Lucifer had been that hopeful to begin with.

“It really ain’t fair to simplify that whole racial segregation bullshit, but it would take far too much time to explain all the nuances, so … just be aware that’s more complicated than I’m tellin’ you now, alright?”

Lucifer nodded, as did Charlie and Vaggie.

“Look, up on Earth ain’t no one who looks like us, right? All humans look like humans, but there’re still differences in appearance. Like hair colour, eye colour … and, well, skin colour. Whole palette of tones, from very light to very dark – they call it ‘white’ an’ ‘black’ for shorts, an’ there are some more terms like that for other people, but I’m not getting’ into that now. Don’t even get me started on slurs. In our times, meanin’ Al’s an’ Angel’s an’ mine, there was this idea that you could distinguish human races due to features like skin colour. Don’t know if they managed to get that shit behind them by now, it has been a while since then.”

“Nah, not really, not when I died. Bet nothin’s changed the last forty years either”, was Cherri’s comment to that. Husk shrugged, but it looked more like affirmation than indifference.

“Anyways, the white people thought that the blacks were an inferior human race. Has to do with an earlier history of slavery, not gonna get into that now either. That mess was already a thing of the past by then, but the general sentiment was still ‘us’ versus ‘them’. And it got to the point where they started to separate white people from black people. Like, they divided entire buildings, or even had separate buildings for whites and blacks. They divided every-fuckin’-thing they could, with the white people usually getting’ the better end of the deal. And it didn’t stop there, of course. You know what people do to other’s if they think of them as lesser beings, look at Hell. Fuck, look at Heaven!”

Vaggie flinched.

“So that’s the environment the boss grew up in. A lot of nonsense hate for nothin’ more than your looks. He’s Creole, which means he has some sort of mixed heritage, I really don’t know the details and I ain’t gonna speculate. But judgin’ by his own angel-demon-story … well, I let you think about that for yourselves. You’re smart, you can draw your one conclusion.”

That … was a lot to unpack. Lucifer wasn’t sure if he wanted to dive deeper into this topic. It sounded … highly unpleasant, at the bare minimum. Which meant that in reality, it was probably much, much worse.

Then again, it was obvious that this was an important part of who Alastor was, or at least what had contributed to him being, well, him. He needed to know. Maybe this was important to figuring out his dreams. And if not directly, some of this might serve as a topic to talk about, or help understand another seemingly unrelated detail later.

Not even an hour earlier Alastor had expressed an interest in the fallen angel’s past suffering. What if they could … trade experiences? Maybe that way he could get the sinner to trust him a bit.

“So what, you sayin’ our Big Bad Radio Demon had it really bad up there, but Hell’s even worse and now he likes it?”, Cherri chimed in, almost laughing.

“You like it here, toots, don’t ya?”, Angel interrupted, grinning suggestively at his friend.

“I like a lot of things, fuck head, but I ain’t callin’ Hell my home, I’m not that insane!”

Husk shrugged again. “I think the boss had a thirst for revenge up there. A thirst he tried to quench with his killings topside and couldn’t, and that changed when he got here.”

Not a thirst, no, but a hunger, the King thought and shuddered. Was that how Alastor had gotten into cannibalism? An extended act of revenge, a last humiliation of his victims, or perhaps even dominance?

“I didn’t think …”, Charlie’s voice was quiet, somber. “I didn’t think anyone but a Hellborne could look at Hell as their home … I just assumed …” She didn’t finish the sentence but buried her face in her hands.

The fallen angel finally stood and went over to his daughter, hugging her tightly.

“It’s okay, duckling, you … you had all the right intention, it’s just … you pushed a little to hard and caused a little distress but in the end, I think something good came out of it?”

He wished that his voice sounded more reassuring. More certain of his own words. Damn, he was bad at this, wasn’t he?

But she looked at him with her big puppy eyes and Lucifer felt his heart melt at the sight.

“You really think that?”

“Yes, Char-Char, I really do!”

And she smiled at that, and if his words hadn’t been true before, now they certainly were.

Chapter Text

14 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

>>Ugh, do I really have to stay the whole night? This will be such a waste of time!<<

The head news anchor didn’t even try to hide her annoyance, but Vox didn’t care. The TV Demon didn’t even look at his underling featured on one of the many screens plastered in an enormous semicircle around his control panel. Sitting in his office chair, he was turned away from the woman and looking at the newest audience polls displayed on another monitor.

“If you do your job like you’re supposed to, it shouldn’t be”, the Overlord replied dismissively. “Do what you do best, stick your nose in everybody else’s business and dig up dirt, preferably a lot of it. Get as much footage and interviews done as you can, and we will be able to trash-talk that farce of a hotel for months. Maybe even get some featurettes done on the Overlords who dare show their faces there.”

There was one particular Overlord he had in mind, of course, and that one was guaranteed to be present.

>>But Sir, wouldn’t it be better if that ratty hotel didn’t get any coverage at all and were to be forgotten?<<

It was a thought that had crossed Vox’s mind of course, but then he would miss the opportunity to pick and prod at the Radio Demon in any way he could, and that just wouldn’t do. Heavens forbid that he would let his enemy proceed with his plans and schemes in peace.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Killjoy, it’s not like anyone is interested in little Miss Rainbows and Butterflys’ redemption project anyways. Besides, the audience just loves it when something is dragged through the mud, and by the time we’re done with that hotel, it will be more in ruins than Adam ever left it!”

>>Ugh, fine<<, the newscaster conceded. Not like she truly had a saying in any of this.

“Just don’t forget to get the bugs anywhere you can. Each room you can get to, everyone you rub elbows with, you know the drill. The more the merrier, understood?”

On the screen, Katie Killjoy seemed to roll her pupilless red eyes.

>>I am a professional<<, was her condescending answer.

“Good. Then there’s no way you could disappoint me, right?”

Now Vox turned his head to look at her, and whatever she saw did startle her before the connection was ended. The TV Demon always liked to have the last word.

Behind him on the wall beyond the bridge, right next to the entrance, a shadow started to stretch.

Vox’s attention got distracted once more by a ringing sound coming from his own head, and with a motion of his hand the call got projected onto another monitor.

>>Hola amorcito, are you busy?<<

Valentino. On the wall, the shadow’s outline frizzled with spikes. A maw bared long teeth, and antlers started protruding from the shape’s head.

“What do you want, Val? And yes, I’m busy.” There was a barely contained sigh in the demon’s voice.

>>Aww, too bad. I’m about to start filming and thought I’d invite you to watch.<<

“Another time, Val, I need my eyes on Carmine’s right now. There’s something going on over there, an odd level of activity all morning long. I’m pretty sure she’s making some kind of move, and I need to find out what it is.”

And sure enough, a dozen or more of the mounted screens showed different angles of view on the Carmine territory, her factories and the headquarter. Most of them were arial points of view, some even moving around. Drones, of course.

>>But that sounds dull, mi amor. Come, take a break and have a bit of fun!<<

The shadow left its place on the wall and stretched across the bridge, antlers wide enough to cage in the entire control panel and the Overlord seated in front of it. There was no need to worry about being spotted by the Pimp Overlord through the connected call, the moth demon’s eyesight was frankly shit, whether he wore his heart-shaped glasses or not.

“Val, not right now. As I said, I’m busy.” Vox ended the call, cutting the other man off right as he was about to start pleading.

How disgustingly unbecoming, but Valentino had never had a sense of shame. Alastor’s disdain for that demon was bottomless.

The shadow now grew further, sweeping over the chair from behind were Vox suddenly shivered and then flinched into the backrest as he finally became aware of the entity that tinted the luminescent screens in a dark hue with the exception of the eyes and the wide, sharp-toothed grin.

“You know, I would congratulate you for declining his invitation, but then again, I’m sure you indulge him far too often, old pal.”

The flat-headed Overlord spun around, jumping out of his chair to face the red demon that stood in the middle of the bridge of what many believed to be the TV Demon’s sanctuary. And maybe it was in terms of safety or sentimentality. But it was not his seat of power. Alastor was certain that he would be able to feel it if that were the case, although the bond between them had been severed before any of them had dared to share this secret with the other.

It mattered not for this encounter, anyways.

“Alastor?! What the –“, Vox sputtered, before settling for a more important question. “HOW the fuck did you get in here?!”

“Hmm, your familiarity with that creature is showing again. How unfortunate. Let’s just say that your security measures are lacking.”

There was a hint of disappointment in his voice he couldn’t quite conceal, but the other Overlord didn’t seem to pick up on it, his shock turning into rage instead. It was indeed a tragedy how the permanent association with a man like Valentino could dull a once sharp mind. The Radio Demon felt a little sting of sorrow and quickly buried it beneath his hatred for the moth.

The demon in front of him, however, he couldn’t bring himself to truly hate. Not for a lack of trying, though. But he had come to acknowledge the fact that he felt more pity towards Vox than anger.

“Why are you here, Alastor? Come to admit that this little project of yours is doomed to fail and now you leave the sinking ship? Should have joined us when you had the chance!”

“Ugh, that nonsense again. Spare me, would you?”, the Radio Demon rolled his eyes in clear contempt. “No, I’m here for something different. You did acquire footage of the battle two weeks ago, didn’t you?”

He had seen the drones during their preparations and during the battle but had paid them no mind then. There had been more important things to attend to, much more dangerous foes than some metal pigeons.

This brought Vox over his shock from Alastor’s sudden appearance. The outlines of his mouth twisted into a gleeful sneer.

“Oh, you mean the recordings of you utter humiliation against that prick Adam? In which you get cut in half first and then run and hide with your tail between your legs like the coward that you are? THAT footage?”

Vox was salivating now, revelling in the memory. The Radio Demon had no doubt that his former business partner had watched those recordings countless times already, relishing in his defeat and probably … doing things to himself Alastor didn’t want to even think about.

The only good thing coming out of this conversation was the confirmation that footage of his near demise did indeed exist. And the fact that it hadn’t been played non-stop over all of Pentagram City yet could only mean that the other Overlord had planned on using it as blackmail against Alastor as the deer demon had suspected.

He folded his ears back in a display he knew Vox would interpret as distress, and pulled his lips up further in a snarl. Alastor summoned his microphone, twirling it.

“As much as I would like to dissect whose actions or rather inactions where truly cowardly, I think it would be a moot point to even try.” Alastor set the microphone down with a sharp clank and held out a hand towards the TV Demon expectantly. “Hand it over. Every single copy.”

Of course he would be refused. Of course he would be laughed at. There was no surprise here. They were following a script at this point, both of them knowing exactly where this would lead. Like professional dancers, performing to a music only they could hear.

It had been thrilling once.

In some way, it still was. The stakes were just much higher nowadays, and there was no playfulness left.

“You can try digging them up for yourself, old man, but you’ll never find all of them! You’re out of your league here, old-timer!”, the TV Overlord cackled.

Electricity crackled between his claws and sparked from the monitors behind him. There was movement in the darkness behind the screens, cables coming to life under their master’s command.

Alastor braced himself for the dull throbbing in his chest to grow and spike as he drew on his power, eyes turning to red dials and tentacles emerging from his back. A dark green glow surrounded him as the light in the room started to flicker and dim, causing the lit screens to glitch.

“Well, there is more than one way to get rid of unwanted things!”

The words were phrased to pierce, and judging by the screeching roar he got in response they had hit their mark.

And thus, the game was on.

The surveillance room was trashed within minutes, there was really not much to destroy after all. The cable mounted screens were torn completely off or cracked at least, chunks of the control panel ripped out and thrown into the abyss. Electricity arched between the torn cables, which wriggled like hungry snakes searching for a meal. The thick glass walls of the giant aquarium that surrounded the control station had been pierced by tentacles a few times, water gushing out in fountains into the deep pit below. Something had caught fire due to fizzling sparks, black smoke filling the space quickly, shrinking the visibility to mere inches and rendering the TV Demon’s hypnotic gaze useless.

But there was no need for visibility when Vox’s irate voice could cut through the shroud of smoky darkness like a foghorn.

“Val! Pick up, goddammit!”

It took a few more moments before the Overlord’s wish was granted.

>>Voxy, mi amor, have you changed your mind?<<, Valentino’s voice cooed.

“Newsflash Val, Alastor is here! He’s trashing my surveillance room, so get your winged ass down here and help me beat his skinny ass into the fucking ground!”

>>Oohh, the Radio Demon has come to play? Aww, Voxy, I’m so happy for you! But I’m afraid I’m quite busy right now.<<

“Val, seriously?! You’re hanging that over my head, NOW?”

>>Aw, baby, as I said, I’m busy, I’m sure you know how it is sometimes. But have fun with your darling!<<

The sound of a call ending was swiftly followed by a tirade of curses, mixed with Alastor’s gleeful cackles.

“My, what a loyal partner you have there, old pal!”

“OH SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Alastor laughed even louder and then turned his attention to the maintenance shafts, creeping through the narrow spaces in shadow form. Cables burst free from their sockets, trying to ensnare or shock him. The Radio Demon dispatched some of his shadow minions here and there to keep the searching tendrils occupied and to distract the enemy that tried to follow on his heels.

He could feel Vox’s presence always nearby, always just out of reach, exactly as he wanted it. This battle didn’t serve the purpose to destroy the other Overlord, and he wondered how long it would take the TV Demon in his rage to catch on to that fact.

Every time Alastor materialized to unleash destruction, be it on whatever resembled something akin to a computer or camera equipment or any other form of modern technology, Vox appeared moments later through a security camera. They traded blows, Alastor laughing and taunting while the other demon threw a whole arsenal of slurs and curses at him, only for the deer demon to slip away as a shadow in search of his next target for devastation.

One interesting observation was the fact that the TV Overlord still didn’t care much for wards. One should have thought that after all those decades around someone like Alastor would have taught him to be more mindful of protective magic, but then again, Vox had regarded the occult with as much disinterest as Alastor had for modern technology.

Still, someone with at least a bit of common sense and authority with regards to the security aspects of the tower had installed some basic protection sigils. Alastor didn’t bother bypassing them, breaking through each with ease instead. The consequent alarm added to the overall chaos as well as drowned in it.

There were of course other sinners caught in the crossfire, employees who didn’t escape quick enough. Neither Overlord did care whose blood was splattered across floors, walls, and ceilings, nor did they heed the pleads to be spared directed at them. Most of these poor souls probably didn’t even know what was happening, only realizing that they would spend the next few hours or days regenerating limbs and organs, or bones and slashes.

Panic spread through the Vee-Tower like a wildfire. It was beautiful, a cacophony of screams wherever Alastor went. The Radio Demon could admit to himself that he had missed going on a rampage. It sated a different kind of hunger, one he didn’t feel in his stomach, but in his mind. A hunger for control, for recognition. These puny sinners did right by trembling in his presence, the Radio Demon was an entity to be feared, and there were far too many people who had forgotten or had never even learned that lesson due to his seven-year absence.

Besides, his duties for the hotel left him with scarcely any opportunity to rebuild his reputation, leaving him no choice but to jump at chances like this. There was also no reason to mourn the fact that these sinners wouldn’t be able to attend tonight’s festivities – as underlings of the Vees, they would have been used as spies anyway. Eliminating this nuisance now would allow him later to concentrate on more important tasks.

With even the growing pain in his body remaining at a manageable level, Alastor was quite pleased with how smoothly things went for a while. Until Valentino was pissed off enough at the constant interruptions of his shoot due to flickering lights, distant explosions and panicked employees to get over Vox’s slight and end his petty retribution. Alastor knew that the Pimp Overlord had involved himself in the conflict the moment pink smoke started filling the hallways and rooms of the tower.

Which was fine for as long as the deer demon didn’t inhale any of that disgusting airborne toxin, cutting short on his attacks to only manifesting in physical form for the duration he could hold his breath.

Meanwhile, the panic in the building evolved into a frenzy.

Any demon who hadn’t saved their skin in time and gotten out, was now affected by Valentino’s poison as the pink clouds steadily infested each and every level of the tower. The effects were instant.

Most demons became dazed and passive, submissive and compliant to any action they were subjected to. For others, their more predatory nature was pulled the forefront when faced with yielding bodies.

Alastor crawled along the ceiling and walls as a shadow, avoiding the poisoned demons engaging in every carnal activity imaginable and unimaginable – some of them tender, most of them violent. He couldn’t tell where the line was between the screams of pleasure and those of torment, but he didn’t linger to investigate. As far as the Radio Demon was concerned, the less he acknowledged the obscene acts he passed, the better. Although some of the gorier scenes he came across piqued his interest a little bit more, but every time he took a glance, there was some form of fornication involved that instantly repelled him.

It was at one of these interactions that something caught his eye.

It wasn’t the disgusting brute tearing up his victim after having their way with them, eyes glowing bright pink and frothing at the mouth. No, what caught his attention was the white and pink spider demon crawling on the floor, delicate lingerie torn and fur roughed up, and barely conscious.

Angel Dust.

Alastor halted, clinging to the ceiling, mind racing.

The spider must have gotten to his place of work shortly after Alastor had infiltrated the tower. Valentino had called Vox because he was about to start filming, which must have involved his most prized porn star. Now Angel was about to become a casualty in this battle, drugged into oblivion and unable to escape on his own.

He shouldn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care in the condition he was in, pain coursing through his body even in this insubstantial form as the effect of Lilith’s potion was draining with every passing minute he used his powers, and still too much time on the clock.

But Charlie would be out of her mind with worry if the spider didn’t show up at the celebration. She would be so disappointed in him, maybe even distrustful if word got out that he was involved in the events surrounding Angel’s injuries or even temporary death, if the state in which that brutish demon had left his last victim was any indication. And it was almost guaranteed that some information would get out this evening, however distorted or truthful those retellings would be.

Charlie wouldn’t kill him for this transgression, Alastor knew that with absolute certainty. And for the sake of his daughter, Lucifer wouldn’t either. But after causing harm to one of his daughter’s friends, however indirect, the King might feel justified to deny the healing Alastor had been working towards …

Besides, Angel didn’t deserve the fate that he was stumbling towards, that regarded him with lewd and greedy eyes, covered in blood and erection still standing high.

Alastor tore his shadow form from the ceiling, manifesting in mid-air. He landed on the hulking demon’s back, sending him crashing forward with a surprised grunt. Long yellow fangs cut through thick neck muscles, shredding arteries and scraping cervical vertebrae. Alastor jerked his head to the side once, twice, severing the head from the torso and tossing it away.

That very moment, the world started spinning as the pink smoke reached his respiratory system and got absorbed into his blood stream.

FUCK.

Immediately he could feel the disgusting prickle in his lungs. It spread through his muscles, relaxing them. Soothing the pain in his chest, slowing his thoughts.

He couldn’t be found like this. Vox was close, and if he found him drugged, he would –

Alastor’s claws flew to his head, tugging at his hair and scratching the skin. The pain was dulled, replaced by a pleasurable shiver running down his spine. The Radio Demon gasped, dragging his claws deeper along his skull, feeling the blood ooze and trickle down his neck.

He needed to focus, he needed to think, he needed not to pant like a fucking dog, he needed the poison out of his system and not sucking in more with every breath –

Away, he needed to get away, a place to collect himself and let his magic burn through the poison until his mind cleared and his skin stopped itching. He needed –

Blood. There was blood on his lips, on his tongue, there was the smell of blood in the air, so much blood, and he was HUNGRY –

A body right at his feet, so much blood, where had that come from, had he done that, was he hunting, did it fucking matter, there was blood and flesh and he was so hungry, would be a shame to waste such tasty prey –

“ ‘Ello tall guy, ya can devour me too ‘f ya wanna …”, a lascivious voice slurred close by.

Alastor whipped his head around, his face almost completely drenched in blood from burrowing his teeth into the dead sinner’s carcass and gulping down chunks of flesh and organs like a starved wolf.

“Oh wow, ain’t ya a hungry boy … wanna see ‘f li’l me can satisfy your appetite?” The spider demon came crawling closer, eyes half-lidded and fogged over pink, his voice low and seductive.

The Overlord felt the rumbling growl vibrate through his torso, causing the injury to his chest to send a staccato of stings through his body. It made his mind pause, yet his bloodied claw still shot forward and grabbed the other demon by the throat. The spider went lax under his grip.

“Yes daddy, that’s it, do ya worst …!”, Angel moaned.

The repulsion rippled through the deer demon like being doused with a bucket of ice water. He was suddenly highly aware of the prickling sensation in his lungs again, of how dizzy his mind felt and how hard it was to think. But he needed to think, he needed to stay in control of the situation, he –

“Angel.”

“Yeah, babe, whaddya want me to –“ Angel Dust blinked, then frowned slightly in confusion. “Smiles? ‘S that you?” The frown turned into a grin again, wide and giddy. “ ‘S so nice of ya to visit me at work, ya ‘ere for tha shoot? Neva thought I’d see the day!”

Shoot. Valentino. Vee-Tower. Vox.

Fuck.

How long had he been out of his mind? Vox could be here any moment! He needed to get away and hide somewhere before he lost this moment of clarity again!

Alastor fell into his shadow and took Angel with him through the nearest air shaft. Which was a mistake he would have thought about beforehand if his mind had been clear a bit longer.

It was easy enough to travel through his own shadow, it was a part of him. The spider demon was not. Forcing another body and soul to submit to his power was demanding, and right now his magic was fighting the angelic wound alongside Valentino’s poison. Channelling more power into the shadow travel diverted much needed magic from both of those other tasks. It was tormenting, the spiking pain transformed through the toxin into agonizing pleasure, disorienting the demon.

He had to separate from the spider demon now.

Alastor slithered through the air shafts in his shadow form past rotating ventilators, and crashed through the first vent he came across, spitting out the spider in the process and manifesting back to his bodily form. His knees buckled, but he caught himself quickly summoning and leaning on his microphone.

The first thing he noticed was that the air was clean, smelling distinctly of blueberry and vanilla. Alastor took a deep breath in relief, the unpoisoned air made it so much easier for his magic to quickly break down the drugs in his system. He noticed clothes upon clothes lined neatly on multiple racks and sorted by different styles and time periods. One wall was adorned with a podium surrounded by a semicircle of mirrors with lights embedded in their frames.

“What in the ever-loving FUCK!”

Ah yes, and there she was, the queen of her own fashion empire. Standing in the middle of the room, one hand clenched into a fist, the other holding her phone like an unsheathed knife.

“Velvette, what a pleasure to see you –“

“Cut the shit, Alastor, what the fuck are you doing here? And with Angel Dust? Is that why there’s such a ruckus, because you’re what, trying to steal Valentino’s boytoy?!”

“Nonsense, dear!” Alastor twirled his microphone in a display of serenity before resting his weight on it again to steady himself. The last thing he wanted was for the Influencer Overlord to discern how dizzy and vulnerable he still was. In any case, to have a weapon ready in hand was advantageous. “I’m not here for the spider, but I had a bit of a disagreement with Vox, I’m afraid. I guess we disturbed your work?”

“No shit, Sherlock, of course you did! I had to shut my studio off from the rest of the tower, half of my models and staff are missing in the chaos out there, and the schedule for the upcoming shows are in shambles! Tell me why I shouldn’t rat you out to the boys right here and now!”

Now that was a bit of an unexpected development. But as Alastor started for a reply, the lights went out as a distant rumble of an explosion shook the building. The room was drenched in darkness, the only light emanating from three sets of demonic eyes and the screen of Velvette’s phone. It started to buzz as a call connected. The Radio Demon could see Vox’s smiling face displayed on the icon that identified the caller. He locked eyes with Velvette, who tapped on the green call button and put the phone on speaker. Vox’s agitated voice screeched through the room.

>>Vel! Where the fuck are you?! We’re getting attacked by the fucking Radio Demon and need all hands on deck! He just blew the fucking backup generators!<<

Backup generators, hmm? He must’ve missed the first blackout then somehow. Maybe it had lasted only a moment, a second or two of darkness between the flickers of lights his presence caused.

How interesting. The Overlord wondered whether Vox had blown the generators on purpose to lure Velvette out, or if the water from the leaking aquariums had simply found its way where it did the most damage to the Vee-Tower. Then again, Vox couldn’t travel through his cameras if they had no power, and it was highly unlikely that the TV Demon would limit his own abilities in that way. Therefore, it had to be the water’s doing which Vox hadn’t realized yet and Velvette couldn’t know, making it appear under the current circumstances as if her business partner was blatantly lying to her face.

What a beautiful confusion.

Still staring at each other, Alastor could see her eyes narrow a fraction. He caught a glimpse of anger flicker across her dimly illuminated features as a decision was made.

“And how the fuck am I supposed to fix that?! You’re the one in charge of the fucking power grit, so fix it!”

>>Fucking Hell, Vel, I’m not going to sit there and connect to the grit as long as that shitface is running amok in the building, so how about you move your ass and help drive him out? Or better yet, catch him and make him pay?!<<

Vox was afraid of him. How delightful. He had to stifle a chuckle, which almost made him cough instead, so he had to supress that, too. His chest was burning, but his head was mostly clear now.

Alastor tilted his head curiously. Velvette hadn’t lied to Vox yet, strictly speaking, although not mentioning him being here was already a big deal. Would she continue this performance, or abandon it?

“It’s not my fucking problem if you have beef with your ex, Vox!”

Now that was just lovely, although her choice of words was hardly appropriate.

>>It’s all our damn fucking problem if Alastor wrecks the tower! Val is already pissed beyond belief, and you want to twiddle your thumbs?!<<

There was a groan from Angel at the mention of the moth. Alastor crouched down and placed a hand over Angel’s mouth to keep him silent. The spider arched under his touch, the secondary hands wandering over his own body while the primaries grabbed at the deer demon’s arm. Angel moaned into the red clawed hand over his mouth, and it took everything for Alastor not to flinch away in disgust.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way, Vox! I’m not –“

>>Why’s your camera off?<<

Alastor’s ears twitched at the suspicious undertone, but Velvette only rolled her eyes.

“Because it’s fucking dark, dumbass! What’s the point of a camera when you can’t see shit, hu?” She turned the phone camera on to show him her dimly lit face for a moment, before turning the camera off again.

>>Anyways, come help find that old-timey prick and I’ll give you the top spot for your specials for the next month.<<

There was a glimmer of interest in her red and silver eyes.

“Hold on a sec, got another call.”

>>Velvette, what the f – <<

She put the call on hold and raised one perfect eyebrow.

“Got a counteroffer, old man?”

She looked at him expectantly, smirking. And Alastor knew that this was the moment where he had to offer her something she couldn’t refuse, or else he would lose this opportunity of respite and have all three Vees on his heels.

Something valuable to her or her work, something rare. Something he wouldn’t give or grant lightly.

“How about that shoot you wanted?”

Velvette frowned at first in confusion, then her eyes widened.

“That was ten years ago!”

And he had refused her request because she had already become part of the Vees at that point.

“Well, you still want that or not? One hour.”

“One hour?! My shoots usually take at least six hours, I’m a perfectionist after all!”

That was essentially a Yes to his offer. Lovely. All that was left now where details.

“I’m a busy man, you know. And since there will be no time wasted with changing, this shouldn’t take long, right?”

She could do outfit changes with a flick of her wrist, which was most convenient and one of the reasons he considered this at all.

“Three hours. No glitching.”

“Private shoot. No telling anyone beforehand. No traps.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, a given, you don’t wanna be ambushed, I get it. But what I do with the pictures is my business, so no interfering with the publishing.”

“Agreed. But no nefarious poses or lingerie or whatever it is that Valentino puts his actors in. I don’t want Vox to do unspeakable things with these pictures when he gets his hands on them.”

“Ugh, you’re such a prude. He’ll do that anyway, but sure, no blood in shark-infested water. That’s Val’s job. But other than that, no fucking arguing about what clothes I put you in, it’s my fucking shoot after all! And in return I’ll let you roam the tower and feed the boys false information about your whereabouts for the next hour.”

Alastor pulled out his pocket watch and forced the broken timepiece to show the correct time with a spark of magic.

“One hour will suffice.”

She held out a hand. “Now enough with the haggling, we got a deal already or what?”

Alastor hesitated. “I’m afraid if we shake on that, it will alert Vox to my current position.”

Velvette frowned again and pulled her hand back to rest on her hip. She pressed the call button of her phone. Alastor tightened his grip on his microphone, ready to strike.

“I want the top spot for the next three months”, she said, continuing the call as if it hadn’t been halted at all.

>>What? Just to get your ass of the couch?<<

She didn’t respond, letting her silence speak instead until Vox caved.

>>Two months.<<

Getting two agreements out of this whole situation by navigating both sides of the conflict. One should never make the mistake to underestimate the youngest of the Overlords. She had earned her position.

“Alright, I’ll take a look around and let you know if I have something to report. Oh, by the way, where are you right now?”

>>Down at the generators, he fucking flooded the room!<<

“And where’s Val, we should cover as much ground as possible.”

>>Checking the lower floors, we think Al’s tucking his tail again and is trying to sneak out. It’s been damn quite for a while now.<<

“Got it. Call you later, bye!” Velvette hung up.

Alastor finally let go of Angel, who had by now either fallen asleep or fallen unconscious due to the restriction to his breathing, and stood. He wiped his hands clean on his coat – or tried to, but his coat was soaked in slowly drying blood.

The Influencer Overlord held her hand out again, expecting to finally seal the deal. Vox was somewhere underground in the bowels of the tower, while Valentino was searching the lower levels. They were far enough away not to notice the power that would accompany sealing the deal, or would at least not be able to pinpoint his exact location.

It also meant that they would be occupied for quite some time, allowing him to fulfil the time aspect of his deal with Carmilla without needing to engage in more destruction if not necessary.

“Terms as agreed.”

The Radio Demon took the offered hand, his black and green magic combined with her swirling pink and purple power binding them to the agreement.

“Eww, you’re still bloody, asshole!”

Alastor snickered. “Apologies, dear!”

“As if!” She summoned a towel and threw it at him.

“Appreciated. May I suggest something that might win you a little gratitude from your other business partner?”, he offered as he towelled his face, hands and clothing as clean as was possible without soap and water.

“From Val? Ha, what would that be?”

Alastor waved a hand towards the spider demon on the ground.

“Angel Dust is one of his most prized possessions, is he not? Let him stay here for the time being, and when everything has calmed down, get him a ride and sent him to the Hotel. Otherwise, I’m afraid he will fall victim to one of his drugged coworkers again and be unavailable for filming for the next week.”

Velvette crossed her arms.

“And why should I care?” Then her expression turned from annoyed to smug. “Better question, why do YOU care?”

The darkness helped his expression to appear neutral at the suggestion.

“I don’t. But the Princess does. And I could let her know how helpful you were in ensuring his safety, if the topic were to come up.”

“When you were the one to endanger him in the first place, you mean?”

“When Valentino was the one drugging him to unconsciousness. Which might have been in reaction to my presence, but I tried to save Angel from further harm, did I not? And you either helped or hindered in that endeavour.”

“So you get to save your ass in front of the Princess, and Val owes me one, is what you’re saying.” Velvette thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine, whatever. Now get the fuck out!”

Alastor folded the bloody towel and draped it over a nearby chair.

“Indeed, it’s about time I take my leave before I overstay my welcome. Although I think I might linger about a bit longer”, Alastor chuckled, before tilting his head in farewell and vanishing into his shadow.

He left through the vent he had entered Velvette’s part of the tower through, just now registering that the ventilator’s he had passed kept Valentino’s poisonous smoke out. She must have installed those as part of her measure to ‘shut off’ her quarters and workspace. Smart.

Alastor continued to haunt the Vee-Tower until he felt the compulsion of his deal with Carmilla dissipate, signalling the end of the agreed upon timeframe for his actions.

Finally …

He left as he had come, silently and unseen, more ghost than shadow even and leaving the Vees in the – literal, ha! – dark about whether he was still in the building and lying in wait for an ambush or not.

Alastor kept to the lone alleys on his way back to the hotel, crawling inside under the front doors. The lobby was buzzing with activity already, the preparations for the celebration in full swing. There was still much to do, though, with the food scheduled to be delivered a bit later in the afternoon, and final security checks to be conducted. He would get to that when he was ready, for now he needed to hurry to his rooms. The elevator shaft was the fastest way up, up, up the many floors, only a short distance of hallway after that. The moment he passed his ward protected door Alastor left his shadow, but his legs supported him only for a moment before he collapsed to his knees, barely catching himself from landing face first on the hard wood floor.

He had massively underestimated how much a strain on his power those four hours would be. The problem not being his shadow form per se, that didn’t require much effort, not even for longer intervals. Also of no concern on their own were the minor injuries he had sustained, as these were merely superficial. No, the real problem was that he hadn’t understood how Lilith’s potion worked to keep the angelic wound from killing him, and in her caution to keep the secrets of her knowledge to herself she hadn’t explained it to him.

But he could infer how it functioned now by the way its effects had deteriorated rapidly over the last hours.

The potion subdued the Holy Fire infecting his wound. The Holy Fire in turn was fuelled by demonic power, literally burning it and incinerating his flesh in the process. Which his magic instinctively tried to counter in healing the injury, thus firing up the Holy Fire in a self-perpetuating circle until his body and soul would be burned to a crisp. The potion had served as some kind of buffer, feeding the holy energy at least in part instead of his own magic but without strengthening its destructive power, until it was used up.

And the way his insides felt like being doused in acid, there was almost nothing left. The only indication that there was still some lingering effect at all was the fact that the pain wasn’t as excruciating as it had been directly after being cleaved open.

There was still a bit of time left.

It had to be enough.

Enough to endure the night.

Enough to get through the festivities and its activities.

The mingling.

The dancing.

A performance on the brink of exhaustion. On the edge of being snatched away by the Queen in front of everyone. She had warned him that she didn’t care what the circumstances were when she caught him at near death again. Had she checked in on his condition as she had claimed to do? He couldn’t tell, he had felt nothing suspicious. But that didn’t mean that she hadn’t kept a close eye on him as promised.

It was his own fault for letting it all depend on this one evening, wasn’t it? He had always taken pride in his elaborate schemes, and now this pride could be his undoing.

What if Vox did catch on to the trap he had sat for him and didn’t react as Alastor needed him to?

What if his standing with the King hadn’t improved as much as necessary to be healed by the fallen archangel?

What if Lilith got impatient over the course of the night and pulled him back?

Alastor growled to chase the thoughts away. He would NOT be wallowing in worries that could distract him from achieving his goals tonight. He would go through with his plans, no matter the adjustments that might be needed on the fly. A radio host had to be quick with their wits after all, and he was the Radio Demon. A master in his profession, a king in his domain! He would not give in to doubts!

Vox had proven today that he was still the demon Alastor had known before had been caught by Lilith, and would therefore play his part as expected. It would be fine.

He didn’t know Lucifer for long, but he had gotten a good outline on his character and some deeper inside here and there. Alastor was convinced by now that the Devil was neither hostile nor indifferent towards him, but did in fact care to some degree. It would be enough. It would be fine.

Lilith didn’t know that Charlie’s father had moved into the hotel to support her, and could – in theory – replace Alastor. As far as the Queen was concerned, her daughter still needed the Radio Demon’s help, and she would certainly wait as long as possible before she called him from Charlie’s side. It would be fine.

Now that he was in the right mindset again, the Overlord could move on to cleaning himself up and preparing for the night. Using the microphone as a cane, he got to his feet supressing a groan and made his way slowly over to the bathroom.

His face in the mirror had dried blood smears all over it and strands of hair were caked in blood like matted fur. Alastor didn’t bother with washing his face in the sink, since a shower was in order anyways. The demon set his microphone against the door and took of his bloodied coat, then his blood-soaked shirt. It became evident then that the blood was partly his own, with some of the stitches being torn. He would need to redo them, before changing into his evening garments. Some bandages would probably be of use, too.

Alastor was displeased to find that the blood had also seeped into his corset, which would be a pain to get properly out if he had to do it by himself. Luckily, Niffty liked a challenge. He unlaced the corset and left it on the pile with his other clothes, followed by pants, underwear and socks suitable for hooves, for the little maid to pick up.

Steeping into the shower, Alastor turned the water as hot as possible. He wasn’t worried about his chest injury getting infected – if tonight was a success, he would get rid of the Holy Fire and could heal the actual wound on his own.

If not … well, then he had failed utterly, and an infection would be the least of his problems.

Chapter Text

14 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

When it came to the number of sinners attending, the celebration was already a success within the first hour. The hours Charlie and Vaggie had spent distributing flyers in the city as well as Alastor’s radio announcements had done the trick and gotten quite a number of people curious enough to approach and take a look. Some sinners were also encouraged by either the attendance or absence of the Overlords they were contracted to. Rosie had arrived with a number of her fellow cannibals in toe for example.

Charlie was already ecstatic of course, and Lucifer couldn’t deny how proud he was of his daughter, and the festivities hadn’t even really begun yet!

Then again, that also meant that there were still many hours left for catastrophe to strike.

He had mulled it over countless times, no matter how his stomach turned every time he recalled the gruesome appearance the Crimson Stag and subsequently Alastor had taken in his last dream. The need to find more clues to what the dream was trying to tell him was stronger than his revulsion at the memory, but he had come up with nothing more than the certainty that he had to prevent something seriously bad from happening.

There was of course the slight chance that tonight wasn’t the right time for that event, which did nothing to sooth his anxiety but fueled it instead. Lucifer found himself wishing that today was the day, for the purely selfish reason that he was ready for it. He was alert and focused on his task and decidedly not drowning in the dark sinkhole of depression. He would not be unaware this time. He would not be too late.

It just had to be tonight. The setting was too perfect. A crowd to hide in, music and chattering as a distraction. Any hired killer worth their money could work with these circumstances to their advantage. Was it damn risky under nose of the King of Hell and Princess themselves? Hell yes. Was it prestigious beyond belief if successful? Double Hell yes!

Even if only for a short while, because the King would decimate them. Or maybe because the world broke and crumbled or something …

Lucifer had already begun to worry that he had made a grave misjudgment when Alastor had been away for hours after leaving the therapy session. Business, he had said, and normally Lucifer wouldn’t give a single thought about what that could entail for an Overlord like Alastor who, astonishingly, did not have a territory to protect. The fallen angel had tried to ask Husk about it during lunch break, but the cat demon had only shrugged and advised the King respectfully to ‘mind his own business’. Which was fair, yeah, just that it was Lucifer’s damn business if he couldn’t save the damn deer from what damn trouble he got himself into!

As for the question of territory, apparently the Radio Demon had never cared for one and therefore never claimed any. Which the King couldn’t really wrap his head around, since every Overlord who wanted to stay on power needed a territory, didn’t they? Lucifer might not be involved in the Overlord politics, but even he was aware that an Overlord’s power increased with the amount of souls they gathered. Souls that needed housing, and work, and protection from other demons, even if the living conditions provided were bad and exploitative.

And Alastor was, without question, powerful. Yet the number of souls he owned eluded even the insightful bartender. Hell, Husk even claimed to not even know another demon besides Niffty that was owned by the Radio Demon. There was no territory, no employment. The cat demon’s best guess was that all of Alastor’s contracted souls were scattered all over the city, forbidden to reveal who they were chained to, and going over their afterlives any way they choose on a loose leash until they were called upon.

It made sense, in a weird way. Or maybe not weird, just … unusual. Unexpected. Which was totally on brand with regards to the Radio Demon if Lucifer thought about it.

Still, it didn’t answer the question why Alastor was gone for so long, and then came in sneaking up to his rooms first thing upon his return. The King only knew the deer demon was back because he had actively waited for his presence to appear on the hotel grounds again. The Devil had half a mind to confront the sinner right then and there and see for himself if he was alright, only for Charlie to call for his help with the chandelier, and yeah … it had slipped his mind then.

Only when Alastor showed up in the lobby more than an hour later Lucifer had remembered and fuck, he needed to get his shit together, so much for being ready to save that buck boy’s ass from harm …

The only consolation was that Alastor had looked unharmed. The Radio Demon had already changed into his formal outfit for the evening and … well.

He had swapped his usual red pinstripe tailcoat against a silky shimmering wine-red one with black peak lapels. The demon had foregone his red shirt for a black one, and his black bow tie for wine red necktie matching his coat. Which was an unexpectedly choice of casualness when it came to formal dress codes, especially for someone who made it a point to always be properly dressed. Then again, the Radio Demon wore his bow tie every day, making the necktie much more of an eye catcher.

Both shirt and tie were tucked in neatly under a black and wine red tapestry vest which blended the contrasting plain colours of each clothing piece together beautifully. Of course the trousers matched the colour of the tailcoat, and he wore black high-heeled shoes, polished and shiny. The only piece of jewellery was a brooch on his lapel, a glinting ruby cut in the shape of his signature microphone crowned with silver antlers.

And as if all this wasn’t enough, the other eye catcher was combed back hair bound into a ponytail.

It was unfair how good that bastard looked. Like, screaming-to-the-Heavens unfair!

Although it helped Lucifer to not feel ridiculously overdressed between all these sinners who had stopped by in their usual clothing because they either didn’t possess something more formal or simply didn’t care. Which was fine, of course, this wasn’t the kind of gala event only higher-ranking demons were allowed to attend like the one’s Lilith had liked to host.

Still, since he was royalty an appropriate suit for the occasion was the bare minimum, yet he had still tried hard not to overdo it and had disregarded all the heavily embroidered options, opting for a solid white suit with golden shawl lapels, a gold-coloured vest and a white pleated shirt. Instead of his regular bow tie he had chosen a golden brooch tie with a diamond as center piece, and the only embroidery was the golden royal crest on the back of his suit jacket and the chest pocket.

He had debated fiercely with himself about the hat. He liked the hat. It was a bit oversized, sure, but it was cozy. It held his snake-and-apple-crown, which on its own felt just wrong, since it looked more like a tiara anyways. One could argue – and Lucifer did indeed argue – that the hat was in fact part of the crown. But the King was aware that its size was a bit of an issue with regards to respect. Or, more precisely, the lack thereof. Which wouldn’t bother him at all normally, but tonight wasn’t a ‘normal’ night, was it. This was for Charlie and her hotel, and as her father and King of Hell, he needed to represent the power that had her back.

It just wouldn’t do being ridiculed because of an accessory and by extension embarrass his daughter.

So, the fallen angel hadn’t foregone his hat, but he had shrunk it to a much more … manageable top hat size. It made his crown appear more prominently at least. And he had changed the underside to a golden colour to match the rest of his outfit.

Alastor had noticed instantly, of course, it wasn’t a minor change by any means and the man had eyes … but the demon hadn’t commented. To be fair, they hadn’t had the chance to speak at all before the doors of the hotel had opened to welcome any guests for tonight’s celebration, so that didn’t say much.

And why the fuck would he even care what that prick thought about his change in wardrobe?! He DIDN’T, thank you very much for asking!

He had stood at the sidelines for a while and just watched Charlie greet the arriving guests, marveling at his beautiful daughter in her bright red knee-length dress that was wrapped to one side lightly and tied to a knot at the waist. It had needed a great deal of persuasion from him to get her to even wear the dress instead of a suit as she normally did, arguing that tonight might be about the hotel, too, but not about business. Charlie was not only the founder of the Hazbin Hotel, but also Princess of Hell and people needed a reminder.

And so, that’s what she was tonight wearing her black tiara, a Princess welcoming her people, be they high ranking or low. The King couldn’t be prouder.

It was a surprise and relief that the Radio Demon neither tried to steal nor share the spotlight for now. The red sinner had been at the door to greet the arriving Overlords, first and foremost Rosie and Carmilla (who had brought Zestial alongside her daughters), but didn’t seem interested to interact with every sinner that dared to set foot on the hotel’s doorstep. Maybe that was part of the reason so many demons felt encouraged to indeed cross the threshold – no matter how well dressed he was, Alastor’s presence was always on the more eerie and unsettling side and would have easily spooked of a lot of souls just by standing at the doors.

Only once did Lucifer observe the Radio Demon taking an interest in the arrival of a certain demon. The fallen angel didn’t remember the woman’s name, but her face was well known all over the city due to presenting the news every single day. By now, Lucifer had seen the interview she had put his daughter through when the hotel first opened, and for that she had earned a spot on his most-unliked-demons-list.

Interestingly enough, his blacklist didn’t seem to be the only one she was on. Alastor had backed her and her gasmask wearing companion into the doorframe immediately, ignoring Charlie’s irritation and protests. Their exchange wasn’t long, the deer demon doing his intimidation spiel with the looming over, creaking antlers and radio dial eyes. The large camera the assistant news caster was holding sparked with black and green crackling energy, breaking with an audible crack. There were more sparks coming from the woman’s purse and the pockets of her and her coworker’s clothing, followed by soft fumes and suddenly her jacket caught fire and … well.

Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to feel even the slightest bit sorry for the woman, watching her frantic efforts to put out the flames with the warm and fuzzy feeling of satisfaction, and only the slightest bit of guilt for doing so.

Alastor had looked pleased with himself, but before the King could bring himself to walk over and inquire what that had been about, the Overlord left to have a chat with that flapper girl Mimzy at the bar.

The fallen angel remained where he was, eyes observing the growing crowd of sinners and trying to guess which of these demons could cause enough trouble to hurt the infamous Radio Demon. Logic demanded that only another Overlord could possess the necessary power for that, but one never knew. Sometimes all it took for the world to change was one well aimed strike with an angelic weapon.

Or convince someone to take a bite out of an apple …

Fifteen minutes before 7 pm Charlie took to the steps of the grand staircase in the lobby to hold her welcome speech right before opening the buffet. Vaggie stood by her side in silent reassurance, and Lucifer took his place at his daughter’s other side, just with a little more space between them and near to the railing. He was there to support is daughter and not outshine her, but emphasize her royal status.

He was surprised when Alastor emerged from pooling shadows on the opposite side next to Vaggie, mirroring the King. That was decidedly off script, but then again it was probably wishful thinking to assume that the prideful Overlord would keep himself out of the spotlight this whole evening.

And it had only been an hour so far. Wishful thinking indeed.

Lucifer became suddenly much too aware of how this elevated position made Alastor an easy mark right now. The phrase ‘sitting duck’ sprang readily to mind (especially to Lucifer’s mind).

“Welcome everyone to the Hazbin Hotel! For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Charlie Morningstar –“

As much as he wanted to give his daughter his undivided attention, he had to focus for once on the task at hand. His eyes scanned the crowd of onlooking faces, searching for something suspicious.

“– But we’re not only celebrating our grand re-opening tonight, we also want to remember and honour our fallen comrades –“

For somebody trying to conceal readying a weapon, for barely hidden gleeful anticipation.

“– Sir Pentious, who sacrificed his life when he confronted Adam –“

What if he wasn’t looking for a bladed weapon? What if that part of his dream was more leaning into metaphor and the gruesome injury he had seen in his dream could be anything? What if someone tried to toss a grenade at them right now, despite the King of Hell being unmistakably right there?

“– Anabel Miller, Lennard Ivy –“

Lucifer’s eyes snapped to a reptile demon booing as Charlie read the names of the fallen cannibals. A sharp screech of feedback silenced the room immediately, but with regards to punishments for the sinner’s audacity the King was faster. His horns spread from his forehead and a flame flared between them as he glared at the reptile demon, and with a wave of his hand an invisible force picked the creature up and flung them out through the wide-open entrance doors.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a single pair of hands politely applauding. Rosie regarded him with a sharp smile that somehow conveyed gratitude instead of malice, and Lucifer tipped his hat to her. He then turned to look at Charlie to motion for her to continue, which she did after mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ in his direction.

Since he was already facing in that direction, he couldn’t help but shoot a glance at deer demon behind her and found Alastor staring at him, his smile wide and sharp and a bit strained at the edges. The ruby eyes were scanning over the fallen angel and Lucifer felt his tail flicking and – oh, his tail was still out, right, as were the horns and maybe he should have retracted his more demonic features by now …

Or maybe not. These sinners obviously needed a little reminder to show a minimum of respect in the presence of the King and Princess. Lucifer might not have cared so much for himself, but this was Charlie’s hotel and project. Hospitality went two ways after all, even in Hell if he had something to say about it.

And he had. Hopefully the rest of his daughter’s evening guests had gotten the message.

Perhaps it would be enough to also sway any murder plot aiming at a certain Overlord.

Probably not, though, the denizens of Hell weren’t known for making good life – or afterlife, for that matter – choices.

“– I also want to take this opportunity to thank every brave soul who risked their afterlife in fighting the angelic army on my behalf! First of Alastor, without your shield and taking on Adam, we would have been overrun within minutes –“

The Overlord bowed politely while Charlie smiled at him and went on to express her gratitude towards Carmilla and Rosie, then her friends and crew of the hotel.

Lucifer knew how many hours his daughter had taken to carefully decide in which order to thank each and everyone and which contribution to mention, because Charlie had of course felt the need to rework this section of her speech again after how group therapy this morning had went …

The King had been overwhelmed with joy that she had sought out not only her girlfriend’s help with this, but also his. Although the discussions about taking factors like power hierarchy, closeness to Charlie, pride, and manner of contribution into consideration and trying to balance and condense everything into a few sentences had been exhausting.

As his eyes wandered over the crowd again, he could see that most of the sinners got bored again as Charlie insisted on listing every survivor’s name again, but no one dared to vocalize their discontent again.

Good.

Lucifer could understand that listening to names for several minutes was a bit of a dry spell, but he was also proud of his daughter that she did it anyways. Who didn’t want to hear their name mentioned in an thank you speech after risking their own soul in a fight to double-death? A public acknowledgement was the very least Charlie could do.

“– And last but not least, I want to thank my dad, for saving me, for believing in my dream, and of course for his help in rebuilding this hotel –“

He wouldn’t cry. He would not cry! He might not be able to stop himself from smiling like an idiot, but he WOULD NOT cry in front of all these people!

“– And in the spirit of moving forward, I want us all to enjoy the night and be reminded that there is always hope for a better tomorrow! So without further ado, the buffet is now open!”

Charlie deserved a standing ovation in Lucifer’s opinion, but of course she got none. Oh well, there was a little bit of applause and much more of muttering and cheering at the prospect of food as people scrambled to the designated eating area near the bar.

The King returned to his less demonic form with a sigh of relief. Noone had tried to attack Alastor.

Yet. There was so much night left for something awful to happen.

Lucifer strolled over in the direction of the buffet to grab a plate and try some of the delicious looking dishes, but his anxiety had his stomach already revolting at the mere thought. Maybe he should try calming his nerves with a light drink, just to take the edge of a bit.

He arrived at the bar almost at the same time as Rosie and Alastor, each having secured a plate with a selection of appetizer. Which was quite convenient, as Lucifer could stay close to the deer demon without appearing like a creepy stalker.

“My, your Majesty are looking dashing this fine evening!”, Rosie greeted him with a coquettish smile, unfolding a black hand fan with the flick of her wrist. “I must say, that was quite the speech your daughter gave, she’s quite the natural, isn’t she?”

Lucifer couldn’t help but smile at her praise for his daughter. He tipped his hat at her before hopping on a stool. “Thanks, Rosie, you’re too kind. I’ll relay your words to Charlie if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, your Majesty, please do. Although I will let her know myself as soon as I get the chance to speak to her.”

“And here I thought introductions were in order, Rosie, but you and his Majesty seem already well acquainted?”, Alastor chimed in, his red gaze flicking between his Overlord companion and the King.

“Oh, did I forget to mention? My, I do apologize my friend, but yes, I had the pleasure of meeting his Majesty shortly after the battle, when I came by to bring my fallen people home.”

“I see.”

There was no mention of the fact that the Radio Demon had been suspiciously absent at that time, an opportunity that Lucifer couldn’t let pass.

“Yeah, a shame you weren’t there to introduce us”, he smirked at the red sinner, who in turn glared daggers at him.

“Such a shame indeed”, was all Alastor said with a cryptic smile, nursing his drink and not caring in the slightest to explain or defend his absence at that time, which only stoked the Devil’s curiosity more. But before Lucifer could bring himself to just ask the most obvious and direct question possible, Rosie changed the topic.

“Ah, your Majesty, I wanted to thank you for disposing of that oaf who dared to disrespect my people. You made quick work of it, what a show!”

“Agreed, dear Rosie, although I would have preferred to rip that lout in half for his insolence. I guess we know now where dear Charlie got her bleeding heart from.”

Lucifer deadpanned, only raising one eyebrow. “Yeah, because this is totally the occasion for bloodshed.

“It would have made for a prime example that the Princess is not to be mocked”, Alastor shrugged, taking a bit of a piece of meat that was dripping with … gravy. At least the King hoped that it was gravy. But as the smell of copper reached him that hope died like the creature the meat had come from.

They shouldn’t have allowed a known cannibal to be in charge of the music and the buffet.

“I’m sure I got the point across anyways”, he managed to say without gagging.

“Heya beautifuls! Damn, I need ta convince Charlie ta do this shit more often if y’all doll up like this!”

Angel came sauntering towards the bar in ‘clothes’ Lucifer had no words to describe. At least he hoped that what the spider was wearing was indeed some kind of outfit and not just an assortment of stripes of fabric in black and bright pink that revealed more of the porn star’s body than it hid. To call his whole appearance suggestive was an understatement if there ever was one. He felt himself blush although thankfully no other part of him reacted in any way.

“My, looking rather ravishing yourself, darling! Angel, was it?” Rosie fanned herself theatrically. Next to her, Alastor’s ears were pinned back flat, eyes focused on the whiskey he was sipping. Interesting.

“Rosie, this is Angel Dust, the most famous actor in the adult film industry in the Pride Ring. Angel, this is Rosie, Matron of Cannibal Town.”

“Damn Al, you make my job sound kinda NOT naughty?”, Angel snickered. “Nice to finally meet ya, Rosie, Charlie was over the moon meetin’ ya! Ain’t wanna sound rude, but I didn’t think there’re still people who ain’t knowin’ who I am.”

Rosie’s smile widened.

“Oh, don’t worry dear, I’ve heard of you, but Alastor loves proper introductions and I've already taken one from him tonight, he’d get angry with me if I don’t let him have his fun!”

The Radio Demon’s ears flicked in irritation, and Lucifer giggled silently. He already liked her, despite her being obviously close friends with Alastor. Her charm was part of what made her dangerous.

“Rosie, dear, you know that proper introductions are the first step to being respected, which is only becoming for a lady of your station. Besides”, Alastor now focused on the spider, tilting his head, “you ARE a professional, are you not, Angel?”

Angel looked a bit flustered at that, and Lucifer couldn’t hold it against him – as far as he was aware, that was the closest to complimenting the spider’s work Alastor had ever come to uttering without heavily dripping sarcasm. Right now he seemed sincere, as far as the Devil could tell.

The spider demon recovered instantly from his surprise, or at least appeared as such, professional that he was.

“ ’Course I am, baby!”

Angel cocked his hip, then spun around in a fluent motion to lean backwards against the bar counter in a seductive fashion that would have most demon’s drooling. Yet Alastor’s lips drew slightly back, exposing black gums and turning his grin into a silent snarl. Lucifer’s gaze flicked a bit higher on a hunch and yeah, there was the eye twitch, barely noticeable if you didn’t look for it. Meanwhile Rosie was giggling ladylike behind her gloved hand, but the fallen angel couldn’t tell whom she was amused by – the spider or the deer.

The porn star was about to speak again, undoubtedly to comment on the Radio Demon’s reaction and see how much he could poke the Overlord in a public setting like this, when Husk’s low voice called for their attention.

“Uhm, Boss, Angel, we got a Code Blue incoming.”

Alastor’s snapped around with a crack in the direction of the hotel’s entrance, while the spider demon instantly ducked down with a gasped “Oh shit!” and fled behind the counter to hide there.

The colour codes had been Cherri’s idea to allow for general communications about a problem without the risk of giving away too much information in case of being overheard.

Code White meant a spy or any kind of spyware on the hotel grounds.

A fire breaking out was Code Yellow.

Code Orange was for a smaller fight, Code Red meant major bloodshed or killings happening.

Code Black indicated danger to the whole hotel and its occupants.

Code Blue was a little more personal. Code Blue was reserved for the Vees. He had been surprised to find both Alastor and Angel unanimously adamant about establishing that specific alert. Angel was contracted to one of them and – ha, who’d have thought! – not on good terms with the holder of said contract.

And with regards to Alastor … Well, beef between Overlords for various reasons was nothing new of course, and the insistence on the Code Blue alert in combination with repeatedly shooting down Voxtek drones (and their persistent reappearance), one could draw the conclusion of a long-standing feud between the Radion Demon and the Vees.

Lucifer turned around.

A dark-skinned woman in a flowing purple high slit dress was approaching the bar, a sheer stola in a softer shade of pink with silver threads was draped around her shoulders and curled around her upper arms elegantly, the colours matching her long and softly curled hair perfectly. Every demon she passed threw her a second glance and then instantly shied away, but she either didn’t care or notice, her focus fixed on the phone in her hand.

“One Dark ‘n’ Stormy, use the good stuff”, she ordered in a stern voice that told the fallen angel that she was used to get what she wanted.

As she leaned against the counter to wait for her drink, she threw a glance at Lucifer, her red and silver eyes raking over the King of Hell in silent judgement, proceeding to do the same with the Overlords next to him before returning her attention towards the device in her hand, typing.

Alastor was the first to break the silence, while Lucifer was still staring at the woman, baffled by her apparent indifference towards him.

“Velvette, fashionable late as always! Although I must confess my surprise to see you here at all this fine evening. I’ll take it that you have nothing better to do tonight?”

“Oh quit playing dumb, old man, of course I would have something better to do if the tower wasn’t still in shambles! Wonder whose fault that is!”

She only looked up for a brief moment to shoot Alastor a glare, who took it in stride sipping his drink.

“Hmm, indeed.”

“Ha!”

“And your … business partners … are not intending to burden us with their presence?”

“ ‘Course not, Vox is still undoing the damage you caused while not shutting up for a damn minute about how he will make you pay for this, and all Val can think about is getting his hands on what’s left of the security footage to make a snuff porn out of it found-footage style like it’s still the 2000’s!”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t even look at the other Overlord while talking to him, like she didn’t even care. And she probably didn’t, the disdain in her voice more evident for how outdated Val’s – Valentino, right? Angel’s boss? – idea was than the abhorrent nature of the idea itself.

But this part Lucifer processed only in passing, his mind being stuck on a much more important bit of information: the blackout today in the Entertainment District … Alastor had caused it? Attacking the Vee-Tower?! Had that been the fucking ‘business’ he had mentioned? FIGHTING?

The ice-cold realization that Alastor could have gotten himself killed well before the evening had even started washed over the fallen angel and let his anxiety spike anew, and he hadn’t even had his drink yet. Damn, he needed one asap.

And here he had thought that his worries earlier this day must have surely been exaggerated.

He tapped a few times on the counter to get Husk’s attention, and the bartender poured him a rum without even asking.

“I see. And I take that you are here to retaliate as well by trash talking this event on your insufferable device?”

“Duh, it’s what I do best! Sinstagram, Croak, MeTube – I’ll make sure your shitty hotel ratings stay crashed like the rubble it’s build on if I don’t have fun, ha!”

She took her drink and left the bar, cackling.

Before anybody else could comment on this encounter, Angel popped his head back up behind the counter.

“What in the actual FUCK, Smiles?! That’s why ya suggested that frickin’ deal yesterday, because ya fuckin’ KNEW ya would go there anyway an’ fuck shit up?!”

“I’m sorry, what?! You made a deal with Alastor?” He shouldn’t be surprised, and yet he felt anger push his anxiety to the sideline. Angel was Charlie’s friend!

Alastor stot him a side-eye glance, turning his attention back to the spider as Angel slammed one fist on the hard wood.

“I fuckin’ considered it because Val threatened to keep me filmin’ the whole night if my performance ain’t to his liking, when everyone knows that he can just fuckin’ make up some bullshit reason why it ain’t perfect! But the price was too damn vague!”

“Oh come now, Angel, we had it narrowed down to something befitting your talents, all that was left open was a time and a place.”

Lucifer blinked, his anger evaporating for a moment. Husk flinched in lousy concealed surprise, so the King wasn’t the only one interpreting Alastor’s words in a very specific way. Only Rosie’s expression was perfectly schooled, and even that might have been an indicator in itself.

“Yeah, but that ain’t changin’ the fact that ya planned ta attack the Vees all along and still tried ta paint it like a favour!”

Alastor leaned in towards the agitated spider, his sharp smile a dangerous sneer.

“If memory serves well, you were the one complaining rather loudly about possibly missing out on tonight’s festivities, so forgive me for trying to help you out of your little dilemma.”

Now it was Angel’s turn to lean forward, closing the last bit of distance between himself and the Overlord, seemingly too angry to be afraid of the more powerful demon.

“Ya didn’t try ta help, ya tried to exploit the situation! Charlie will hear of this!”

If the spider had aimed for his words to have a threatening effect on the Radio Demon, he clearly missed the mark as Alastor snickered in response.

“Oh, my effeminate fellow, please do tell the Princess how I tested your resolve to abstain from further deals, and how you didn’t bite at the bait dangled in front of you. I’m sure Charlie will be so proud of the progress you’ve made, good job!”

This … was clearly not what had happened the day before, but Lucifer already knew which version of this story his daughter would rather want to believe. Even if she didn’t buy it fully, the deer demon would get away with a slap on wrist just because Charlie would choose to favour Angel’s improvement towards redemption over her trusted hotelier being a threat towards that goal.

Which meant that it was on Lucifer to show this pompous sinner which line not to cross –

“Ya owe me, Smiles! I got drugged into oblivion, I don’t even know how I made it back here!”

– and to make sure Charlie would think twice and always question Alastor’s –

“I owe you nothing, Angel Dust, since I made sure to get you out of there.”

– character …?

The Radio Demon’s voice was a low growl, and somehow he managed to lace his filtered voice with both condescending smugness and a looming threat.

Angel’s eyes narrowed in confusion, before he suddenly flinched back with a gasp, as if struck by an invisible force.

“Stop, wait a fuckin’ minute … that was … that ain’t …” The spider took a step back, his primary hands covering his mouth while holding himself with his secondary pair of arms. Angel looked as horrified as Lucifer was confused. He definitely needed more details about anything that had been said.

“Glad that’s settled then”, the Overlord commented with a smirk before downing the rest of his whiskey. As Alastor turned towards Rosie, his red gaze briefly lingered on the King before addressing the woman.

“Rosie, dear, I must check on the musicians if any last-minute issues have arisen that need fixing. Mind to accompany me?”

“Not at all, darling. Lead the way”, Rosie responded, taking Alastor’s arm as both strode in the direction of the ball room.

Lucifer debated following them for a moment to keep an eye on the deer demon, but his need to see if Angel was okay and for the spider to fill in some blanks won the priority list right now.

“Angel”, Husk put a hand on the other man’s shoulder in an attempt to ground and sooth the distressed spider. “Easy buddy, take a deep breath. There you go, that’s it.”

Angel took a deep breath, straightening himself.

“Alright, if you don’t mind asking, Angel, but what did just happen? Why are you freaking out?”

The fallen angel tried to convey that he wasn’t pressuring the porn star for answers, but also that it was important to Lucifer to hear the shole story.

The bartender supported his efforts silently by pushing a shot glass with a clear liquid into the spider’s hands, who gulped the drink down instantly.

“Fuck, I thought … I thought I was hallucinatin’ that shit … I thought there’s be no way in Hell Smiles’s really there, I mean it’s the fuckin’ Vee-Tower …”

“Easy, Legs, how about ya start from tha beginnin’?”

Angel took a long breath again and nodded.

“Shortly after I’d gotten to the studio we got an intruder alert. Val ignored it at first ‘cause we rarely eva get those and usually Vox deals with that kinda shit. But it got worse an’ worse, people screamin’ an’ interruptin’ the shoot tryin’ ta hide from the fightin’ and stuff, and ain’t anybody havin’ a clue what’s goin’ on and why Val ain’t doin’ shit about it. He just got angrier an’ angrier…”

The shot glass was refilled and emptied.

“Until Val snapped that is … an’ he released his smoke everywhere … an’… fuuuck …”

Angel frowned and rubbed his temples.

“Angel? Are you alright?”

“I ain’t rememberin’ everythin’, ‘kay? Memory’s fuckin’ foggy, which is why I thought until now that I was just seein’ things … Ya know, Val has this smoke that works like a drug when ya breath it in, makes ya loosin’ up so that ya do what he wants. But if ya breath in too much ya get … side effects, so people are gettin’ crazy left, right an’ centre an’ are doin’ all kinds of crazy shit an’ … Ya don’t care what’s done to ya, ya know, no matter how much ya get hurt, ya outta yar mind … I’ve no idea if what I think I remember really happened …”

“Uhm, I might be able to help with that”, Lucifer offered, reaching for the spider and then halting. “I mean, if you want me to?”

Angel looked at him wide-eyed. “Sure? What exactly are ya tryin’ to do, Short King?”

There was something to be said about the fact that Angel accepted his help first and only asked questions after. It was a level of trust the fallen angel certainly couldn’t have earned in the short amount of time they knew each other, and yet his help was accepted regardless. Lucifer had to supress the urge to hug the much taller demon.

“If your still under the effect of the toxic smoke, I can draw the poison out and maybe that’s enough to clear your memories. If not … well, I could try and take a look directly, see if I can behind the blockage?”

Angel and Husk both looked at him like he had grown a second head.

“Wait, ya mean ya can read my mind?

“What? No, no, that’s not it, I don’t read thoughts or anything like that. But I can see your memories, if you want me to give it a try?”

He really didn’t think this through before he opened his mouth, damn. It was a scary proposition, who would like to have the Devil in their head?

“I mean … yeah? I ain’t able to really tell ya what happened, so … maybe if ya have a look for yaself, ya can tell me if I … well, just do yar thing and maybe answer questions later, ’kay?”

“Uhm, alright, if you’re sure about this … Just stay where you are, it’ll only take a moment. And, uh, if you could think about what you want me to see, that would help me find the memories faster.”

Angel nodded, still looking a bit unsure but not calling the whole thing off. Lucifer reached out towards the spider demon and touched him on his forehead with the tips of his fingers, commanding his magic to gently push inside the other man’s mind –

– It’s been a while since the last time he’s been drugged by Val to his very limit. The world is oh so pretty tinted in pink. He’s not even walking anymore, only crawling, and still he’s swaying. Angel blames the floor, the damn thing keeps spinning in all directions. There are two voices in his head, both his own, but giving different directions to his body. One wants to find a way out of the tower, the other wants him to find someone to fuck him until he passes out. The only thing the voices agree on is to keep moving, but one is louder than the other. And to make matters even worse for the first voice, Angel has lost track of where he is by now.

That’s when he sees … someone. It takes Angel a moment to recognize his coworker, Jeremy alias Rocky, nice guy but tends to be a bit too enthusiastic about the rougher scenes, even without Val’s smoke, which he is now full to the brim with, yeah, that’s why he has ripped apart Lindsey there, hasn’t he?

He needs get away, screams the first voice. He needs to get Rocky to fill him up, says the other.

His body moves on its own.

At least, that’s what it feels like.

Rocky’s pink glowing eyes find him and the hulking demon comes closer, which is good – right? – because Angel is staggering even on six limbs, some part of him hoping to just fall to the floor and black out. Maybe Rocky wants that, too, because he collapses forward and … there’s something on his back. Red and black and red, so much red, a spray of red taints the pinkish wall, and Rocky’s head flies out of sight, out of mind, which is funny, but also sad because now Rocky can’t fuck him, can he?

But there’s another one, the red one, and the first voice is screaming a name Angel can’t decipher right now, he has seen them somewhere before, maybe he’s a new colleague? The first voice is terrified yet hopeful, which is confusing, but the second voice is swooning for the new guy. Tall and slender and fucking sexy, damn his fluffy ears are cute, would be a shame if he rips them off with the way he rakes those red claws through his scalp …

Angel inches his way over, enraptures by the scene that unfolds before him as the red demon hunches over the carcass, digging into the flesh with claws and teeth, painting himself more red. The spider feels a strange jealousy about the attention the dead body gets, attention that should be on him, those teeth and claws should be on him, in him, it would probably hurt SO GOOD, not to mention if he also gets a few inches in him, too, while being torn apart …

“ ‘Ello tall guy, ya can devour me too ‘f ya wanna …”, he purrs and gets the full attention of the red demon. His ruby and red eyes with this beautiful hue of pink bore right through him, sending a jolt of arousal down Angel’s spine.

The first voice screams, but the whisper of the second voice is louder.

“Oh wow, ain’t ya a hungry boy … wanna see ‘f li’l me can satisfy your appetite?”

Instead of a verbal response he gets a claw to his throat, squeezing, and it makes his whole body shudder with pleasure and anticipation. He wants to be undone by these hands, the grip iron hard and promising. Angel strangles out a few moaned words, only half aware that he’s speaking at all, his body aching to be touched more, not matter where, no matter in what manner, just more, more, more …

“Angel.”

He mumbles something in response, not caring what, he just needs to keep the moment going, but there’s something with that voice and it’s important, a strange quality in the tone that pierces the pink fog in his mind and finally lets the first voice be heard.

“Smiles? ‘S that you?” Alastor. Angel can’t help but grin. “ ‘S so nice of ya to visit me at work, ya ‘ere for tha shoot? Neva thought I’d see the day!”

Especially after constantly being refused, which still feels so novel to him even after months under the same roof, has anyone else ever said No to Angel Dust? It’s frustrating and exciting, every flirt a game with actual fire, a game he isn’t sure anymore that he wants to win it, although he has of course fantasized about falling into the sheets with the Radio Demon, heck who wouldn’t?

Although Angels seems to need to put in some work here, because Alastor’s smile has almost completely fallen, which is such a strange sight, he looks almost panicked there for a moment and then everything suddenly goes black and cold. Has he died again? He can’t feel his body, yet there is the strange sensation of being stretched, not the way he’s used to, but as if his whole body is spread thin like tagliatelle, ha ha, what would his nonna say to that?

But then he’s suddenly back in his body, or his body is back with him, either way he lands on the hard cold ground with a thud that promises nice rough sex any moment now.

It doesn’t happen, to the relief of the first voice and the disappointment of the second. At least the air smells fresh, which is nice. Maybe he should just lay here for a bit. He’s exhausted.

There are voices nearby. Alastor and … he’s not sure. A woman. He knows her. She’s dangerous. And right now she’s angry, but Angel is not worried because Alastor is here. It’ll be alright. He’s not sure why he thinks that, but he does.

The first voice agrees. Alastor will handle the woman.

The second voice also agrees. Alastor will hopefully fuck Angel as soon as he’s done with her.

The lights go out. Cozy. There are still voices. Have they forgotten about him? He should remind them that he’s here, waiting.

Someone crouches beside him. Alastor, finally! Ruby and red eyes glowing in the dark. They’ve lost the pink shimmer, which makes the second voice sad for a moment until a clawed hand covers his mouth, sending his body trembling with excitement. His moan is muffled as he presses into the singular touch, why is the red demon not doing more for him, with him, can he please get on with it, please, please, please!

Maybe Alastor needs a bit more encouragement, but his limbs feel heavier with every moment. He’s so tired, and the darkness of the room is inviting him to rest. The voices are growing evermore silent both inside his mind and around him.

All that’s left are glowing red eyes as his vision slowly bleeds out –

“Shit!”, was the very first thing Angel uttered when Lucifer ended the magic and broke the contact. “Gimme anotha shot, Whisker, I made a move on Smiles!”

“You what?” Husk looked shocked but filled the glass up anyways before serving another customer. The spider downed the beverage like water.

“Yeah, an’ more than once at that! Stupid fuckin’ smoke, almost got me fuckin’ killed!”, he mumbled in a hushed voice, now very much aware again that they weren’t exactly alone.

“You’re good, Angel?”, Lucifer asked in an apologetic tone because, fuck, he could understand if Angel now preferred them to be left forgotten.

“Yeah, I think … Normally I ain’t rememberin’ the stuff that happens if I get to high on Val’s smoke, and I think it’s betta that way, but at least I now know what Smiles was talkin’ about getting’ me out? I mean, it ain’t a clear picture, I’m still missin’ some things but … he saved me from Rocky an’ … when I woke up, someone was pushin’ me into the limo that got me here and it sure ain’t been Smiles.”

Angel leaned towards the King even closer. Conspiratorial.

“I think it might’ve been Vel … Ya know, with the way the two spoke earlier?”

Lucifer nodded in agreement. He was sure that he recognized her voice as one of the ones he’d heard last in the spider’s memory.

“But she’s one of the Vees, so she technically got attacked by him too, didn’t she? Why would she help him? Or you, for that matter?”

Angel frowned in concern and shook his head.

“Beats me, but I bet it came with a price tag.”

Lucifer didn’t like that Angel was probably right. He liked even less that he was unsure how to feel about that.

“One more question, Angel, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure, Short King.”

“You mentioned that Alastor tried to make a deal with you?”

“Yeah … As I said, I was complainin’ ta Husk that Val might keep me in the studio all night, and Smiles offered to ‘make sure Valentino wouldn’t need me’ tonight.”

“And what did he ask for in return?”

“A favour. But that could be anythin’, and I ain’t desperate enough like –“

Another shot glass was placed before the spider with a loud thud that made both Angel and Lucifer flinch.

“My bad, sorry. Didn’t mean ta catch yar tongue there”, Husk apologized dryly, eyes locked on the porn star, who still looked a bit on edge.

“It’s alright … uhm, where was I?”

“You weren‘t desperate enough to agree to a favour.”

“Yeah … yeah, that, so … I was tempted, I can admit that, so we haggled. We almost settled on the favour bein’ a distraction, and for me to choose how ta go about it dependin’ on the circumstances. And that it ain’t interfering with my job, I didn’t wanna piss of Val, ya know?”

Ah, there was the ‘something befitting your talents’ part Alastor had mentioned. It sounded much less suggestive this way.

“But you didn’t make the deal.”

“Nah, I got cold feet. I didn’t want ta be indebted to that guy, it ain’t a good idea no matter what or whom ya talk about. Besides – an’ listen, that’s the real kicker! – I didn’t want Smiles ta risk anything just for me! Can ya believe it? An’ that asshole was plannin’ on wreckin’ havoc there all along!”

Angel slammed a fist down, hitting his shot glass and almost sending it flying.

“Ah shit, sorry Whiskers!”

The bartender only grunted. “Don’t worry about it, Legs. Ya might have had enough already anyways, better go an’ get somethin’ to eat, hm?”

“Yeah, should do. Will do, actually, I’m starvin’!” Angel glanced at the King again. “Thanks again, an’ I’m sorry ya had ta see all that, I bet it didn’t make much sense with, ya know, all bein’ jumbled an’ shit.”

Actually, it had all made plenty of sense thanks to Angel internal commentary – but maybe the spider hadn’t realized that Lucifer had also glimpsed his thoughts while seeing the memory? Yikes, should have clarified that before diving right in, shouldn’t he? Dammit …

“It’s … it’s fine, Angel, don’t worry about it … That was actually really helpful all things considered, so, uhm, thank you for trusting me with this, I guess …”

A trust that he apparently didn’t deserve.

Angel just blew him a kiss and sauntered over towards the buffet, right as the first notes of live music reached the lobby through the open ball room doors and the clock struck eight.

The sounds instantly garnered the attention of the majority of the guests as the melody was building up to the start of a song, but what really lured in the crowd was the voice of the vocalist.

It made Lucifer instantly think of whiskey and cigarette smoke, yet it took him a moment to truly recognize the voice due to the near absence of it’s usual filter.

Alastor.

Chapter Text

1930, Earth, Louisiana

“Before we proceed, my friend, I need to know how you found out about me, as well as how you found my cabin.”

Alastor’s tone is cordial, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. No matter how intriguing the stranger is, or his offer, he needs answers. He knows for a fact that the fuzz don’t have an actual lead in their investigation, and his cabin is accessible by boat only.

The stranger nods and smiles. And then he leans forward, conspiratorial, as if the topic of their conversation hasn’t been one for secrecy until this very moment.

“Tell me, friend … have you ever heard of our Great Mother Roo?”

.
...
.

14 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

“Watch out, coming through, coming through, thank you very much, King of Hell coming through …!”

Lucifer weaseled his way through the crowd of guests flocking into the ball room. Not that the sinners who saw him didn’t move aside, he just was already past them when they caught on to the fact who was demanding passage.

Was it a little bit unbecoming for their ruler to jostle his way through his people? Probably. Was he in he bit of a hurry to get his eyes on a certain demon’s unexpected performance? Absolutely.

The melody had been intriguing enough from the start – a guitar and a violin the most prominent instruments supported by drums and something else Lucifer didn’t have the patience to identify just by ear. It sounded cozy and eerie at the same time, a strange combination that called to him.

The sinners in the crowd stared transfixed at the stage set in the backend of the ball room, where the band had set up their equipment. There were more instruments than musicians, and Lucifer remembered that Alastor had mentioned during one of the meetings something about ensuring a great variety of music genres to be available at the celebration.

🎶 Day after day, mile after mile
Another year with wide a smile*
The last caress? It's been a while
Saw rooms and roofs with broken tiles 🎶

Alastor had a voice suited for radio – no surprise here, he wouldn’t have become the Radio Demon otherwise, he wasn’t the only former radio host during his lifetime after all.

He had also already proven that he could sing, holding his own against the Devil himself.

And yet, Lucifer would have never expected to hear the sinner … like this. Singing in that lower tone the demon usually used for intimidation, grated at the edges with quiet static. A thin trail of smoke snaked its way towards the ceiling from a cigarette tucked between two red clawed fingers, while the Overlord’s other hand held the red microphone Lucifer only now realized he hadn’t seen at all while living at the hotel.

The way the demon’s presence outright dominated the stage in his striking wine-red and black attire gave the title of ‘Overlord’ a whole new meaning. Fuck, it made something in Lucifer’s gut coil and shot heat to his cheeks.

Niffty would probably coin this style something like ‘Bad Boy Gentleman’ …

🎶 It never rains but always pours
There have been ladies, also wh... bores
So, how is life behind slammed doors?🎶

The fallen angel had entered the ball room early enough to catch a seat at one of the small round tables that were lining the walls, leaving the space in the middle free for dancing while still offering a place to take a break and chat. And since he was the King of Hell, no other demon dared to sit at the same table, leaving Lucifer to himself for now.

He saw Rosie and Mimzy standing near the stage, and only a few feet away he spotted Vaggie and his daughter.

Alastor took a long drag from the cigarette between the first and second verse, and just as he had done on the rooftop a few evenings ago, he kept the smoke in his lungs. Something about that clawed at Lucifer’s mind. He had seen him smoke yesterday on the roof top, and he had paid it no further mind than that it was a novelty to witness. The Devil had never once smelled cigarette smoke in the hotel or on the deer demon in the time they shared this place on a daily basis, and therefore for Alastor to indulge in this vice repeatedly in such a short period of time seemed a bit … strange.

🎶 Mile after mile, year after year
I have been sowing seeds of fear
I saw them growing, they appeared
To spread as fast as bad ideas 🎶

“Come on, Vox, pick up the goddamn call, you’ll never going to believe this!”, he heard a by now familiar voice hiss, and when he turned to look his eyes latched on to Velvette in the front row, her phone facing directly at the Radio Demon. Even from where he was seated the King could see her screen glitching non-stop while she tried to either film the performance or to video call. Maybe both, one never knew what to expect from Overlord powers.

Lucifer found himself hoping that not only Alastor’s image was distorted on the recording but also his voice, because this felt … exclusive. Private, despite all the strangers. This was not the Radio Demon broadcasting to all of Pentagram City. This was an act of entertainment that had meaning. Just what that meaning was, the Devil couldn’t say. But it felt like –

🎶 There are some beasts that can't be tamed
It never changes, stays the same
Saw people leaving, when I came 🎶

– maybe this was somehow … personal?

🎶 I'm marching past
I'm marching past
I love it so, when you all look at me, aghast
Marching past
Marching past
When will we all march to a different drum at last?
I'm passing by
I'm passing by
I'm the eternal stranger till the day I die
Passing by
Passing by
I make your children weep, and even you will cry 🎶

It was, wasn’t it? Just this morning Alastor himself had alluded to being some kind of outcast during his life, or parts of it at the very least, and Husk had expanded on that little crash course into one of the uglier sides of mankind. He could imagine people on earth having certain reactions on the streets upon seeing him.

But the fallen angel suspected that there was more to the song than just a reference to Alastor lifetime. A double meaning to the lyrics perhaps, because he could totally see sinners nowadays crossing to the other side of the street upon laying eyes on the Radion Demon Only now it was for different reasons – where there had been disgust before, there was fear now, the scales of power having tipped in Alastor’s favour upon arriving in Hell.

Lucifer watched mesmerized as the Overlord hopped from the stage in a dance like motion and the crowd parted. Of course, showman that Alastor was, he had to go all out on the theatrics. The sinners cleared a path for him as the Radio Demon danced in slow strides and spins through the spectators, giving the next lyrics even more weight.

🎶 My presence makes you all steer clear
So many songs you cannot hear
I'm striding on a trail of tears
Come follow me, I'll pioneer
As the black crow flies, dead straight
I'm sowing angst and reap the hate
Oh, I can see, you cannot wait
Y̸̲̎̀ỏ̸͉͒u̸̡͂̎͌ ̸̤̯̪̊̾ç̸̨̲͝å̵̩͌͘ņ̷̛͉n̶̻̈́̓̉o̵̗̘̊̌t̵͔̜̤̊̏ ̵̢̯̙͒̄ẁ̴̘̪å̶͈̳̊ͅī̵̖͈́ť̷̜͝ 🎶

There it was. Past trauma forged into a weapon, to be wielded in both self-protection and aggression, to inflict hurt on others instead of getting hurt oneself. A coping mechanism started in life and perfected in death, a source of pride rather than humiliation.
For the last two weeks, Lucifer had tried to learn bits and pieces about the Radio Demon, and here was Alastor, laying himself bare with a song that had the crowd cheer in blissful ignorance, and the Devil knew with absolute certainty that the infamous red sinner only did so because of that very fact.

Because they heard him, swooed by that alluring voice and not questioning a single line, not listening.

Meanwhile, the Radio Demon had finished his round and stepped on the stage again.

🎶 I'm marching past
I'm marching past
I love it so, when you all look at me, aghast
Marching past
Marching past
When will we all march to a different drum at last?
I'm passing by
I'm passing by
I'm the eternal stranger till the day I die
Passing by
Passing by
I make your children weep, and even you will cry
Don't stare at me, because I've got the evil eye
I'm the eternal stranger till the day I die 🎶

The music died only a few notes after the last line of lyrics, silence settling over the room for a brief moment before applause erupted. Alastor bathed in the ovation, bowing once to the crowd before planting his microphone front and center on the stage and hopping down again. He was instantly surrounded by Rosie, Mimzy and Charlie, who was followed a little reluctantly by her girlfriend.

“Oh Alastor, bravo, what a phenomenal show as always! I need ya to perform at the Rose again sometime, ya hear me?”

The deer demon’s smile was wide.

“I do hear you, Mimzy. I’ll see what can be done about that.”

“That was incredible, Al!” Charlie was almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve never heard you sing like THAT before!”

“Oh, I have”, Rosie chimed in, giving the other Overlord an almost mischievous look, “but it’s certainly been an age since you used that tone of yours for a stage performance!”

“Indeed, but special occasions demand special entertainment, don’t they, and for that I’m at your service.” Alastor turned towards Charlie. “On that note I’ll have you know that these talented gentlemen up there are Mimzy’s boys. She graciously lent their skills to our celebration as an apology for causing that ruckus a few weeks ago.”

There was something sharp in that smile and those ruby eyes as the Overlord glanced at the dancer. Something the princess either didn’t see or willfully ignored – even from his place at the table some feet away Lucifer could see his daughter get all teary-eyed at the short woman.

“Aww, thank you, that really means so much to the hotel!” Charlie caught Mimzy in a crushing hug.

“Ugh, uhm, s-sure thing, doll face, just say that I’m forgiven and we forget that whole mess eva happened, whaddya say?”

“Of course I forgive you!” And yeah, how could there possibly be any other outcome?

“Great!” The dance turned towards the Radio Demon and poked him in the chest as she spoke, turning his smile strained at the edges as she did so. “I’m calling dibs on the first dance by the way, sweetheart, so finfish that coffin nail and let’s get to it!”

The slang term for the cigarette let Lucifer perk up a little. He watched Alastor take a drag so long it burned the remaining half of the cigarette in one go and wasn’t surprised at all when the Overlord didn’t breathe out the smoke.

He had noticed this detail already yesterday, but hadn’t known what to make of it. But maybe now …

Coffin nail. Cancer stick. Those names didn’t come from nothing. The fumes were poisonous. Smoking was in itself an act of self-destruction. Inhaling it deep into one’s lungs and keeping it there on purpose even more so.

Lucifer tapped his claws on the table, contemplating. He was onto something, he could feel it, but he didn’t know what to do with this little tidbit of insight. It was not like any demon would die of cigarette-induced lung cancer in Hell, since their high regeneration prevented sinners from getting ill unless the sickness were to be magically caused or strengthened or something like that.

So yeah, Alastor certainly couldn’t get himself killed by inhaling too much smoke, but it was an interesting observation nonetheless, since his indulgence in this vice seemed a little out of character …

Niffty appeared out of nowhere with an ash tray in which Alastor extinguished the cigarette stump, and then the little demon maid was gone again, vanished in the crowed that parted to the tables that lined the walls to make room for dancing.

At a hand wave from Mimzy the band began to play again, a lively tune perfect for a Charleston.

Und thus, the dancing began.

The music genre changed with every song. Mimzy’s band was apparently mostly versed in different styles of jazz, but every other song they took a pause while a song of some other genre was played from Alastor’s microphone propped on the stage. The dancers on the floor changed constantly due to the unpredictable change of music that seemed to follow no pattern at all.

Lucifer watched as the Radio Demon swinged with Rosie and Lindy Hop’ed with Mimzy, pausing ever so often due to the change in music. The fallen angel seethed silently as the Overlord asked Charlie to dance a Vienna Waltz, giving her over to Vaggie when a song for a slow dance came up next.

It was a particularly romantic song, perfect for lovers. Lucifer felt his ire melt away as he watched his daughter and his surely-soon-to-be-daughter-in-law sway slowly in each other’s arms to the gentle song and the warmly crooning voice, unable to turn his eyes away from the peaceful and lovely sight.

Which is way he didn’t notice the Radio Demon slip away.

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...
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There was a tug on his leash, eliciting a jolt of sudden panic through his entire body. An invisible pull on an invisible chain, for now at least, forcing Alastor to excuse himself hastily and retreat into his shadow. He emerged in the nearest guest room on the first floor, his knees almost buckling under him upon materializing again.

Alastor knew that the entrance door to this room was locked. He had personally checked and ensured that every single room in the entire damn hotel was clear of any unwanted guests, locking each and every door behind him securely. He checked the lock anyways. Of course it didn’t budge.

He sent his shadow scouring the room and the adjacent bath, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

He was by himself.

Yet, he felt no relief.

The adrenaline rushing through his system dulled the constant pain tormenting him at least a fair bit for now, which was no consolation at all if the leash pulling tight around his neck meant what he feared it did.

No, I’m so close! I need a bit more time!

He tried to send the sentiment through the soul chain, tried to let her know that he hadn’t played all his cards yet, that he got pull this off. But he had no reason to believe that Lilith could actually receive anything beyond what she was looking for.

He had subtly tried to feel for Niffty and Husker through their chains, if only to see if it was at all possible, but to no avail. Maybe he lacked the power or the method to do so, or had it been all a lie to begin with? Judging by the soft but firm pull on his chain, he wasn't so lucky...

How often had she assessed his well-being without him noticing? Perhaps this was the first time she reached for him, since her first estimate of two weeks was ending? Or was she well aware of the sudden decline of his condition? Was this first tug a warning, a moment of grace for him to hide away before she summoned him, contrary to her statement that she wouldn’t care about the situation he was in when she called?

Alastor staggered into the bathroom, not bothering with the light. He turned the water on to wash his face and neck while waiting for the inevitable pull on his soul that would rip him from Hell’s surface. The injury was screaming with pain as he bent his torso down, spiking though the adrenaline and forcing him to straighten out again. He tried to breath through the pain, staring at his own red glowing eyes in the mirror as he leaned on the sink, claws gripping tightly and scratching the smooth surface.

All he needed was a few more hours, he was sure of it. He would get Lucifer to heal him before the night was over, if that damnable woman would just let him do as he pleased –

Oh child, what have you gotten yourself into now?

Alastor froze, eyes going wide in disbelief. That voice?! It couldn’t be … He had always known from the day she died that he never would hear her sweet voice again. Had made peace with the fact that it never could be.

It’ll be alright, my heart, let me help you …

His ears perked up at the chuckle that that tethered on the edge of mania filled the small, tiled space. It took Alastor a moment to realize that it was his own. And was that still water on his face, or were those droplets tears? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to know. His eyes stung.

She had always called him ‘her heart’ when the man she called husband, and he had to call father, was not home. Mon cœur. Just like he called his son now.

Mother?

He was losing his mind, that had to be it. Auditory hallucinations, most likely from going hunger crazy, it had happened before during one of the starvation experiments after all, so it could likely happen again. Alastor certainly didn’t feel like his mind had dwindled that much yet, but maybe the threshold was lower instead of higher now? That was probably the reason why there was a hint of imperfection in her voice, an echo that wasn’t quite right. And yet, too close to the real voice he remembered for him to care.

Hush now, child of mine, you have fought so hard, it would be a shame for your efforts not to take fruit. Allow me to help you, will you?

It was a little strange for her to ask for his permission, then again, he was an adult and not a boy anymore, no matter how small he felt at that soothing tone of hers. But she had always been respectful of his boundaries, had always accepted when he didn’t want to be cuddled and waited patiently for him to seek her out when he felt like he could handle it. It had taken him a long time to realize how considered she had been, a mercy he could never fully repay in kind.

How could he deny her now?

He didn’t need to voice his permission for it to be known – Alastor felt the shift the moment his subconsciousness had decided to accept the offered help.

In the twilight of the room, he could see his shadow in the reflection of the mirror stretching behind him and detach from the wall to shroud him in a cold embrace. The demon watched in fascination as the entity diffused into a thin coil tracing along the invisible shape of the manacle around his neck, growing along its edges and the first dozen chain links reminiscent of vines or roots.

To his surprise, the shadow encased chain disappeared after a few moments, the tight constriction slacking around his neck. It wasn’t gone, he could still feel the soul chain in the back of his mind as he always did, but it felt … dampened. Like having a cool layer of silk between skin and metal. Nothing else seemed to have changed, his chest still aching with pain every breath he took.

What have you done?!

Calm yourself, child, you must act quickly now. You need to get your strength back up, how about a hearty meal?

He couldn’t help but chuckle again. His mother had always been worried about him getting enough to eat, skinny thing that he had been. She had slipped him seconds when his father had been away, and he had never left a plate unfinished – until he had found out that she sometimes went without eating herself, because money was always tight, and his father often preferred selling the meat from their poaching to buy booze and gamble at dog fights instead of putting it on their own table. After that, he had made sure his mother got a decent meal at least.

Go, my heart, and sink your teeth into something … tasty.

That was an odd choice of words for her, but it immediately triggered something in his mind. A flicker of a memory that hadn’t been forgotten, just … sleeping.

To taste a star … wouldn’t that be something?

His stomach growled violently. Alastor felt himself salivate, his long tongue sliding out to moisturize lips and teeth, more animal than man and that just wouldn’t do.

He was in control here. Not the hungering beast inside him, not Lilith, not anyone else. This was his plan, and he would see it through, and he would get the results he wanted.

And when that was done, he could figure out what his shadow had done to keep the Queen at bay. It would be a rather useful tool to have at his disposal when – not if – the need would arise again.

Alastor dried his face and neck off and carefully checked the bandages under his clothes. There was already a damp and dark red stain emerging on the outmost layer, which was inconvenient but he had no time to change them now. It just meant that he would have to leave his tailcoat on the entire time as an extra layer of fabric in case his shirt and vest soaked through.

Alastor left the guest room like he had entered it, no need to stir up unwanted questions about why he had been one floor upstairs. It would be easy enough to explain away, but he’d rather not waste any breath on it.

As he emerged in the ball room again, a quick glance around was all it took to find a certain King of Hell.

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The song came to a close and Lucifer snapped out of his trance with the sudden awareness that he had lost sight of a certain red sinner. He glanced over at the table the demon usually chatted with Rosie while nursing a rye if he wasn’t dancing –

But he wasn’t there.

The soothing warmth he had felt while watching Charlie and Vaggie dance was instantly replaced by icy guilt. Fuck, he was supposed to have an eye on the deer demon for a BLOODY good reason, and now he couldn’t find him among the people the Overlord had hung around all night, and he wasn’t on the dancefloor either, how could he fuck this up again, it was such an easy task and yet he was failing again, he –

– was interrupted in his growing panic by the crackle of static to his left and slightly behind him. The King turned around so fast he almost jumped from his seat, and there was Alastor, looking down on the fallen angel with a look akin to mischievous anticipation.

The Radio Demon bowed down at the waist, extending one hand towards Lucifer while doing so, and the Devil knew the words the demon was about to speak by heart, and yet still hoped that he was wrong –

“Would you honour a lowly sinner as myself with this dance, your Majesty?”

He wasn’t wrong. But what would happen if he didn’t answer as he had in the dreams, what would happen if he declined the offered hand?

“I may, if you think you can keep up with the King of Hell on the dancefloor?”

Did his tongue move on its own, or had he already accepted that this was how it had to be?

“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent dance partner.” No hesitation, all confidence, just like in his dream.

But in his dream, the sinner had already been gutted? Shit, was he still missing something?

“Your skills might be excellent, but are they fit for your sovereign?” The answer is Yes, he has watched Alastor dancing with expert skill all evening long now, and some part of him is giddy at the prospect of getting to finally enjoy his company on the dancefloor for himself.

A big part of him, actually, and if he is truly honest with himself, he has been looking forward to this at least as much as he is anxious about what else will happen.

“Only one way to find out, my King!” Alastor’s grin was wide and challenging, and Lucifer couldn’t help but return that smile in full.

Heads were already turning as they made their way to the free space close to the stage while the first guitar riffs of Johnny B. Goode started playing. Huh, somehow he didn’t expect their dance to be a Jive, but then again it’s just as lively and foot work intense as everything else he has seen the demon dance tonight, not requiring much body contact from the dance partners. Just enough of on and off hand holding to allow leading into twists and turns, which is where the fun began.

Because neither of them was conceding the lead, and thus the dance simultaneously became a game of pulling or pushing first, forcing a switch in the lead with the other having to react and adjust quick enough to not falter in their step.

It’s thrilling, invigorating, a mind game made physical with split-second decisions, and the red sinner could indeed hold his own against the King of Hell, although Lucifer could see that Alastor was at his limit here. Maybe that was because he had already danced so much, or perhaps the fallen angel was simply a better dancer – he had been an archangel after all – but the deer demon’s breath was just too quick and shallow, his smile just too strained to fully hide his exhaustion.

He could put the sinner in his place here, could tip him just enough over the edge to make him stumble and prove himself the winner of their little unofficial dancing competition … but he didn’t want to. What would he gain from humiliating the Overlord now when he had so much fun, when he wanted this to last longer and not be done after one single song?

They were right in the middle of the song by the time Lucifer had already made up his mind to ask for the next dance, too, when the clock in the hallway struck midnight and the phone in his pocket vibrated once, accompanied with a high Ding! sound.

He would have ignored the notification, but his phone was not the only one to go off. All around them ringtones chimed, a cacophony of sounds ranging from soft tingling notes to farting noises and animal grunts, the kind of which might be funny in private and utterly embarrassing in public. Such was the onslaught of notifications one could think this was some kind of disaster alert, which Lucifer knew there was none. The only real disaster ever to strike Hell were the yearly Exterminations, and for that they had a giant ass clocktower right in the middle of this God-forsaken city.

It was an oddity to occur for sure, which is why people stopped dancing to look at their phones.

“What is happening?”, he heard himself ask quietly, resisting just barely the urge to look at his own phone because he just knew that Alastor was already pissed off by having their dancing interrupted and following the siren’s call of the device responsible for it would only vex him more and –

Hu, wasn’t that an odd sentiment, to care about the feelings of that radio prick who irritated the fallen angel to no end, and brought him such delight just with a dance and … yeah, well, it was a question of politeness, wasn’t it, it would be just rude to ignore his dance partner in favour of some unexpected notification storm, right, let’s go with THAT …

“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say this is a petty attempt at revenge.”

Oh, did Alastor actually know what was going on? He looked neither curious nor wary, standing there perfectly composed with one hand tugged behind his back and inspecting the claws of the other, seemingly unbothered or even bored by what was going on.

“Uhm, dad? Could you … maybe for a moment …?” Charlie’s uncertain and hushed voice carried over to him beyond the growing murmuring in the room.

He looked over to her and his heart clenched when he saw the worry written on her face.

“Uhm, Charlie wants to speak with me, so I’ll … It’ll just take a moment –“

“Of course, sire, the mood has taken quite a hit anyhow. I’ll keep Rosie company.”

The demon strode off towards his Overlord friend, who was currently looking on a phone another cannibal lady was showing to her.

It took Lucifer quite the effort to calmly walk over to where his daughter and her paramour stood instead of sprinting or even portalling across half the room just to get there faster.

“What is it, duckling?” What he did NOT manage was to keep his anxiety out of his voice.

She just showed him her phone screen, where a video was playing. A caption banner played in loop underneath:

EXCLUSIVE VIDEO FOOTAGE UNEARTHED: ‘HAZBIN’ RADIO DEMON GETS FIRST-MAN-HANDLED

It was a video of the Last Extermination battle at the hotel, cut down to highlight exactly what the title alluded to. The giant shield that Alastor had cast over the hotel was broken by Adam’s punch – cute – Adam spun his guitar-ax, slicing through black tentacles – cut – Adam got rid of Alastor’s little voodoo doll-like minions – cut – with a shout of “Radio is fucking DEAD!” and an enlarged ax, Adam struck down with a flash of holy energy, cutting Radio Demon’s microphone in half before slicing the Overlord himself open from collar bone to hip, sending him crashing against the low rooftop railing and ultimately letting him escape into his shadow with a smug grin and an insult.

The video started repeating itself after that and Lucifer could only stare, horrified at what he was seeing.

He had felt that shield and its collapse. In his dream, he had seen the Golden Dragon, Adam, lay waste to the dream forest with what could only holy fire, and he had heard the Crimson Stags pained bellow …

His last dream had never been about preventing Alastor to get hurt, because he was already injured! In his dream, he found Alastor not in the process of getting wounded to try and prevent it, but already disembowelled …

But … he looked fine! He moved around, going over his daily routine, he had fought earlier this day, he was hitting the dancefloor for hours now! He couldn’t be cut open like that, he had to be healed by now, it had been two fucking weeks!

Unless …

Lucifer pulled out his own phone, opening the video and trying to pause on the moment Alastor got hit. Which was frustratingly difficult because of the flash of light that the weapon seemed to emit on impact. He played the few seconds at half speed, more than once, forward and backwards, focusing on Adam’s ax. There wasn’t any hint of a notch in that angelic blade, which meant that nothing had broken off for some reason and lodged itself inside the Radio Demon to prevent him from healing.

Which was a good thing, otherwise Alastor would be long since dead, having simply bled out.

Then again … he should be dead anyways, if his suspicion was right.

He should have paid more attention to the details of the dreams, because no matter how metaphorical they seemed, the imagery was all but coincidence – Lucifer understood that now.

Adam had been depicted as a dragon for a reason, breathing fire so hot it had the coloration of pure light. One could even say … holy.

FUCK FUCK FUCK …

He finally tore his eyes from the screen and glanced over to the should-be-dead-Overlord. Alastor was sipping on his rye, the glass almost empty. He was talking to Rosie, the other cannibal woman having left the table, and pointedly ignored the may eyes that were on him.

Shit, people were staring at the Overlord, the whispers and hushed chattering barely drowned by the by the Jazz tune the band was now picking up again, but nobody was dancing anymore.

“Dad …”

The King turned to look at his daughter, a silent plea in her eyes. Lucifer forced himself to smile.

“Don’t worry, Char-Char, he’s fine! I mean, would he be dancing the night away if he was still injured?”

Yes, he totally would, this was the Radio Demon they were talking about, dammit.

“I know, but … Dad, he got hurt, and I didn’t know, I didn’t even think he –“

“Ah, duckling, enough of this, okay? It’s not your fault, you hear me? And look, Alastor is alive, and he is here celebrating with you, and I’m sure he just didn’t want you to know so that you wouldn’t worry, okay?” he laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her in a bit, voice growing quiet. “That, and because he’s a prideful asshole and didn’t wanted to be reminded that he got his butt kicked, you know?”

It got her to smile a little, which was immediately overshadowed by a new wave of guilt for doing so, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Okay, dad…”

“You know what, I proof it to you and everybody else here who might dare question our dear hotelier’s health right now!”

He left her standing before she could try to stop him, before his own nerves made him reconsider, because oh boy, this could go wrong in so many ways.

Alastor’s ear tilted in his direction as he approached, and soon enough the demon turned to face him, an unspoken question in the way one eyebrow quirked up slightly.

“You know, since we got so rudely interrupted by that – what was is that you called it – ‘petty attempt at revenge’ … How do you feel about another dance?” Lucifer smiled wide and brightly, displaying a confidence he didn’t really feel inside.

Alastor’s eyebrow wandered even higher, while next to him Rosie’s smile grew to rival the Devil’s.

“I take it than that my dancing is indeed ‘fit for my sovereign’, as you put it?” The demon’s smile was smug, which turned Lucifer’s own smile into a smirk in return. He felt his anxiety turn into excitement again just from this tiny bit of banter alone.

“Well, you didn’t make a fool of yourself, and therefore gracious King that I am, I’ll allow you a repeat performance. If you dare, that is, you might want to save your strength for all these sinners around who might get the wrong idea from that poorly edited revenge video.”

It was a tease he knew would land, and it did, eye twitching ever so slightly and lips retracting more to turn the smile into a snarl. Lucifer could tell that those fluffy ears wanted to turn back or at least twitching, but were willed to stay upright, tips trembling faintly.

“I see. And does my King have a specific dance in mind?”

“Your King has indeed! A Discofox would be fun, don’t you think?”

Alastor tilted his head to the side. “Discofox? That is a rather easy dance.”

“Sure, the basics are, but from an expert dancer like you I would expect to be kept on my toes with the variety of figures this dance has to offer. Or are you not familiar with those, is Discofox to modern for you?”

This time the challenge was much more direct, and if Lucifer had had any doubt whether Alastor would be interested in a second dance, it was gone now. The demon’s red eyes were glowing.

“I take it that you will submit to my lead, then?”

Yes, that was exactly what he had been suggesting, but for Alastor to ask for clarification in this way and with THAT lowered voice, subsonic growl included, and looking down on him with half-lidded glowing eyes was the epitome of UNFAIR! Lucifer tried not to shiver.

“I’d say that’s exactly the idea. You know what, how about I look the part?”

Sometimes his mouth was faster than his thoughts. Oh well, now he had to go through with it, right?

With a snap and a little magic, his white and goldens suite transformed into a long-sleeved ankle-length dress of the same coloration. The cane and hat vanished, leaving only the snake-and-apple-crown behind. He did not shapeshift his body, however, not that it mattered much with his natural petit form.

“Goodness gracious!”, Rosie uttered softly behind her fan, her smile full of glee as she turned to Alastor. “Go on, dear, don’t keep the lady waiting!”

The Radio Demon stared at the King, eyes flickering in and out to radio dials. Antlers creaked and stretched, gaining another spike before the sinner could regain his composure, and Lucifer would have been lying to say that he was not pleased with himself to have elicited such a reaction.

“I would never”, he said, without taking his eyes off Lucifer. “Any song suggestions, my lady?”

It’s just Alastor continuing the little jest Rosie started, Lucifer knew that, and yet the form of address still tingled down his spine.

“Surprise me!”

This time, the red eyes turn steadily and on purpose, the red dials swaying back and forth in search for a song, and the fallen angel couldn’t help but wonder how the Radio Demon’s powers worked. Could he pull any song ever created? How did he get access to them, where did he pull them from?

“There, this should work nicely.”

Alastor didn’t wait for the band to finish their current act, forcing them to stop playing by broadcasting his selected song over his microphone. It started similar enough to a jazz piece, or maybe a blues, but as Alastor took his hand and lead him back to dancefloor, Lucifer assessed the beat in his mind and found that yes, even if that didn’t quite fit the time period, the song would work for a Discofox. And a fast one at that.

Oh, this was gonna be fun! Might even take him some mental effort not to lose sight of the task at hand, because Lucifer’s choice of dance was very deliberate.

See, Discofox was indeed a simple dance in its basic steps. The key to what made this dance so much fun was the seemingly endless variety of figures.

Alastor pulled him close, his right hand on the fallen angel’s waist and the other holding Lucifer’s right hand, while he in turn positioned his own left hand on the demon’s upper arm (NOT because he was too short, Alastor was so damn tall that reaching for his shoulder would have looked awkward!). The very next moment Donna Hightower’s iconic voice rang out and Alastor didn’t hesitate to initiate the dance with a simple basic step-step-tap, and from there on it was figures and only figures. And Alastor knew many.

The solo spins for the lady and the man. The hand switching, butterfly, pretzel, side by sides, and a lot of more complex figures Lucifer had forgotten the names of and honestly didn’t care for. He never knew what would come next, but he didn’t need to – a soft push or pull would indicate a direction, the letting go and catching all to Alastor’s design, and it was so very easy to just follow the gentle lead.

Some of the figures required a little more body contact, even if just briefly, but a fleeting moment was all Lucifer needed. It was way he had picked this dance, counting on the demon’s pride to show off everything he could offer within the dance.

Their hips touched as the figure’s required closeness, and Lucifer felt –

– a flash of light and the caress of the Heavenly Realm, like the touch of another angel –

– holy fire.

Fuck. Just as he had feared. Alastor was far from being alright.

Lucifer couldn’t help but hiss under his breath. And suddenly, all the other little hints and puzzle pieces fell into place.

He should have figured it out this morning already, when he accidentally bumped into Alastor. He had felt the angelic energy then, too, but had been too ignorant to make the connection. The demon had even flinched as Lucifer’s magic had traced over him in order to clean the spilled coffee, because the holy fire burning him from the inside had tried to pull the familiar energy in. Heck, the day they had redone the Conference Room, Alastor had also had some kind of reaction when he used his magic to embellish the place, hadn’t he? The King had dismissed it then, but in hindsight …

And there were even more things that made sense now. The smoking. Perhaps his interpretation regarding the self-destructive nature of inhaling the smoke deeply had some merit, but it probably also dulled the pain. As did the alcohol, and the demon had started drinking early today. As for the dancing … the odd switching of music genres wasn’t just to appeal to every guest’s taste, was it? It allowed Alastor to take breaks after every dance without raising suspicion about his constitution.

Sly bastard.

The dance suddenly wasn’t that much fun anymore.

The Devil glanced up at the Overlord, subtly observing his face. The strain on his smile was so obvious now, the little beats of sweat under his hairline, the fast and far to shallow breathing. How did Alastor even manage to keep up appearances? How was he not dead, with holy fire gnawing at his insides for two whole weeks? It should have killed him within hours, a day or two tops!

Could it be that the angelic energy for some odd reason didn’t affect the red sinner as much as it should?

With the next bit of extended body contact Lucifer tried again to feel for the injury, but this time he focused on the impression he could glean from Alastor’s body, to see if the holy fire did even harm the demon as it should –

The fallen angel gasped and stumbled.

THERE WAS SO MUCH PAIN.

Red clawed hands pulled him firmly into a spin, catching his fumble. Red eyes watched him with amusement and then suddenly narrowed, the pupils thinning into slits, and Lucifer knew that Alastor had just realized what was going on.

They stared at each other as their dance continued until the singer’s voice slowly faded out together with the music and their movements came to a halt. Alastor lead him back towards Rosie’s table,not saying a word.

“Well, darlings, that was a sight to behold!”, Rosie praised, but Lucifer had a feeling that she was aware of the sudden tension between them and just pretended not to have noticed. Something in the way she regarded them both, something in her smile growing sharper.

“Yeah, uhm … thanks a lot, Alastor, that was fun! Sorry if I was a little distracted there at the end, I – I just confirmed that we have a Code Black, so …we should probably handle that …”

“Did you know? My, and what help could I be to the powerful King of Hell in this regard?”

Lucifer couldn’t tell if the deer demon was just playing humble or if he was wary of the Devil now.

“Because I think it’s involving an Overlord and I’d like your insight in the City’s politics before I accidentally blast someone important?”, he lied through his teeth.

“I see. Very well, then.”

Again, the King wasn’t able to tell whether Alastor bought his assertion or played along. But he would find out soon enough. He turned to Rosie and gave her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for stealing your company, Rosie. If you wouldn’t mind, if Charlie asks, please tell her that we are handling a security issue.”

“Of course, your Majesty, not to worry!”

“Thank you”, he nodded and turned to the Radio Demon again. “See you in the kitchen in five.”

He didn’t wait for confirmation this time. He left at once, turning the dress back into his previous suit while maneuvering through the crowd.

Out of the ball room, into the lobby, through the magically locked double doors separating the lobby from the hallway leading to the kitchen. His anxiety was peaking again. On the one hand he was relieved to have finally managed to figure out his latest dream. He was not too late, he could still make things right, he just had to take the last hurdle which was the Crimson Stag himself. Shouldn’t be that hard, right, surely the demon did want to be healed?

What could possibly go wrong?

Lucifer’s pacing got interrupted when the kitchen door swung open and the Radio Demon walked in, eyes scanning his surroundings before settling on the King.

“Well then, do I need to ask what this is about?”, Alastor said wryly, tilting his head with an eerie crack.

Still playing games, hu? Alright then …

“How about you make an educated guess?”, he said while opening a portal directly behind the demon and pushing him through with gust of magic.

Chapter Text

15 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Alastor stumbled backwards through the portal. It was not a powerful bit of magic by Lucifer, achieving just what it was intended to do without meaning to hurt, and yet it almost brought him to his knees. More stitches had ripped during the many dances, and he felt another snap from the sudden movements as he tried to keep his balance. He couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped him, nor could he stop his hand clawing reflexively at his chest. If Lucifer needed any more confirmation that he was still injured, here it was.

Then again, the Devil wouldn’t have lured him away if he hadn’t put the puzzle pieces together by now.

The Overlord couldn’t say that he overly appreciated to be whisked away like that – then again, he was well aware that he already had overestimated the time available to him to the point of an unexpected interference on his behalf. If there was a little sense of urgency on the fallen angel’s part, it could be counted as favorable to him. As should his current whereabouts.

The Radio Demon knew where the King had taken him the moment he had set foot on the dark red carpet. Striped, red tapestry on the walls. Two high back armchairs in front of a hearth that lay currently dark and cold. Bookshelves with leather-bound books and taxidermized animals and skeletons. A large desk with a radio and stacks of paper.

The smell of water, rich soil and decaying greenery. The soft light of a moonlit night that wasn’t really there.

Alastor’s own rooms. A perfect recreation of the ones he’d inhabited in the old hotel.

Lucifer could have opened the portal to anywhere. That it led to the privacy and comfort of Alastor’s chambers was promising, but the Overlord knew better than to throw caution to the wind. Another miscalculation and everything could still fall into shambles.
The King walked through the portal, which instantly closed behind him.

“Alright, enough with the games!” Lucifer’s face went from patronizing to angry in the blink of an eye. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Careful now.

“If I had to ‘take an educated guess’, as you put it, I’d say you know exactly what this is, sire.”

“I said enough with the games! You think no one notices that you’re holding your own fucking WAKE down there?!”

Close enough. He could work with that.

“I’d say that’s exactly the case, actually. Even with Vox’s little attempt at slander, no one down there is the wiser, which was exactly the point –“

“You provoked him intentionally, didn’t you.” The fallen angel stared at him wide-eyed, blurting out the words in the very moment of epiphany. “That’s why you attacked him, because you knew he would react like this!”

Alastor’s smile grew, which was answer enough. The King seemed baffled.

“But why?!” Lucifer’s ire had subsided completely, irritation and – dare he say – worry showing on his face instead.

To let you know without having to tell you, might have been the primary answer, but not the one leaving his mouth. There was another explanation he could give, almost equally as truthful but far better suited for the current situation.

The demon sighed heavily and walked the few steps over to his desk, leaning backwards against it to better support his aching body. Normally he would have done anything but show his weakness to anybody, but there was no point here in trying. Lucifer already knew, and furthermore, he needed to keep him aware of how dire the situation was.

“Because I’m dying, and that is the only way to protect what will remain of my reputation when I’m gone. I will not have an insect like Vox parade around the fact that this cretin Adam was my undoing, so I had to force him to shoot his shot and miss miserably. He tried to humiliate me in front of everyone at the celebration, to discredit my power and make me look weak, perhaps even hoping that someone would be foolish enough to attack me and ruin the festivities utterly.”

Alastor had to pause for a moment to catch a few shallow breaths. It would have irked him immensely that Vox was not entirely wrong about his current state, were it not for the knowledge that he had wasted his opportunity to cause lasting damage to the Radio Demon’s reputation.

“But all these sinners observed tonight was an Overlord who stood against Adam, took a seemingly fatal hit and survived against all odds, proof of my endurance and power if nothing else. I’m sure there are recordings of tonight’s performance going around already, counter evidence of Vox’s claims, and I bet Velvette is having a field day stoking the fire of this so called ‘engagement’ she revels in. If I’m gone by the end of the night or the next, no one will be the wiser as to why.”

The demon chuckled roughly, voice crackling with static at the pain it was accompanied by.

“With which you helped, knowingly I might add, so that nobody would get ‘the wrong idea from that poorly edited revenge video’.”

The whole evening had been a demonstration of survival and fortitude in anticipation of the blow the TV Overlord would try to strike. Dancing with the Devil right after that bit of slander had been quite the show of confidence, of alliance with the power of royal family, dare he say a suggestion of influence that elevated his own power in the eyes of every sinner with half a brain to understand.

It would save his legacy for a while if he did indeed die – not that he truly cared what would happen as long as he couldn’t witness the aftermath, but the King didn’t need to know that – but since the goal was to get healed and stay alive, the events of this evening would have some lasting and delicious effects.

Which begged the question whether the absentee monarch was even aware what he had done in that moment. He somewhat looked like he had gotten caught red-handed, so maybe it dawned on him? Alastor saw the opportunity and jumped at it.

“I guess I owe you my gratitude for playing along, my King.”

That hit the mark – although different than the demon had anticipated. He had intended to appease the fallen angel, a first step in guiding him towards the idea of healing Alastor as a token of his own gratitude for whatever reason Lucifer chose. Alastor could think of various that might do the trick.

But the King looked guilt-stricken instead, for reasons that eluded the Overlord. Did he regret his actions now, realizing the consequences of his actions?

As it turned out, that was not at the forefront of the fallen angel’s mind.

“But … that whole ploy to save your legacy, it’s not necessary! You don’t need to die!”

Almost there. Alastor would have held his breath if his breathing weren’t already so shallow that he barely got enough air in his lungs as it was. He tilted his head questioningly, following through with the role he had taken for this act.

“Your injury is infested with holy fire, that’s why you can’t heal. I can take care of that for you!”

Said with conviction, almost excitement. It made Alastor’s ears twitch. Lucifer didn’t react at all like the deer demon had imagined, and yet, everything seemed to go according to plan quite smoothly.

“And why would you do that?”

That caught the Devil off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll rephrase: Why do you care, sire?”

“I don’t – … well, I mean, I do … I, uh …” Lucifer was grasping for words, and Alastor watched the King of Hell stammer like a particularly fascinating creature trapped in a snare. It was only because he watched the fallen angel so closely that he registered the moment Lucifer made a decision, composing himself and tucking away something in the back of his mind.

“I care …for Charlie’s sake. She’s already guilt ridden since she saw the video that you got hurt on her behalf and … well, that you put your life on the line to defend her dream means a lot to her. And by extension, to me. So …I guess it’s me who owes some gratitude.”

The King seemed sincere, even offered a light smile at the end that felt genuine. It sounded exactly like what Alastor was trying to achieve, to get healed without indebting himself to the Devil.

Only that was not enough. He needed assurance, the words needed to be spoken aloud. But pushing for it was a huge gamble, one he might be better off not taking … then again, a dealmaker like Alastor knew about the dangers of open-ended bargains. He would not be fooled into the assumption of getting healed for free, only to be forced into renegotiations half-way through.

“No”, he said, and instantly felt the compulsion of Lilith’s command to get himself healed no matter what cost explode in the back of his mind. It made him flinch as his muscles twitched, compelled to throw the demon at the King’s feet and beg for his aid. Alastor’s claws dug deep into the wood of the desk as he held himself upright.

“No? What in the seven rings do you mean with ‘No’?! I’m telling you that I can save your existence here!”

“And that’s precisely why I could never repay you …”

He wanted to say more, but he had to rasp the words out like pulling his own teeth to prevent himself from saying anything he didn’t want to.

Lucifer saw his detriment and must have taken it for a sign of his deteriorating state, because the worried look on his face was back. Alastor might have even called his expression ‘panicked’ if he hadn’t been sure that such a description could only be exaggerated.

“Oh for fuck’s sake you prideful prick, it’s too bad then that I can’t let you die, you –“ The King suddenly bit his tongue, and this time Alastor would have considered a deal just to hear which words the Devil chose to leave to secrecy.

“Look, Charlie already lost a friend, I can’t let her grief another. I meant what I said: I owe you for helping my daughter with everything you did when I … when I wasn’t there. Let’s think of it like you having paid in advance, deal?”

Why was Lucifer so desperate to help him, when Alastor was the one on the brink of losing everything (in one way or another)? Claiming Charlie’s well-being and happiness as the reason was surely part of it, but there was more to it. The demon had seen the fallen angel stopping himself twice from spilling something he didn’t want Alastor to hear, and were the circumstances different, the Overlord might have chosen to dig deeper.

As it was, though, this little mystery had to wait for now.

“Deal”, he croaked, feeling the compulsion lift instantly.

There was no flash of magic at the word, nor would there be even if they shook on it. There were certain rules to follow for deals to be sealed with magic, and ‘having paid in advance’ was not a valid term for an official deal. Yet, a verbal agreement still held weight with regards to honour and pride.

Had deals like that been broken before? Of course. Was there a chance the so called Father of Lies might go back on his word? Certainly. But the Radio Demon was willing to take the risk now, especially with Lucifer having proposed the bargain freely all by himself.

In short, the deer demon believed him, and if the Devil had played him all along, his betrayal would be well earned.

Lucifer’s shoulders sagged in relief, and wasn’t that something noteworthy?

“Alright, let’s get this over with before you keel over after all, shall we? Just lay down on –“

The fallen angel looked around, scanning the room more than once for something he couldn’t find.

“Ah, yes … You said you don’t sleep, which explains the lack of a bed I guess. Seriously, you have a swamp in your room but not a bed? Do you never even lay down?”

“It’s not a swamp, it’s a bayou. And no, I don’t. If I feel like relaxing, I read.” He motioned to the armchairs next to the hearth.

Hunting was also one of his favourite pastimes, but that seemed not relevant to mention right now.

Lucifer eyed the armchairs sceptically.

“Nah, that won’t do”, he said and conjured a white and golden chaise lounge right in the middle of the room that stood out like a sore thumb. Alastor sneered at the bright piece of furniture while the fallen angel looked quite pleased with the result.

“There we go!” The King turned to the Overlord again. “What are you waiting for? Strip!”

Alastor’s blood froze.

He had spent so much time crafting the path to this very moment that he had neglected to think about how the act of healing would come to pass. Showing his wound to Lucifer? That was logical, and showing his body without clothes was only a slight discomfort he could endure, especially if he gained something from it.

The much more important question was: Would Lucifer need to touch him?

Alastor could feel the hairs on his arms and his neck rising to stand, and his tail wanting to flag in alarm but unable to do so due to being restraint by his pants. His heartbeat was already fast from pain and adrenaline, but now his blood was pulsing loudly in his ears.

The demon forced his hands steady as he undid the one button on his tailcoat and shrugged it of slowly, hanging it over the chair at the desk. Next was the vest, revealing the black button-up in full. His claws halted when he heard a hiss coming from the Devil.

Lucifer’s eyes were fixed on his chest, where a large wet stain had been previously hidden from sight by the other layers of clothing. Since the fabric was black, no colour indicated the nature of the stain, but they both knew what it was. The smell of copper and charred flesh bloomed.

“Go on.”

Lucifer’s voice was grim and commanding. Alastor’s claws twitched, ears slowly drawing backwards, breath catching in his throat.

This is the King, he reminded himself, not the Queen. This is for healing, and nothing else. These are my quarters. He exhaled slowly, trying to hide the shudder in his breath. There is no bed here.

He obeyed the order, unbuttoning the shirt. He would have preferred to leave it on, but he needed to reach –

“You wear a corset?” Alastor didn’t need to see the fallen angel’s face to imagine the surprised expression matching his voice. It was an amusing thought, welcome in this moment where an irrational and humiliating fear clawed at his mind, and the corners of his strained smile crept up a little.

“I do indeed! Why, it helps with appearances, and it also serves as a little additional protection for vital organs.”

Lucifer cocked one eyebrow. “A corset can hardly be considered armour, Alastor.”

“Oh?” Now it was Alastor’s turn to look at the Devil wryly. “I’ll have you know that the steel rods of the one I wore during the fight were the very thing to prevent Adam’s ax from burrowing into my hip bone, even though the corset was ruined beyond repair.”

“Shit”, was all the fallen angel said to that, but whether it was a comment on the demon’s words or directed at the bandages that became visible now that Alastor had shrugged of his shirt was up for debate.

The bandages were soaked in blood so dark it appeared almost black at the centre of the stain, only gaining colour at the edges. The fabric vanished under the black and red corset, the extend of the bandaged section only coming into view once the demon had loosened the laces and unhooked the front panels, taking off the corset completely.

Lucifer watched him silently, his eyes tracing over the multiple scars criss-crossing the Overlords arms and shoulders. There were more on his back, chest and abdomen, still hidden for now under the bandages. Alastor could see the curiosity in the golden and red eyes, but the King refrained from asking any questions, his want to know overshadowed by his concern. Alastor thought for a brief moment to indulge the King even without prompt, but found his tongue glued dry to his teeth.

The Devil stared at him, at his body, and Alastor felt his muscles tense for the moment his instincts decided to either pounce or take off.

“It’s quite rude to stare”, he said, strangling the words from his throat like pulling teeth, but it had the desired effect. Lucifer blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

“What? Oh, uhm, sorry, I just … I knew you were thin, but dammit, you … you’re …”

“Emaciated?”, the demon finished the sentence for him.

“I … I was about to say ‘gaunt’ or ‘skinny’ …“

“But it’s true nonetheless. I told you the corset is for appearances, sire.”

And not just for posture, but to hide how frail and weak his body appeared, even though looks were deceiving. His belly was sunken in and not even the bandages covered up his chest enough to hide the fact that his ribs were easily countable. Without the corset smoothing the outline of his abdomen, his hipbones protruded visibly under the skin.

“But –“

“My King, I assure you that this state of my body has nothing to do with the wound, and therefore shouldn’t be of any concern right now.”

“Right”, Lucifer sighed, still obviously disturbed by Alastor’s state of health, far more affected by it than he should be, and wasn’t that a fascinating observation?

The King motioned to the chaise lounge, a silent request to make himself comfortable. Alastor walked over, steps slow and deliberate to not stumble. He dragged his claws slightly over the velvet material of the half-sided armrest as he rounded the reclining backrest. He stopped to face Lucifer, fully aware that the King was watching his every step.

“Will your method of healing require touch?” He had to ask. He needed to know beforehand. He was embarrassed at how hoarse his voice sounded, but there was no helping it.

A brief look of confusion crossed the fallen angel's face before it was replaced by sudden understanding.

“Uh, I’m afraid so, yeah … I’m sorry if that’s a problem for you, but I need the skin to skin contact to draw out the holy fire …”

“No need to apologize, my discomfort is hardly of concern in this matter. We should get this over with, then.”

Alastor sat down and slowly stretched himself out on the chaise lounge, gritting his teeth against the pain the movement caused. Whatever willpower he had during the celebration was crumbling rapidly now, his body reaching its limits even with his high pain tolerance.

Lucifer conjured a foot stool to sit down beside him, abandoning his suit jacket alongside his hat. He took a closer look at the bandages, then brought his finger into the position for a snap, before hesitating and locking eyes with the Radio Demon.

“I’ll vanish the bandages now, and I think that might hurt a bit.”

It was a hint at how observant the King had been.

“So you noticed.”

“I did.” The Devil bit his lower lip. There it was again, the guilt Alastor couldn’t comprehend.

“Just do what you must. I’m dying here in case you have forgotten.”

Lucifer clearly tried to stifle the snort and failed.

“If you can still crack jokes, you can’t be that close to double-death.”

“Gallows humor, I assure you”, Alastor retorted dryly.

Again, the fallen angel chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that tracks.”

“May I inquire as to why your magic is affecting the wound? I’ve noticed that I have no reaction to other demons’ magic.”

“Well, you’re on the right track with that observation. The holy fire burning inside you is a form of angelic magic, and angelic magic always wants to connect with itself, no matter the form it takes. And even though I’m not a pure archangel anymore, my powers are still mostly angelic in nature, so the holy fire absorbs it if my magic gets near it. That’s how I can draw it out of you, it works both ways if I’m concentrating on it.”

“I see. And at the occasions you flung your magic around so carefree –“

“Yeah. Free fuel for the taking.”

The fallen angel bit his lip again and averted his gaze back to the bandages. Perhaps that was the reason for his guilt – he had realized that he had hurt Alastor unknowingly. Not that the demon held it against him, but since the guilt seemed to be a big part of why Lucifer had offered to heal him without naming an actual price, he wouldn’t correct him.

“Well, I’d appreciate getting rid of this nuisance.”

Lucifer scoffed again, shaking his head. “’Nuisance’ he calls the blessed energy created specifically to burn demon souls!”

The King snapped his fingers and the bandages disappeared. Since he knew it was coming, Alastor could brace for the flare in pain that resulted from the action, and only his pinned back ears betrayed his composure.

The Devil gasped and stared in horror at the bared injury running from clavicle to hip, charred skin and flesh no longer held together by the green glowing stitches since half of them were torn by now. The edges of flesh, bone, and organs were sizzling and glimmering like the burning tip of a cigarette. No longer confined behind layers upon layers of fabric and clothing, the stench of burning flesh and blood was filling the air like an invisible cloud.

Lucifer looked like he was either about to vomit or tear up. Maybe both.

For all his self-asserted distaste with regards to sinners, the Devil was a bleeding heart like his daughter after all. Then again, maybe one had to be in order to go against the will of God to free humanity from its shackles.

“Dear Father in Heaven”, the Devil whispered, his voice barely audible from the dismay. “How in Hell are you even still alive?!”

“Sheer unadulterated defiance.”

“This is not a joke!” So much desperation. For him? He needed to know why!

“It’s not. I’m known to be dreadfully stubborn.”

The fallen angel still did not laugh, but Alastor could see his eyes soften just a bit before he took a long breath and reached out, his fingers spread wide and hovering just a few inches from the gaping chest wound. The demon was vaguely aware that the Devil glanced at him, perhaps waiting for permission to proceed, but Alastor couldn’t take his eyes off the blackened hand.

His claws dug deep into the upholstery, and he subconsciously held his breath as the hand came down slowly and to make contact with his violated skin. His body went rigid reflexively.

But the King hesitated.

“One sec, what’s that?”

Alastor repressed a groan of either annoyance or relief, he wasn’t quite sure himself, while Lucifer leaned in to expect the injury closer.

“Your sternum … your ribs … they’re carved.”

The demon blinked in confusion, before realization hit him.

Oh, THAT. Fuck.

“Carved?”, he uttered, because silence might have been more damning. If he feigned ignorance, maybe he could avoid probing questions and even get some answers for himself that Lilith had withheld from him.

“Runes … there are runes etched into your bones, Alastor! How can you not know about that?”

The King sounded concerned, his expression somewhere between confusion and anger. He needed to keep that anger directed away from him.

“I’m afraid I can’t speak to any of that”, he said, trying to convey a lack of knowledge rather than the inability to part with what little information he had.

Interestingly enough, the King seemed to be stuck with his own thoughts on the matter. He clearly knew something the Overlord didn’t.

“Can I try something? It’ll stoke the holy fire again, I’m afraid, but … I would like to find out how extensive this is, if that’s okay for you?” Lucifer’s sounded hesitant. Was he afraid to worsen Alastor’s condition, or did he not like what he might find?

Because the answer wasn’t pleasant.

“I’ll allow it if you tell me what you know about this afterwards.”

What was a little more pain in exchange for finding out what the Queen had done to him?

The fallen angel nodded slowly let his hand hover over the demon’s chest again, a faint golden glow emitting from the palm and washing over the sinner once.

He could feel the holy fire flare up where it burnt away his flesh, but in addition to that there were tiny pinpricks of magic lighting up all over – no, inside – his body for a brief moment. The King gasped in shock.

“They are … everywhere!”

I know.

It had been the first thing Lilith had done to him on that cold marble table in the basement, merely days after catching him. Cutting him open to carve symbols into his skeleton, oftentimes more than one rune per bone, and doing so with every single one. The procedure had taken days to complete.

“If your curiosity is sated, would you kindly cease hastening my demise?”, he asked wryly, pulling the fallen angel out of the storm cloud of thoughts he could see behind the King’s eyes.

“What? Shit, of course!” Lucifer ended his magic probing, allowing Alastor to breathe a little more freely again.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting –“ Lucifer shook his head and rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath. “You’ve been sealed. Or rather, you had been sealed … It’s broken now. Adam’s ax cut through one of the anchor points, right here.” The Devil tapped at his own sternum to demonstrate.

“Sealed”, Alastor repeated, pensive.

She hadn’t sealed his powers, he knew that. She could restrict his use of magic simply by commanding him, and had done so during his stay in Heaven. What else was there to –

His hunger.

She had kept him all this time from consuming souls, somehow having arranged for a steady supply of sinner meat but depriving him of what he really craved. What he truly needed. Soulless meat only ever provided just enough sustenance to keep his body functioning, but after seven years the signs that it just wasn’t enough were unmistakable with the way his body had been slowly deteriorating.

Early on after his capture, he had expected to die of starvation sooner rather than later when Lilith had made it clear that souls were literally off the table. It had never happened, not even when the Queen tested out the limits of actively starving him.

Because the Queen had somehow contained some part of his eternal hunger, preventing it from … doing what, exactly? Growing? Devouring its host?

No wonder Lilith had been suddenly frightened when examining his injury. She had discovered the broken seal and feared the consequences.

“I can’t tell you what it’s for, though. I haven’t seen anything like this before. The runes are clearly Enochian, which is –“

“An occult language, I know. Is it true that it’s angelic in nature?”

“Hu, I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve heard of it. But no, it’s not actually angelic in origin. It has some angelic elements, though, as well as demonic. It’s … constructed from fragments, if you will.”

“Will it interfere with the healing?”

“I … don’t think it will. There’s no magic in the seal anymore, it’s just … carved bones.”

“Will your healing restore the seal?”

At this, the fallen angel thought a little longer before answering.

“No, I don’t think so, since I’m not directly healing you, I’ll just extract the holy fire and then your body should be able to mend itself. And since angelic weapons cause scaring, the damaged runes will stay broken.”

“Good. I don’t want it.”

The King shot him another long look.

“And you don’t know who did this to you?”

Dangerous question. All he could do was deflect.

“I would tell you if I could. Fascinating as this is, might I suggest that we proceed now?”

Was it even a lie if the words were true, yet aimed at misdirecting?

Lucifer was clearly hesitant to let the topic of the seal go, and who could blame him for that. But he nodded either way and rolled his shoulders, clearing his mind to focus on the task at hand.

Again, that small black hand reached for him. Again, the demon tensed up instinctively in anticipation –

Alastor gasped.

Lilith’s touch was dreadful to him. For starters, her skin was always too warm. The Queen had never died, being banished to Hell instead and cursed with living until the end of eternity, and Alastor suspected that she might simply still carry the natural body temperature of a living being within her. He, on the other hand, was dead – his body cold as a corpse, despite a beating heart pumping blood through a vessel of flesh for the sole purpose of inflicting suffering when being spilled. It didn’t help that he had been touch averse even during his life, with exceptions being rare and often carefully nurtured, and this aversion having transferred into his afterlife to haunt him evermore. Lilith’s living warmth was too much of everything – it lingered, it crawled under his skin, turning the blood flowing through its vessels into squirming maggots burrowing though his flesh. Where her hands wandered, he wanted to trace her touch with his claws, slicing into his own flesh to turn the tingling into something else, something he could stand to endure …

Lucifer was neither dead nor a living once-upon-a-time-mortal like Lilith.

Lucifer was a being made of the flame of creation, and containing said flame within his small body.

His touch was fire, a blaze so radiating that Alastor imagined it reaching his soul. It overwrote the aching of his injury with its own, different kind of pain. A burning his mind compared to the scolding hot shower he took every time he needed to wash the lingering of the Queens touch away. Not destructive, but cleansing.

Alastor threw his head back as far as the head rest allowed, teeth gritting against each other in a stifled hiss and eyes rolling back into his head behind fluttering lids. On his desk, the radio sprung to life, static rushing loudly as the device cycled through the frequencies, unable to settle on a station.

“Shit, does it hurt? We can take it slower, I just –“

He felt the heat subside as Lucifer moved his hand away, and he couldn’t have that!

“No!”

One of his hands let go of the upholstery to quickly grab the fallen angel’s arm and slam it down on his chest again.

“Whoa – !”

“Stay … I can take it …”, he rasped, eyes closing again.

He wanted to take it, this burning edge where the line between pain and bliss blurred. He could feel his muscles melt into relaxation under Lucifer’s fingertips. Breathing became easier with every shuttering inhale.

His grip around the King’s arm relaxed, but he didn’t let go.

The demon could feel the soft tugging of magic in his torso, a gentle pull towards the palm that lay over the middle of the wound. Without that, he wouldn’t have known that the fallen angel was indeed doing what he had promised.

“Nngh … you’re so hot …” The words escaped him with a groan, unintentionally so, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

The hand twitched.

“Uhm, e-excuse me …?”

Alastor forced his eyes to open halfway to regard the Devil. Lucifer’s face was flushed golden beautifully, eyes wide and expression … flustered?

“Your hand … your skin …”, he tried to explain but the words failed him, the intense heat burning away not only the pain, but his thoughts, too.

“My – oh, OH, dammit I’m so sorry, I totally forgot! I’ll cool it down, I –“

“DON’T!” Alastor jerked upright as the radio screeched with feedback. The silence that followed was almost just as deafening.

The Devil stared at him with eyes even wider than before. And Alastor slowly realized that he had griped the fallen angel’s wrist so tightly that it would have left bruises on any regular demon. Loosening his hold on the other man took more willpower than he was willing to admit.

And again, he couldn’t bring himself to let go fully.

“Apologies … my King.” Somehow those words didn’t change the look on the monarch’s face.

“It’s alright … I guess? Are you sure you’re okay with the … uh … temperature?”

“Yes”, he assured him, finally sinking back down again. “Keep the heat.”

“Okay.” A whisper. Uncertain. “Making good progress by the way.”

He didn’t respond to that, relaxing under the burning touch again. But the silence didn’t seem to comfort Lucifer right now.

“Lilith didn’t like it, you know. My natural body temperature, I mean. It reminded her of our fall. I always made my skin cool down around her, but I guess I forgot …” Lucifer’s voice grew weak, trailing of into a whisper again at the end.

Foolish woman.

“A shame, that. Why would anybody want to smother that precious fire in you?”

There was that look again that Alastor couldn’t completely decipher. Neither could he tell whether the fallen angel remained silent now because he was mollified or if he had something else on his mind.

“Almost done.”

Ah, a pity, that. Alastor already loathed the moment this cleansing heat would vanish, never to be his again. The memory of this point in time all that would remain, to be relished only in quiet moments when he needed a respite.

The hand moved away, and the demon let it go with a pang of longing he hastily buried and banished to the back of his mind.

“There we are. Look at that, quite the fireball, hu?”

It was indeed an impressive flame of bright holy fire in the palm of the Devil’s hand, flickering hungrily. To think that all this had been spread inside of him, burning his flesh away in a way so unlike the sensation that had radiated from the fallen angel’s touch.

His magic was surging again, now that the hostile energy had left him, to regenerate the charred parts of flesh and bone and close the gap that split his torso in half. What was left of the torn stitches dissipated as his body grew back together.

Alastor sat up, breathing in deeply and deliberately. It was done. He wasn’t in mortal danger anymore.

His eyes were drawn back to the dancing white flame.

“What will you do with this?”

“Store it inside myself. As I said, I’m still angelic enough in nature to handle it without a problem. It’s just a little to much to absorb through the skin, so I’ll just create a little opening, if you will, to make it easier –“

The King curled his thumb inwards while he spoke to prick at his palm, causing a single droplet of golden blood to emerge.

The smell hit him full force, like a tidal wave crashing over him. He had smelled angelic blood before, the air on the battle ground had been sickly sweet with it, but this was different.

This was sweet and sour, cinnamon and rotting apples and copper, a putrid smell that had him salivating and drooling before he knew it.

The hunger roared, a sound that escaped him like a feral growl while his bone creaked as his limbs extended and his antlers grew.

Alastor tried to reign in his powers, to not do what his instincts demanded with a force he had never felt before, the delicious smell cutting through each and every restraint he had acquired over ninety years in Hell.

To taste a star … the Morningstar … wouldn’t that be something?

“Lucifer –“, was the only word he managed to tear from his throat – a warning, a plea, a prayer – as his vision tinted green and something inside him snapped …

.

…

.

The little cut to his skin was all that was needed for the holy fire to be pulled in, merging instantly with Lucifer’s own powers. It didn’t take long either, merely a few seconds.

Seconds in which his hackles started to rise, a feeling so rare that he didn’t recognize the tingling on his skin at first while he observed the white flame shrinking in his hand.

When he became aware of the demon on the chaise lounge starting to transform, it was with a bit of annoyance and a surprisingly great amount of disappointment.

“Seriously, Alastor, it’s not even been a minute and you’re backstabbing me al –“

Something was wrong.

“ – ready?”

He had seen Alastor transform before. Despite the nasty cracking of joints as bones and flesh adjusted to the rapid growth, the process had been impressively fluid.

This, however, was not.

Alastor’s body was spasming, expanding in irregular bursts. The Overlord threw his head from side to side while his antlers grew into a massive elk-like rack, growling through gritted teeth and glowing green stitches – the same magic thread that the chest wound had been treated with, dear Father above, Alastor’s smile was stitched on?!

“Lucifer –“

The fallen angel’s spine went rigid, a feeling he couldn’t name yet sinking heavily into his stomach. Alastor had never called him by his name before, only once had Lucifer ever hear the static-laden voice say it, and that had been in a dream –

The demon’s eyes suddenly focused on him, turned into radio dials already, in a stare so intense that the Devil felt it in his soul, like he was truly seen for the first time in eons. The Overlord had bent over since he had outgrown the chaise lounge, a position somewhere between sitting and crouching, the massive torso being supported by long gangly arm with enormous, clawed hands, one sprawled over the armrest and the other on the floor. The twitching motions had stopped, but this new stillness was even worse. Whatever fight the Radio Demon had fought within himself was over, his attention directed at Lucifer and Lucifer alone.

In the matter of a heartbeat, the red dials turned green. And Lucifer suddenly knew what that coiled ball of emotion in his gut was.

Beware the eyes of green!

FEAR. Not the one regarding loss, not the anxiety, not the many concerns and worries he grappled with daily. Not something simple, something laughable like that.

No, this was the primordial dread of being unmade.

The King had felt it only once before, when the consequences of his gift were catching up to him, when his brothers bound him and judgement was cast, when he couldn’t comprehend why this was happening and what banishment from Heaven meant.

There was absolutely no fucking reason why a sole sinner going rogue on him would elicit such an excessive reaction in him. Why those black and green eyes left him frozen in place like prey backed into a corner, watching with growing panic as the creature opened its jaws with a low growl.

Alastor’s face transformed even more as his features elongated into a protruding snout, skin tearing to reveal blank bones underneath. The glowing stitches snapped as the jaw opened impossibly wide and to the King’s horror, the lower jawbone split with a sickening crack in half, revealing even more long yellow teeth growing out of the fissure.

A wave of hot, pungent breath wafted over the fallen angel with the smell of swamp, blood and rotting flesh, and the urge to vomit finally tore Lucifer out of his shock.

“Fuck!”

He jumped back, summoning his wings. The creature pounced at the sudden movement, one long arm clawing in his direction and swatting him like a fly out of the air. He was thrown against one of the armchairs, toppling over together with the furniture. Lucifer pushed the chair off of himself with enough force in the direction of the beast to send any other demon flying, but the furniture piece broke into splinters as it crashed into the thick antlered skull. The maneuver gave the Devil just enough time to brace for impact, catching the gaping jaws of the creature as it lunged itself at him.

The fucker was strong, Lucifer had to actually put up a fight strength-wise. He could blast the monster with holy energy, but damn, if his dreams had warned him about anything in abundance, then to not do exactly that.

“Alastor, STOP!”

The creature let out a roaring bugle while trying to close its jaws around the Devil. The teeth poked sharply against his hands where he had grabbed them to hold the monster off, but Lucifer wasn’t worried about getting hurt. Alastor couldn’t harm him, no matter how hard he tried. Angelic steel was needed for a reason to harm an angel, even a fallen one, the protective magic inherent in their bodies only ever wearing off once the angel was already dead, or an already present wound was attacked directly.

It didn’t matter how powerful the Overlord was or how scary the form he took, the truth was simply that –

The teeth broke through his skin, spilling golden blood.

Lucifer was too shocked to even register the pain properly. He certainly felt it, but there was a disconnect between what his body told him and his mind.

This is not happening. It’s impossible!

The creature’s tongue reached for him, lapping up his blood eagerly and coiling around one of his wrists.

In his shock, the Devil faltered for a moment, and the beast took advantage of the brief decline in resistance. It surged forward, closing its jaws around its prey and threw it against the wall like a predator playing with its food.

The Devil crashed into the wall above the hearth, toppling over candle holders and sending a mounted trophy of fangs and horns crashing to the floor. The wall behind him cracked due to the force of the impact, and pain shot through Lucifer’s back and wings.

He had but a moment to adjust to the new situation before the monster was pouncing at him again, antlers lowered to impale the King on his sharp front spiked. Lucifer caught them right in time, realizing with dread that these horns would probably indeed be able to pierce him if the teeth were any indication.

“Alastor, DON’T!”, he yelled, voice multiplying as he called on his powers. “S̵͈̦̰̘̈͒͑̀T̶̡̨̡̹̩͎̗̣͙̬̻̗̟͂͛̆̃͐͐̀̈̎̈́͜O̷̘̤͓͙̻̱̞̟̝̙͋̌̽͆͠Ṗ̸̧̠̺̤̬̻͊̌̎͘!”

A shudder ran through the beast, retreating just a bit but it was enough for the fallen angel to shift his grip on one of the antlers and pull. The antler broke near the base with a loud ugly crack and the creature bellowed in pain, rearing its head back.

Lucifer didn’t hesitate, flapping his six wings in unison for a sudden surge in velocity, heading straight for the exit. He flung the door open and shut again the moment he was through, turning around sharply and slamming one hand flat against the dark red wood to place the strongest protection ward he knew on the door and by extension the entirety of the room’s walls.

Golden magic spread over every surface, forming the complicated lines of a sigil. It was still growing along the inner walls of Alastor’s residence when something huge crashed against the door, the magic pulsing golden where wood and bricks would have been shattered without the ward holding everything together.

Lucifer stood wide-eyed in front of the door, fearing for a long moment that somehow the creature would do the unthinkable again and break a protective spell placed by the King of Hell himself. Another roar bellowed from inside, angry, hungry, followed by long scratches on the walls.

The magic held, but the King didn’t let his guard down just yet. Only when the huffing and growling on the other side grew silent and heavy steps retreated further into the chambers did Lucifer allow himself to rest his back on the hallway wall, slowly sliding down when is knees buckled.

There he sat, staring at the golden bloody smear at Alastor’s door, his eyes falling to his punctured hands in his lab.

What the FUCK had just happened?!

Chapter Text

15 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Lucifer couldn’t take his eyes off the holes in the palms of his hands. The comparison to the famous stigmata of his Father’s allegedly earthly son came to mind, and wasn’t that just a hilarious thought to have for the once upon a time most beloved angelic son of God? Hilarious, or maybe pathetic, because why would he even think of that, was he hoping that the wounds were some kind of absolution?

No, his mind was simply grasping for straws, for something to distract itself with, for anything really that wasn’t acknowledgment of the impossible.

The fallen angel closed his hands slowly into fists, his mind still refusing to accept the pain as proof of what his eyes could clearly see. He knew pain of course. He could will his body to let harm be possible, Lilith and he had been experimental for some time after the first thousand years into their marriage to spice things up a bit. But it was a conscious effort every time, and pain generally wasn’t that bad if you allowed it, if you knew it was coming, and most importantly if could stop the experience at any moment.

It was an entirely different case if the intend was to inflict suffering. It was even worse to experience pain that way for the very first time. Lucifer could attest to that. When the spears of his brothers had pierced his body and his wings had been broken with those once gentle hands, the pain had been too overwhelming to fully comprehend.

It had matched the hurt of his broken heart, the feeling of betrayal and despair all that was left as Heaven’s light grew ever smaller above him.

Fresh blood seeped through his fingers as he clenched his fists harder, evidence of something else that should be impossible.

Because the injuries hadn’t healed yet. And Lucifer might have been unable to tell how long he was sitting here on the floor in front of that sealed red door, but by all means, there should have been no trace left of the punctured wounds by now, except for the drying golden stains.

As he relaxed his mutilated hands again, the pain ebbed into a dull throbbing that matched his pulse. The King could feel his power work to mend his flesh, but what usually should have taken mere moments without even a thought, now required concentration.

A concentration that was abruptly broken when his phone started ringing – from behind Alastor’s door. For a moment Lucifer stared dumbfounded before he remembered that he had taken off both hat and suit jacket when he had seated himself besides the injured demon, his phone still pocketed the jacket.

The image of the antlered beast looking for the source of the noise and devouring his clothes in search of prey flashed before his eyes, and the fallen angel quickly summoned his belongings into his lap.

The ringing stopped while he fumbled with the jacket in search of the phone, just to start instantly again, which meant that the caller tried to reach him urgently, FUCK, this was Charlie’s designated ring tone!

The phone almost slipped from his bloodstained hands as he tried to answer the call, being successful only at the third try.

>>Dad!<<, Charlie’s concerned voice rang through before Lucifer could even make a sound. >>Where are you, are you alright? Rosie said you and Alastor went to handle a Code Black and – <<

“Yes, YES, we did Char-Char … we, uh … you see, there was an issue with, uhm, nevermind, it’s under control know!”

Sort of …

>>Oh? That’s… that’s great, dad, but … uhm … well, I guess we have another Code Black at hand … still?<<

What?!

The Devil’s blood ran cold. Had Alastor gotten out somehow? No, the sigil he had cast was still glowing and intact, and he had woven its magic over the entirety of Alastor’s chambers, including the bayou. Which, although being a pocket dimension, was still confined in its existence to the walls of the suite … right?

Suddenly, Lucifer wasn’t so sure if he could trust that a pocket dimension created by Alastor – which was an impressive feat in itself, by the way – would abide by the laws of magic. His aching hands were proof that there was no telling what rules the red sinner was able to break.

“Charlie, what’s going on, what Code Black are you talking about?” Lucifer hoped that he didn’t sound too panicked.

>>Uhm, there’s a bunch of sinners outside and they’re trying to attack the hotel, but the wards hold them off … But, dad, could you maybe … come to the entrance? Or send Al?<<

In other words, there was no vaguely Alastor-shaped monster roaming outside its confines. That at least was a relief. For now.

The fallen angel blinked and extended his consciousness to the wards he had installed on the hotel grounds.

Some were for basic protection, not very strong but easy to maintain, making them a permanent first line of defense in case any Overlord wanted to make his opinion known about his daughter’s efforts to get souls out of Hell and into Heaven.

Others were stronger or tailored to protect against more specific threats, but not suited for long-term installation. He had put up those for this night specifically, and upon touching their magical structure with his mind, the King found several to be activated.

“I’ll be there right away!”, he assured his daughter and ended the call.

The screen was smeared with golden blood. He couldn’t let Charlie or anyone else see that he was injured, or there would be questions. Questions he didn’t want to answer right now, and questions he didn’t have an answer for.

Lucifer magicked the blood away, on his person as well as the door and the hallway floor. He summoned a pair of black gloves to hide the wounds on his hands and hastily put his suit jacket on before taking a portal straight to the hotel’s entrance.

He was greeted with the flickering golden glow of the protective shield where Molotov cocktails and a variety of projectiles hit its otherwise invisible surface. Intricate lines of magic forming the outlines of the warding runes used for this particular shield rippled in waves from the points of impact.

A five feet tall wall of fire circled the upper hill where the hotel stood on its summit, having been cast due to the activation of yet another ward preventing the mob of sinners from a direct ground assault. It wasn’t holy fire of course, Lucifer had no intention of outright obliterating any soul foolish enough to try and ruin Charlie’s party, especially since that would go directly against his daughter’s goals of saving sinners from being erased.

Hellfire, on the other hand, was nasty enough to get a hopefully long-lasting message across. Until now it had been an efficient deterrent, not a single attacker having had the courage yet to cross the flames.

The King watched a missile explode in glittering fireworks as it impacted the shield – a little flourish he hadn’t resisted when casting the ward – when he heard footsteps approaching him fast.

“Dad!” Charlie sounded relieved to see him, her smile wide as he turned to face her, yet the worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Charlie, are you okay?!”

“Yes, everyone is fine thanks to your wards, but … where’s Al, is he … you know… alright?”

Charlie lowered her voice at the end and didn’t dare mention the possibility of a still lingering wound due to the fact that they weren’t exactly standing alone on the front steps. The onslaught on the hotel’s defenses wasn’t quiet, and a small crowd of guests had gathered to watch and assess the situation. Some looked worried, others poised, and not a small number had the gall to taunt the bloodthirsty mob.

“Of course Alastor is fine, sweetie, why wouldn’t he?”, the King responded a bit too loud. “He’s just, uh, busy right now keeping another problem contained, that’s all.”

“Well, seems like these idiots out there believe Vox’s stupid video from what I’ve gathered”, Vaggie chimed in, angelic spear in hand and a grim expression on her face. “They seem to think the Radio Demon is ripe for the picking, and now the guests can’t leave without risking their lives.”

Lucifer turned to observe the mob again. They were indeed calling for the Overlord to ‘quit hiding’ and fight them. Alastor’s raspy words from earlier echoed in his mind.

‘He tried to humiliate me in front of everyone at the celebration, to discredit my power and make me look weak, perhaps even hoping that someone would be foolish enough to attack me and ruin the festivities utterly.’

Alastor had been right, the release of the video footage had riled up enough sinner who foolishly thought to have a chance against a wounded Radio Demon. And if the deer demon’s acting tonight had even been a little less convincing, they might have had a riot on their hands inside the building right now, too.

‘I guess I owe you my gratitude for playing along, my King.’

You have an odd way of showing that, he thought, his palms thumping with pain.

“You’re right, they’re here to fight Alastor. Well, too bad naughty sinners don’t get what they want! Shouldn’t be hard to scare them off if they’re not even brave enough to cross the fire”, he said with confidence, earning him another grateful smile from his daughter.

“Thanks, dad”, she replied softly, and it soothed some of the tension that still held his body captive from what had just transpired on the top floor.

“Anything for you, duckling”, he cooed while pulling her into a short embrace.

He let his wings out and took flight, soaring high above the frontline of the attackers. The Devil summoned his demonic features, the flame between his horns dancing angrily beneath his snake and apple halo, and his tail swishing in annoyance. Glowing red eyes regarded the sinners below.

“HOW DARE YOU ATTACK THESE PREMISES!”, his voice thundered, fire spilling from his mouth. Some of the smarter demons already fled, while others were a little slower in keeping up with the events.

“Wait, is that –“

“Holy shit!”

“Fuckfuckfuck!”

“ONLY THOSE WHO SEEK REDEMPTION ARE WELCOME HERE! CEASE YOUR AGGRESSION IMMEDIATELY, OR WHAT I DID TO ADAM SHALL BE DONE ONTO YOU!”

“Shit shit shiiiit – “

“Run!”

“He’s going to kill us!”

Oh, maybe he should have worded his threat a little more carefully … He had only meant to threaten then with a good old beating, but Adam had been killed in the end, even if it hadn’t been by his hands.

Ah fuck it, these assholes deserved a little scare for attacking the hotel!

The mob scattered, the sinners running for their afterlives. Lucifer watched with satisfaction as their silhouettes were swallowed by the fog at the foot of the hill.

Wait … fog?

The fallen angel frowned in confusion. There was no fog in Hell, only smoke and maybe clouds of whatever gas was released out of a pipe or with the explosion of a grenade.

But fog didn’t form in Hell. It simply couldn’t. Sure, there was an abundance of warmth, naturally, and even enough humidity, but a clash of temperature to form the milky wafts never occurred.

Yet here it was, surrounding the hillside like a moat. Lucifer’s eyes trailed to the farther edge, waiting with bated breath.

The demons that had entered the fog didn’t emerge on the other side.

Lucifer closed his eyes and extended his consciousness once more, this time beyond the perimeter of the wards. He knew that magic, the King realized, but unlike Alastor’s shield during the battle two weeks ago, the fog’s magic aura was much more subtle.

Subdued, or … hidden.

What is he doing? And how?

The demon’s presence was still located within his rooms inside the hotel.

The King returned to his daughter and her paramour who were still waiting for him on the front steps – only by now they had been joined by Rosie.

“Sooo … that’s taken care of!”, he said as he landed, his voice cheerful to mask the concern he truly felt.

“Thanks again, dad!” Charlie pulled him into another hug, a gesture of affection he would never tire of.

“Wasn’t a big deal, duckling. But, uhm, maybe don’t let the guests leave just yet, okay?”

She looked at him questioningly, and Lucifer had to will his sile to stay on his face.

“Just as a precaution! You know, just in case any of those fuckers haven’t learned their lesson yet …?”

It was a weak excuse, bus his daughter excepted it nonetheless.

“That’s probably a good idea! Vaggie and I will make sure everybody stays a little longer until the coast is clear!” She pulled her girlfriend with her as she headed inside.

That left only Rosie outside with him. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking down the hill at the fog. Feeling his gaze, the cannibal turned her head in the King’s direction. Although her eyes appeared to be black voids, he could feel her taking in his expression and somehow digging deeper.

“That was a good thing you did, your Majesty. Dare I say you shouldn’t feel too guilty about those people, they deserve what they’re getting.”

“Thank you, Rosie, but protecting Charlie’s dream is really the least I –“

He blinked, her words sinking in.

“Wait, what are they getting?”

Rosie tilted her head, then motioned slowly towards the fog.

“Alastor”, she answered, watching him. Her smile dimmed. “You weren’t aware?”

“Well, sure, I recognize his magic, but … uhm …”

Fuck, how did he explain that he wasn’t expecting the Radio Demon to be doing any magical shenanigans right now?

Her stare intensified, he could feel it. Like she looked straight into his millennia old soul and saw his worries laid bare, the guilt, the self-loathing, the –

Rosie’s suddenly flashed him a sharp smile that held no fondness for the first time this evening. It made Lucifer flinch the tiniest bit.

“May I speak to you in private, your Majesty?”

“Of course! Uh, where would you like to … ?“

She waved at him to follow. “Let’s just have a little walk, yes?”

Rosie started walking down the path and the fallen angel hurried to catch up. There was a moment of silence while he waited for her to address the topic she had in mind.

“He hasn’t hunted like this in decades.”

That caught him off guard, and as it turned out, that was exactly what her statement was meant to do. As he turned his head with a surprised “Oh?”, Rosie suddenly spun around with an accusatory finger poking his chest that made him stumble backwards.

“First you lure him away under the pretext of some security issue, and now he has the need to use the bayou to hunt? What did you do to my friend?!”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear!”, he blurted out, as if it had been his fault that Alastor had lost his damn mind and attacked him, and – shit, he had slipped up here, hadn’t he?

Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “So something did happen!”

“I –“

Dammit, he had already lost, hadn’t he? He probably shouldn’t be surprised, this was Alastor’s friend after all. Which … might actually be helpful right now. Rosie obviously knew something about the deer demon the fallen angel didn’t.

“Alright, give me a moment to explain, okay?”

Heavens above, under her dark gaze felt like an unruly child that had been caught by his mother with the hands still in the cookie jar!

Rosie crossed her arms again, one eyebrow cocked in a wordless demand to go on and to better have a fucking good excuse. That woman!

“Look, I know you saw that video, but did you also know that he had been still hurt?”

She didn’t respond to that, but she certainly didn’t seem shocked by his claim. She must have had an inkling at least.

“I offered to heal him, okay? Because that wound couldn’t heal on its own –“

“And what price did you name?” Rosie snarled at him. “What did he have to give up for the King of Hell to save his life? Did you take his soul?!”

“NO!”

Maybe it was a manifestation of her power that made him feel so small and helpless against her fury. Her aura was thick with her magic, her appearance elongated and loomed over him in his mind, yet her body didn’t change. Lucifer had to actively remind himself that he was far more powerful, that he was the KING, and yet Rosie scolded him like she was the Queen-mother he never had.

“There was no price, no deal!”, he hurried to explain. “We agreed that with all he had done for Charlie, I was the one in debt to him!”

Rosie reigned her powers in at that, leaning back and resting her cheek on two fingers of her left hand, contemplating. Lucifer gave her the moment she needed to assess the truthfulness of his words, and finally the Overlord sighed.

“It seems that an apology is an order.” She curtseyed and held the pose. “I beg your forgiveness for my misplaced accusations, your Majesty. I am relieved to hear that my concerns have been unfounded, although I shouldn’t have voiced them in such an uncouth manner in the first place.”

“Apology accepted, Rosie. I’m aware that Alastor and you are close, I get that you’ve been worried. That’s why I’d like your insight into the, uhm, current situation, if you don’t mind?”

Rosie straightened her posture again. “Are you asking me now to betray Alastor’s trust y spilling his secrets?”, she asked with a smirk, but there was a subtle sharpness to her tone.

Yes, please?

“No, no, of course not, but … a little bit about what’s up with the fog might be helpful? You did imply that Alastor will get his claws on those sinners now, so …?”

“Here’s a suggestion: You tell me what happened, so I get a feeling what you already know and what I might be able to expand on safely. How does that sound?”

Her voice was softer now, but hidden underneath this softness lay concern, and Lucifer suddenly realized that Rosie was indeed as interested in trading information as he was. Did Alastor know what a loyal and caring friend he had in Rosie? And what an extraordinary treasure that was here in Hell?

Surely he did – if someone like Alastor entrusted Rosie with at least some of his secrets, she must have earned it. And Lucifer found himself envious of this deeply companionable bond of which he had none of his own anymore.

But he could blame himself for that one …

The King sighed.

“That’s fair, I guess … As I said, he agreed to let me help heal the injury, which I did. But then … I guess the whole process took a bigger toll on him than I anticipated, or he was weaker than he had let on … I don’t know, but he … lost control?”

Rosie cocked an eyebrow again. “Lost control?”

“Yeah, he … got all monstrous, you know. And then he attacked me.”

The Cannibal Overlord went very still, which was the only hint he could discern of her being shocked by his claim. The Devil let the silence stretch between them, making it clear that he wouldn’t give any more details. He certainly would not reveal the fact that Alastor had managed to harm the King of Hell.

“Oh my, that would be a first as far as I’m aware”, she finally said, the concern in her voice no longer hidden.

Lucifer perked up at her words. “A first for what? The beast?”

Rosie tilted her head. “No. Losing control of it.”

The King gawked at her. Oh.

“Your Majesty, I need you to understand that the people who are aware of this side of Alastor can be counted on one hand. Maybe even with fingers to spare. I can’t tell you what to do, of course, but I’d advise you with all due respect not to flaunt this information around.”

He blinked. How could only very few people know about that creature when the Overlord took down loan sharks by the dozen as a giant monster? Then again … there was a difference between a huge Radio Demon and the beast with the green eyes that had shed the demon’s face as its maw grew.

“I understand. But, what does that have to do with the fog?”

“Alastor uses the fog to hunt when he is like this. It’s a trap.”

“Is it connected to his bayou?”

A pause. “You know of the bayou?”

“Yeah, it’s a pocket dimension in his quarters – “

And now he had just revealed that he had been in Alastor’s rooms, dammit.

“For the healing! We were in his rooms for the healing!”, he added hastily.

The corners of Rosie’s lips were twitching, but she didn’t linger on his fumble. Lucifer wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, or why that mattered to him in the first place.

“I can’t say for sure, but it’s highly likely that both are linked, yes.”

Which meant that the whole mob of sinners might have poured into Alastor’s quarters inside the hotel. Great. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!

“You don’t know for sure?”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I gave Alastor my word that I would never enter the fog, and I intend to keep that promise.”

Hu, that was an interesting bit of information. It implied that the Radio Demon had worried – or at the very least entertained the possibility – that he wouldn’t spare his long-time friend if he encountered her while hunting ‘like this’ as she had called it. Yet Rosie was under the impression that Alastor had never lost control of the beast before, probably because the demon himself had claimed as much.

And still … the red sinner had made Rosie promise as a precaution nonetheless. Did he ultimately not trust his self-control, or was there something else he didn’t even want his trusted friend to know? There was probably no point in asking, either she wouldn’t know or wouldn’t tell him.

But he could try to find out on his own …

Lucifer turned to watch the fog. It seemed to have gotten thinner, dissipating slowly. He’d have to act quickly or miss his chance.

“Thank you for the talk, Rosie. I appreciate that. But I guess I should take a look and make sure things don’t get out of hand. More than they already are, that is.”

He was surprised by the hand she laid on his shoulder.

“I understand. Please do act cautiously, your Majesty.”

“Ha, I’ll be fine, don’t your worry, Rosie!” Once again, he was all too aware of the ache in his hands.

Rosie smiled softly at him.

“With all due respect, please don’t take this the wrong way when I say that I’m not asking on behalf of your well-being, your Majesty.”

Oh … of course she was worried about Alastor. If only she knew … but no, it was definitely better that she didn’t.

The King patted her hand in affirmation and then flapped his wings after she let go of him. When he entered the fog, he thought for a moment that he might have dawdled around too long – but then he felt Alastor’s magic subtly surround him like a second skin, tugging so gently the coaxing pull was only perceivable because he strained his senses to watch out for anything trying to affect him.

He could have chosen there and then to not give into the silent call. He didn’t.

The surroundings shifted from the red rocky ground of the hillside to the shady wetland of the bayou. It was surprisingly peaceful. Serene. The dark waters glistened in the twilight of a moonlit night, even though no moon could be seen, painting the wafts of fog between the trees a silvery hue. Fireflies and will-o-wisps danced in the humid air, but no crickets disturbed the silence with their chirping.

It was eerily quiet.

Something floating in the slowly flowing water caught the fallen angel’s eye.

A leg. Or a part of it. The thigh was torn … or bitten in half.

Lucifer suddenly realized that the water was dark not only because of the dim light, but also because of the blood.

It was everywhere. The swampy air reeked of it. It stained the patches of grass and the leaves of the water lilies. More body parts and chunks of flesh were caught between the roots of trees at the water’s edge.

And while the Devil took in the grizzly sight of what remained of the massacre that had taken place here, a scream broke the silence.

A voice high pitched with terror. A voice he knew. A voice that froze his blood in anguish and ignited a burning rage.

“D-DAD!”

Lucifer snapped all six of his wings and shot in the direction his daughter’s voice had come from.

He would KILL Alastor for this! No matter the consequences, fuck his damned dreams, if that treacherous sinner had hurt his daughter, Lucifer would END HIM ON THE SPOT!

“Dad! H-HELP!” Charlie’s voice hitched out of desperation and … static?!

The King stopped mid air in a gust of wind as he arrived at the spot where the voice had come from, there was no trace of his daughter. The smell of blood was absent here, having left the scene of the slaughter behind. There was no evidence that anything at all had happened here. No torn clothes, no mangled body, no splashing water and snapping twigs from someone running for their life.

“Charlie?” Heart fluttering with panic and confusion, the fallen angel turned in all directions for a clue what –

The beast broke through the trees lining the edge of the water with a sudden pounce, maw wide agape to pick the Devil right out of the air.

There was the primordial terror again he had felt upon first setting sight on the monster, and instincts he didn’t know he had kicked in to swirl around and dive down with a snap of his wings instead of unleashing his power on the beast, almost touching the water as he turned sharply to the right.

The creature landed in the water with a loud splash and an angry roar, turning instantly around on his hind legs and clawing in his direction, but the King was faster, vanishing between the trees with stomach-turning speed.

His mind screamed at him to not go far, to turn around and find Charlie! Where was she, what had happened to her? He needed to save her, to enact punishment on Alastor for daring to attack her!

But there was another thought that grew louder by the second, that cautioned him to THINK first and act second, because there was a possibility that Charlie wasn’t in danger at all.

That she wasn’t even here, but in the lobby with the guests as she was supposed to.

Lucifer shapeshifted midflight into a barn owl, the most silent flying bird in existence. Then he disguised his presence, hiding himself from magical senses.

Somewhere behind him, the sounds of the massive creature following him came to a halt. The King changed directions and carefully circled back, landing quietly on a high branch when he caught sight of the beast again. For the first time he had the chance to get a good look.

The hulking creature stood on its deer shaped hind legs as it sniffed the air, standing easily over ten feet tall. Its body was covered in short red fur that appeared a rusty brown in the dim twilight, turning black at the joints of its limbs. The front legs still resembled arms and long-clawed hands. The cervine skull with the one remaining yet still imposing black antler was framed by a thick red and black mane that extended between its shoulder blades and ran along the spine, concluding in a whip-like bony tail that had a typical deer-like fur tuft at the base. Along its back ran a row of spikes, and after a moment of observation it became apparent that these were in fact elongated and sharp vertebral processes that protruded skin and fur.

It was an abominable version of the Crimson Stag, of Alastor, furred skin stretched taut over the large ribcage and the hollow abdomen. Mud and duckweed and Spanish moss clung to its fur and antler, and leaves and twigs were stuck in his mane, camouflaging the starving predator in the swampy environment.

Green radio dial eyes searched the surroundings for its prey, disregarding the Owl-Lucifer as they moved over his disguised form. The beast opened its fang, the split lower jaw drawn in opposite directions.

There was a soft click and a crackle of static.

“D-Daaad! Help me, p-please!”

It sounded just like Charlie, with a faint hint of underlying white noise that was all too easy to overhear. Lucifer’s felt his blood run cold again, even though he had now confirmation that his daughter was indeed not even here. That the voice he heard was just a very specific lure for a very specific prey.

A trap.

The creature didn’t even speak, its jaw agape but otherwise unmoving.

It was broadcasting.

Its deer ears rotated slowly, trying to pick up a reaction to its call. But when no response of any kind came, it let out a growling huff and tried sniffing the air again.

Suddenly it snapped its head around, ears upright and alert. Lucifer strained his hearing to pick up on what had caught the creature’s attention.

The splashing of water. A muffled voice cursing.

The beast opened its fang again. A click, a crackle.

“Boris? I-Is that you?”

A different voice, male and unknown to the King. Which meant that imitating someone’s voice was the creature’s usual way of hunting, and not something tailored to the fallen angel alone. At least to himself, Lucifer could admit that he felt a bit of relief at that discovery.

“Flint! Thank FUCK! Where are you?”

“O-Over here!”

The beast started to move, prowling on all fours towards the poor soul that was falling prey to its lure. It moved with surprising grace for such a large body, traversing through the underbrush with only quiet rustles and the even quieter rippling of water.

Lucifer followed, mind racing. He could intervene here. He could turn back into his usual form, grab the sinner and use his power to find the transition between bayou and Alastor’s room and leave through the door. It didn’t matter that the pocket dimension was quite extensive, there was still a limit to its expanse, and the seal he had placed on the door would let him pass regardless.

The Devil had, however, little interest in rescuing one of the demons who had attacked Charlie’s hotel. Rosie was right for all he cared: those people deserved being hunted and eaten by the Radio Demon. That would be a lesson that ought to stick at least.

“Flint? I can’t see you!”

“O-Over here!”

Same intonation as before. The creature’s voice imitation wasn’t perfect, and the fallen angel noticed that the sinner seemed to have picked up on that as well when he caught sight of him.

The sinner’s demon form was unremarkable – three horns, one large eye and tiny bat wings on a fiendish body. He could have almost passed for a Hellborn.

The demon had steeped out into the open trying to cross a broader water section, but hesitated now. The creature that was Alastor didn’t wait for him to listen to his instincts and run – it broke through the tree line just as it had with Lucifer, pouncing at the sinner with a giant leap.

All the sinner could do was scream, before a multitude of yellow teeth ripped into him, the beast shaking its head violently until the body tore in half. As it gulped the upper body down like a heron swallowing a fish, something strange happened: a white glowing will-o-wisp escaped the creature’s maw, floating gently in the still air.

The beast let out an elk-like bugle and bit at the swirling ball of light – or rather, it tried to. The torn green stitches around its jaws suddenly mended themselves, sewing the jaws shut and preventing them from encasing the glowing orb. The creature roared in frustration, the glowing threads tearing again as it turned its attention back to the lower half of its prey.

Meanwhile, realization slowly creeped into Lucifer’s core that he had been horribly wrong.

This was not a lesson those people could learn from.

He turned his owl head around, taking in the dozen floating orbs that were scattered around the bayou, and those were only the ones he could see from where he sat.

Those weren’t will-o-wisps, no bundled remnants of magic.

Those were … souls.

Chapter Text

15 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Alastor woke with a sore body and a dizzy mind. The latter was one of the reasons he usually refrained from sleeping for hours at a time. The time it took his mind to overcome the uncertainty of the Where and How of his current state might have been only moments, but it felt entirely too long.

Those moments were dangerous. He was vulnerable. So, Alastor forced himself to concentrate and work out what situation he was in.

He knew before he even opened his eyes to the blurry world around him that he was in his bayou. He was laying on the soft, damp gras, on his side and curled up in a fetal position. Not strapped to a marble table. That meant that he was still in Hell, in the hotel, and not in Heaven. Lilith hadn’t snatched him away, although he couldn’t feel curled around the chain anymore. Which meant in turn that she had decided against summoning him because he had been successful.

He was healed. The holy fire and its burning pain were gone. Extinguished by a much more welcome fire that had graced his mutilated body.

Alastor groaned at the memory and uncurled himself, stretching his long legs and arching his back as far as his spine allowed for it, before trying to roll on his back.

Emphasis on trying. He couldn’t turn his head freely, his antlers preventing him from resting the back of his head on the ground –

Why were his antlers protruding this much, instead of being his usual two-pronged spikes?

The demon lifted one claw to trace his antlers, and instantly cursed his foggy mind for not having put the puzzle pieces together sooner. Because what he felt was a full eight-point rack covered in soft velvet that started to itch the moment he touched it.

The deer demon let out another groan, this time out of annoyance, and started to scratch, scratch, SCRATCH, slashing the velvety skin that covered the black bone underneath to bloody shreds. Bits of torn skin trickled into his hair and sent his ears twitching, making him sit up with a jolt and bend forward to let the ragged bloody stripes fall down onto the grass between his legs instead.

He hated shedding and regrowing his antlers. The rapid growth was painful, which he had apparently slept through this time, but the itch of the velvet once the bone had finished growing to its natural size was worse.

Alastor was glad that he didn’t need to go through this little misery on a yearly basis like earthly deer, the necessity only ever arising when his antlers got damaged severely –

His eyes shot open as images of returning memory flashed in his mind. The demon blinked, his red gaze snapping to something large and dark he spotted out of the corner of his eyes. Without his monocle he had to squint to focus his sight on the object: a giant black antler, thick as his arm at the base. Next to it lay the stump of the other one –

– the one Lucifer had broken off while defending himself against Alastor.

Because his control had slipped when he caught scent of that deliciously corrupted angel blood. Even the memory made him instantly salivate again. Alastor knew – remembered now – that he had feasted on dozens of sinners before he woke up, and yet he could still taste phantom traces of that golden ichor –

He had bitten the Devil. He had hurt the King of Hell!

“Fuck!”

This … was not a little bump in the road. Not even a pothole. No, this was an earthquake fissure that ended the road prematurely …

So why wasn’t he dead yet? Slain in retribution for his insolence, no matter that he had been literally out of his mind during the incident?

Was this to be a public spectacle? Indictment, skip the trial, execution?

Could he even do anything to prevent it?

He could call in the favour Charlie owed him. Maybe that would be enough to save his life …

The deer demon was well aware that this was a vague concept of a plan at best, but for the moment it was sufficient to quell the rising panic in his chest. He was panting like a cornered animal and that would NOT do! He needed to compose himself, and not let the deer brain lead his actions. He was no prey. He needed to think.

First things first: gathering intel. What was the situation at hand? Who knew? Damn, how much time had even passed?

What state was Lucifer in?

Alastor moved to stand, his muscles burning an ache that was of the pleasant variety. The deeply satisfactory kind, like after a battle won or a long hunt concluded successfully. The feeling was a stark contrast to his racing thoughts, his mind trying to solve a problem without sufficient information and therefore doomed to circle endlessly.

The Overlord left the shed antlers behind as he left the little clearing near the transition between bayou and hotel. He stepped into his rooms and stopped, his eyes squinting at the clock above his desk. The hands showed a few minutes after five, but whether it was the early morning after the celebration or already late afternoon was a question that needed yet to be answered.

He expected it to be the same day at least, anything more than a few hours might complicate matters significantly.

Alastor pushed those musings aside for now, taking in the scenery instead.

One of his armchairs was utterly destroyed, the remains scattered across the room, while the other one was toppled over. Candles and candle sticks were strewn about, the mounted trophy that had hung above the hearth had cracked and fallen.

The white and golden chaise lounge had fallen over, dark red blood stains that had long since seeped deeply into the fabric presenting a bit of an outline where he had laid on his back. The wound must have bleed during the healing process, but all Alastor could remember was that delicious heat radiating from the King’s hand.

The carpet had a few tears now. Close to the wall next to the hearth he could see the rest of his broken antler.

All evidence of the struggle he remembered in bits and pieces now slotting together again.

The Radio Demon stepped closer. There was one more thing he needed proof of.

He found what he was looking for near the rips in the carpet: a few specks of golden blood. The demon crouched down on one knee to inspect the droplets that had soaked into the red fibers and dried, flaking as he scratched at them with one claw.

The smell was still there. Rotting apple, cinnamon, copper. Alastor wasn’t aware that he was drooling until his saliva dripped onto the carpet. He felt his hunger growl, but compared with the intensity that had overwhelmed him after the healing, it was almost lazy now. A sleepy beast raising its head in interest, not imminent need. Maybe a five on his internal scale. Apparently the sheer number of sinners he had killed and the copious amounts of demon meat he had consumed had managed to satiate the pit in his stomach to some extent.

Which in turn had allowed him to regain control even subconsciously. The bond between the part if his soul that was man and the one that was beast had been forged with magic and blood after all.

If he only could have devoured those souls, too …

Licking his lips, the Radio Demon stood again. A glance around confirmed that the clothes he had left draped over the chair at the desk were still there, so he snapped his fingers to summon his missing underwear, pants and shoes.

What appeared in his hand with a flash of green and black were ragged scraps of fabric and leather.

Alastor huffed in disappointment. He really should have expected as much.

“Pity”, he murmured. He would have to make a visit to his tailor and his shoemaker. If he lived long enough, that was. Shredded clothing wasn’t his main priority right now –

There was a knock on his door.

The demon gawked at the dark red wood that separated him from whomever stood on the other side. Maybe if he stayed silent, they would go away, looking for him elsewhere.

Another knock, accompanied by a voice.

“Al? Are you in there?”

Charlie. Even muffled behind the door, her voice sounded hesitant. Or worried.

But the worst thing was that the Princess had one of the two master keys, the other one being in his possession. She could decide to enter at any time.

“Yes, dear, give me a moment if you don’t mind!”

“Oh, of course!” She sounded … relieved?

Alastor threw the torn cloth into the hearth and let green flames spring to life with a wave of his hand. Tentacles emerged from his back, sweeping the splintered remains of his armchair into a pile in the right corner, where they couldn’t be seen without entering the room, even with the door open. Another tentacle lifted the chaise lounge and placed in the same corner, then setting the toppled armchair back upright. There was no time to mount the trophy back over the fireplace or reassemble all the candles, so they too ended up in the corner.

The Overlord suddenly realized that he was still naked – some people might argue that he was not technically ‘showing skin’ with the fur starting at his hips, sheathing his manhood in a furred pouch and covering his groin and legs, but Alastor didn’t count himself among those uncivilized lechers.

Even Husker had enough decency to wear pants!

Besides, he definitely would not present Charlie with a close-up look of the long and obviously freshly healed scar across his chest.

A tentacle fetched his dark red bathrobe from the bath which he hastily slipped into, making sure to wrap the plush fabric tightly around his body and securing it with a firmly knotted belt.

He summoned his monocle as he strode towards the door and gritted his teeth at the crack in the red tinted glass. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about that now. If he wanted to be able to read Charlie’s expression to glean any hints at what she might try to hide from him, he couldn’t do without it.

As he placed a hand on the doorknob, Alastor hesitated for two reasons:

The first one was the remnants of magic emanating from the door. Only traces were left, yet he could still tell that the spell had been powerful, although he couldn’t determine of which nature it had been. It felt somewhat familiar, however, but he had no time now to look deeper into it.

As for the second reason, he had been about to greet Charlie with a ‘Good morning’, but he still had no clue how much time had passed.

He quickly settled for a time-independent greeting and turned the knob.

“Apologies for making you wait, my dear, what can I do for you?”

“Al! Thank goodness you’re – OH MY GOSH WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!”

The Radio Demon went rigid at her sudden shocked outburst. To be fair, she never had seen him dressed other than prim and proper, but surely a bathrobe wrapped that tightly counted as decently clothed in the early hours of either morning or evening?

The Princess’ eyes had gone wide, but she didn’t look at his chest or even his face, but above –

His antlers. Dammit, while worrying about the punishment the King would enact upon him, he had forgotten about the shedding of his regrown antlers’ velvet, that still hung in bloody shreds from the dark bone. To her, it must look like he had impaled something and torn it to pieces.

“Oh, that?”, he responded with a cheer, summoning his microphone to lean on it nonchalantly. “That’s just a little inconvenience, nothing to worry about. You see, one of my antlers got damaged, so I had to grow a new set, and as you can see that comes with a bit of a mess, I’m afraid.”

“Damaged?” Charlie gasped. “Because of the Code Black?” She had composed herself otherwise fairly quickly during his explanation, but of course she latched on to the one bit of information she was supposed to gloss over.

Then again, he could try and find out what the Princess did or didn’t know about the … incident.

“Indeed”, he confirmed, offering not a sliver more information and counting on her to fill some gaps.

There was a quiet sound somewhere behind him, and Alastor had to stop himself from snapping his head around, only allowing one of his ears to turn and listen instead. But whatever had caught his attention there, he didn’t hear it again.

The demon let his shadow stretch behind him while he focused his attention back on Charlie.

“What happened? Dad only said that you were handling another problem when he came out to scare off the attackers – “

The hotel had been attacked? He kept himself from asking, unwilling to draw attention to the fact that he hadn’t been aware.

“ – but I haven’t seen him since then, and I know that I shouldn’t worry, since there’s really nothing bad that could have happened, but I DO worry, he’s my dad and – “

“Charlie.”

“ – Oh, right, sorry … I guess I just wanted to know what happened and if you have seen my dad? He’s not in his room …”

He remembered the fallen angel fleeing this room through the very door he now stood in. He also remembered Lucifer appearing in his bayou – and escaping once again.

Alastor had attacked the King not once, but twice. That he was still allowed to draw breath was baffling.

“Well, my dear, I don’t want to bother you with unnecessary details, so I’ll summarize: There was an incident with a misbehaving Overlord, but it’s been handled without much bloodshed.”

She didn’t need to know about the massacre that had happened later. Those sinners couldn’t have been guests, otherwise Charlie would have mentioned something about people vanishing from inside the hotel by now.

His shadow tugged on his consciousness. It had found something – and by the nine rings, did that change that change the situation at large. Alastor quickly forbade the entity from snatching the scaly intruder, addressing the Princess instead once more.

“And with regards to your father, his absence is easily explained. In fact, he’s making sure said Overlord isn’t stepping out of line again as we speak. I’m sure he’ll reappear once he’s been satisfied with his observations.”

That, and probably after casting judgement, whatever that may be. Knowing now that he was allowed to even speak to Charlie elevated the odds in his favour, however.

The Princess smiled at him, relief evident on her face.

“That’s … good to hear, actually. I knew I shouldn’t have worried so much… thanks, Al!”

“You’re welcome, dear.” He finally had the mind to take in the rest of her appearance, and suddenly he had the answer to whether it was dusk or dawn. Charlie might have gone a night without sleep, but surely not a whole other day without changing her outfit.

He tilted his head and softened his expression.

“Charlie, have you been so worried that you stayed up all night?”

Guilt flickered over her face. She tried to hide it, but by the Heavens, the girl was poorly equipped to fake expressions.

“Nooo, I just – “

“You’re still wearing your dress, dear.”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Tell you what, I’ll get presentable”, he resumed, gesturing to his bloody antlers, “and take care of the cleanup downstairs, while you get some sleep. I’m sure your paramour is already waiting for you.”

“Are you sure? I mean it’s quite a lot to –“

“Charlie, I already had to leave you to handle the guests the rest of the night, I simply can’t neglect more of my duties as your hotelier. Besides, I’m certain Niffty will assist me sooner rather than later.”

“But –“

“No buts, my dear, I insist! You did wonderful tonight and have more than earned some rest. Now go, before Vaggie comes looking for you and accuses me of holding you hostage.”

Charlie giggled, the tension of an invisible weight falling from her shoulders.

“You’re right, it’s been a long night … thanks, Al.”

She waved him goodbye, and Alastor waited a few polite seconds before he closed the door. The demon listened for her muffled steps to vanish down the hallway, before he finally took a step backwards, his eyes roaming over the red door and the adjacent walls.

The upper doorframe and the wall above were dented in and splintered, a spiderweb of cracks pointing outward from a crumbling center. A dotted line of holes extended from there like a crescent moon where pointed antler tips had gouged the wall, almost breaking through. Arm long claw marks had left deep tears in the bricked wall, the tapestry hanging from the cuts in stripes.

“Am I correct to assume that you’ve been here all night?”, he said, finally turning around but remaining in place where he stood. “Watching me.”

At the top of the bookshelf appeared a small reptile head. It flicked its forked tongue in his direction and then slithered down, the snakes long and flexible body taking advantage of every carved edge for its descent.

After most of its body had touched ground, the Devil shifted back into his humanoid form, and like his daughter, he too still wore his ball garments (minus the hat), although he could have changed at any time with a snap of his fingers.

Speaking of fingers – Alastor instantly took a mental note of the additional gloves.

“You are indeed correct”, the King said, expression composed as to not give the Radio Demon any hint of what to expect, but the rigidness in his posture made him appear to be wary of the demon.

In that, he mirrored Alastor.

They stared at each other in silence, thirty feet apart at least, waiting for the other to make a first and potentially wrong move. For the sake of possibly saving his own skin, the deer demon broke eye contact first.

Turning his head to look at the damaged door again, Alastor placed a hand flat on the wooden surface to feel the remnant energy again. And now that he could take a moment to let the feeling sink in, he knew that he had felt the same magical signature only hours ago, flooding his every nerve with the flames of radiant star.

“You had me sealed in here.” A statement, not a question. An invitation to speak nonetheless, and one the fallen angel took, albeit hesitantly.

“I couldn’t let that monster rampage through the hotel.”

‘That monster’, not ‘you’. Alastor turned to look at the King again, folding both arms firmly behind his back, microphone in hand.

“I loath to admit that I’m a bit confused, my King. What do you plan to do with me?”

Apparently, the Devil hadn’t expected a direct question like that. Lucifer blinked in that owlish way of his that always made Alastor wanting to roll his eyes.

“What do you mean ‘do with you’?”

The demon exhaled slowly, trying his best to show neither his vexation over Lucifer’s inability to follow a frankly obvious thought process, nor his apprehension with regards to his own fate.

“I attacked you. I hurt you. Am I wrong for expecting severe punishment for this insolence? And yet, you already lifted the seal that contained me. You let me speak with your precious daughter … Shall I take that to assume that you haven’t yet decided what to do about me?”

The King’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“So, you do remember.” Neither an answer to Alastor’s question nor an inquiry of his own, but instead turning the focus on a detail that had the Kings interest.

“I do.”

“And did you choose to attack me?”

Ah, that was what Alastor had failed to account for in his expectations. The Overlord would have judged the action alone, but of course the one who’s own damnation was directly linked to the Gift of Choice would give at least the same weight towards the reasoning behind the action as the action itself, if not more.

“I did not.”

The Devil considered him, looking for hints of deception, and Alastor didn’t fault him for that. It rather demonstrated some good sense the monarch often times seem to lack or didn’t care about. While being the truthful answer, it was also the convenient one any demon trying to evoke mercy from the King would choose in this situation.

“Alright, I’d like some more answer then. And afterwards I’ll decide what to do about you.”

Now here was a glimpse of the ruler Lucifer could be if he wanted to, simply in the way the assertive tone of his voice left no room for argument or refusal. Still not impressive as such, but somewhat promising. Alastor found himself intrigued, despite the urge to resist the Devil’s authority already being on the tip of his tongue, just to coax a reaction out of the fallen angel.

But that certainly wouldn’t do him any good right now, so he bit back the challenging remark. Being a bit more agreeable to the King’s demands would serve him better in this situation.

“Very well.”

A tentacle pushed the one remaining armchair to Lucifer’s side next to the fireplace, while another dragged the bloody chaise lounge over to replace the broken one.

“Please have a seat, sire. May I offer you a drink?”

“A drink? At five-thirty in the morning?”

Alastor shrugged. “The topic at hand certainly requires one, and I’d be rude not to extend the offer to a guest. But suit yourself.”

He walked over to the little cabinet that held some glasses and a few selected bottles of Alastor’s favourite ryes. The demon poured himself four fingers, ears turning slowly as he listened for Lucifer’s footsteps and the shuffling of clothes as the King sat down in the armchair. Alastor smiled to himself, taking the first sip as he returned to the chaise lounge and took seat in the nook between head- and armrest, one leg crossed over the other.

Lucifer was fidgeting with his fingers, the aura of authority suddenly gone and replaced with anxious energy. Alastor watched him for a long, festering moment, trying to decide whether the Devil’s unease was to his advantage or not, but ultimately finding himself ticked off at the squirming. The King was stuck in his own head again, probably running through scenarios at how to approach this subject, although the Overlord couldn’t quite fathom what made Lucifer so damn nervous about it.

“Fascinating”, he commented wryly. “Riveting conversation, I must say!”

It had the desired effect.

“Wha–? Oh you tacky piece of –!”, the fallen angel snapped but cutting himself off midway through the insult to compose himself with a huff.

“Alright, let’s cut straight to the chase, then”, Lucifer said, breathing in deeply. “What are you? What is that … thing?!”

The demon tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t know?”

“Dammit, Al, just answer the question! I … know what I saw, but the obvious answer must be wrong. So, I’m asking you, since you of all people should know, right?”

“Oh, are we well acquainted enough for nicknames now, my King? Well, I guess that’s fair after tonight –“

“ALASTOR!” The King jumped from his seat, horns and tail flaring out and eyes glowing red.

The demon raised his free hand in surrender.

“Alright, alright! I was just trying to lift the mood, sire, you seemed a bit … on edge.”

It was hard for him to stifle the chuckle that clawed at his throat to get out, getting a rise out of the petit monarch was just always so entertaining, a temptation he loved to fail resisting. Alastor was a man who loved to play with fire, be it in life or the after, and by now he had come to realize that the devil’s flame was a fire he wanted to get burnt by, one way or the other …

He would have to restrain his little masochistic tendencies to get through this conversation, though. The opportunity for answers presented itself again here, like it had during the healing. Contrary to Lilith, Lucifer was willing to share his knowledge and thoughts, and even if he would be unwilling to part with everything he knew, Alastor could still learn more about himself in one talk than he had under the Queen’s interrogations and scalpel in seven years.

Heavens, by that measure alone, this was already true for short healing process earlier. On top of that, the fallen angel’s commentary about not believing the easiest answer that came to his mind held more information than was obvious at first glance.

Alastor waited until the King had calmed, mumbling some insults under his breath that made the demon smirk, and sat down again.

“Are you familiar with the term ‘Wendigo’, my King?”

Lucifer stared at him. “That’s impossible …”, he answered back, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge between them with to fingers. “No … no, that can’t be, no no no … you’re wrong!”

Alastor took a sip of his rye, observing the King as the smaller man shook his head in denial.

“And why’s that, if I may ask? You said it yourself that I should know, no?”

The Devil glared at him, and then sighed. “I’d take that drink now, if you don’t mind.”

The Radio Demon’s smile was smug as he wordlessly directed a shadow tentacle to fulfill the King’s request. The radio on Alastor’s desk sprang to life with a crackle, and the demon’s eyes turned into dials for the short moment it took him to find and guide the airwaves he wanted to the device, and fill the quiet of the room with quiet orchestral background music.

Lucifer gulped the first mouthful of his whiskey, obviously not really tasting what he’s drinking much to Alastor’s dismay, but he perked up at the first sounds of string instruments.

“Rachmaninoff again?”

Alastor nodded. “The Isle of the Dead, Opus 29 in A minor, 1909.”

There was the slight tug of a smile or a smirk at the King’s lips before it vanished in a frown.

“Ominous.”

“I think it suits the occasion, all things considered”, the Overlord shrugged, but didn’t let the Devil out of his sight.

He felt emboldened by Lucifer allowing for a drink and musical ambience. Maybe his chances of getting slain by the King weren’t as high as he had first believed. Still, he couldn’t allow himself to drop his guard just yet.

The fallen angel nodded after a moment, absent mindedly and staring unseeing into the amber liquid in his glass. But Alastor was done with letting the anxious King trying – and failing – to sort out his thoughts. If Lucifer needed some stage directions for this conversation, Alastor could provide.

“Sire, you were about to enlighten me why I can’t possibly be a Wendigo.”

Lucifer glanced at him and sighed again.

“Okay, so … first of all, people can’t be Wendigowak* , they get possessed by one. Which leads directly to the second reason, being that a Wendigo leaves its victim –“

“Host.” A growl. The Devil rolled his eyes.

“– its host upon their death. Because it has to, it’s just a spirit; it can enter a body, and some spirits can even vie for control with the body’s soul, but it can never truly connect in the way a soul does. A spirit clings to the energy of a living being, but always stays foreign and will be ejected once that life energy fades. Spirits are bound to the Earth as a realm, they do not cross into Heaven or Hell.”

Alastor’s claw clinked against his glass in contemplation.

“Hmm, I see. How about a Rite of Binding?”

“To do what? Drag the spirit with you to the afterlife?” The King gave the thought a moment of consideration, but quickly shook his head. “No. A Rite of Binding can be a strong under the right circumstances, but it’s more about control than connection. It wouldn’t be enough.”

Lucifer moved to take another sip, but stopped before the glass touched his lips, frowning.

“Why do you ask? Did you try that?”

Alastor didn’t respond, nursing his own rye instead, watching the Devil over the rim of the glass.

“On Earth, cannibalism is considered an act of binding in some cultures … gaining the enemies strength or wits by consuming certain parts of the body. And it’s true even in Hell, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head, and as he did, a stripe of torn velvet came loose and dangled in front of the demon’s face. Without a second thought, red-clawed fingers snatched the bloody bit and ripped it off, only for it to be further shredded by sharp yellow teeth as a snack.

“Eww.” The fallen angel’s face twisted in disgust. “Did you have to do that?”

The Overlord snickered. “We’re discussing cannibalism, are we not?”

“Sure but … whatever, why would I even expect a flicker of consideration from you? Forget I said anything.”

There was disappointment mixed in with the portrayed indifference, and for some annoying reason Alastor found himself bothered by it.

“As you wish.” And now his own professed indifference was as false as the King’s.

Worse, Lucifer’s mind seemed to have latched on to the last exchange and was chewing on it – oh, the irony! – and now another nudge in the right direction to get back on track was in order.

“My King, would you mind continuing with this delightful lecture on the topic of spirits and cannibalism?”

The Devil looked up, searching in the demon’s face for mockery and found none. Alastor’s interest was genuine, and that appeared to mollify the King.

“Yeah, uh, so … that’s not how it works with spirits. Cannibalism, I mean. As I said, they leave the body they inhabit when it dies. There’s no eating a spirit, Alastor. And even if you consumed a lot of human flesh while being possessed by a Wendigo – which is what you’re implying, isn’t it? – that might strengthen the hold the Wendigo has on you for the time being, and it definitely still taints your own soul, but otherwise there’s no link between the two of you.”

The Radio Demon’s smile had grown sharper while listening to the King’s explanation of what could not be. He appreciated the deeper knowledge of what he had done that fateful night in 1930, having understood a bit of the How but not the Why of the whole … process.

“I’m afraid you’re making wrong assumption with regards to how the Wendigo and I met. Are you imagining a starving man on the brink of death, desperate and easy prey to a hunting spirit that descended upon the poor soul? Driving him mad by acts of murder and cannibalism of his own kin?”

The Devil leaned back in his chair. “Something like that, yes. But that’s not how it happened?”

“Stars above, no”, Alastor chuckled. “I was already long since destined for Hell when we met. As a matter of fact, he claimed that my wicked soul was the very reason he came to me in the first place.”

Lucifer gawked at him. ”He ‘claimed’? You had a conversation with a Wendigo?”

“With its host. Interesting fellow, good mannered and well spoken, yet wild somehow. He was a member of the indigenous Cree people, and had travelled quite far to find me – no less than half a continent! And find me he did, right in the middle of nowhere that was the Louisiana bayou, where my little hunting cabin stood.”

He had the Devil’s undivided attention now, and Alastor reveled in it. The King literally sat on the edge of his seat, leaning forward and eyes wide in either disbelief or fascination. The demon couldn’t tell for sure.

Perhaps it was both.

“Imagine my surprise when he knocked on my door one evening, knowing who and what I was. I would have killed him for that knowledge alone, and since that was a forgone conclusion, I decided to hear him out first – and he came with such an enticing offer: the power of the Wendigo, free for the taking.”

“You made a deal.” Not a question, but a conclusion, and the Radio Demon chuckled at the irony.

“Ha, funny enough, I did not! At least I didn’t lose anything other than more of my humanity, which would have been diminished with every future kill anyways!”

The fallen angel looked appalled, however.

“You’re insane!”

“How astute of you to notice, my King! I’m flattered!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake –“, Lucifer exclaimed, gulping down the rest of his drink, only to signal with a gesture that he wanted another, and Alastor used a tentacle to oblige, grinning.

“I’m really not sure if I want to know anymore, but …”, the King continued, dragging his free hand over his face. Then he sighed, reluctance evident in every syllable: “What happened?”

“We talked for a while, for I had sooo many questions of course, but ultimately I executed his request: to participate in a binding ritual that would grant me control over the Wendigo, but now I think it also served a second purpose – to keep the spirit bound to its host even after its death.”

“No.” Lucifer’s expression morphed into one of shock as the realization of what had transpired dawned on him.

“And after that, as per his request, I killed and –“

“Tell me you didn’t eat him!”

The Radio Demon’s grin was wide and full of sharp teeth.

“All of him!”

“NO!”

The fallen angel jumped from his seat, and for a split-second Alastor thought the Devil would pounce and finally rain his wrath upon him, but the King paced back and forth in front of the hearth instead. He watched the petit monarch rake his claws through his golden hair and only realized that he had held his breath when Lucifer suddenly turned and pointed at him, demonic features flaring once again, and Alastor couldn’t quite hide the flinch that went through his body.

“Do you even know what you DID back then?!”

“I … didn’t for a long time …”, he admitted.

“You merged your soul with the Wendigo!”

The deer demon hesitated for a moment to bring up another bit of information, but all things considered, he didn’t think that his life was on the line anymore. Lucifer seemed to be shocked by the recent revelations, yes, but he hadn’t acted on them.

And by now Alastor doubted that he would. No matter how brutal the truth was, no matter how dangerous. Sure, there were other options to deal with a threat than death, but living meant opportunities to steer the direction of one’s fate.

Besides, he still owed Lucifer, didn’t he? Even without a binding deal, he still felt the obligation in his very core, the need to compensate, to balance the scales. If not for the healing, then for the attack. And yet, this conversation was still a trade of information, Lucifer at least giving as much as he got. If Alastor was to offer a little bit more, he could count that towards easing his debt on his own terms.

“I figured as much”, he finally said, “but not only with the spirit. Isn’t that right, old friend?”

He turned his head a little to acknowledge his shadow, which now stretched across the floor to crawl along the wall opposite the fireplace.

The King stopped his pacing, his eyes growing wide again as he observed the shadowy entity.

“Wait … You mean, that is …?”

The shadow grew across the ceiling to loom over the fallen angel, every feature exaggerated in an attempt to intimidate or impress.

“The stranger, yes. Or what’s left of him.”

Lucifer didn’t take his eyes off the shadow as he stepped towards the wall it clung to. The demon had to will the entity still to allow the King to proceed with whatever he intended to do, its wariness and distrust clawing at his mind.

But all the Devil did was to lay a hand on the darkened surface and close his eyes in concentration, before stepping back again after a few moments.

“Are you sure it’s him? All I feel is … you.” Red and yellow eyes regarded the deer demon, his expression unreadable for once.

“We’re linked in mind”, Alastor said, tapping a claw to his temple in emphasize. “I know because it knows, although there’s not much else left. He’s but a part of me now, only with a remnant of a mind of its own.”

Lucifer looked back at the entity, and Alastor saw and felt the shadow bristle at the pity in the fallen angel’s eyes, snapping in the monarch’s direction as if trying to bite him in half for daring to think it a victim of some sorts. In that, it had a lot in common with its owner.

“Do you remember his name?”

Alastor’s ears flattened involuntarily at the grief in the King’s voice. Luckily, Lucifer was still turned away from him and couldn’t see how that unexpected display of compassion startled him. Even his shadow slowly retreated with an inaudible but unmistakable hiss.

The Devil knew the answer, the Overlord realized. He knew and still hoped against all odds.

Such a dangerous feeling, hope.

“No. I remember that he told me, but it’s lost to me now. To both of us.” He saw Lucifer’s shoulders sag. “He told me that this might happen.” As if that would be any consolation for the bleeding heart that was the Morningstar. There was no point in offering, and yet he did, however unnecessary he thought it to be. The stranger had known and chosen this path anyways.

Which led inevitably to a question that was dangerous to answer. When Lilith’s interrogation had reached that point, shock had given way to rage. And while the Queen’s ire was something Alastor knew intimately well, only this once had she thrown a real tantrum. At the end he’d had a dozen broken bones and a severed arm to show for it, knowing that he had been but a stand-in for the entity she really had wanted to dig her claws into.

Of course, Lilith hadn’t explained that particular piece of information had ticked her off. Maybe the King would give him an answer instead. Or maybe not, maybe the Devil’s self-control would finally crumble.

He really shouldn’t have thought himself safe already, but all he could do was wait for the King to compose himself and ask. Alastor didn’t jump to lead the conversation again this time, and when the music faded, he let the radio stay silent.

Lucifer returned to the armchair and sat down again, emptying his drink absentmindedly and setting the glass down on the carpet for lack of a side table. He sighed in resignation.

“Why would anybody do this?”

Here we go.

“Why would he come to you for – as you say – the purpose of being killed and eaten, transferring a Wendigo to you, and be reduced to …” The King didn’t finish the sentence, just motioned towards the shadow entity.

Alastor finished his own rye and set the glass on the floor as well.

“Because he was directed to.”

“By whom?” A frown.

“As he claimed, by his Goddess.”

“Goddess?” Lucifer’s frown deepened in concern.

“He called her … Great Mother Roo.” Alastor braced himself.

“LIAR!”

The Devil was standing before the lounging demon, grabbing the lapels of the Overlord’s bathrobe and pulling him close to his face that was stricken with fury and sorrow. Alastor bit his tongue to swallow the snarky remark that sprang to the tip of it, his mouth filling with the taste of his own blood.

All he could do was to withstand the King’s molten gaze while he waited to be thrown across the room or slammed into the ground.

All he could think of were the clawed fingers that had pierced the fabric, the knuckles pressing against the skin of his chest. He could feel the damped angelic heat trough the gloves and the demon loathed that the fallen angel was wearing them.

And then, the fallen angel slowly caved inwards like an imploding star.

“Tell me you’re lying! Please!”

Lucifer was sobbing now. Crying. Eyes pressed shut, but the tears were flowing unhindered. Alastor new that since they were soaking into the lapels …

… because the King’s legs had buckled under him, the petit monarch sinking to his knees on the edge of the chaise lounge …

… clinging to the demon’s bathrobe like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing, head lowered in anguish …

… his forehead falling against the Radio Demon’s chest, right above the V-shape of the overlapping lapels.

And Alastor couldn’t comprehend what was happening. His breath hitched at the contact. His hands were raised halfway, fingers twitching and grasping at the empty air. He didn’t know what to do. Of all the possible outcomes, he hadn’t expected … this.

His ears were pinned flat against the back of his head. Was there something he was supposed to do now? Surely the King didn’t expect to be comforted now? From Alastor of all people?!

Asa child, Alastor had learned early enough not to show when he was upset. He had seldomly cried. But when he had, his mother had always embraced him tightly, letting him melt against her body.

Alastor imagined for a moment what it might feel like to fold his arms around the small body, to pull him in –

– to split open his own ribcage and shove that blissful heat inside, like having a sun in his chest, all to himself. If he swallowed Lucifer whole, would he stay there like a radiant core, or would he die and cool like all dead things did? What if he would become a part of him like the Wendigo, what if that boiling blood were to course through HIS veins, what if –

– he slowly pushed the monarch away, maneuvering the fallen angel to sit next to him instead. The demon wasn’t quite sure how he gathered the willpower to do that, and he mourned the loss of contact instantly.

What are you doing to me?

“My, my, sire, you’re making quite the mess of yourself.” It sounded far less mocking than he wanted it to.

Lucifer stirred, his glazed eyes clearing and he pulled away even further. He rubbed his face, elbows propped up on his knees and burrowing his head in his hands.

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to … Shit, it’s my fault, it’s my fucking fault again, I’m so sorry!”

Cervine ears flipped as the deer demon tried to piece together the King’s reasoning or lack thereof.

“What is your fault?”

Lucifer gestured vaguely in Alastor’s direction.

“All of it …”, he answered weakly.

Such an unspecific response, yet an arrow that hit its mark on accident.

In the back of his mind, a memory resurfaces after being buried for decades: His mother crying as his father is shouting at her, their son that can never meet the man’s expectations the cause of his anger …

Alastor stood and loomed over the Devil in one fluent motion. Red dials clicked in his eyes and thick static distorted his growl merely inches away from the King’s surprised face.

“I’m NOT a mistake!”

Lucifer’s eyes flickered over the demon’s face, searching for something until realization dawned on him. He broke eye contact first with a heavy and defeated sigh.

“Fuck … I didn’t mean it that way! I … I’m sorry, okay, this is what I mean, I always say or do the wrong thing, no matter my intentions, it always comes out wrong and hurting and …” The smaller man shook his head, raking his claws through his golden hair bit thankfully not drawing blood like Alastor always did. The Radio Demon wasn’t yet sure whether he could keep control of his hunger being this close to the fallen angel.

He straightened up, but his eyes still lingered on Lucifer as the monarch continued to scold himself.

“I’m pathetic, I know! Unworthy of my title and all that shit, just say it and get it out of your system –“

“Stop it!”, the demon snarled, which startled the fallen angel anew.

“Stop what?”

“Firstly, to make assumptions about me. Secondly, to humiliate yourself with this self-derogatory speech. It’s quite unbecoming to a King.”

There was that owlish stare again, and Alastor decided to take it upon himself to lead the conversation again, before it derailed any further. According to his observations and experiences so far, Lucifer was more likely to ‘get his shit together’ if the given situation continued as if no mishap had ever happened at all.

The demon sat down again, not looking at the fallen angel this time. A movement at the edge of the bayou had caught his eye – a ghostly soul orb, floating sluggishly between the trees.

“So, I take it that this Roo indeed exists?” He suspected as much of course with regard to Lilith's reaction. But as always, the Queen hadn't told him anything.

A moment passed. Then, a solemn answer.

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?” Alastor still observed the dancing soul, but out of the corner of his vision, he caught the King wrapping his arms around himself.

“I’d rather not answer that.”

“Hmm

Well, that the King would have some limits as to what he would share really was to be expected. The Overlord had already learned so much by now, he could graciously allow to postpone the answer for now

Getting lost in his own contemplation for once, he only registered that Lucifer had also spotted the restless soul when he finally broke the silence.

“You didn’t eat them.”

Alastor tensed.

“The souls of those sinners, I mean.” The King turned to look at him, but the Radio Demon refused to lock eyes with him this time. “Why?”

The question told him two things: One, that Lucifer knew that souls would be the preferred food for the Wendigo. And two, he was aware that Alastor could not consume them right now.

With Lilith’s orders being the reason for the latter, this question was dangerous. Probably even more dangerous than anything their conversation had touched before. Alastor couldn’t tell anymore, Lucifer had subverted his expectations at every turn.

“I’d rather not answer that”, he said, holding his breath.

There was a moment of uncertainty, but the Devil finally nodded, acknowledging the echo of his own previous answer.

But this topic, too, would certainly come up another time. He’d have to be prepared for it. It would be foolish to think that he’d be allowed the easy way out a second time.

“So … have you made up your mind regarding my fate, sire? Or does my King require some time for deliberation?”

Again, Lucifer didn’t respond immediately. Alastor already contemplated serving himself another drink, then the King stood.

“I guess … There’s a lot to think about, actually.”

Without any motion, a portal appeared before the Devil. Only then the fallen angel turned his head slightly, his eyes skimming over the demon but never quite meeting his eyes.

“I’ll get back to you on that. Don’t … do anything rash, okay?”

Lucifer didn’t wait for an answer, the portal closing behind him the moment he stepped through.

Alastor stared at the spot where the King had vanished, before standing up taking the few steps to that very spot and … just lingered there. Perhaps it was the remnants of magic in the air or the traces of the devil’s scent or –

Anyways …

The day was young and there had already been a lot going on, although almost nothing had gone as anticipated, but that was no excuse for getting lazy. He had promised Charlie to take care of what was left of the party downstairs, and that he would do. It was an easy task, leaving him with time to think and reassess while getting his hands busy.

Alastor untied the belt of his bathrobe as he stepped into the bathroom. He’d get rid of the velvet on his antlers while showering, probably clogging the piping somewhere which would delight Niffty, since she loved being allowed into the pipes.

The water was almost hot enough.

Chapter Text

15 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

So … there was a Wendigo in Hell.

The only reason for the words ‘Wendigo’ and ‘Hell’ to exist within the same sentence should be by explicit exclusion of each other.

Anything else was just … wrong. And not just simply wrong, but downright impossibly wrong at that.

Well, there were a handful of things to be struck from the list of impossibilities now, weren’t there?

As in, his hands could attest to that. Literally.

Laying sprawled out on his bed, Lucifer vanished his gloves to look. He knew his wounds had healed slowly over the last hours, itching the whole time as if his powers had to fight for his flesh to regrow.

Which was probably exactly what had happened, and why it took so much time compared to his usual regeneration. With what he knew now, the fallen angel was also not surprised to find that the injuries had scarred.

Sooo … A Wendigo. In Hell.

She had finally done it. After being banned from the playing field for ten thousand years, Roo had managed to smuggle a player into the game. And if Lucifer assumed correctly, all she had to do now was to wait. And by Father, she had already proven herself patient.

What mattered a few decades to her, or even centuries, unlikely as it was? Sooner or later, her player would be taken out. It was a given in Hell, only a matter of time.

And then she would finally get her revenge. The dreams had told him as much, again and again and again. Every time he failed their task. Every time he killed the Crimson Stag or let him die. The world, including himself, would get swallowed in darkness.

Extinguished.

Devoured.

All because of that stupid apple.

All because of him.

And now, Alastor was waiting for him to decide what to do about it. Which was such a strange thought, the idea of the prideful Radio Demon to wait for his judgement and what, actually submitting to it?

Ha.

Ha ha!

Laughable. Which meant that this had to be some kind of manipulation tactic.

Then again … he could understand the notion, from the sinner’s perspective – because even if he were to be the most powerful Overlord in Hell, Alastor was still nothing compared to Lucifer in terms of power. There was nothing he could do to stop Lucifer if the King decided to kill the deer demon (in theory only, this was not an option!), or imprison him somewhere (also not an option, because … uhm … because!) …

Alright, if he were to entertain the option of locking the sinner up somewhere, how would that look like? Chain him up to prevent him from killing himself? Which also meant to force feed the demon so he couldn’t go on hunger strike and starve himself to death? But he couldn’t give such a task to guards, because guards could be manipulated and persuaded or taunted into either freeing the Overlord or ending him, so Lucifer would have to do that himself, always, for all eternity …

Yeah, wasn’t that a gruesome idea … Not to mention that he would never be able to bring himself to condemn a soul to so much suffering.

He had done enough of that already.

Forcing Alastor to leave the hotel to keep Charlie safe was also not an ideal option. It meant exposing the deer demon to the dangers of Hell without a way for Lucifer to keep an eye on him and protect him if needed – not if he wanted to stay here and help his daughter with her dream instead of leaving her again to fend for herself only to keep taps on a single sinner. He couldn’t do that to her. Again.

By Father, the thought alone made him feel sick. And on top of that, he didn’t gain anything, it would just play into Roo’s hands to let Alastor inevitably get killed like he was supposed to. To think that the red sinner had already survived … how long? ‘Decades’ was all that had ever been mentioned, and it couldn’t be just two or three –

Wait, when had his dreams started? Lucifer summoned the dream diary he had started on Lilith’s insistence and looked at the date of the first page: 19. November 1933.

His stomach dropped, his head swimming with sudden nausea. The diary fell from his numb fingers onto his chest, but he didn’t feel it hitting him.

His dreams were premonitions, making this date being somewhat earlier than the actual event of … Alastor making the deal with the Wendigo? Arriving in Hell? It didn’t matter much, because at least the year had to be right or just marginally off at most, and THAT meant that Alastor had managed to survive his afterlife for over ninety years. Almost a century, if he wanted the blade that was his guilt to cut extra deep.

Lucifer hid his face in his hands, trying to calm his increasingly shallow breathing. The darkness was creeping in on him, he could feel it at the edge of his consciousness. He couldn’t let it take him down again, he had to think this through and find a solution!

Almost a century in which the Devil had ignored his dreams and Alastor could have died at any fucking point in time, cutting the Wendigo loose.

All of Hell and probably Heaven and perhaps even Earth could count itself lucky that the cunning bastard was still alive and kicking.

He could NOT take that risk again.

Besides, whatever punishment he settled on, he would have to explain to Charlie how that had come about. Ha, what an exchange that would be, he could already imagine it:

Charlie: Why did you [insert punishment here]?

Lucifer: Well, you see, Char Char, he bit me …

Charlie: What? Oh no! But did you have to be that strict, I mean, I get it that you two don’t get along, but it’s not like he can really hurt you!

Lucifer: Yeah, so … about that …

And then he would have to explain everything to her. Not just the Wendigo situation, but also Roo …

He couldn’t do that. Not because Charlie wasn’t able to stomach the information, or because he felt too ashamed about that situation, but because Charlie would try to fix it. Her heart was big enough for all of Hell, for all of Creation, and she would never accept the fact that there was no way to help and fix that lonely, broken and vengeful being that was Roo.

And in turn, Roo would sink her teeth into Charlie’s loving heart and use her to exact her revenge without need for the Wendigo or any other sleeper agent she had managed to install on Earth or Hell or wherever –

Knock-knock.

Lucifer jerked up on his bed. Who could possibly want something from him now? Maybe Alastor, perhaps the demon had something more to say, but that wasn’t his aura on the other side of the door, that was –

The King portalled into the living room and flung the door open.

“Charlie!”

“Dad!”

A crushing hug followed that ended awkwardly after a moment that lasted decidedly too long for a normal greeting. He took a step back after letting her go, smiling almost apologetically, but his daughter frowned.

“Dad, are you feeling alright?” She held the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you running a fever?”

“A fev – … Ah, dammit, sorry duckling!” Shit, he had forgotten to temper down his body heat again after Alastor had … demanded … pleaded … asked him not to change it, which made him certainly NOT feel questionable things, ha, why would it?

Because no one, not even Lilith, had ever liked been comfortable with his natural body temperature? To the point that his touch was sought out twice, with the body melting into his hand instead of flinching away in pain?

Because it made Alastor’s skin feel so cold in turn that it reminded him of the mountain spring back in Eden? The one he had created to feed the lake where the ducks swam, with the water clear as crystal and cool like a morning breeze in spring?

Ha, certainly not, nope, never. There was no reason at all to miss that feeling or to want for another opportunity to touch …

“Dad?”

Dammit Lucifer, pull yourself together!

“It’s fine, sweetie, I’m fine, I swear! Here, see, that’s better, right?”

He pulled her hand up to let her feel his temperature again, which was now significantly cooler, and tried not to feel guilty about it.

“Oh, yes, that’s … Okay, I’m glad you’re alright!”

“So, uhm, what … what can your old man do for you?”

“Well, first of all, I wanted to see if you’re even home from, you know, watching out for us? Alastor mentioned this morning that you were still making sure that the problematic Overlord from last night wouldn’t stir up any more trouble, but I haven’t seen you all day and … well … I just wanted to check on you?”

Lucifer blinked. His brain had almost stopped working at the word ‘home’ because … because that felt unexpectedly good. Charlie considered this hotel home and he … was part of it. Damn, if he started crying now, she would either think him crazy or be worried or both.

“Aww, thanks duckling, but you really don’t need to worry, I can handle a pesky little Overlord anytime!”

If they didn’t happen to also be a Wendigo, at least. But all things considered, he had handled that pretty well, right? All that was left to do was to decide the next steps, and that the Devil had a little trouble with that was not his daughter’s burden to bear.

“Yes dad, I know you can, I know … it’s just … Anyways, I also wanted to ask if you’d like to make dinner together? I didn’t exactly draw our names, but I thought since everyone had the day off from group activities that I didn’t want to make anyone to team up for dinner prep today, so …”

She trailed off, hope evident in her voice and her eyes.

Charlie didn’t want to force a bonding exercise at anyone today, but had sought him out instead for some quality father-daughter-bonding time. Lucifer felt his lower lip quiver. Damn, he didn’t want to cry!

“Of course, apple pie, I’d love to! But isn’t it a bit early for – oh!”

The King had turned to the grandfather clock to check the time, only to find that it was indeed time to prepare dinner. It unsettled him a bit how he apparently had lost track of time again, trying to come to terms with what he had learned about the Radio Demon.

It had been hours. And he still hadn’t decided on what to do.

Well, if he had wasted so much time already and Alastor still hadn’t laid waste to the hotel in an attempt to avoid punishment and kill him, then it could wait until after dinner at least, right?

By Father, that was an actual possibility now … getting killed!

The ticking of the clock was suddenly all Lucifer could hear, the sound cutting eternity into thin slices of time as it always did, but this time it felt like there it was actually cutting away at something … something that had an end.

There was a dull throb of phantom pain in his palms. A reminder. Conformation.

For the first time in millennia Lucifer felt … alive.

He turned back to Charlie with a wide grin.

“Look at that, time’s flying! I’ll hit the shower real quick and then meet you in kitchen, ‘kay?”

“Sounds good!”, she replied, almost jumping where she stood. ”See you!”

She waved and headed for the elevator.

The fallen angel closed the door and rushed through the showering process. He wanted to get clean and not getting lost in sulking after all, besides the water never got to the right temperature anyways no matter how long he waited – this was Hell and he had tried, dammit! – and even with his magic he couldn’t quite get it cold enough, not like …

Like …

Anyways.

Cooking with Charlie!

He dressed comfortably, which meant his usual attire minus the coat and hat. Then he cast a simple glamour to hide the scars on his hands.

Just like he did with the old ones every day. He would have to get used to including the new ones in the routine.

Finally, he took a portal to the kitchen. His daughter was already there, sorting ingredients.

“So, what are we making for dinner?”

“We still have a lot of leftovers from the party, but I thought it might be best if you could magic them to stay fresh for the next days? I think what everyone needs right now is a little bit of comfort food … The celebration went well for the most part, but it still was stressful and a lot to handle for everyone. I mean, you and Al had two Code Black’s on your hands, and I confess that was a little scary at the time, so I thought we make some chicken soup!”

She placed a pack of alphabet noodle on the counter with a sheepish smile.

Chicken soup with alphabet noodles. He had made that for her when she was little, one of her favourite dishes. They would search for the right letters to spell words and short sentences, giggling and cooing and barely getting any food down.

“You know, that sounds like an excellent idea, duckling”, he said, smiling softly at her.

And whatever uncomfortable awkwardness had been between them melted away.

“Give me the chicken, you can start on the vegetables”, he continued, grabbing a kitchen knife.

“Okay! Do you mind turning on the radio for a bit of music?”

Lucifer looked around to see one of Alastor’s signature cathedral style radios up on a shelf.

“Oh, but it’s not broadcast time, is it?”

Wait … when had he memorized the broadcast schedule?

“I don’t think so, but that’s not a problem! Al set up a frequency for the hotel only, and it plays music non-stop! Just set it to 66.9!”

The Devil did as instructed and the radio crackled to live, soft music filling the air.

🎶 Like fire beneath the ice
An inevitable demise
Standing on the edge jumping into hurt
Time and time again, I will never learn

And I should cut all the ties, let it burn
And walk away from you
There's beauty in suffering when you love
Someone you're scared to lose 🎶

Lucifer started working on the chicken while Charlie chopped carrots, talking excitedly about the re-opening celebration. The King listened and smiled, the sound of her voice full of sparkling joy being all he needed to feel content.
But then the song caught his attention.

🎶 I know I'm dancing with the devil
Ain't no chance of heaven, going straight to hell
I know I'm dancing with the devil
Darken up my heaven, brighten up my hell 🎶

He was instantly reminded of his dance with Alastor. Or, dances. Plural.

It didn’t help that Charlie broached the topic as well, either due to the song or just because she went through her retelling of the evening more or less chronologically.

“ – and his voice as he sang, gosh, he has a good voice for radio, doesn’t he, and when you two danced, that looked SO GOOD, you two where the perfect pairing for the dance floor, and I’m so, SO proud of you two for getting along now, I mean you did for the evening at least, but surely you guys have buried the hatchet for good now, right? And – “

“I …. guess …?”, he said absent-mindedly.

Her voice got swallowed by the song again.

🎶 Hear the sirens in the air
All the warning signs were there
When I feel your touch, it burns my skin
Echoing sublime, it spreads within

And I should cut all the ties, let it burn
And walk away from you
This predator I let in knows my heart
There's nothing I can do

I know I'm dancing with the devil
Ain't no chance of heaven, going straight to hell
I know I'm dancing with the devil
Darken up my heaven, brighten up my hell 🎶

His hands worked on autopilot, as was his mouth, encouraging Charlie here and there to continue to talk. Not that he really heard any of it anymore, though. His mind was elsewhere.

🎶 This passion is a blasphemy
My second lung, my enemy
I know I'm dancing with the devil
Darken up my heaven, brighten up my hell

I oppose my pride, my dignity
And this hold you got, it smothers me
In my narrow boots, on rocky ground
Is where my angels fly 🎶

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Alastor? This was ridiculous! Theres was nothing besides the ‘dancing line’ that was even remotely applicable.

Nothing at all.

He could already imagine the smug smile on the Radio Demon’s face as he asked Lucifer for a dance to this song, just to humiliate him further for his absurd thoughts …

🎶 I know I'm dancing with the devil
Ain't no chance of heaven, going straight to hell🎶

His hand the demon’s red claws, the skin refreshingly cold this time, without gloves under his own unrestricted body heat …

🎶 I know I'm dancing with the devil
Darken up my heaven, brighten up my hell🎶

… their bodies moving in perfect sync, responding to the slightest of directions. It had been so much fun to dance with Alastor, especially the second time when he’d relinquished the lead. And they called him temptation incarnate, ha! It took two to tango!

If the Devil’s skin weren’t – almost – impenetrable, Lucifer would have cut himself accidentally then and there.

🎶 This passion is a blasphemy
My second lung, my enemy
I know I'm dancing with the devil
Darken up my heaven, brighten up my hell🎶

Tango with the Radio Demon?! Now THAT was a mental image he needed to bury, and only dig up and look at when he wasn’t around his daughter. Better even, when no one was around!

The glint of gold suddenly caught his attention. A reflection of light on his wedding ring.

His stomach turned, like a swarm of butterflies dying all at once and falling to the ground like autumn leaves.

What am I even thinking?

🎶 My hell,
Brighten up my hell 🎶

.
…
.

15 Days since Last Extermination, Heaven, Outer Perimeter

“Mom? When does father come home?”

His mother halted for a moment, the hand on his cheek stilling briefly, before resuming its caress. Her smile softened again, but a glint in her lavender eyes lingered that hadn’t been there before.

She sighed, and Alexis knew then that she was upset with him.

“I told you, love, I don’t know yet. I might have to call on him soon, I might not. For now, there is no need to.”

No need for her. His own wants didn’t matter when it came to his father. Alexis was old enough to understand that fact, though he didn’t understand the reason.

“Why can’t you just call him now?”, he pouted, against his better judgment.

Lilith sighed again, and this time her annoyance wasn’t as hidden anymore. She pulled the duvet higher, tucking him in neatly.

“We’ve been over this. He’s helping your sister with an important task.”

Of course he knew why his father was away, it had taken so much effort to pry that information out of her. Relentless questioning, and countless non-answers of getting told not to worry, that he didn’t need to know. He had accepted it at first, but when days turned into weeks and then months, something inside him had reared its head that he hadn’t known before. Something stubborn, something resentful, something that couldn’t accept being denied what he longed for over and over again.

Because despite is mother’s insistence, the waiting hadn’t gotten easier with time.

The next time Lilith refused to explain, he hadn’t backed down. It had been the first time the boy had screamed at his mother. It had been liberating and frightening at the same time.

Her shock had worn off quickly, and the Queen had given as good as she got. Alexis didn’t even remember the words anymore, neither hers nor his own. Soon enough he had only screamed back because he was yelled at, the topic almost forgotten, any reasoning long gone. He only remembered the burning rage in his stomach, the ringing in his ears from his own distorted voice, and the hot tears that stung his eyes after he had stomped off into his room and thrown the door with all the force his little body could muster.

Oh, how well he remembered the tears.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed when his mother knocked on his door that evening. Alexis hadn’t responded, and so she had let herself in. She had talked to him in her softest voice, and it had soothed him as it always did.

But it had taken much longer than before.

Finally, he had gotten some answers, although he could feel that there were still things she withheld from him. But the revelation that there existed another part of his family in that place called ‘Hell’ he had heard about before from his father, and that she had sent him there … it had occupied his mind for a long time. And still did, truth be told, sprouting more questions he was hesitant to ask.

A hesitancy that was replaced with jealousy in moments like this.

“Why does she need MY father for that? You said she has her own!”

It hurt so much … Alexis felt fresh tears well up and turned quickly on his side, his back towards his mother, to not let her see him cry. His father never cried, even when mother was mean to him, even when she hurt him in the basement.

“She has, sweetie, but … Charlie’s father isn’t there to help her out, and Hell is a very dangerous place –“

“I don’t care! It’s not fair that she gets mine!”

Pulling the duvet over his head, Alexis curled in on himself and bit his lower lip to hide his sobs. Surely she couldn’t see him trembling through the thick cover, nor hear his whimpers.

He was well hidden … right? Just because he could feel her hand on his shoulder through the fabric, that didn’t mean his mother knew …

Right?

“Alexis, sweetheart … I didn’t send Alastor to be Charlie’s dad, I sent him to help with work, nothing else.”

He didn’t want to hear it, so he covered his ears with his hands, pinning them against his head. It did work, his mother said something else he couldn’t understand. After a moment, the weight on his shoulder was gone, as was the dip in the mattress behind his back. Still, the little demon didn’t take his hands off his ears, but stayed as he was, crying as quietly as he could until the air grew too hot and thick for him to bear any longer.

Alexis turned around and poked his head out.

His mother had left the room. He was alone, as he had wanted to be, and yet … he didn’t know how to feel about it.

Relieved. But also … disappointed. Angry. Sad.

Mostly sad.

Alexis wiped his face dry with the sleeves of his blue pajamas. Then he tip-toed over to his desk to fetch the radio, ignoring the strewn about crayons and only feeling the tiniest bit guilty about not putting them back in the box as he should.

He sat the radio on his pillow, then got on his knees to reach under the bed. Feeling around for a few heartbeats, his claws caught on something soft, revealing a stuffed animal when he pulled it from its hiding place.

It was an odd creature, like a cross between a duck and a beaver – Alexis had been fascinated by its unique combination of features the first time he had read about it during his lessons. Apparently, it was a mammal, but laid eggs, and on top of that it was also venomous. Even its name was strange: platatus or something, Alexis never managed to spell or pronounce it right when he tried.

It was as if during the Creation, somebody had taken some leftover parts and sewn them together.

Which made the fact that this cuddly toy was so obviously stitched together with green glowing threads just … perfect.

Besides, his father had made it for him during the one night he had spent here after that battle he had been injured in, out of the fabric of his torn clothes. There had been no point in repairing them, the deer demon had declared, but an opportunity to ‘salvage something from them’.

“Oh, like what?”

“That will be a surprise, mon cœur, be a little patient.”

He had been plenty patient already, six months that felt like forever, but with his father finally being back, waiting for a surprise didn’t bother him.

He didn’t have to wait long. The stuffed animal had been sitting on his pillow the next morning, its three feet long body made from the pin-striped, red coat fabric, the beak and webbed feet contrasting in black, and buttons for eyes. Alexis had loved it at first sight.

It had been a parting gift. A few hours later, they had said their goodbyes again, at mother’s orders.

Alexis pressed his face into the short neck of the soft creature.

“I miss him so much, Sir Percival. I don’t want to wait another six months …”

What if it took even longer this time? What if the angel-monsters attacked again? What if his father got injured again, but maybe even worse, what if he … if he …

What if he didn’t come home?

The stories his father told him of Hell had never frightened him before – that place was far away, and his father was a powerful Overlord who crushed his enemies under his claws or outright ate them, bowing only to the will of his mother, the Queen. Those tales had been exciting, not terrifying …

Until now.

Until he had helped sew his father split chest back together, the reality of the stories and the many scars had never sunken in.

“What’s that? It’s pulsing funny!”

“That’s my heart, son.”

“Really? Wow! Can I touch it?”

“Oh? Curious, are we? I guess you’re ready for anatomy lessons. Go on then, but be gentle – you could kill me if you’re not careful.”

He had been fascinated. Still was. But now there was also a lingering dread, lurking at the edge of his consciousness and clawing at him in moments like this. Reminding him that his father was not as invincible as he had thought.

Alexis crawled into bed, Sir Percival pressed tightly against his chest and pulled the duvet high. With the radio nestled into the pillow right next to his face, he turned it on to be greeted with crackling static. The boy turned the dials to a specific frequency that held a song trapped.

Another gift.

Gentle guitar notes rang out. Then two voices, singing in sync – the original artist’s, and his father’s recorded over it.

🎶 There's a monster that lives 'neath your bed?
Oh, for crying out loud
It's a futon on the floor, he must be flat as a board
There's a creature that lurks behind the door
Though I've checked there fifteen times
When I leave, then he arrives every night

Tell that monster that lives 'neath your bed
To go somewhere else instead, or you'll kick him in the head
Tell that creature that lurks behind the door
If he knows what's good, he won't come here no more
'Cause you're kicking his butt at the count of four

Goodnight, demon slayer, goodnight
Now it's time to close your tired eyes
There's devils to slay and dragons to ride
If they see you comin', hell, they better hide
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
Goodnight, my little slayer, goodnight 🎶

Alexis closed his eyes, sniffling and trying to keep the tears in. He wanted to pretend that his father was right here, singing directly to him, and that meant that there was no reason for him to cry.

“If you have trouble sleeping, you can listen to this. You’ll want to keep the radio close anyways, for I’ll try to reach out to you as soon as I’m able to.”

“Yes, papa! But … does that mean you’re not coming home soon?”

His father doesn’t answer immediately. The man stands up instead, walking to the door to check the corridor outside the room, ears pinned forward as he listens. When the demon closes the door quietly and walks back to sit on the bed, Alexis knows that he can’t tell his mother about this conversation without his father having to swear him to secrecy. He’s made that mistakes once and don’t want his father to get hurt on his behalf again.

“Mon cœur, I know this is all you’ve ever known … but this is not ‘home’. It’s not mine, and it shouldn’t be yours. We don’t belong here. A golden cage is all this is.”

Alexis frowns in confusion. “You mean the one in the basement?”

His father’s expression changes subtly in a way the little demon can’t name.

“No. You can’t understand it, yet, not until you’ve seen what else this existence has to offer. I’d take you with me, but your mother would never allow it. But don’t you fret, I’ll find a way to set us both free. And then I’ll take you home.”

Alexis snuggled deeper into the bedding, smiling. He wasn’t sure what his father had meant by that, but he liked the sound of it.

🎶 Tell the monster that eats children that you taste bad
And you're sure you'd be the worst he's ever had
If he eats you, don't you fret, just cut him open with an axe
Don't regret it, he deserved it, he's a cad

Tell the harpies that land on your bed post
That at the count of five you'll roast them alive
Tell the Devil it's time you gave him his due
He should go back to hell, he should shake in his shoes
'Cause the mightiest, scariest creature is you

Goodnight, demon slayer, goodnight
Now it's time to close your tired eyes
There's devils to slay and dragons to ride
If they see you coming, hell, they better hide
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
Goodnight, my little slayer, goodnight 🎶

The Devil … that was the King, right? His sister’s father … the one that wasn’t there to help. Alexis wanted so badly to tell him how unfair it was that he had to share his own.

“Papa? What is she like?”

“Who, mon cœur?”

“My sister.”

“Your – … I’m surprised you know of her. Your mother told you?”

Alexis only nods, his face growing hot with guilt over the fight with his mother. His father’s red eyes watch him carefully, and even now the boy remembers thinking that his father can see right through him, that he knows and still doesn’t scold him for it.

“Charlie is … an interesting young lady. Always cheerful, always the optimist and therefore getting disappointed more often than not. She has a good heart, which makes her prone to manipulation. Luckily for her, she also has some decent instincts, but she needs to learn to listen and hone them. I think you might take a liking to her.”

“Oh … so you like her?”

The demon tilts his head in contemplation.

“To a degree. She needs a lot of guidance still. But she is one of the few agreeable souls to be around.”

“I wish I could meet her. Maybe if Charlie wants to, too, mother might allow it?”

But his hopes are crushed when he sees the look in those red eyes.

“I’m afraid, mon cœur, that she doesn’t know about you.”

And that hurts somehow.

“But … why not?”

“Because I can’t tell her about you. Your mother forbade it.”

That hurts even more.

“But –“

His father lifts a hand, signaling him to be quiet as his ears listen intently. And then Alexis hears the footsteps approaching the door as well.

Their actions are well-rehearsed from here on. He’s handed the book they left open and in reach for this very reason, and the little demon starts reading aloud while being observed and corrected when he makes a mistake with the more complicated words. He’s only a few sentences in when the door opens without a knock. He looks up to his mother, who watches them silently for a moment.

“It’s time”, she says, and his stomach drops.

He wanted to know what more he would have been told if his mother hadn’t interrupted. Why couldn’t the other half of their family know that he existed? Why were there so many secrets? Why did only his father ever let him in on at least some of them?
Alexis listened to his father’s voice as the song progressed, and something in the back of his mind whispered to him that there was an answer here if he just listened closely enough, if he could just understand.

🎶 I won't tell you, there's nothing 'neath your bed
I won't sell you that it's all in your head
This world of ours is not as it seems
The monsters are real but there not in your dreams
Learn what you can from the beasts you defeat
You'll need it for some of the people you’ll meet

Goodnight, demon slayer, goodnight
Now it's time to close your tired eyes
There's devils to slay and dragons to ride
If they see you coming, hell, they better hide
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
Goodnight, my little slayer, goodnight

Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight
Goodnight 🎶

“Goodnight, papa”, he whispered, then let the song start again as he tried to drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

18 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

With every day that passed, Alastor was more and more convinced that there would be no punishment. He still expected consequences to some capacity, but as far as chastisements went, the Devil was losing his window of opportunity for swift retribution.

Which meant that the King was plotting a different course of action entirely. The Radio Demon had a few guesses as to what that might look like, and he liked none of them. Then again, it would defeat the point of having repercussions if they were to his liking.

Right now the waiting was what’s grating on his nerves. Making the opponent suffer uncertainty was one of his favourite tactics, and having it used against him is infuriatingly irritating, especially since he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Lucifer in three days now, making it impossible to glean any hint of what to expect by discerning the monarch’s mood.

Which in turn gnawed on his own patience to tolerate other people’s whims, the Overlord meeting today being a prime example. Vox had been there, still seething with the disappointment of his revenge not bringing about the desired result, and trying his best to provoke the Radio Demon into throwing fists right then and there with the way he got personal and far too touchy.

It would have been so easy to rise to the bait, but the cost wouldn’t have been worth the brief satisfaction of putting the TV Demon in his place. Breaking the agreed upon Code of Conduct at the meeting would have banned him or both of them from attending the next one, but where Vox had two ‘colleagues’ to represent his interests, Alastor had none.

Rosie was a trusted friend, sure, but she wasn’t privy to his goals and therefore couldn’t speak on his behalf, nor could her voice alone stand against the remaining Vees. And if Alastor was to be banned from the next meeting, Vox would have made sure to arrange for a vote on some decision that would annoy or handicap the Radio Demon in some way.

So he had contented himself with taunting the flat-faced Overlord with snarky remarks and verbal jabs dripping with sarcasm, and while it had done the trick to drive Vox nearly to bluescreen, it had left the deer demon unsatisfied.

Alastor’s mood was rather foul as he walked up the hill towards the hotel. It was not improved by the car that came up from behind and passed mere inches from him, splashing mud on one of his shoes as it speeded through a puddle from this morning’s acid rain.

The Overlord halted. Red eyes stared at the stains, then narrowed and followed the car’s path up the hill. The vehicle had stopped in front of the hotel, an expensive looking model and polished to a shine. Angel Dust exited the rear seats of the car, staggering as he did so, turning as the engine howled and the car started speeding off.

His smile grew sharper as he watched the vehicle come closer, eyes turning into dials and antlers extending. He twirled his microphone and set it on the ground before him, resting both hands on the top. When the car was close enough to see the driver – a female porcupine demon with blue and green striped spines – through the windshield, Alastor tilted his head with a crack in an impossible angle. He could see the woman frown before the look of sudden shock crossed her face.

Good. Time for her to regret her recklessness.

Tentacles shot out of his back and snatched the car from the street as it was about to pass him. The shadowy appendages coiled around the vehicle, swiftly jamming the doors and blocking the windows and thereby turning the contraption into the metal cage on wheels it truly was, imprisoning its single occupant. The woman’s screams were quickly drowned out by the squeaking and creaking of metal bending under the growing pressure of squeezing tentacles, slowly crushing the car into the shape of an oversized metal cigar.

By the time it was done, blood was seeping through the cracks and bends. A lot of blood. It was quite a lovely sight, the red liquid dripping on the ground like water from a wrung-out cloth.

Alastor reached out to catch a few drops of the sinner’s blood. Licking his fingers clean, the taste of salt and copper soothed some of his gnawing vexation.

There was something missing, though.

Something he didn’t allow his mind to name.

His work being completed, the Overlord flung the remains of what had once been a car downhill towards the city. He didn’t care to look where it crashed outside the hotel’s property boundary.

“Fuck, Smiles! As if Val ain’t pissed off enough already!”, Angel groaned as the Radio Demon approached the entrance, where the spider still stood after having witnessed his little revenge killing.

Alastor couldn’t tell why the porn star hadn’t gone inside yet, waiting for him instead to enter alongside him. Maybe the spider was picking up on some polite mannerisms, which would be quite the agreeable development.

He shot the spider an amused smile.

“And why, pray tell, should I spend even a single thought on that despicable moth’s mood?”

“Because Val’s throwin’ a hissy fit for days now, and he ain’t gonna slow down any time soon if ya givin’ him more reasons to be an insufferable prick!”, Angel complained, throwing the entrance doors open theatrically.

A few heads turned at the dramatic entrance. The hotel had seen a rise in cautious interest after the re-opening celebration. It was a slow trickle of new guests each day, a handful at most, but a steady one for three subsequent days now.

Charlie was ecstatic.

It meant more work for everyone. More cleaning (Niffty was ecstatic, too), more maintenance and paperwork, and of course vetting the newcomers. Charlie didn’t know about the latter, insisting on trusting every new sinner that came to them to do so out of a sincere wish for self-improvement.

Which was of course laughable at best, and undoubtedly dangerous. A sentiment that he shared with their ever-mistrusting former Exorcist, which had led to a surprising and unspoken partnership with regards to the task of ensuring the hotel’s safety. Vaggie wasn’t subtle when it came to gaining information by questioning newcomers, but she was quite observant, and Alastor couldn’t keep an eye on every guest all the time.

Right now, all eyes were on them, but only for a moment. Most sinners knew better than to stare if they wanted to avoid trouble. And although Angel usually welcomed all attention on him, in this moment he didn’t seem to care or even want any of it.

The Overlord gave him a quick look over. The spider demon did look rough, his matted fur barely covering the bite marks and bruises on his skin, not to mention the dried blood and other bodily fluids that still clung to him.

Alastor’s nose crinkled in disgust for a moment before he could school his expression, but the porn star remained unaware of this little slip up, walking a step in front of him and heading straight to the bar.

The Radio Demon followed suit, not entertaining the idea of getting straight back to his hotelier duties at the moment. Besides, it would have been rude to just break off the conversation, and after the unpleasant meeting earlier he could go for a drink anyways.

“Well, my effeminate fellow, I regret to inform you that this appears to be a you problem”, he said as they reached the counter, nodding to Husker’s wordless question to get the usual.

The only other guest at the bar promptly decided to leave them to their business. A smart one, that one.

Angel groaned in annoyance as they sat down on the bar stools, one empty seat separating them as always.

Glasses were placed in front of them, Alastor’s filled with amber rye and the spider’s being clear but still strongly smelling of alcohol. Vodka perhaps.

“You look like shit again”, the bartender commented dryly in Angel’s direction, to which the porn star flipped Husker off in response.

There was a little smirk, however, one that was returned even more subtly by the cat demon. Alastor took note of it with a bit of intrigue and pretended not to have witnessed anything, sipping his drink. Not that he cared much about who his contracted souls got attached to if at all, but it was useful information to have. Less for blackmail, though, and more in the sense of metaphorical thumbscrews.

Just in case a certain bartender dared to step out of line again.

“As if it ain’t enough that Val’s a petty bitch like every time that TV freak is off the rails, now Smiles had ta put the cherry on top of that steamin’ pile of crap and destroy one of his cars the one time I get offered a ride instead of callin’ a frickin’ taxi. What did she do ta ya that had ya goin’ all murder on her anyways?”

“She needed a reminder on the dangers of driving recklessly”, he said, taking another sip. “She got dirt on my shoes.”

Angel’s mouth fell open, he could see it even out of the corner of his eyes.

“She got dirt on yar –“ The spider slumped in his seat, burying his face in all four of his currently visible hands. “For Heavens-fuckin’-sake, Smiles!”

Alastor was certain that Heaven had nothing to do with this, contrary to a particularly annoying Overlord the porn star had briefly alluded to. The Radio Demon didn’t care about Angel’s distress, but he was curious about that, although he would rather bite of his tongue than to ask the question himself.

Luckily, he didn’t need to. He had an employee for that at his disposal.

Husker was already glancing at him when he side-eyed the cat demon. It was both a blessing and a curse how well the bartender knew him, to the point that no words were necessary here, not even a small nod. The former Gambling Overlord just rolled his eyes before addressing the spider.

“The dangers of pissin’ off an Overlord. Know all about that, dontcha”, Husker commented, refilling Angel’s glass after the porn star had downed his drink in one go. “I don’t get what that has ta do with Vox of all people. What, has Valentino caught him cheatin’ or somethin’?”

“Tch, as if Val would give a damn! Na, the flat-head’s still seethin’ about how his stunt at the party didn’t play out like he wanted it to.” Angel turned to look at Alastor, the previous look of annoyed disbelief replaced with a mischievous grin. “I think Vox didn’t know I could hear him, I was half passed out at the time, but he was yellin’ about how ya supposedly played him or somethin’.”

Now that was music to the deer demon’s ears.

“I see.”

“I bet ya did, didn’t ya? Ain’t no way this wasn’t all part of some big fancy-ass plan!”

Alastor’s grin only grew wider.

“Oh, come on, Smiles, ain’t ya leavin’ us hangin’ here, spill some tea!”

He could indulge them, he supposed. It was over and done with, anyways.

“Well, I knew this unflattering footage existed, but since it hadn’t aired yet, Vox was obviously waiting for the right moment to attack my reputation. So, in order to get rid of it sooner rather than later, I made him – oh, what was that little phrase you used for something like that a few weeks ago?”

He donned a contemplative expression to build up his audience’s anticipation, despite knowing exactly what he wanted to say. He had been sitting on that little joke for a while now, waiting for the perfect opportunity. He could be patient, after all.

“Ah, yes, I believe it goes like this”, he continued, clearing his throat for the utmost dramatic effect. “I ‘made him blow his load early’!”

“Pffffff!”

The effect was immediate. Angel spat his drink out a wide spray of fine alcoholic mist, much to the bartender’s dismay. He then proceeded to burst into a laughing fit, trying to gulp down air while simultaneously choking on nothing, continuously slamming one fist on the counter, and shoulders heaving uncontrollably.

Alastor was quite proud to have elicit such a strong reaction out of the porn star. He wondered what Lucifer’s reaction might have been if the King had been present …

Then again, why would that even matter in any way?

“Fuckin’ dammit, Angel! No more work stories when the boss’s around, ya hear me!”, Husker yelled, not at all amused by either the insinuating joke or Angel’s uncontained laughter.

“Are ya kiddin’, Whiskers?!”, the spider complained with a wide grin when he finally managed to breathe again. “I finally got a sex joke from Smiles of all people, an’ ya want me ta give up on that?”

“Oh, don’t fret now, old cat. I’d say that was my load for the next decade.”

Angel choked on his laughter again.

Husker stared at him like he was some sort of alien creature. “Who the fuck are ya, and what have ya done to the Radio Demon?!”

“Let it be known that an old deer can indeed learn new tricks”, the Overlord snickered.

Husker dragged a claw across his face. “Christ, please have mercy on an old cat’s soul!”, he groaned in desperation to the Heavens above with no hope of anybody listening to his prayer.

“Awww, it’s so nice to see you guys having fun!”, Charlie exclaimed as she walked towards the trio, her paramour one step behind her like a second shadow.

The Princess was holding a clipboard with a stack of papers attached to it. She looked tired, but tried to hide it behind a smile that appeared to be genuine but also subdued by worries.

Alastor shot Husker a glance, who raised an eyebrow in response, to which the Radio Demon subtly nodded. It sent the bartender to do his job, and by the time Charlie reached the counter, a bluish-turquoise cocktail was placed before her.

“Here, Princess, ya look like ya need one. Nothing strong, I promise.” The last words were directed more towards Vaggie than Charlie. “Ya want one, too?” This time the cat addressed the former Exorcist directly.

“I’m good”, she dismissed the offer, before adding a quieter “thank you”.

Alastor observed the Princess closely as she tried the cocktail and then sighed contently, her smile growing a little softer.

“Oh, this is really good, Husk, what’s it called?”

“Swimming pool”, the cat demon answered, shrugging as Charlie looked at him owlishly. “Thought you’d be more into sweets. Ya know, like your dad.”

Alastor’s ear twitched. Husker might be onto something here, and not just with regard to the Princess’ cocktail preferences. The way the shine in her eyes dulled a little at the mention of the King was all the confirmation he needed that she was worrying about her father again.

Well done, old cat.

Better still, he didn’t even need to inquire further himself. Leave it to Angel Dust to chase the satiation of his never-ending curiosity.

“Speakin’ of, where is the Short King anyways? Haven’t seen him around in the last few days, did he move back ta the palace?”

With the topic of her worries now unavoidable, Charlie deflated a little.

“No, he hasn’t gone back … yet. It’s just … he does this sometimes, you know? Needing a break, and getting away from … everything.”

‘Everyone’ was what she actually had wanted to say, the Overlord was sure. He knew it from the little pause, and the way her eyes trailed down in what seemed to be shame. Because ‘everyone’ included herself – her father was distancing himself from his daughter again, and Charlie felt guilty for the disappointment that had sparked in her.

So, this was a reoccurring behaviour according to Charlie. When the King got overwhelmed, he locked himself away. Was the discovery of the Wendigo the cause of this? It seemed unlikely for that revelation and the fallen angel’s return to seclusion to be mere coincidences, but if these events were indeed connected by cause and effect, then the Princess knew nothing about it.

Otherwise, she would have confronted him by now. It was safe to assume that the King had kept that information to himself.

“And whatever could be the cause for our King’s sudden reclusion, I wonder? You don’t happen to know why your father is abandoning you again?”

He knew he was poking, but he would rather deal with her anger than her whining. It had the desired effect.

“He isn’t abandoning m– … anyone!” For a moment, her eye colour inverted and her horns grew in defense of her beloved parent. “He’s just …” And then she sighed and deflated again, but underneath the sadness, an ember of ire still glimmered.

“Look, it’s just a bad time right now. Their anniversary was two days ago … or would have been …”

She trailed off again, either unwilling or unable to say more, but she had already revealed enough.

This didn’t have anything to do with him, according to her. Bad timing was all this was. Very well, he could wait a little longer if need be –

“Well, when are we gonna see his Majesty again, ya think? I kinda miss havin’ him around.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Could be days, could be weeks or even months …”

– but not this long! The glass in his hand cracked. Shrill feedback screeched from the bar's radio, and the Overlord quickly changed the station, claiming to switch to a little more up-beat music to lighten the mood.

This just wouldn’t do. There was a deadline he needed to meet, and he could only do so with the King doing his part and building the damn amplifier as he had promised to Charlie.

There was a long silence, no one daring to ask the Princess whether she could do something for her father, because everyone knew that she must have already tried and obviously failed.

And if the King’s beloved daughter couldn’t reach her father and get him out of his misery, who else could?

Well, Alastor wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge.

He needed the little monarch up and running and building the amplifier so he could push his signal into Heaven and reach his son!

Because if he failed in this, the Queen would call him back and he would lose the opportunity to find a way of breaking the soul contract.

And besides … succeeding in this would soothe the growing urge to somehow settle his debt with the fallen angel. There might be no deal forcing his hand, but he still felt compelled to rectify his loss of control and subsequent attack of the monarch. Only now he had the advantage of choosing how to do that, even if he had to repay Lucifer in installments, so to speak, and to be done with it when he wanted to be done.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today, Charlie”, said Vaggie, finally breaking the silence. “You’re overworking yourself already, let’s get to bed early today, hm?” She laid a hand on the Princess’ shoulder and smiled reassuringly. It was reciprocated.

“I guess you’re right. Thanks for the talk, guys. And for the drink, Husk! Goodnight, everyone!”

“’Night!”

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“Sweet dreams!”

Charlie and Vaggie left, and a few moments later Angel retired to his room as well to get himself cleaned up.

Alastor stayed a little longer, not wanting to seem too eager to leave. Even so, Husker seemed to sense that something was bothering the Radio Demon, shooting him glances now and then which the Overlord ignored.

When he finally left the bar, he did so without a word, travelling through his shadow right to the King’s golden door.

Not wasting anymore time, the demon knocked with a flourish – a combination of hard knocks with the knuckles and lighter taps with two claws.

Knock-tap-knock-tap. Pause. Tap-tap-tap.

A little inside joke of his that no one had ever figured out as far as he knew. Mostly because no one cared, and Alastor was content with the thought that this was probably to his amusement alone.

His knocking received no answer, but that didn’t deter him.

The ward that was in place to keep unwanted visitors out was another matter entirely. Alastor was nowhere near powerful enough to burst through the King’s magic.

Perhaps … the Wendigo could. But that would make quite the wrong impression of what the deer demon tried to achieve here.

A bit of persuasion was in order to be let in by the monarch, and the means to do that just so happened to be within reach. There was a radio on the other side of the door. The Radio Demon could feel it.

Dormant. Waiting.

Alastor connected to the device with a thought, turning it on. It crackled to life, the static directed into pulses of noise at the demon’s will.

Bzzzzt-brr-bzzzzt-brr … brr-brr-brr.

Wait. Repeat. He would try to avoid simply barging in if it could be helped.

“Go away.”

Lucifer’s voice was unintelligible from behind the door, but the Overlord could hear him much clearer through the radio, although still muffled. There was no fight in those words.

“I’m afraid I can’t acquiesce to this request, sire. It is rather important that you get out of whatever state you’re currently in”, he crooned through the microphone.

A quiet groan, then silence.

A few minutes passed, before Alastor modulated the static again, indicating that he was still there.

Bzzzzt-brr-bzzzzt-brr. Brr-brr-brr.

Another minute or two, then something … shifted. A subtle change, but one the demon had been waiting for. He tried the doorknob, but the door remained firmly locked.

The ward, however, had been altered.

How curious. Alastor had expected the need to use Charlie’s name first before he was granted entrance. If a little persistence was all it took to break through the fallen angel’s resistance, then why had Charlie relented so easily? The Princess’ stubbornness usually rivaled that of any Overlord. Had she perhaps been subconsciously frightened to confront her father? Or was it the King who couldn’t bear the thought of looking his daughter in the eyes right now?

Whatever the case may be, the Radio Demon was not about to linger on these thoughts for too long and squander the opportunity he was given. Alastor smirked, then entered his shadow to crawl under the door into the King’s chambers.

Emerging on the other side, he was greeted by a combination of living room and workspace in utter chaos. Not the destructive kind, just a cluttered mess.

Papers were strewn about the coffee table in front of the couch and pushed to the edges of the workbench in a loose stack, the topmost documents on the verge of sliding to the ground. Used drinking glasses had been thoughtlessly put down on the surface of whatever furniture been in reach at the time the monarch had been walking or standing there. But most of all …

Mountains of what appeared to be rubber ducks in all shapes and sizes imaginable, and then some. They were mostly stacked closest to the workbench, but that didn’t mean that the rest of the room was in any way free of them. There was simply no place where the eyes could linger and NOT see one of those absurdly childish creations.

Lucifer was nowhere in sight.

However, there was a door leading to an adjacent room. It stood wide open, which was not surprising since the King of Hell normally didn’t seem to have the need to shield his bedroom from view, if that was indeed where the passage led.

What was it with the Morningstars needing to be comforted in their bedrooms? Two times might be a coincidence, but three times was a pattern.

And wouldn’t you know it, here he was again.

The first time had been involuntarily. The second time had been a means to an end, and the favour he had gained had yet to pay off. This time he was here to settle a debt, or at the very least chip away at it.

Third time’s the charm, they say.

Alastor refused to acknowledge the feeling of dread that was building in his chest. Until he reached the threshold of the bedroom and he could no longer ignore it.

If his smile hadn’t been stitched to his face, it might have dropped entirely.

It looked exactly like Lilith’s bedroom in the beach house.

Which led him to believe that both, husband and wife, had copied the bedchamber they had shared in the palace into their new residences for sentimental reasons.

He shouldn’t be here.

But his body didn’t move, his muscles rigid and locked in place, heartbeat and breathing quickening in the rising panic.

And he couldn’t use his powers to escape, because he was forbidden from using that kind of magic in the beach house –

But he wasn’t in the beach house … He was in the Hazbin Hotel!

He could leave at any moment.

He hadn’t been called. He wasn’t even wanted here.

He could leave at any moment.

More importantly, his task was to get the King out of his bed, not join him.

He could leave at any moment.

To think how unfathomably considered Lucifer had been when he had chosen Alastor’s own quarters for their healing session – and unknowingly at that. Had the fallen angel pushed him into this room instead, things might have turned out very differently. Given the chokehold this mere copy of the Queens bedroom had on him right now, Alastor could quietly admit to himself that he probably wouldn’t have been able to think quite as clearly that night.

Alastor forced his mind to latch on to the differences he had overlooked at first glance, to shocked at the similarities, in order to be able to breath. Despite the furniture being the same, the orientation of the room and where things were placed was different. Also of note were the piles of discarded clothes and rubber ducks, the latter having claimed their territory even here (at least the silly bathroom decorations were of some use right now).

And then there was the creator of those little toys himself. Sprawled across the bed on his stomach, all six white and crimson wings out and entangled in the covers. It looked uncomfortable with the way the wings were bent in different and somewhat odd angles, feathers ruffled and sharply bent or outright broken.

Like someone had shot a six-winged swan and tossed the cadaver on the bed, the plumage soaked red with blood …

Reflexively, Alastor’s tongue slithered over his dry lips, wetting them. And just like that, the spell was broken and the icy dread that had washed over him was replaced with hunger.

The memory of the Devil’s taste was still vivid in his mind. The sweet and sour. The apple and the copper. The slice of power pulsing within.

– that burning hand on his chest –

Alas, it wasn’t that easy to compose himself after all. The hunger certainly helped in subduing that unbecoming and pathetic anxiety of his that was more disgust than fear and had no right to hold such a sway over him, but to the demon’s dismay the feeling wasn’t entirely gone like it should have been. It stayed, lingering in the back of his mind and as a tingle in his spine, but at least his body was no longer frozen and his mind was able to focus on important things again.

After he pushed those other distracting feelings aside, that was.

“My, my, what a sight to behold.” The words escaped his mouth with too little mockery and a bit too much sincerity than he liked.

“Why are you here?” A response with only a hint of anger and no fight at all.

It was … unacceptable.

“Need I remind you that you let me in, sire?”

Another groan, this time with a hint of growing frustration. Which meant that the Devil could still be incited.

Now it was up to him to push the right buttons without going overboard.

Alastor stepped further into the room. His tentacles made quick work of the strewn about clothing, piling them next to the bathroom door that stood ajar.

The curtains were drawn, and whether the darkness in the room was comforting or oppressing to the miserable monarch, the demon couldn’t tell. Peeking through the gap, the Overlord made sure that none of Vox’s drones were anywhere in sight before he opened one of the windows to let in what passed in Hell as ‘fresh air’. Even so he was confident that the fallen angel had installed spells to protect against any invasion of privacy around his apple tower, one could never be too careful.

“I must say, given the astonishing difference in demeanour between the creature I danced with and the one wallowing in bed right now, I’m inclined to believe that one of them must be an impostor. Would be a pity if the con-man was the dancer all along … though I suppose that would explain why he was much more agreeable.”

Lucifer stirred. One glowing yellow and red eye blinked into existence, glaring at him. Alastor pretended not to notice, continuing his superficial attempts at clean-up.

“As if there is anybody else who could’ve healed you, asshole.”

Ah, getting somewhere. Alastor suppressed a smirk.

“Well, I’ll take that to mean that it’s the fraud I have in front of me now, yes?”

The glowing eye narrowed. “What do you want?”

Alastor rounded the canopy bed, contemplating which button to push next with his answer, when a glint of something shiny on the carpet caught his attention. A tentacle swept the small object up and into his hand without a second thought.

It was a golden ring.

It was THE ring.

Alastor was aware that he was watched, and therefore the short flicker of his black and red radio dial eyes was a most unwelcome window into the hatred and disgust he felt at the sight of this object that should have meant nothing to him.

It was not a surprise that the King still wore his wedding ring. But so did the Queen.

A token of trust. A promise made manifest. That’s what this symbol of partnership was meant to represent on Earth, and why even have that in Hell if it wasn’t supposed to signify the same at least to some extend?

Lucifer didn’t know about his wife’s broken promises, and Alastor couldn’t tell him, no matter how much Lilith deserved her husband’s resentment. If the fallen angel even were to believe him, that was. And still … he had taken the ring off. Let it fall or perhaps even tossed it to the ground …

When the demon continued to speak, his voice was low and on the brink of distortion.

“What I want? Perhaps I should ask you that question, my King”, he finally said, rolling the ring between his fingers.

“Why did you let me in? Why let me bear witness to the magnitude of your misery? This utter pathetic state of yours?”

He reached for the nightstand, slowly placing the golden band on top, forcing himself not to throw the offending jewellery out the window or through the nearest wall. The sound of the metal touching the wooden surface was quiet, and yet it rang in Alastor’s ears like a gunshot.

“I wonder, truly, whether you try to instil pity in me … or if you wish for me to end you?”

Alastor turned to finally meet the gaze of that one glowing eye. It had widened, the red pupil narrowed into a thin slit, fixated on the demon. It sent a shiver through his spine and a thrill through his soul, the stare more akin to a predator, a monster like the Wendigo. A hint, that the tales about the Devil weren’t all lies spun by Heaven.

And now that he had Lucifer’s undivided attention, Alastor couldn’t for the life of him step back from the path he was on.

Nor did he want to.

“Now that we both know it to be possible … are you contemplating death, sire? To use me as the weapon that ends your suffering and desperation?”

What little twilight of Hell’s night crept in through the gaps in the curtains dimmed even further as power started to leak from the Overlord as his hunger stirred at the mere thought of devouring the fallen angel. It happened subconsciously as the anticipation in the room grew, his body stretching and antlers creaking in preparation for something to happen. Red eyes holding the stare of the King’s, yet he still knew that the muscles in that lithe body were tensing like a snake coiling to strike.

All that was needed for one of them to strike was one last little push. Alastor wasn’t sure anymore if he could hold the Wendigo back if the King were to suddenly give up.

One more push – his next words could make or break the King, but what result he was aiming for, he didn’t know anymore. Both options were enticing, the line between them blurring with the greenness that flickered in and out of his vision.

He could almost taste him again, being so close, looming over the creature that held a sun trapped in its porcelain body.

Alastor had always liked playing with fire, and the flame before him was irresistible.

The Radio Demon’s voice turned into a low whisper, a velvet sheath to cutting words.

“But you can’t allow yourself this escape, can you? Not anymore, that is. Because of your daughter. Having her was Lilith’s idea, wasn’t it? The only way to tether you to life, no matter how unbearable your misery …”

Like she did with me …

“Don’t you worry, my King. I’ll take good care of Charlie when you’re gone –”

The snake struck with vicious ferocity and so fast Alastor couldn’t even try to react. The Devil’s hand was on his throat, lifting him up in the air, choking with an iron grip.

A bright hot flame flickered angrily between the King’s horns. An additional pair of eyes had opened each above and below the regular ones, all six of them black as a void with a single flaming star as a pupil, their gaze piercing his mind and soul.

The wings had flared behind the fallen angel, raising him up, flames dancing across the crimson and white feathers, a row of the same black and starlit eyes having opened along the muscular edges.

Also aflame were the spines and the tip of the thrashing tail, setting the bedding on fire. The flames spread hungrily to the canopy, black smoke crawling across the ceiling in thick clouds. The flickering orange light of the fire cast the Devil in a dancing glow akin to molten gold.

Alastor had never seen a more beautiful creature.

“Glorious”, he rasped, the word a strangled whisper with barely enough airflow to make a sound at all. “There … you are … my King.”

And he meant it. To this being before him, he could bow without humiliation or regret, could worship it as his King or God or Devil or whatever other title it deigned to choose.

He had grabbed the creature’s blackened arm on instinct as it had closed its claw around his throat, a futile attempt at loosening its grip to gain a bit more air while simultaneously relishing the blaze on his skin, but now he forced himself to pry his own claws open. Against his survival instincts that yearned to fight the perceived enemy no matter the odds.

Finger. By. Finger.

Letting his numbing arms fall to his sides.

Submitting willingly, something he had never done before, while his mind grew foggy and his vision blurred from the restriction of airflow.

Trusting in the Devil’s mercy, for he was a being plagued by compassion.

The last image his mind conjured up before darkness swept over him, was of his son.

Chapter Text

18 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

This moment … shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be in this situation, right? It shouldn’t – … no, it couldn’t be happening.

There hadn’t been a dream about this situation. Lucifer had been totally unprepared for this confrontation …. for the direction it would take.

The escalation.

Alastor had done what he did best – prodding and provoking, with words sharp as knives, wielded with surgical precision. How he had known where to place the proverbial blade, the Devil could only guess. It was probably something as simple as deadly instinct.

How fitting for a being that was part Wendigo.

And shockingly effective as well. Something in Lucifer had snapped, to the point that he felt disconnected from himself. Almost as if he was looking at the scene from the outside with morbid curiosity, watching an alien creature respond to the threat that had wounded it.

Holding Alastor by the throat, suspended in the air …

… the demon going limb in his grip …

… on the verge of suffocating …

Was he truly about to kill the Crimson Stag?

By now, he had internalized the knowledge that he shouldn’t do this. Maybe that was why there had been no dream about this situation, no further warning, and perhaps there wouldn’t be any more dreams at all – because their purpose was fulfilled.

Lucifer understood now. He knew the game Roo was playing, knew the danger to the realms, and the consequences.

Which made any action against the Wendigo’s host on his part … a deliberate choice.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

It was surprisingly hard to direct his body to land and lower the tall sinner to the ground. As if his mind and body spoke different languages, the demonic aspects clashing with the more angelic ones he had suppressed for ages. Like … phantom pain, but reversed.

Or trying to be two beings at once.

It felt wrong. And his heart ached because of it.

The fallen angel laid the demon on his back on the carpet and crouched beside him, finally letting go of the thin neck. Alastor’s head rolled to the side, strands of his red and black hair falling over his face, obscuring it. And Lucifer couldn’t help himself – he reached out and gently pushed the hair aside with a single claw to get a better look.

It was strange to see the Radio Demon sleeping … or, well, unconscious. ‘Peaceful’ was a descriptor no one would ever associate with the cannibalistic Overlord, and yet here Lucifer was, thinking just that. It was the smile, he supposed. Although he knew that it was only held in place by stitches, it didn’t look forced right now.

The King found himself wondering whether there was ever a waking moment where Alastor allowed his smile to go soft like this. What circumstances might be needed for such a miracle? If he were to wake him now, would he be able to catch a brief glimpse of that in the blink between consciousness and awareness? Lucifer had half a mind to shake the demon’s shoulder as he imagined him stirring awake, the flames reflected in the red eyes as they opened –

Flames? Oh, uhm, yeah … His bedroom was still on fire. He should do something about that, shouldn’t he?

A wave with a hand extinguished the fire that had consumed half his bedroom, and dissipated the clouds of smoke. A snap with his fingers returned the furniture and decorations – and his rubber ducks! – to their previous state before the blaze.

Turning his focus to theses task, albeit only briefly, had a grounding effect on his mind. The excess of eyes closed, and his demonic features receded, as if restoring his bedchamber did also restore a part of him. The King let another wave of his magic wash over the entirety his rooms to get rid of the ash and soot, mentally continuing the clean-up Alastor had started and setting everything back to ‘normal’, as if the cluttering mess wasn’t the default state –

The radio in the living room warbled and changed the station as the magic touched it. Almost immediately a melancholic female voice rang out.

The Devil stood up at the sound and then froze, listening.

🎶 I've held on for as long as I can
For the ones that I had to defend
I've been strong every day of my life
If she wants, death could take me this time🎶

“Now that we both know it to be possible … are you contemplating death, sire?”

How had Alastor known that? Could he read minds? Did brains emit their thoughts in waves or something? Or was it just that obvious?

Lucifer sat down on the edge of his bed, biting his lower lip. He would be lying if he claimed to not have contemplated his … options.

Was he that predictable? That pathetic?

🎶This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
I used to have strength, but I ran out of hope
I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone
This world is a wasteland
Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go🎶

Option number one: He could end it all by killing Alastor and setting the Wendigo free. Eradicate the whole apple fiasco and the misery that had sprung from it.

No more Heaven or Hell.

No more Earth. No more Life.

For the Wendigo wouldn’t stop after being done with the Seven Rings.

Option number two: Take responsibility. Ensure the Radio Demon’s existence and the continuation of all that was. The good, the bad, and the truly ugly.

Help Charlie with her dream of redemption, no matter how steep that uphill battle was.

Fight through all the suffering that would undoubtedly befall them along the way, because Heaven was unrelentingly stubborn and would fight them tooth and nail for as long as they could.

🎶 If I could just lay my head down and rest
If there was nothing to fight or protect
Maybe then I could finally be free
Maybe death is like falling asleep🎶

Or option number three: He could exit the game, so to speak. Be undone, no more caring and suffering, and leave the uncertainty of the future to those that remained.

To Charlie.

“… I’ll take good care of Charlie when you’re gone …”

It wouldn’t … it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. Lucifer curled in on himself, ashamed to even think that, but the thought was there nonetheless. The fault was his, and therefore he should be at least part of the solution, but what if he only stood in the way?

Wouldn’t it be better if he stepped aside instead of meddling and possibly making everything worse?

It would probably lead back to option one eventually, rather sooner than later if he didn’t tell anyone about the threat that the Wendigo posed. But to be honest, there was no guarantee of successfully preventing that fate even if he tried his best himself. Alastor’s survival wasn’t solely in his hands alone.

Except … that it just had been.

🎶 This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
I used to have strength, but I ran out of hope
I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone
This world is a wasteland🎶

He’d had Alastor by the throat and the demon … hadn’t been afraid. Ears perked forward instead of being pinned back, and eyes wide but not with fear.

With reverence.

“There … you are … my King.”

And then, the sinner had surrendered. Out of all the possible reactions the Radio Demon could have tried, this was the one the Devil had expected the least. To give up all resistance and acknowledge the more powerful predator, and to do it out of admiration of all things.

Only one person had ever looked at him like this – and that had been before the fall. Lilith had still loved him for a long time after their banishment, of that the fallen angel was sure. But the way she looked at him had changed, although it had been a while before he noticed it, and even longer before he had realized what it was: a longing for who he no longer was, and pity for what he had become.

In Alastor’s ruby and red eyes those feelings had been absent. The demon had looked at Lucifer and found him –

“Glorious …”

– flawless.

🎶 I'm not ready to face it
Don't go saying goodbye
There's a beauty in changes
And I wanna try🎶

Replaying those moments over and over in his mind again, he couldn’t hold back the tears.

Not even Charlie looked at him like that, and that was okay, Charlie was his daughter and a different case entirely.

But being looked at like that by someone … anyone … did something to him. Because it felt good, like something missing being returned to him, a shard slotting back into place.

It felt so incredibly good that it hurt.

🎶 This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
If it weren't for you, I'd be here all alone
I know in my heart this is where we belong
This world is a wasteland🎶

It hurt because he felt guilty for the longing in his chest, and he couldn’t even determine what he wanted more: to be seen as the being he was, instead of the Original Sin and Temptation Incarnate, or the person who made him feel seen.

🎶 Don't let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go🎶

Only Lilith had ever been that person (besides Charlie, and again, naturally she had a different perspective entirely), but his wife had left him and now, there was suddenly another.

And of course it had to be Alastor of all people.

Then again, it didn’t make a difference for his guilt who his heart was latching on to. The fact that it did so in the first place was enough. His relationship with Lilith had always had its ups and downs, and even though the rift between them had gotten wider than ever before in the last century, and she had left him AND Charlie without a single word since … surely she wouldn’t stay away forever, right? And they would mend the rift when she did, right? So, all he had to do was wait …

He was supposed to wait, and not –

And not –

He was supposed to wait … but he had taken the ring off, hadn’t he? When his phone had notified him of their anniversary, and his mind was switching back and forth between sorrow and anger, at some point he had ripped the jewelry off …

🎶 Don't let me go🎶

The radio crackled, then repeated the last verse of the song.

🎶 Don't let me go🎶

And again.

🎶 Don't let me go🎶

“Fuck …”

Lucifer turned the radio off with a bit of magic and flopped backwards on his bed. Raking his claws over his face, he felt a few tears escape his eyes and slide down his temples. In his stomach was the looming dread of another decision waiting to be made, one that had nothing to do with the threat of the Wendigo and everything with the sinner the entity was attached to.

“I’m sorry, Lily … I think, I’m – … I – …”

He couldn’t say it, so he turned to the side and curled into a ball instead.

.
…
.

The process of waking up was a slow trickle of consciousness. Like rain drops on well-oiled feathers, pearls of water leaving no trace other than a soothing sensation behind as they ran down.

Only disturbed by a tiny sting of pain now and then, not more than a superficial needle prick on skin, already gone the moment he registered it at all. When the pain faded, it took with it an itch he hadn’t been aware of, its presence only noticeable by its sudden absence.

Then the raindrops returned, running up and down his feathers, one wing at a time, like a shower head moving across –

Was he in the shower? The question sparked a flash of more consciousness. No, he couldn’t be, there was no sound to the trickling water, and the surface he was on felt soft and cushy. That could only mean that he was still in his bed, as he should be.

Luckily the bedding wasn’t wet yet. At some point the sensation of dampness would reach his skin and the moment it did, the pleasant coolness of the raindrops would sadly lose its soothing effect, but until then …

The bedding wasn’t wet. Hu.

Rain … in his bedroom …?

It finally dawned on the fallen angel that what he felt was not water at all.

Those weren’t droplets of rain running down his wings and seeping through the gaps left by broken and bent plumage, but instead claw tips carefully brushing through his feathers.

The gentlest of touches.

Slow.

Delicate.

When they stopped, a tug so soft he only felt a faint sting when the pull was suddenly released as the damaged feather came loose. Lucifer could hear the whisper of the vanes brushing against each other as the broken feather was removed.

The coolness then returned, tenderly raking through the plumage, working its way methodically along the wing. Sorting and rearranging the feathers that were only neglected and could be saved, and plucking those which could not. And where the examining claws found a pin feather trapped in its waxy sheath, they carefully pinched to break the stiff coating and free the newly grown feather.

Lucifer didn’t dare move. He tried to focus on breathing evenly, desperately so as sobs started working their way up his chest and to his throat.

He should be outraged. How dare the sinner lay a hand on him in his sleep! Yet the ire didn’t come, instead he felt grief at the mere thought of the caress ending. Which it eventually did as a silent sob inadvertently escaped him and made his upper torso twitch.
The fingers stilled instantly.

“Don’t stop”, he whispered, hasty and breathless, but otherwise unmoving. “Please.”

Silence.

Stillness.

For a moment, the Devil wondered whether he had imagined it all and Alastor had long since left his rooms.

“You’re awake.” The demon’s voice matched Lucifer’s own whisper.

It was an observation, not a question. The fallen angel didn’t respond to it, but opened his eyes a bit, only to find himself facing away from the Radio Demon.

But in the gap between the curtains, that grew wider as the breeze blew the fabric further apart, he could see the translucent reflection of the deer demon in the window glass.

Alastor sat behind him on the edge of the bed, his torso turned to an uncomfortable degree for him to be able to look at the King and reach out for the sprawled-out wings. One black and red-tipped claw was hovering over his left tertiary wing.

“Am I correct to assume that you’ve been here all night? Watching me?”, he asked, echoing Alastor’s own words from some days ago … at least Lucifer hoped that it hadn’t been more than a week, fuck, as always he had no clue how much time had passed before Alastor had showed up.

In the reflection, Alastor’s smile widened in what the King assumed was amusement. It also looked softer, but that had to be an effect of the glass’s slight distortion.

“Apparently, you are.”

Finally, the hand resumed its ministrations. The fallen angel’s breath hitched again involuntarily.

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Because riling you up has only been temporary successful at getting you out of bed – and out of that miserable state of mind of yours.”

“But why you?”

“Must I remind you, my King, that you’ve let no one else in?”

Shit … that was true, wasn’t it. Charlie had tried, he’d been aware of that, and he had been unable to face her. Alastor was the only other soul who had tried, and for some reason the King had lifted the ward.

Lucifer had let the red sinner in, into his rooms and into his –…

He dared not finish that thought.

“So, all that just to get a rise out of me? You really are crazy. Don’t know why that still surprises me.”

Alastor chuckled.

“Might be one of your better qualities, in fact”, the King added.

“Well, now you outright flatter me, sire! Shall I take that as a sign that you feel better?”

Lucifer contemplated the question for a few moments. “Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly comforting. Companiable even. It was … nice?

Oh, who the fuck was he kidding – to an angel, letting someone else preen one’s wings was almost as intimate as having sex! ‘Nice’ was an insult to the feelings this evoked in him. Mates did that for each other! Lilith had done it for him, and it should have dawned on him that her love was truly fading when she stopped tending to his wings.

Alastor wasn’t aware of any of this, of course, and Lucifer should have stopped him the moment he realized what the sinner was doing.

But of course, the Devil kept his mouth shut to take advantage of the demon’s ignorance regarding angelic courtship rituals customs for his own comfort or else those delicate and gentle touches would undoubtedly vanish in an instant and be lost to him forever.

He didn’t want that to happen, yet he needed to bring up another topic, one that would probably go over badly with the prideful Radio Demon and ruin the moment. The King thought about being even more selfish and waiting for the preening to be finished before addressing the issue, but exploiting Alastor in that way any longer gnawed at him as much as the topic itself did. Better to rip the band aid off and deal with the pain now, before he changed his mind.

Lucifer drew in a long breath to brace himself.

“Does your owner know about the Wendigo?”

A record screech pierced the silence. The claws between his feathers twitched and tugged sharply as the demon flinched. In the window’s reflection he could see Alastor’s eyes wide with shock and turning into red radio dials, ears pinned back. His smile was pulled into a sharp snarl, but one of defense instead of attack. Like a cornered animal.

A moment passed. Then another.

The Overlord slowly withdrew his hand, and Lucifer exhaled mournfully.

“You … know?!” The Radio Demon’s voice was thick with static.

Lucifer finally turned around and sat up, knees drawn close to his chest and arms wrapping around his legs. As he moved, Alastor stood up from the bed and took a step back, putting space between himself and the King. The demon’s posture was rigid, his body language screaming of wariness, although he tried to hide it behind his usual gentlemanly behaviour with both hands held behind his back.

The shift from intimate companion (although somewhat unknowingly) to distrusting stranger wasn’t unexpected, but what surprised Lucifer was how much it hurt to witness this transformation and have it directed at him.

His wings reflexively wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Well, with my hand on your throat earlier, it was kinda hart to miss.”

Alastor said nothing, but his eyes – back to his normal ruby on red by now – were observing him without blinking. As if they were searching for something.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, though. If that’s what you were hoping.”

“I would be lying if I said that this possibility didn’t cross my mind”, the deer demon replied after a moment. “But I didn’t hope for it. I generally don’t do that. It’s dangerous.”

The King raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that me breaking your contract wasn’t your goal all along?”

“If it were, I would have brought it up sooner. Perhaps claimed that the attack against you had been ordered by my leash holder, to urge you into breaking the chain. Or maybe I would have approached you even sooner, my only offer in payment to leave the hotel and Charlie, to never again be a thorn in your side. Something like that.”

Again, Alastor seemed to choose his words carefully. But that didn’t make them ring less true.

“Or maybe your owner forbade you from asking me for help.”

The Radio Demon tilted his head. His smile grew a little, but it also became less strained.

“As you can probably imagine, I can’t speak to that.”

“Yeah. Guess you can’t tell me who your owner is, either.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“So, you don’t know.”

Lucifer sighed. “No, I don’t. Which means your owner is either very powerful, or extremely talented in cloaking spells. And if you would answer my first question, I might be able to narrow it down even further.”

To his surprise, the demon seemed to relax a bit at that. Was it perhaps dangerous for him to have his owner found out, so much so that the revelation that the Devil didn’t yet know was a relief?

Alastor seemed to mull over the words he wanted to use, which meant that he was right to assume that the sinner was restricted in what information he could reveal.

“They are certainly aware of the Wendigo”, he finally admitted.

Fuck.

That almost certainly excluded any other Overlords, except maybe those who were older and well versed in magic, and in turn it put the Goetia and Sins well into the spotlight.

Damn, he had been out of the picture for far too long.

“So … we have someone powerful, who knows the game well enough to be clever about the fact that they have a Wendigo on their leash. It’s unclear, however, whether they know what that entails. Well, unclear to me, at least, since you can’t spill the beans.”

The Overlord remained silent. Which was a Yes in Lucifer’s books.

“Shit. Honestly, I can’t possibly imagine what could have been worth selling your soul for. You’re a deal maker yourself, you should have known better, especially with your … entanglement!”

Alastor’s hair bristled like the fur of an angry animal.

“Silly me, indeed! Whatever was I thinking when I did that!”, he sneered, red eyes glaring at the fallen angel.

Hu, that was not the reaction he had expected. The blunt mockery in the filtered voice made his stomach churn with dread, as the blatantly obvious implication suddenly sank in.

“The contract was forced on you …”

“Of course it was!” Alastor didn’t try to hide his wrath anymore. His antlers creaked and gained two more prongs, and on the wall behind him his shadow loomed with sharp teeth.

“But the rules of dealmaking dictate to be able to make a choice! To have a benefit for both sides to make them fair – “

“And you think there aren’t ways to circumvent those rules?! I could snatch any demon from the street and persuade them into selling me their soul in return for some insignificant gain, with sweet lies and casually cleaning my claws with an angelic knife while talking! The value of things is determined differently for each individual, and fairness is was people make it to be!”

Lucifer had known, of course, he didn't believe himself that ignorant and this was Hell … But he had closed his eyes from this. Had tried to ease the pain and guilt this knowledge caused by telling himself that it came down to free will at the end, and that every soul had the right to make their own mistakes.

Over time, the refusal to look at the ugliness of things had made him blind to the reality he lived in.

“Frankly, for you to think that I would throw my freedom away so carelessly is insulting!”

“I …”, he started, but there was no excuse or explanation he had to offer. “You’re right, I didn’t consider …”

The demon huffed, clearly still vexed and not at all mollified by such a weak admission.

“Yes, well, it is painfully obvious by now how little you care about the goings-on in your domain!”

And that hurt, ouch, the deadliest weapon the Radio Demon possessed might just be his ability to shape words into blades and stick them between the fifth and sixth rib directly into the heart.

“Wow, when you offered to kill me, you didn’t say anything about torture, asshole!”

Alastor’s ears drew back, and his fury was replaced with a flicker of regret before he turned his head to the side to avert his gaze. The shadow receded, and his antlers shrunk back to their normal size.

Lucifer didn’t know where to look after their eye contact was broken, or what to do to make the silence less daunting.

“Was that a genuine offer, by the way?”

It was a thought said out loud, mortification setting in the moment he realized that the words had slipped his tongue. He didn’t know why his thoughts had circled back to this – or rather, he did know how that had come about, but not why that weighed so heavily on his mind.

Out of the corner of his sight, he saw the Overlord turn his head back to face him. Red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Killing you?” There was a pause, a chance for the King to deny the implication, but when he didn’t, the demon continued. “If that truly is what you wish for … yes.”

There was a flicker of green in the gaze, instantly swallowed by red again.

“But I’d rather not.”>

Lucifer tried desperately to ignore the flutter his heart did at those words.

“And why’s that?” He wanted it to come out a little mockingly, or teasing, but his voice fell weak.

Another pause, a little too long, and it made the fallen angel’s thoughts spiral in all the right and wrong ways. By Father, he was such a mess, emotions pulling him in different directions and tearing him apart from the inside.

“Charlie needs you.”

And that was true, and grounding. The best answer Alastor could have given him, and still … a part of him was unsatisfied. Disappointed.

He shouldn’t focus on that.

“She has grown so much … And I’m so proud of the woman she’s become. Do you really think she needs me anymore?”

“I do.”

“How? Did you have children when you were alive?”

There was another flicker in Alastor’s eyes, this time without the green but still there and gone before the King could glean anything from it. His ears twitched.

“No. But I was a child once, and by the time I was an adult, I still wanted for my mother to be in my life. So even if you think your daughter doesn’t need you anymore, be assured that she still wants you to be there for her.”

Lucifer was unsure if he could believe that it was this easy, but he certainly wanted to. And if Charlie was even half as happy to see him as it was the other way round, then it had to be true. He just needed to remind himself of this and push any doubts away – with ‘just’ being the understatement of the millennia.

He was bad at that, and he knew it. He –

“Do you have any more questions for me, sire?”

The Devil blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. His gaze found Alastor’s, who now looked almost annoyed or impatient.

“I mean, lots of … but can you even answer them?”

The Overlord’s smile was thin. “Unlikely.”

The King let out a sigh, then hesitated.

“There might be a way … to get the information out of you, without you telling me …”

Red eyes narrowed.

“Are you referring to this memory scrying ability Angel talked about?”

“Oh, he told you?”

“Indeed. He approached me two days ago with the intent to apologies for his behaviour during the celebration. Utterly nonsensical, yet interestingly enough, he confessed that you helped him regain certain memories.”

“Yeah …”

And undoubtedly, the red sinner had questioned the spider demon about the details of what had happened, because Lucifer didn’t explain anything and yet the Radio Demon didn’t inquire any further now.

“I’m afraid I can’t consent to that option”, Alastor finally said, a hint of a warning growl in his voice.

Lucifer was disappointed, but not surprised. Maybe the sinner simply couldn’t allow the fallen angel to scry his mind due to the orders given to him by his owner, or perhaps he simply didn’t wish for the Devil to glean more information than needed. After all, what would stop him from discovering any and all secrets the Overlord had the moment he connected to the demon’s mind?

Nothing.

And Alastor must have come to the same conclusion, because Lucifer watched his stance change slightly, barely anything more than a shift of body weight, but it had a visible effect on his whole posture. The demon was bracing himself for an attack, for the King to assault the demon and take by force what information he wanted …

Lucifer was horrified by the mere idea. Appalled that Alastor thought him capable of something this loathsome, but the flame of anger that rose at this assumption was quickly drowned in the ice-cold realization that the demon had every reason to expect such a repulsive act – because somebody had already done something similar to the sinner.

Some puzzle pieces slotted into place. The forced soul deal. Alastor’s carved bones, which now seemed like an obvious attempt at subduing the Wendigo, probably to gain control over it. The fact that the Overlord hadn’t devoured the souls of the sinners he had preyed upon – because he was forbidden to.

The fallen angel felt bile rise in his throat. He closed his eyes and swallowed the acid back down, before locking eyes with the deer demon again.

“Alright. I won’t try, then.”

The red eyes searched the King’s face for signs of deception. There were none of course, but he could only hope that the Overlord came to the same conclusion.

“What?”

“There are other ways to find out about your owner, I’m sure. It will just take more time … but I don’t think it’s that urgent right now.”

Because there had been no hint of the deal even existing in his dreams. No collar, no chains, and nothing more metaphorical even. If he hadn’t felt the magic around Alastor’s neck earlier, he still wouldn’t know, and his dreams seemed to have been content with that. The Crimson Stag was not in imminent danger because of his leash.

The Radio Demon considered him, and to the Devil’s silent relief, slowly relaxed.

“I … see.”

No, he didn’t, and it was evident in his voice, too. Alastor didn’t understand, but he did accept the truth of the fallen angel’s decision not to intrude on his mind. At least for now, and that was fine for Lucifer.

There were probably more questions to ask, questions some of which the red sinner surely could answer if not many, provided he chose the right wording. But that required a lot of thinking and his mind – and soul – was exhausted by now

“Alright then, I think that covers the basics for now, I guess … You, uhm, probably have some hotel stuff to do, so … uh … thank you for stopping by?”

Alastor stared at him, ears and smile twitching in a rapidly. If he had to put a label on the demon’s expression, he might have described it as ‘conflicted’, but why the Hell would that be the case?

“No.”

The King blinked owlishly. “Uh, what?”

“As far as dismissals go, this one lacks conviction. You’re clearly not yet in the right state of mind to be all by yourself again, so no, I won’t be leaving now.”

The Devil could only gawk as the Radio Demon stepped closer to the edge of the bed.

“Besides”, he continued, bending forward, “I’m not done with these.”

The demon reached for Lucifer’s wings, a single claw tracing the bent shape of a damaged flight feather with only a whisper of a touch.

Lucifer’s breath hitched, every thought coming to a stop and dissolving until only one remained.

A wish.

A want.

A need.

Their eyes met.

“May I?”

A whisper. Answered by another, similarly quiet word.

“Sure.”

Alastor seated himself back on the bed, his eyes leaving the King’s gaze to study the feathers as his hand combed through the plumage.

Cool and gentle like rain drops.

The fallen angel rested his head on his knees, facing away from the demon but watching him in the window’s reflection. Maybe it was due to this seeming privacy that Alastor allowed his sharp features to grow soft with content, while the King secretly observed.

There it was. The miracle he had wondered about, the circumstances required for that soft, genuine smile to occur

And it was only with his face hidden like this that he let some silent tears run fre

He had been so sure that he had lost … this possibility.

After some time, the Radio Demon started to hum. Lucifer didn’t know the song, but the melody settled somewhere in his chest.

Right behind the fifth and sixth rib.

.
…
.

Alastor didn’t pay attention to how much time passed. A part of him despised how transfixed his mind was by those magnificent wings, the feathers a beautiful mix of white and crimson and brimming with the Devil’s essence.

Combing through the plumage with his claws was like catching flames with bare hands.

Touching them was a pull he couldn’t resist, the need comparable to his hunger. The realization had frightened him at first, and if the fallen angel had been awake at that moment after Alastor regained consciousness and found the King sprawled on his bed, he wouldn’t have dared to even step closer.

But as it was, all he had wanted to do was sate his curiosity while he had the chance.

He knew it was wrong. After all, anyone daring to lay a hand on him while sleeping would lose more than that hand.

The Radio Demon had been ashamed of the urge to steal that experience anyway, and mortified that he went through with it.

Surprisingly, one of the broken feathers had gotten loose even under the mere ghost of a touch, which made him study the state of the wings more closely.

The clear neglect was, to put it mildly, unacceptable.

Intolerable.

Unbearable.

Offending.

And here he was now, preening the Devil’s wings with his permission, despite Lucifer knowing about his bound soul. The fact that the King wasn’t aware of Lilith’s involvement was the only thing that allowed the demon to keep this for the time being … whatever ‘this’ was. The relationship between the fallen angel and him had certainly changed in the previous weeks and more so in the last few days, but he couldn’t find the right word to name it.

His insides coiled when he tried.

Then again, Alastor had always despised labels, and sometimes even went out of his way to prevent fitting into any of them.

Perhaps that was true for the King of Hell as well, for the little monarch subverted Alastor’s expectations at almost every step. Right now, what baffled him most was Lucifer’s apparent lack of concern for who Alastor’s owner was. From the Devil’s point of view, shouldn’t he be worried about the dangers of what instructions he might be under, or what orders he could receive in the future?

Or … did the fallen angel already know about Lilith, and had feigned ignorance? Was that the reason he expected no harm to come to him or Charlie or the hotel, and therefore saw no need for precautionary measures?

But even if that were to be the case, Lucifer surely didn’t know about Alexis. Alastor couldn’t imagine that the King would be indifferent to his wife cheating, or the existence of a royal bastard.

Maybe he expected too much of a human reaction from a being that, per definition, wasn’t human at all … The Devil had never shown him anything else than sincere consideration when it truly mattered, however loud or taunting or threatening the King tried to be when they bickered and jabbed at each other. At his core, Lucifer was still an angel - he had to be, for Hell to exist as his eternal punishment

Whatever the case, whether the monarch did or didn’t know, whatever this was they had or didn't have, it would all fall apart eventually, one way or another. It was inevitable, really, only a matter of time.

But until then, he could savour this a little longer.

Chapter Text

32 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

A week passed before Alastor found himself settled into a new nightly routine, and another before he actively allowed the thought that he liked it.

The King had emerged from his quarters a day after the Radio Demon had stepped foot into his rooms, much to the relief and elation of his daughter. He had given no real explanation for his absence, stumbling for words as he tried to vaguely excuse his actions – or rather inactions – while Charlie simultaneously assured him that she understood, both falling over each other’s words until a snarky remark from the deer demon interrupted them. Something along the lines of how ‘thinking big thoughts must be exhausting work for such a small head’, that had the Devil spewing fire and Charlie reprimanding him while the Overlord snickered behind his newspaper, coffee mug in hand, finally extending a mock apology that not even the Princess could mistake for being sincere.

No word of Alastor being even near the little monarch in the last twenty-four hours, and that was exactly as he wanted that incident to be handled, lest more questions he neither could nor wanted to answer would arise. A sentiment he counted on the fallen angel to share, and he was proven correct.

Everything went back to normal after that. Or almost everything. There was a small adjustment to his schedule.

At first, Alastor had just wanted to make sure that the Devil didn’t fall right back into his depressive mental state, so he came by Lucifer’s suite after hours. Just to check on him, as he stated to the surprised King, and maybe offer his services in preening the fallen angel’s wings, since it was simply impossible to have them be in proper shape after just one sitting, given the neglected state they were in.

‘Sound body, sound mind’ was one of the philosophies Charlie preached in her lessons, an argument that worked quite well with regards to the little monarch.

No need to be so flustered about it in the demon’s opinion, although Lucifer did look delectable with that golden flush on his cheeks –

This was getting out of hand. It was one thing to keep the fallen angel in mind to achieve his goals, but another to have him constantly be the subject of his thoughts.

He needed to focus. Which was why he had buried any attempt at prolonging his evening visits beyond the three days it took to finish the preening, and had forced himself to stay away and in his own quarters the night after.

Only, that shortly after midnight, there had been a hesitant knock on his door.

And standing on the other side was the Devil himself.

Flustered. Again.

Babbling on about how he had thought about their conversation last night, and that he had some new opinions and ideas about the topic, and perhaps Alastor might want to continue the talk over a glass of rye?

Of course, he had also brought a bottle of whiskey, the same they had shared out of the Radio Demon’s private stash when discussing the Wendigo.

The Overlord knew that he should have shut the King down then and there. Put an end to this …

fondness

friendship

… thing growing between them, before it could fester into …

affection

desire

… something else!

He could almost see the threads of fate at that moment, one branch of a tree about to wither and die the moment he chose to let Lucifer in or close the door in his face. It was a horrible prospect to have possible futures laid out that bare before him, knowing that he would inevitably suffer for it at some point – either by being punished by Lilith for even a sliver of closeness to the King, or regretting not to have taken everything he could when he had the chance.

The memory of a coal-hot hand on his chest and flame-touched feathers between his fingers made this decision a subconscious one.

Alastor had stepped aside and invited the Devil in.

They did this every evening from there on. One of them would knock on the other’s door to chat, to listen or even play music, to have a drink. During the second week the focus of their shared hours started to shift from actively entertaining each other to quieter companionship while one of them worked; Alastor preparing his broadcasts or paperwork for the hotel, Lucifer on a rubber duck or – more importantly – the amplifier.

Which was the only reason why the demon sought out the King in the first place, Alastor reminded himself. It was to make sure that the Devil remembered his promised help in this endeavour, and nothing else.

The domesticity of it all was frighteningly comfortable utterly abhorrent, only a means to an end he had to endure.

That’s what he told himself anyways, and if he repeated that mantra often enough, that surely would make it come true.

It had to.

The other hotel residents didn’t know, of course, and that was for the better. The days were marked by bickering and exchanging jabs between King and hotelier, but after nightfall and in the privacy of their quarters, the bickering became banter or even intellectual disputes, the sharpness of their taunts dulled like claws filed round.

Alastor almost had the equivalent of a stroke one night when he looked up from his book to glance at the fallen angel tinkering at his workbench, and the image of Alexis pestering the King with endless questions about what he was doing flashed before his eyes.

It was a glimpse into a ‘What if …?’ that would never be for various reasons, yet still had him choking on nothing but air. It was a clear warning sign that he had overlooked the cracks in his walls for too long, and now they were crumbling.

Half a year and now a month again of not daring to think about his son for more than a fleeting moment, to keep his existence secret and not let a single word slip on accident.

Of pretending to still be the same man from seven years ago before the Queen had leashed him.

Of hiding the desperation that drove him forward behind a smile and playing the game like he held all the cards and a joker on top.

And now here he was discussing music over a Royal Game of Ur (an ancient and surprisingly strategic race board game with four-sided dices and a set of stone pieces for each player) with the Devil, who knew the truth about what he was and what precarious situation he was in, and who still had decided not to add any weight to the load the Overlord was shouldering.

Hope was lurking dangerously close. He couldn’t allow it to infect him.

But his resolve to disengage and break this closeness to the monarch crumbled like his walls.

.
…
.

“Uhm, Al? Can I ask you something?”

The demon’s ear twitched at the nickname as if trying to swat away a particularly nasty fly. Hearing that moniker out of the King’s mouth was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to, no matter how natural it already felt.

Alastor turned his head slightly to glance at the fallen angel, his hands flying over the piano keys without interruption. His smile twisted into a wolfish smirk, and he could see the moment Lucifer realized his mistake.

“I don’t know, my King –“

“Don’t!”

“– can you?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes with a groan, letting his head fall back theatrically while Alastor snickered in delight. For all his unpredictability when it came to important decisions, small reactions like this stayed consistent.

“Alright, forget I said anything, asshole!”, the King pouted and returned his focus to his project.

The demon didn’t yet know what the little monarch was working on tonight, or maybe he was switching between multiple projects again as he often did when too many ideas sparked in that blonde head, but he certainly would find out before he made his leave. The fallen angel could never hold himself back from showing off the progress on or finalization of a new creation, praise-starved creature that he was, to the point that not even Alastor’s brutal honesty had deterred him as of yet. If anything, the King seemed to take it as a challenge.

“As you wish, sire”, the Radio Demon replied overly obedient and kept on playing, eyes studying the sheet music in front of him, but one ear turned in the Devil’s direction.

He knew it bothered the fallen angel when he let a topic fall because he had been asked to, despite knowing perfectly well that Lucifer hadn’t meant what he had said, and now it gnawed at the Devil that Alastor had still followed through with it.

Was it a little petty? Sure. Was it delicious to know that the Devil was silently seething in the proverbial corner he had backed himself into? Absolutely!

“If your thoughts get any louder, sire, you might as well just try and ask your question again.”

“What, curious now?”, the King scoffed, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he threw Alastor a sideways glance.

The demon smirked. “To know what’s going on in that pretty blonde head of yours? Always!”

He stopped his play to pick up a pencil and write down some additional notes on the music sheet he was working on.

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?”, cooed the Devil in a teasing sing-song voice.

“Of course I do, or else I would have chosen different words.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Lucifer was gawking at him the way he always did when his mind needed a moment to process the information.

“Wait, you’re serious?!”

The Overlord sighed and abandoned the piano keys in order to turn around on the stool and face the blushing King straight on.

“My King, beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, as the saying goes, but anyone gazing at your humanoid form and not thinking it pleasant to the eyes, need those eyes either checked or gauged out. And that is without mentioning your more marvelous features you tend to hide most of the time, let alone the truly stunningly beautiful display the other night. So yes, I’m indeed serious.”

The fallen angel’s face had turned such a deep shade of gold that he almost resembled one of his rubber ducks. The King’s lower lip was trembling as he stared teary-eyed at the deer demon, whose ears slowly turned sideways at the sight, taken aback.

Now it was Alastor’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Oh please, my King, compose yourself, will you? I’m merely stating facts, nothing more!”

“Of course”, Lucifer stated weakly, covering his face with his hands. “Just facts …”*

The Devil let his head fall back again, breathing in and out in a manner akin to some of Charlie’s exercises.

Alastor’s eyes were glued to the exposed throat.

The Adam’s apple bobbed when the fallen angel swallowed. It made the demon’s teeth ache, and the growing tension in his muscles released in a flinch when the monarch suddenly leaned forward and pinched the bridge between his closed eyes.

“Sorry, I … It’s been a while since somebody said … uhm …” The Devil cleared his throat, finally looking around but still unable to reestablish eye contact. “… something like that, you know … to me …”

“I suspected as much.”

Starved for praise indeed, as much as Alastor was for souls.

Lucifer was still battling with his overflowing feelings, so the Radio Demon decided to give his mind a little push to get back on track.

He did that a lot lately, and it would have been a blatant lie to claim that he didn’t relish in the feeling of power that came with it. Subtle and fleeting as it might be, but to influence the direction the thoughts of the most powerful being in Hell took? It was like a string-thin leash, barely more than a mere illusion of control, and yet it was thrilling nonetheless.

“Since this is now cleared up, would you be so inclined to tell me what you wanted to ask, sire?”

The fallen angel blinked a few times, eyes staring into nothing.

“I … shit, I forgot …”

Of course ...

He should have expected as much. It took Alastor some effort not to sigh. He summoned his microphone instead, setting it down at his side with a twirl.

“Hmm, joke’s on me, I guess.”

His microphone played a badum-tss, followed by canned laughter.

“Then again, if you forgot that easily, it couldn’t have been that important. So, I shall thank you for sparing me some insignificant nonsense.”

“Hey!”

And there he had the Devil back where he wanted him: in the moment, able to focus.

“And since you’re unable to recall your question, I shall do the honours and carry this conversation as always. So tell me, my King, how fares your project? What are you working on tonight anyways?”

Lucifer looked at his workbench, where the object in question sat, obscured by his body.

“The amplifier … and I think I’m almost done, actually”, he said pensively.

The demon’s ears perked up. “May I see?” Alastor stood from his stool and walked over to the Devil without waiting for an answer, but the fallen angel did not try to hide his work.

The object appeared to be the size of a baseball, but instead of being spherical, its surface was composed of twenty golden equilateral triangles. They seemed to be layered upon a hidden core like plates of protective armor, their smooth and shiny surface each marked with the charcoal scribble of a different rune. Copper spikes protruded the small gaps at each of the corners.

Alastor studied the object with wonder and confusion.

“I must confess, I didn’t expect the amplifier to look like this. It surely doesn’t resemble any device I have ever encountered, alive or dead.”

The King chuckled. “Well, this amplifier isn’t technology in the human sense. This is a magical artifact that works like an amplifier. Or ... that’s what its purpose is, anyways.”

“Still, why an icosahedron? It looks like one of those odd dices Niffty collects for this strange monster killing game she’s so fond of. It’s called ‘Caverns and Chimeras’ if memory serves.”

“Uhm, well …” Lucifer hesitated, but whatever made him reconsider whether he should answer or not, he ultimately shrugged it off.

“There are different types of magic – I’m sure you’re aware – and I don’t simply mean ‘angelic’ and ‘demonic’. That may be the most important division, sure, but in terms of how the magic is … worked with and understood … that’s something you have to pay attention to if you want to achieve something more than just a simple spell.”

The King paused and looked up, searching for any indication in Alastor’s expression that the demon understood.

“Go on, sire, be assured that if any form of clarification is needed, I will not hesitate to ask.”

To say that the Radio Demon was intrigued was an understatement. Here was the Devil himself, eager to share his knowledge again about something that could be tremendously dangerous in the hands of a well-versed magic user like Alastor.

“Your magic, for example, is wild and chaotic. It’s a form of spiritual magic – and I don’t mean anything faith-related. I’m talking ‘spiritual’ as in spirit-like. ‘Natural’ would be another way to call it.”

“Is that because of me practicing voodoo in life?”

“Probably, yeah. You see, spiritual magic is closely related to a soul’s inherent magic potential. As is ‘arcane’ magic, but both are different ends of a scale … like the gray between white and black, you know?”

“Hmm, yes, I understand. A soul’s magic abilities tend to lean either into the spiritual direction or the arcane, which is a more scholar approach, I believe. That might explain why I always struggled with some types of spells and instructions, since I found them quite counter-intuitive.”

“Oh yes, if you’re leaning heavily into either form of practicing, the other tends to escape you more and more”, the King agreed.

“It would be advantageous then to be proficient in both, it seems.”

“In theory, sure, but trying to follow both paths will only ever cover the basics and prevent you from getting really powerful or even exceptional in the long run, since you’ll never open yourself up and deepen your understanding in either form of magic.”

“I see.” Alastor pondered for a moment, then reached for a discarded piece of paper and a quill. “May I entertain a thought?”

The Devil didn’t protest and only watched intently as the Overlord leaned down to write ‘soul’ in the middle of the paper. Alastor then drew an arrow to the left to have it point at the word ‘spiritual’, and another to the right with the word ‘arcane’. Without hesitation, he also drew a third arrow pointing upward towards ‘angelic’, and a fourth downward with the notation ‘demonic’.

The demon lay the quill down and straightened up, tilting his head questioningly at the fallen angel.

The Devil grinned. “I knew you’d be a natural!”

And Alastor was glad that Lucifer immediately turned to look at his creation again while continuing his explanation, and therefore didn’t see the way the demon’s ears shuttered as he tried to force them to remain still, nor the flush on his cheeks as he felt a sudden heat rise and spread over his face.

“Yes, each soul also has the potential for angelic and demonic magic, but those don’t get ‘unlocked’, if you will, until you are exposed to either the realm of Heaven or Hell. And when they are, the don’t replace the other two potentials, but … colour them? Flavour them? Something like that, you know what I mean.”

“That’s all fascinating, truly, but what does that have to do with the shape of the amplifier?”

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to that now! So, angelic magic is profoundly symbolic. To understand and practice it, you have to look at what you want to achieve through a ‘cosmic order’ lens.”

The Radio Demon tilted his head again. “Are you talking astrology and numerology now?”

“Yes! You humans don’t have it all figured out correctly, I mean how could you, but you mortals got the gist of it without being taught, and that’s hella impressive! Humans tend to associate character traits with these fields of magic and that’s where you guys take a wrong turn and make a jumbled mess out of it, I’m afraid, but whatever. Let’s see … Tell me, where on the scale would you put astrology and numerology?”

“Oh please, am I put through a school exam now?”, Alastor huffed in fake annoyance, hiding the fact that he was having fun despite the growing impatience to get to the point of it all.

“C’mon, Al, humor me!” Meanwhile, the King was obviously thriving in the role of teacher. It made the demon wonder whether the fallen angel had ever gotten the chance of teaching his daughter anything of what he deemed meaningful.

“Well, obviously astrology is a form of spiritual magic, with the configuration of stars and planets being a part of nature, while numerology would fall into the scholastic and therefore arcane approach”, he complied with a sigh. “So with this icosahedron, you’ve chosen the numbers twenty, due to the number of sides the object has, and the number three with regards to the triangles. To what effect?”

“The twenty can be broken down into two and zero. The two stands for duality of course, but also for connecting two things –“

“Like sender and receiver!”, the Radio Demon blurted out, struck with sudden realization.

“Exactly! Which is precisely what we’re trying to do!”

“And the zero?”

Alastor did appreciate the power of symbolism, as it was a form of magic his own powers could work quite well with. Blood, bones, organs and meat were a source of power directly as well as indirectly in voodoo and any form of spiritual cannibalism, as did other things like certain plants, a black rooster, or grave dirt, to name only a few. He had never thought of numbers in this way, but now his mind quickly caught on in finding numerical references that could yield power. He already had some ideas for the number three, but the zero eluded him.

“The zero … listen, don’t laugh now, but the zero in angelic numerology functions as an amplifier for the number it’s attached to, in this case the two”, the King explained, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Alastor blinked.

“You’re building an amplifier –“

“Yes …?”

“– using a number that literally amplifies in general –”

“Yep …”

“– and in this case, amplifies connection.”

“Sounds dumb, I know, but this is how it works! You need to think about your intention and what the elements of your goal are in order to choose the right … way to go about it!”

“Hmm.” There was some elegance to this approach, he supposed. “I can see the rationale behind it, but I would certainly not choose numbers if symbolism is what’s required.”

“Yeah, you don’t strike me as that type either. Not much blood involved in this”, the Devil snickered.

“Indeed. So, is the number three bestowed with the meanings I think it is?”

“Well, what are you thinking?”

“The holy trinity, for example – Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Or more mundane: body, mind, soul. Sun, moon, Earth. Shall I go on?”

Lucifer smirked. “You’re not wrong there, the number three does symbolize all these triads, and more. It’s a powerful number in general, that’s why chants and evocations are almost always done ‘thrice spoken’. In our case, it represents the three realms: Heaven, Earth, and Hell, since that’s what we’re trying to connect – even if the plan is just to reach Heaven, to not take a third existing realm into consideration could lead to unexpected and undoubtedly unpleasant interferences.”

“Sire, are you implying that this will allow me to reach Earth as well?”

Lucifer leaned back and let out a sigh. “Well, in theory it should. But that’s if it works at all and … that’s where I’m a little hesitant to be optimistic.”

“That sounds like you’re not having much faith in your own creation.”

The fallen angel frowned. “It’s not that. The design is right, I know it is. The problem lies in the materials, and the clashing of your demonic essence with the angelic magical principles we just talked about.”

“While that sounds logical as a base principle, would you enlighten me as to the details, my King?”

The King exhaled in a heavy sigh that carried all his frustrations about the problem he tried to solve with it. Alastor took the moment to take a step closer to the workbench, turning around and leaning with his lower back against the edge, only barely not outright sitting on it. If Lucifer noticed, intently staring at the amplifier as he was, he didn’t react to the demon.

“Well, I’m sure it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that materials – in addition to their actual magical properties – also carry significant meaning when creating a ritual or an artefact.”

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes. “Naturally. I’m not some fawn who tries to enchant cold iron and wonders why the spell won’t stick.”

Lucifer smirked again. He reached for the amplifier and turned his hand palm-side up, and then suspended the object in the air with a bit of magic. A flick of the wrist pulled the golden triangular plates apart, exposing the innards of the King’s creation around which they now hovered.

“Tell me what you glean from this, then.”

Alastor flashed his teeth in a wide grin, accepting the challenge. The Overlord leaned a little closer to the amplifier, studying its parts.

The innermost core appeared to be a glass marble with the diameter of a golf ball, encased in a delicately woven net of silver wire. The thin needle-like shape of the copper spikes extended into the core, piercing the marble, their pointed tips connecting in the center. Strings of silver wire coiled around them from the point the needles entered the core and upwards where to where they would protrude the outer shell if the plates were assembled.

“Copper and silver are both highly responsive to magic, easy to enchant. They’re also highly conductive, therefore energy transfer is fast and potent. But while silver is used for transformation, copper allows for the balancing of different energy potentials … or forms.”

The demon paused, contemplating. He felt the King’s eyes on him and had to keep himself from glancing over and catching the fallen angel’s expression. It would have made the impression that he was looking for confirmation when he was in fact highly confident in his assessment. And so, he continued:

“You’re trying to transfer energy between the core and the outside, transforming it along the way and balancing out any potential surges, probably in an attempt to smoothen the process and preventing any kind of damage. I guess this is what you were referring to when you mentioned the demonic and angelic aspects clashing?”

Lucifer nodded, the smile gone again and his expression grim. “Yeah. What we’re – what YOU are trying to do is not only reach Heaven, but to also … I don’t know exactly, circumvent Heaven’s shields? I doubt you could break through, and you definitely shouldn’t try, but how exactly to get by, I can’t tell you. You’ll have to try and figure it out.”

The King bit his lower lip, worry evident on his angelic face, but Alastor couldn’t discern whether the monarch was concerned with him failing to pass the shields, or about Heaven’s reaction to the intrusion. If the fallen angel was having second thoughts now about this whole idea and his involvement, Alastor would have to make sure to redirect his focus into keeping his promise to Charlie.

“Well, sire, that is a problem for another time, isn’t it? The amplifier must be finished first. Speaking of, I must confess that I’m unsure what to make of the glass core. Scrying isn’t the artifact’s purpose, and doesn’t quite fit the surrounding components.”

“Oh, well, that’s because it’s just a placeholder, actually…”, Lucifer rushed to clarify, blushing again from embarrassment. “The core needs to be infused with demonic essence and … uhm … it should be yours, preferably, so …”

Alastor’s instincts told him to recoil at the mere notion of handing over something of himself. A piece of himself in capable hands could be dangerous, acting as a conduit for spells and rituals aimed at the Radio Demon, which is why he took great care to shield himself from such attempts as much as possible.

With Lucifer, though, this instinct was a mere whisper in the back of his mind, acknowledged but ignored. It didn’t stop his ears from folding back for a brief moment, though, a reaction the Devil noticed and quickly addressed.

“But I get it if that’s a no-go, really, I can substitute with something a little less personal, you know, maybe a piece of a brick form the walls of your rooms, you’re living there for a while now, right, the floor boards would also be imbued with your power’s aura, or maybe –“

The Radio Demon summoned the broken stump of his shed antlers in a flickering swirl of black and green power. “I believe this would suffice, my King?”

The Devil’s eyes grew wide. “But –“

“– I shouldn’t do this? Oh please, not trusting you with this would be an insult by now, wouldn’t it? You know about the Wendigo, you know about …”, Alastor gestured at his neck with a grimace, “… this. Every enemy of mine would have bend over backwards by now to use this knowledge against me and take me down, but you haven’t. And we both know that you don’t need a piece of bone or a vial of blood in order to overpower me any time you want.”

Still holding out the antler stump, he urged the King to take the dark piece of bone with an impatient movement of the hand. The fallen angel finally reached for it with lingering hesitancy, and when their fingertips brushed against each other by accident, the demon was overcome with the sudden urge to not let go yet.

“This is the best material for the artifact’s core in order for the amplifier to function as intended, correct?”, he asked, gripping the antler fragment tightly.

Dragging out the moment just a little bit, like touching a candle flame without retracting the finger at the sensation of heat.

Lucifer wasn’t quick to respond this time, though. Or maybe it was just a heartbeat after all, only stretching in his own mind, before the King nodded slightly.

“Yes.”

“Good. We both want this to succeed.” He forced his hand to open and let go. “Is there anything else you need from me?”, the demon added with a cheer as if he had just served the King his tea instead of handing him the means to improve his creation.

“Actually … I told you a while ago that I would need to inspect your radio tower, remember?”

Now Alastor tensed. Which was ridiculous, considering everything that had happened, and he had just told the King as much! Had just handed him a piece of his antlers without any reservation whatsoever!

“I do remember. You said you needed to get a feel for how my magic works when doing a broadcast.”

“Exactly that. See here”, Lucifer directed both their attention back at the amplifier, specifically at the golden triangular plates still hovering around the inner components, “I have marked down the runes that I think will be needed, but I’m not sure on some of them, which is why I haven’t started with engraving them yet. The placement is also crucial, but to get the arrangement right I need to feel the natural flow of your power when broadcasting.”

It was a sensible explanation, the Radio Demon could acknowledge that. There was really no good reason to deny the King’s request, especially since he had already agreed to it the first time this topic had come up. He’d rather die than suffer the humiliation of walking back on his word. His apprehension of having Lucifer in his radio tower to witness him doing what he did best, what he was named after, was rather nonsensical. What did it matter that only ever victims had entered, never to leave? The whole Words Left Unspoken project relied on guests being part of the program.

Back then, the request had caught him off-guard, that was all. But after the events that had transpired since that evening, the rapport between the fallen angel and the Overlord had changed quite significantly. It would be rather foolish to go back on all that development over a bit of something akin to stage fright, wouldn’t it?

And with that realization finally sinking in truly, Alastor’s shoulders relaxed again.

“I see. I recognize some of these runes, but judging by the general style of those I’m not familiar with, they are angelic in nature?”

Maybe the King could sense his change in demeanor, even if only subconsciously, because the little monarch relaxed, too, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth upwards.

“They are; they need to be for the shell to function as a shield between the demonic core and Heaven’s angelic magic, and as the first layer of conversion, redirecting the holy energy to the copper spikes to start the transformation instead of, uhm, trying to shred anything demonic it comes into contact with.”

“That’s why you used gold – to anchor and enhance the protective qualities. But this isn’t ordinary gold, isn’t it?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

“You’re perceptive – no, it’s not. It’s angelic gold, which might cause problems on its own … but ordinary gold is just not potent enough for the power level we’re talking about.”

That alone should probably be cause for serious concern, and yet, all Alastor felt was excitement. He couldn’t wait to try out the amplifier and experience that power firsthand.

And just like that, Lucifer’s visit that would enable him to finish the artifact couldn’t come soon enough. Which proved how comfortable he had become around the Devil utterly unreasonable his hesitation had been.

“Well then, it seems that being a live audience at my broadcast would be the next step in pushing this project towards success, yes? Would the coming morning broadcast be agreeable to you, my King?”

Lucifer blinked in surprise and glanced at the grandfather clock.

“But that’s in a few hours!”

The demon tilted his head, swallowing a growl at the objection. “Is that too short of a notice? Would you prefer another date and time?”

“No!”, the fallen angel almost shouted, his face turning a golden hue again with regards to his own outburst. ”I mean, uhm, don’t you need to prepare … or something?”

Adorable.

“Indeed, which is why I will leave you to your work now, sire, since you have a core to craft, while I set the stage, so to speak.”

A flick of a red-tipped claw let the radio on the workbench spark to life, filling the room instantly with a soft jazz melody to keep the King company. Alastor then pushed away from the workbench, pleased to find that Lucifer turned in his seat to follow him with his eyes, no further protest to the invite on his lips. Alastor turned with a flourish in true showmanship, twirling his microphone and setting it down in a sharp movement, both hands folding at the top.

“I’ll see you at five fifteen, sharp! I bid you farewell until then, my King. Ta-ta!”

His shadows enveloped him, pulling him out of the Devil’s sight, but certainly not out of his mind.

Chapter Text

33 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Appointments really weren’t Lucifer’s strong suit. Punctuality depended on the ability to keep track of time, and the fallen angel couldn’t deny a rather obvious … lack thereof.

Which meant that any time he had an important – like really, really important – meeting or duty that required of him to be in a specific place at a very specific time, his anxiety tended to spike through the proverbial roof.

Lucifer was fine while working on the amplifier’s core, his mind focused on honing down the antler stump into the right size and shape. He was amazed to find that the black colouration reached all the way through the inner compact bone layer, only bleaching out into the typical off-white bone colour towards the softer cancellous bone center. It made for a beautiful black and whiteish marble, and that the presence – and blending – of theses colours could be interpreted as symbolic for what the amplifier was intended to do, was not lost on the Devil.

Inserting the copper needles was delicate work that took the most time. It would have been quite tiresome for an ordinary mind to stay focused this long, but Lucifer’s mind was that of an archangel made for creation – staying hyper-focused did not fatigue him. Not while creating, at least, his mind would present the bill later when the work was done.

Not knowing what to do with himself was what frayed his thoughts and will. In theory there was plenty for him to do, and he knew that, but trying to govern the people in his domain seemed … pointless. If redemption were indeed possible, then there would actually be a reason for establishing order and enacting change, then there would be a purpose in ruling Hell.

But without a reachable goal to work towards, the fallen angel couldn’t bring himself to even start. Thankfully, Charlie wasn’t burdened with this … deficiency of his. He could leave it to her to try and achieve redemption for sinners, while he concentrated on preventing the Wendigo from destroying everything she worked for.

See, that was a task his mind could get behind: he knew who and where the Wendigo was, now he could make sure it didn’t devour all of Hell. That sounded easier than it was, sure, but it was doable. Alastor being alive was a clear goal post, even if it was a moving one, changing directions and turning corners and clawing its way over – or, more likely for the red sinner, through – obstacles. But the alternative was treading water without any idea which direction to find land, and that’s where Lucifer was just doomed to drown …

And for as long as Alastor stayed at the hotel, the King could even spend time with his daughter and help her where he could, while also keeping an eye on the deer demon. It was a blessing –

– long fingers carding through his feathers, cool and gentle as raindrops –

– and a curse to have both of them living and working at the same location. Obviously, that made it easier for him to watch over two people at the same time, but on the other hand the occurrence of problems was nearly guaranteed.

Because Alastor hadn’t come to the hotel on his own accord, he had been sent. Lucifer hadn’t asked, but he was certain nonetheless. The Radio Demon had confirmed that the owner of his soul knew what he was, and to then let the red sinner roam around and give him the opportunity to seek out the Princess of Hell in order to find a way to free himself, without said owner knowing or even caring about this possibility? Yeah, right, fat chance …

No, the demon had been sent. Perhaps Alastor didn’t even know the end goal of his owner, but he had surely been given instructions. As of now, those instructions didn’t seem to harm Charlie or her project in any way, but that could change.

He needed to set some safety measures before that change came. There was no way to prevent Alastor from acting on any orders he might get, but the fallen angel could make sure that he knew what was coming in advance to the blow landing.

And may Father have mercy on that leash holder’s soul, because the Devil would have none if there was ever an order given to hurt Charlie in any way …

Lucifer set the amplifier down before the surging heat of his ire could reach his fingertips and ruin the whole project by melting its components.

That would be a disaster now, wouldn’t it, especially if he ruined the core after being trusted with such a valuable material, even if Alastor’s reasoning behind this trust was based more in cold logic than pure faith in the King’s benevolence. Besides, the whole point of that visit was the finalization of the artifact after the morning broadcast and not a complete do-over because the Devil couldn’t keep his emotions in check.

That would be quite humiliating.

Not as bad as another broken promise, nothing more than a delay in upholding his word, but that would only be a small consolation. It would still feel like a failure, disappointing her faith in him again.

Alastor would surely mock him relentlessly over it, and rightfully so.

To think that it was the Radio Demon of all people to take care of the fallen angel in his most miserable state. The demon could have stayed in his role of calling Lucifer out on the deadbeat dad that he was, the incarnation of Charlie’s resentments towards her absentee father, telling Lucifer to his face what she probably thought but never would have the heart to say out loud.

Maybe the sinner’s care did only stem from an inert sense of obligation due to the healing and the attack, even if they had agreed that no debt was owed. Maybe that was truly all there was to this … companionship between them, a sinner indulging his King until his pride was satisfied. Maybe it was all over as soon as Alastor laid hands on the amplifier, or maybe the demon would feel indebted again and the artifact bought Lucifer another week or two of nightly visits.

That thought cooled down any wrath boiling in the King’s stomach.

He didn’t want to buy Alastor’s time. He enjoyed their shared evenings too much by now to accept them as just being some kind of service. It was an unbearable sentiment and a true token of how pathetic he was, starved for a sliver of friendship to the point that he clung to the first being that gifted him with a bit of attention –

“Stop it!”

Lucifer blinked in confusion, for a moment unable to discern whether the voice had been spoken into his ear or only sounded in his head. But for once, his mind was quick to latch onto the memory that was clawing its way from the depths of his consciousness to the forefront.

“Stop it!” A snarl, Alastor looming over him, clearly upset.

“Stop what?” Confusion, the last train of thought thoroughly derailed and crashed.

“Firstly, to make assumptions about me. Secondly, to humiliate yourself with this self-derogatory speech. It’s quite unbecoming to a King.”

Alastor had said that to him after the revelation about the demon’s true nature and his connection to Roo, when the King had spiraled and run his mouth without thinking.

Not unlike he had started to now, just without the talking aloud part. And how fitting those words were then and currently, because here he was again, making assumptions and getting caught in a thought spiral.

If the last two weeks had taught him anything about the red sinner, then that he meant what he said, no matter how convoluted he had chosen his words.

Case in point: Alastor’s ‘I’m merely stating facts’-compliment from earlier.

Lucifer was blushing again just from remembering it.

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I do, or else I would have chosen different words.”

By Father, he had just meant to tease a little, to garnish the gentlemanly Overlord’s own words with a sprinkle of innuendo and maybe make him fluster a bit, oh wouldn’t that have been a sight to behold? But it had backfired in the very best way, and now the fallen angel didn’t know what to do with that aching, fluttering heart of his.

There was no need for this level of sincerity if Alastor was only paying off a perceived debt.

There was especially no need to seek him out at all after placing his afterlife in the Devil’s claws. If anything, that alone should have made them even, shouldn’t it?

Leave it to the Radio Demon to be right again without even being physically here …

The thought made Lucifer chuckle, and finally what was left of his inner turmoil subsided completely.

A glance at the grandfather clock told him that he had a little over an hour left before Alastor expected him, so he could just start at getting ready. Which he was done with far quicker than he anticipated, leaving him to find ways to pass the time.

Without losing track of time, of course, and well, that was the tricky part.

The fallen angel didn’t dare start a new rubber duck project, because that was guaranteed to get him into trouble for being late.

Hu, by the way, was he expected to bring something else other than the amplifier? Oh, no, this wasn’t a social visit, silly him, this was work related if anything. Besides, they had spent the night in each other’s rooms for two weeks now, no wait, that wasn’t how that sounded, anyways, even if he had never been to the radio tower before, that was still technically a part of Alastor’s rooms, right –

Shit, could that damn clock handle move a little faster, PLEASE?!

This was stupid, he was getting worked up over nothing again! It would be fine, of course it would, he just needed to be a well-behaved guest and that he could do, no problem!

He checked his outfit again, just to occupy himself.

Boots polished? Check. Suit and pants in order, creases only where fashion allowed them? Double-check. Hat –

He should probably do without the hat. Alastor hated that thing.

Lucifer vanished the accessory and arranged some loose strands of hair back where they belonged.

Yeah, that was better, and – HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE TIME!

The King portalled directly in front of the metal door next to Alastor’s quarters. It was an ugly thing that didn’t fit the rest of the hallways aesthetics, or that of the rest of the hotel for that matter. Lucifer knew that he had installed one of the regular doors there during the rebuilding, but of course the Radio Demon had taken it upon himself to change it the moment he had re-taken residency in the new building.

It had vexed him, of course, back then when he still didn’t know anything about the red sinner other than his dreams were centered around him.

But now he had to admit that the crude metal door with words ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter here!’* scratched in by claws was indeed a good fit – not to the hotel, but to the demon whose domain the door led to.

Lucifer lifted a hand to knock, but the door opened before his fist could hit the metal. It was only for a brief moment, but Alastor looked surprised to see him and that but a wide grin on the Devil’s face – see, he could get his shit together and be punctual, and in his books that was a big fat win!

“My King! Welcome to my radio tower!”, the demon greeted him with flair, stepping aside to hold the door open and bowing in a swift, practiced motion.

Stepping into the Radio Demon’s tower was like stepping into another world. As the door shut behind him with proper creaking and an echoing thud, one could easily believe to have entered an unknown part of Hell.

Setting foot into the bayou had a similar effect, but the swamp and the tower couldn’t be more different.

The walls were made of steel plates, bolted together like the hull of a cargo ship. Lucifer distinctly remembered installing them at Charlie’s behest, only loosely adhering to Husk’s and Niffty’s tips for the construction – yes, he had been reluctant at that time, sue him – but the metal had been new. Literally new, as in being conjured-out-of-nothing new.

But now they were rusty, as if the tower had always been here for decades. And maybe in a metaphysical way it always had been, because this tower was as much a part of Alastor as his microphone was.

The air was thick with static as the King ascended the metal stair well, the Radio Demon one step behind him and still looming, yeah, those scratched in words were no joke, were they?

Emerging from the stairs, Lucifer entered a single spacious room that housed the radio station. The control panel was placed directly in the middle underneath the tooth-shaped panoramic windows, allowing for a great view over the city while Alastor did his broadcast. Speakers were nestled at the edge between the wall and the ceiling for sound checks, shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling and along the walls were filled with records, neatly sorted by the decade of publishing and artist.

There was no apparent source of light other than Hell’s sky and a few lit buttons and displays at the control panel.

A coat rack made of regular deer antlers stood next to the entrance, but other than that, there usually didn’t seem to be much furniture included. Lucifer was quite confident with this assessment, since he recognized the armchair and side table that had been set up to the side as the ones normally situated at the hearth in the demon’s rooms.

There was a mug with steaming coffee waiting for him, alongside a jug of milk and a sugar bowl because of course Alastor remembered how he liked his coffee – the colour of hot cocoa and just as sweet. But the cherry on top was the plate with cookies, the same cookies the fallen angel had hidden away in the pantry, and how in Heaven and Hell had the red sinner found out about those?!

Alastor gave him a small tour – it’s only one room and one control panel, after all – explaining his modus operandi in setting up a broadcast. How to do a sound test, how to prevent audio feedback, how to cue the music. The Overlord didn’t go into great detail due to the short time they had before the start of the morning program, but Lucifer didn’t mind. He was primarily here to feel how Alastor’s magic worked together with his setup, not to learn how to replicate a broadcast on his own.

“Now then, sire, only a minute left before the show starts, so please remember to stay silent during the broadcast. If there’s anything you need details on, I’ve provided you with a notepad to pass your question in writing, and I’ll answer during a music break. Now, please have a seat and enjoy the program!”

And that’s what he did. Taking a sip of his coffee and summoning the amplifier (because he had left the artifact behind on his workbench when he rushed to the radio tower …) while the Radio Demon sat down at his control panel and flipped the ‘On Air’ sign to life.
“Salutations, ladies and gentlemen, scoundrels and ne’er-do wells! It is I, Alastor the Radio Demon, gracing your ears with the morning broadcast, bringing to you the latest news, the spiciest rumors, and the most soul-piercing music for you wayward sinners to question all you’re life’s and afterlife’s choices –“

Lucifer wondered briefly how Alastor got his ‘latest news’ and ‘spicy rumors’ day in and day out, but that was a question for another time.

The fallen angel made himself comfortable, letting the artifact hover before him as he closed his eyes and opened his mind to the surrounding magic.

RED was the first impression he got. RED, so much RED, vibrating all around him. An ocean of blood, rust on the walls and copper in the air, sounds carried by waves in this sea of buzzing RED, weaving into currents of words and melodies. Tides of noise coming in and out, simultaneously, and in the center the Radio Demon, not all RED but also BLACK and GREEN, directing the flow like the moon or a conductor, whatever degree of control he desired in the given moment.

The ’chad’-rune will do nicely here, yes, thought as much, the King nodded to himself as he directed his magic to carve the symbol into one of the golden triangles.

Despite the colour red being usually associated with fire and heat, Alastor’s magic didn’t feel warm, but cold – an influence of the Wendigo perhaps, since the airwaves didn’t care for any kind of temperature, but the Wendigo was of Roo’s Darkness, of the void beyond. Lucifer had to remind himself to focus on the task at hand and to not get swept away …

It was a good thing he hadn’t engraved the runes by merely guessing which might work, see, the omad-rune could have been disastrous, rhûn was a much better choice!

Alastor didn’t have control over all the airwaves all at once, or else there wouldn’t have been any need for the amplifier in the first place. As Lucifer expanded his consciousness to determine the demon’s reach, he realized that there was a multitude of frequencies the Overlord left untouched by his broadcast, but that appeared to be a deliberate choice at the moment.

Still, he wanted to make sure, so he slipped the Overlord a paper during the advice segment of the program (“ ‘Squirrel-with-a-dagger’ asks: How do I avoid getting fucked over by a shitty deal?’ Well, Squirrel, let me put it this way – if you can’t improve your language, you should better keep your fucking mouth shut, haha!”):

‘Can you manipulate every frequency or just a certain range?’ – ‘All of them.’

‘Can you control every receiving device?’ – ‘If it’s in range. Some are easier than others.’

Ah yes, Alastor wasn’t a fan of modern technology, and this might be one of the reasons why …

The issue was not access to a certain frequency range, but that the demon’s powers literally were stretched thin and thinner as the airwaves traveled through the ether, until they escaped Alastor’s influence. Which meant that in theory, he was already able to form a message and send it towards Heaven or Earth, but by the time it got there, Alastor’s control was long since gone and the signal got blocked by the Veil or Heaven’s shields.

And with that, the Devil knew everything he needed to finish the rune setup.

The rest was child’s play. Once the more crucial decisions about the rune framework were made, everything else fell in line naturally. Engraving, rotating, placing – Lucifer still took great care with each of the golden triangular segments, but all in all the work was done rather quickly.

Or that’s how it felt like. Time had flown by with the pleasant background noise of Alastor’s broadcast, and maybe he really had lingered a bit longer than he’d wanted to engulfed in the buzz of the demon’s magic, so when he finally set the amplifier down, the King was perplexed to find that a little more than an hour had passed and the Overlord would soon finish his program.

Five-thirty to seven o’clock, never running a single minute late either in the beginning or at the end, his punctuality surely a source of pride to the Radio Demon whether he would admit it or not.

Lucifer reheated his remaining half mug of coffee and leaned back into the armchair, enjoying the rest of the broadcast.

Finally, the ‘On Air’ sign went dark and the red sinner spun around in his seat.

“My sincere condolences, sire! You’re hereby the first ever live audience of mine who hasn’t become part of the show!”

The devil managed to prevent himself from spitting his last sip of coffee out, clearing his throat in a choked cough instead. Alastor didn’t pay it much mind, though – his eyes flew immediately from Lucifer to the amplifier, and the deer demon tilted his head.

“Well, I take it that you were successful in gleaning whatever you needed to learn, yes? The amplifier is finished?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

The fallen angel stood and took the artifact in hand as the Radio Demon left his place at the control panel and approached. Lucifer’s expression turned serious, and he made sure to have the demon’s attention on him and not the amplifier before he continued.

“But before we proceed, I need to mention two things: First, a warning – when I felt for your magic, I noticed that this tower is a part of you. Not just build by you but … you. I thought the bayou was your sanctuary, because that feels deeply like a part of you, too, and each soul only has one manifestation of their power if they ever reach that level in the first place. But your soul isn’t normal, isn’t it, so … I’m either completely off, or you have two sanctuaries. One for each part of your soul. That’s why that pocket dimension exists.”

Alastor’s eyes had narrowed a fraction, looking at the Devil with vigilance but not distrust.

“I pity any being you put your focus onto as an enemy.”

This was a most convoluted confirmation, as was typical of the Overlord, but what made the King’s cheeks flush was the way it was wrapped in praise and presented like a gift only Alastor could manage, his voice low and sultry with just a hint or growl one could mistake for a purr, and that had to be intentional, right, it had to be …

Please be intentional, Lucifer thought, clearing his throat again.

“So, since you didn’t refute my assumption … I need to warn you that installing the amplifier could… affect you in unexpected ways. I mean, that’s its purpose, after all, to influence your current power to further its reach, but also to be able to handle Heaven’s holy energy when you try to establish a connection there. And I’m sure you’re aware that what happens to your sanctuary does also have an effect on you, personally … only in what way or to what extent, I don’t know. Maybe it just amplifies your powers and that’s it. Maybe not.”

The Devil looked at the demon carefully, searching in expression for a hint of doubt or worry, perhaps even a tiny spark of fear, but all he could find was a glint of excitement. Which tracked for the Overlord, yeah, having his sanctuary out in the open prone to any attack was proof on its own.

Alastor probably counted on his radio tower being perceived as his base of operation for his broadcasts only, since everyone knew that an Overlord’s sanctuary was not only heavily protected but also hidden in the first place. And that tracked, too – the deer demon loved to defy expectations and be unpredictable.

The old saying of ‘fortune favours the bold’ also came to mind.

“And secondly?”, the demon asked without addressing the previous topic. Whether the red sinner dismissed the warning or accepted it without a fuss, the King could only guess. Then again, what was the alternative here? Drop the whole project?

Lucifer took a deep breath.

“Secondly … I’ll give you the amplifier if you agree to one condition.”

There was a spark in the red and ruby eyes, and the sharp smile grew wider.

“Oh? Proposing a deal while dangling the prize in front of my eyes – how devilish of you, sire! And here I started to think you abhorred the manipulative aspects or bargaining!”

It should have been a mockery. The King had braced for that, knowing full well that what he was doing was a bit more than just a little hypocritical, since he always pointed out the whole free will aspect of any deal when it came to unfavourable agreements.

He had been disgusted at the realization that somebody had forced the Radio Demon into a deal to gain control over the Wendigo, and now here he was, doing barely any better.

Why then did Alastor almost sound proud of him?

“Go on then, state your terms, my King. I’m all ears! I would wager a guess, but knowing you I’d only waste my breath on things I would expect from any ordinary demon. I’m sure you’ll surprise me once again instead.”

Those words were said with so much confidence that the Devil could only blink at the red sinner for a moment. There was Alastor’s unpredictable side showing again, right when Lucifer had expected an argument to break out after springing a deal on the demon. ‘Knowing you’ he had said and proceeded to point out the King’s own unpredictability, and that should have been rather contradictory in itself and still, Lucifer felt indeed seen.

Alastor knew him well enough to expect the unexpected and not feel frustrated by it, or anxious, or disappointed, or …

It made the corners of Lucifer’s mouth curl upward into a little smirk, and it felt a little easier now to state the condition he had in mind.

“I won’t set any limits as to how you can or cannot use your power boost. I want you to be able to … defend yourself with it, if you ever need it. Or to free yourself, if you can … This is Hell, after all, and Heaven will find ways to be a pain the ass again, and there’s no telling what your owner will make you do … But especially regarding your owner, I need to look out for Charlie. I’m sure you understand. So, long story short, here’s the deal: I give you the amplifier, und in return, if you are ever given an order by your owner that is intended to harm Charlie, or if you come to the conclusion that, while executing an order given by your owner, your actions will likely harm Charlie, I want you to find a way and let me know any way you can that this is the case, as soon as you can.”

The Radio Demon stood in silence, contemplating. The fallen angel knew that the Overlord was thoroughly mulling over the wording, testing their limits in his mind and assessing different scenarios in which this deal might come into effect. Lucifer waited patiently, giving Alastor all the time to think he needed.

“What about you?”, the red sinner finally said, tilting his head slightly. “What if I’m given the order to harm you?”

The Devil’s first instinct was to scoff at the notion, but as if called upon by his subconscious, a short throb in the palms of his hands reminded him that there was an actual possibility here.

“No … No, we don’t need to include that. I’m not that easily taken down, even by the Wendigo. If you attack me again, I’ll handle it. Charlie is a different case entirely, though, therefore the deal. Think you can work with that?”

Alastor didn’t answer immediately, although the fallen angel got the impression that the dealmaker had already made up his mind about the proposition and was now searching Lucifer’s face for something else. After a few long moments, he seemed content with what he found, and held out a hand.

“I can, and I will. It’s a deal.”

They sealed the agreement with a handshake.

It was a bit unsettling to witness Alastor’s display of binding magic, knowing that he was looking at the true blend between the sinner’s soul and the Wendigo spirit. Red, black and green, combined eerily and yet mesmerizing to behold.

Lucifer felt his demonic traits sprout, as did his wings. The golden glow of his magic contrasted with the Radio Demons magic, and yet it fit beautifully into the array of colours.

The ground shook, a tremble running like an underground wave across the whole city and the entire ring, in one moment making sinners and hellborn alike pause in what they were doing, only to be gone in the next.

“My, what a pleasure to be making deals with the Devil! That felt quite delicious, I must say.”

And judging by the black drool the demon licked from his lips with that far too dexterous tongue, he meant that literally.

“Don’t get used to it. I avoid making deals as much as I can.”

The King held out the amplifier for the Overlord to take, which he did.

The artifact pulsed once in the deer demon’s hand, as if the core was recognizing the being it had come from, the engraved runes sparking to life with a red glow.

Alastor raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and the fallen angel could only shrug. The demon chuckled at that, turning the object pensively in his claws.

With a snap of his fingers, a demon-looking minion emerged from the pooling shadows on the ground. The Radio Demon handed the creature the artefact, while simultaneously opening a ledge on the ceiling with a tentacle. A metallic ladder slid down, allowing the shadow puppet to climb to the roof of the tower, its steps making quiet noises above them as it scampered towards the center.

He could hear the creaking of rusty metal, and then Alastor’s voice demanded his attention.

“The effects of changing a sanctuary can be instant, I recommend that you stay where you are, sire, and don’t interfere. I shall attempt to reach Heaven with my signal immediately.”

The King nodded, but the Overlord wasn’t done speaking.

“Splendid.” The Radio Demon turned and stepped back to the control panel, slightly bending down and leaning with both hands firmly on the console.

More shuffling on the roof again, metal clinking and creaking, and finally what might be another ledge closing shut.

A vibration ran through the tower’s metal construction, a trembling wave akin to the one Lucifer had caused earlier, but much more delicate. Too soft to be felt outside of the hotel, probably not even reaching further than the top floor. But it was reoccurring, pulsing in a double-beat rhythm that reminded the fallen angel of a heartbeat. The static in the air grew thicker, humming and crackling in that same heartbeat rhythm.

Meanwhile, the Radio Demon’s body stretched and grew, and Alastor rolled his head to both sides, cracking his neck and adjusting the growing weight of his expanding antlers. Lucifer caught a glimpse of blackened eyes, and he knew that the demon’s pupils had turned into the red ticking dials again.

“Now̷̢͕͋̒ tȟ̴̛̥e̸̩̬̤͘n”, came a growl, distortion flickering in and out of Alastor’s already static laden voice.

“L̴̥̍et’s̸̞̘̽̓ get̵̲̚ a t̷̗̱̍̒astȩ̷͛ oḟ̶͚̘ H̴̡̃̇e̷̻͈̾̕â̶͎͈veǹ̸̢̳̕, s̶̳̎h̵̗̮͑all̴̞̳̈́ wẻ̵̢?”

He turned his head towards the glowing white orb in the sky that was Heaven, and the King felt the surrounding magic surge.

There was nothing to be seen, though, at least not with physical eyes and the Devil refrained from expanding his consciousness to glean what was happening, since there would have been a slim chance of suffering – or worse, cause – some kind of disturbance or interference and he had been asked to especially NOT do that.

He therefore opted to closely observe Alastor instead. The way his body stiffened and his ears folded back slowly, as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and neck and his smile became strained.

Some buttons on the control panel were pushed without the demon touching them, as his claws burrowed into the metal casing instead. A dial turned on its own, lights flickered, switches turned.

The buzzing of the static grew louder, the double-beat pulse a throbbing pressure in the fallen angel’s diaphragm that became faster and then frantic, and suddenly it dawned on him that Alastor was now holding onto the control panel and propping himself up, and that the sweat was mixing with blood dripping from the demon’s eyes, nose and mouth, and fuck, he had promised not to interfere but there had to be something he could do!

Lucifer hurried over to the Overlord, dodging the shadow on the ground that flickered and twitched erratically as if it was in pain, clawing at its own head and slashing at the monarch as he stepped too close to it in passing.

“Alastor?!”

Too focused not to use his magic and cause some kind of backlash, the fallen angel only registered that he had placed his hand on the demon’s back when he felt the quivering and coldness through the layers of clothing.

Alastor flinched under the touch, releasing the breath he had held in a gasp, followed instantly by a gush of blood splashing onto the console.

Shit, had he just fucked up and broken Alastor’s concentration?! He should have stayed where the demon had told him to stay and let him handle it, shit, how could he be so stupid and –

The Overlord pressed into the hand on his back while still leaning heavily on the control panel, the metal already dented and torn through by the elongated claws. He turned his head ever so slightly towards the King, one spinning red dial locking on to the Devil.

“N̴̖̒͋͊u̴͇̥̗͠m̷̜̻͐͗̆ͅb̵̠̬͂̀͆ȩ̶̦̺̐r̸̨͗̔ … p̶̹̫͗ro̶̗͕̒̍t̷̪̓e̵͈͉͆́c̸͗t̵̙͒̇i̶̙͙͐o̸̘̽́ǹ̵͇̗ …”

“What?” He couldn’t comprehend what Alastor was asking, panic now clawing at his mind. Was the red sinner now asking for protection? What number?

“A̷̜͊n̴̍g̴̢̰̉̏ẻ̸͗l̷̉iç̶̏͘ … n̶̂ͅu̴̗̾͑m̴̲͛b̴̪̾͛e̶̹͊̔r̵̗̀ …–“

“Angelic number – … oh, right, the angelic number for protection! Uhm, just a second …”

He couldn’t think, his mind was reeling, he needed to help but everything was spiraling out of control, which was his fault of course, as always, and now he couldn’t even think straight –

A giant claw grabbed the right side of his face, the cold palm resting on his cheek as the long fingers curled around the back of his head and the thumb along the jawline to his chin, forcing his face to look up to the looming demon.

“L̶͔͚̘͇͓̙̩̺̼̰͔̆͗̆̓̿͒͒͛̕͝U̷̜͈̬̙̖̔Č̴̖̈̋̎̃͒̎̇̊͝Í̵̠͍͙̰̯̭͍͐̌͒͌̆͆͜F̵̯͙̲͙͈̙̖̣̰̃̇̀̀͌͊̓͜͝Ę̸͚̘̹̗͍̥̀̈̐̀̀͜R̴̭̠̪̯͛̈́!”

For a split second, the fallen angel’s mind went blank. Then it all came back, one by one, not weighing any less on his mind, but finally detangled.

“Four hundred forty-four!”

The hand let go of his face, flying to Alastor’s own instead and raking through his scalp between his antlers, just like his shadow had already been doing. The Radio Demon shook his head, eyes focused on something only he could see, mumbling to himself and through the thick distortion the King could only make out a few words.

“N̵̛̤̈o̷͎̭̍ … i̸̿t'̴͇̈s̷͍͘ n̸͂ȍ̶t̵ ̴͓̈́̾ … f̴͖̕͠e̵͔̠̎e̷̎ľ̵̺͌s̷͛ ẉ̵̹͗r̸o̸n̸̤̓g̸̠̊ ̴̽ …”

Whatever the Overlord had been looking for, the answer apparently didn’t help. If he suspected angelic numerology to provide the solution for whatever obstacle he had encountered – Heaven’s protective wards most likely, what else could it be? – then there should be a way for Lucifer to be helpful! Alastor had proven to be quite intuitive in this regard, but his understanding and use of magic was still deeply rooted in the spiritual aspect, and he lacked the experience in how to look at numbers with different principles in mind –

Wait!

“Al!” He grabbed the demon’s arm to get his attention again. “If it’s not four hundred forty-four, then try three times the four!”

“T̵͙͖͑̈́h̷̢̄r̵͉̚e̵̔e̴̪̯̾ t̶͖͗i̵͖͗́m̷̮̕ë̸͙́͠s f̷̄ǒ̵u̸̫͒͒r”, the Radio Demon repeated between gritted, bloody teeth, the dials in his eyes spinning uncontrollably and then suddenly stopping, ticking slowly again.

“T̷̚we̵̊̂l̵̩͒͒̋v̷ė̴”, he continued, breathing heavily, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs with the bleeding in his throat yet his voice filtered a little clearer through the distortion now.

“Ṫ̴̖w̷͕̔elv̷e a̴̾p̸͎͗os̶tl̸̫̒è̵͉s … t̶w̷e̵̔l̶͚̂ve … t̷rib̵es ő̷͎f Iś̷rael … zo̷̳͗diac̸͚͘ sig̵̘͘ns … mo̷̳͗nths in a yea̷̞͌r … houŕ̵̥s in d̷̦͝ay an̷̙̆d n̷̙̆ight … twelve is̵͎̕ The Hangě̷͓d Man, a̴̩̓ change̶̟̊ in perspe̶̟̊ctive …”

Without warning, Alastor jerked his head around with a sickening crack of his neck that made Lucifer jump back with a yelp stuck in his throat. The demon bent forward, forcing his perspective to be upside down with the way his head was turned, and the King didn’t even want to imagine how this twisting of his body could possibly help.

And yet, it had the desired effect, because only moments later the Overlord’s voice sounded triumphant.

“̸̖͂H̴̩̀a! I se̴̼͛e you now̴̼͋!”

A single humming pulse went through the tower and silenced the buzzing static. The demon’s head snapped back into place and his body sagged, reverting back to his normal stature, and the fallen angel lunged forward quickly to catch him. Which wasn’t necessary as it turned out; Alastor was neither unconscious nor did his legs forsake him.

Even so, Lucifer was ready to act, for he was aware that the only things keeping the sinner upright was his stubbornness, no matter how much the prideful demon would deny such a claim if confronted.

“Al?”

The deer’s ears were no longer folded back, but flicking in all directions. A twitch in the King’s direction was the only indication that the Overlord had heard him. His breathing was still laboured, but slower than before, the desperation for air gone at least.

“You alright, buddy?” It came out less light-hearted as the King had intended. He dared not ask if Alastor had been successful, or chosen to retreat.

But once again, Lucifer felt known when that radio dial gaze flickered to him, and instead of a verbal response Alastor flicked a switch to activate the tower’s internal speakers.

Music filled the room.

Music Lucifer hadn’t heard in thousands of years. The sound of a metal hand drum, the instrument’s resonance ethereal in a way only angelic bronze could produce.

Music that was unique to the heavenly realm. Everyone always thought of the harps, but this was what Lucifer remembered outside the famed choir.

No other proof of the Radio Demon’s success could have been this uncontested.

The fallen angel covered his mouth with his hands to silence first the gasp that had tried to escape him, and then the sobs.

The tears though, he couldn’t hold back.

And apparently his own stubbornness didn’t match the Overlord’s, or it was just because he had nothing to lean on, but his knees gave up under him.

He only looked up when he finally felt eyes on him. Alastor’s smile was wide but thin, his red and ruby eyes had returned but looked sunken in, yet still beaming with pride despite exhaustion being written all over his sharp features, and yeah, that pride was well earned, the Devil could acknowledge an extraordinary achievement as this.

The demon reached for another switch, one that was connected to every radio in the hotel as he had explained before the broadcast, and flipped it on, letting the rest of the hotel bear witness to their success.

The King wished that he could witness his daughter’s reaction to hearing the heavenly ambience for the first time, but it was a loss he couldn’t bring himself to mourn that deeply. It was a good thing that he had been here, he had been needed, and he would be privy to his reaction shortly, as soon as he could get his tears to dry and his hooves to carry him again.

Soon, really soon, surely.

Alastor sat down in his chair, as graciously as he could muster, but the Devil saw the way his thin body slumped the moment the demon allowed his muscles to relax. Lucifer doubted that the sinner would get out of that chair any time soon, especially since the Radio Demon still had to channel his powers to hold the connection open. How the deer demon even managed to hold his head up with those fully grown and heavy looking antlers, given how tired he had to be, Lucifer couldn’t say.

Nor did he know why Alastor hadn’t already retracted them – maybe they had an actual function in using his powers besides intimidation, perhaps they worked like antennas, huh, that would be fitting, wouldn’t it, and kinda funny …

The fallen angel blinked, his thoughts interrupted as a glint of reflecting light caught his eye.

There was gold on the tips of the antler prongs.

Had that come to be because of the amplifier altering the sanctuary, or Alastor being exposed to what had to have been a hefty dose of holy energy? Hopefully the former, the alternative could have far more severe consequences than a little cosmetic change.

“Looking good, by the way”, the Devil smirked, having composed himself at last. He gestured to the antlers as the demon raised a questioning eyebrow.

“What is it?”, Alastor asked, voice rough and almost without filter. He reached up to feel for the antlers, but seemed unable to discern anything different.

“Just a little golden upgrade, is all”, he grinned.

The demon huffed. “I’m sure it looks tacky if it strikes your fancy, sire.”

“Aww, come now, gold suits you! You’re no fun!”

“I’m plenty fun, my King, especially after squeezing through a holy spider web made of angelic fractal wards!”

Lucifer grimaced. “Ah, shit, that bad, hu?” Alastor gave no response, and yeah, there was nothing more to say to that.

The demon rolled his head from side to side, retracting his antlers and as they shrunk down, the music got overlaid by static as the signal faded, until Alastor cut the connection entirely. On the control panel, two switches turned off.

This was his polite cue to go and leave the Radio Demon to rest, wasn’t it. The fallen angel decided not to overstay his welcome and find out what the next less polite hint would be.

“I should, uh, probably go and tell Charlie the good news!”

She already knew, of course, Alastor had made it known via hotel broadcast, but he had to speak with her, to hear her cheering and gushing and hugging him in that bone crushing hug she has inherited from him, so what if it was a little sentimental, or a lot, or –

“Of course, my King. She will want to throw a party, and she’ll require help with that, and you’ll be certainly more than happy to indulge her. I’ll come down later and help with preparations if needed”, Alastor assured him, eager to have the Devil leave with the way he waved at him in dismissal.

And Lucifer was fine with that. Because if Alastor could still be vexed about gold-tipped antlers and quip about last-minute parties, then he was fine.

He wanted to know what had happened, what the demon had experienced, but that could wait until later. If he tried to pry for details now, the Overlord would surely dig his heels in and make it a point to tell the fallen angel as little as possible.

And that was the nice option.

So Lucifer only nodded in agreement and portalled out of the radio tower.

.
…
.

Alastor made sure to wait a few moments after the portal had closed before he allowed a pained groan to slip from his mouth.

To call this endeavour a challenge was putting it mildly. Lucifer had been right to discourage him from trying to force his signal through the shields surrounding Heaven. He could only imagine how bad that feedback would have been if finding and squeezing through cracks had already put him through the wringer.

But he knew the pattern now and understood it – next time would be easier. He would have to test that assumption a few times, of course, and find out if he could make use of the same level of control up there as he could down here before he could plan for the first broadcast.

But first, there was another test to run, one that in theory should prove far easier.

After cleaning himself up and a short rest, that was, for his head still felt like splitting in half.

A little over an hour later, the pain had subsided to a dull throb that was still unpleasant but could be ignored. And Alastor couldn’t bear waiting any longer.

He stayed seated this time, just in case, as he gathered his powers and sent his signal towards Heaven again. By now he was aware of the many layers that shielded that realm, and how most layers surrounded the bright city behind what appeared to be the famous Pearly Gates.

That was not where his interest lay this time. What the demon was looking for stood alone in a secluded area far outside the angels’ residence, and therefore the wards were comparably thin.

Slipping through was still a challenge, but worlds easier now that he knew better what to do.

There was the beach house, surrounded by the Queen’s own wards that incidentally had a wide hole in them with regards to communications going in, as Lilith couldn’t stand the thought of missing one of her beloved daughter’s messages.

And inside the house, a radio.

Alastor’s signal crawled inside the device a sparked it to life, static buzzing in a familiar pattern.

Bzzzzt-brr-bzzzzt-brr. Brr-brr-brr.

The message was heard immediately, because it took only a moment for the radio to be turned to the right frequency, a yelp ringing through the now fully open connection.

>>PAPA!<<

Alastor’s smile grew soft at the single word. He leaned back into the chair, propping his feet up on the console. His antlers were extended again to utilize the amplifier’s power boost, but since his chair had a low backrest for exactly this reason, he could still make himself comfortable.

“Mon cœur, how much I’ve missed you …”, he spoke softly into his microphone and could hear his son sob. “Are you crying?”

>>Noo<<, came the blatant and drawn out lie, but the Overlord decided to let it slide.

There was the sound of shuffling and the brushing of fabric as Alexis moved to somewhere else and took the radio with him.

>>I’ve missed you, too, papa …<<

Alexis didn’t ask whether he would come home now, but the question hung heavily in the airwaves, and so Alastor chose to address it regardless.

“I’m sure you are aware that I’m not coming back this soon, Alexis. But finally we can speak now, you and I! I could call you every day if you like?”

>>Yes!<< More sobs, and more struggle to compose himself and make his father proud. >>Yes, I want to talk to you every single day, please!<<

>>Alexis?<< Lilith’s voice, a little further away, sounding alarmed. Alastor imagined her standing in the door to their son’s room, having rushed upstairs after hearing him yell and cry. >>What are you – <<

>>Mom! It’s father! He’s talking to me over the radio!<<

The demon suppressed a sigh. “Salutations, my Queen!”, he greeted dutifully. “I have obtained a way to report to you, as ordered!”

His headache got stronger again. Was it due to holding the connection open, or because her interrupting his moment with his son vexed him immensely?

>>Alastor!<< Footsteps coming closer. >>How did you … ?<<

The left-open question told him that she hadn’t expected him to be successful. He couldn’t blame her for that, knowing what he did now, but the satisfaction was even greater for it.

It was also a dangerous accomplishment, wary about his growth in power as she was. He would have to be very careful in navigating this conversation and painting the right picture. Luckily, the last two weeks had given him enough time to prepare.

“With a bit of help from the King, I must admit. He has crafted an object that allows my signal to reach into Heaven.”

It was a very abbreviated version of events, and he would have to downplay how much of a power upgrade the artifact had already proven to be. But for now, her attention would deviate to another topic, one that was not any less precarious with regard to his continued residency at the hotel.

>>Lucifer?<< A brief pause. >>Alexis, give your parents a moment to talk alone, will you, love?<<

Alastor’s lips curled in a silent snarl listening to the hesitant steps until a door fell shut.

>>Tell me what happened! You can’t possibly –“

“Of course I didn’t tell him. I can’t, my Queen, as you are well aware. And I doubt his majesty would take lightly to the news.”

It sounded like he tried to assure her his silence for his own sake, but in truth it was a cloaked dagger aimed at her heart. Because no matter how much she told herself that her husband would understand eventually if she just could explain everything, she couldn’t be certain that his wrath would only be aimed at the Radio Demon.

Alastor would rather bite his tongue off than tell her that Lucifer wasn’t wearing his wedding ring anymore. It had only been two weeks, yet.

The temptation to toy with her feelings was great, but the growing headache reminded him that he should get on with his report if he wanted a chance at talking with his son again before he had to cut the connection.

So he told her how he planted the seed for the amplifier a few weeks prior, using the King’s devotion to his daughter against him. Emphasizing with mockery how long it took the fallen angel to make good on his promise because of his mental state and general unreliability, and in turn stressing how much Alastor’s help was needed at the hotel in order for Charlie to make any progress at all with her project.

Omitting how hard Lucifer actually tried to become a better parent, and avoiding any hint of the companionship he and the Devil were sharing by now.

Convincing her that the King had demanded no price for healing the Overlord, but had insisted that it was him who was repaying a debt was surprisingly easy in comparison. Where Alastor had been caught off guard and umped through loops to avoid indebting himself to the monarch, Lilith seemed to have almost expected this outcome.

How easier things could have been if she had just shared this tidbit of insight!

It was a minefield to navigate, and Lilith was nothing but observant of details, but so was the deer demon.

After seven years of slavery, he knew enough about how the Queen’s mind worked to steer clear of treacherous waters. Most of the time, anyways.

One tool of diversion that always worked was mentioning Charlie. She and her husband had this in common, although it was much harder to get Lilith to actually let go of the topic she had interrogated him about prior.

By the time they were done, his blood was pulsing in his ears in sync with the pounding ache in his skull. Yet he still insisted on talking to his son for a few more minutes, promising him more time the next day. He was pushing his limits with this, and Alastor knew that, but it was worth the pain and subsequent need to rest.

On one of the tips of his antler’s prongs, a tiny speck of bone flaked off, revealing a little more angelic gold bleeding through.

.
…
.

33 Days since Last Extermination, Heaven, Hexagram City

Sera watched the portal close and only then allowed her breath to escape in a heavy sigh. Dealing with Lilith was exhausting on a mental and emotional level. The Head Seraphim despised sinners in general for what they were, but this woman, who had caused God’s most beloved son to stray from the righteous path and fall, henceforth priding herself with the title Queen of Hell, held a special place of loathing in her heart.

That Lilith had set foot into Heaven by manipulating her first husband was outrageous, but there was nothing she could do about it until she caught the Demon Queen going beyond the confines of the contract. Unfortunately, Adam had been a fool to leave the deal vague in some quite important aspects, giving Lilith far too much leeway. The First Woman had probably already found ways to exploit the deal and get more than had been bargained for, the Head Seraphim was sure of it.

Sera would not give up, however. Somewhere in that ‘research’ the Queen was conducting for allegedly no other purpose than knowledge alone, Sera would discover her true intentions. Something that was aimed at harming Heaven, no doubt, an attempt at revenge for having been cast out.

If she could only force Lilith to tell her the truth or to show her the tombs and scrolls she was really working on, instead of the bits and scraps she presented whenever Sera called on her to account for what she was doing …

Suddenly, the toll of a bell rang across the city. A sound so deep and ethereal that its echo stretched for what felt like eternity as it reverberated in her bones like a humming noise that refused to settle.

And when it finally left, its place was taken over by bone-chilling fear that left her frozen in place behind her office desk.

That bell shouldn’t have tolled.

It should never have been heard again!

There was a pull in her mind, a call of the highest order that she dared not to heed. Sera stood, her wings encasing her in a cocoon of feathers and light as she teleported to the origin of the call.

The Garden of Eden laid nestled atop a mountain on the outskirts of Hexagram City, surrounded by a white marble wall that surpassed even the giant city walls. It could only be reached by flight or teleport, and only a few were allowed entrance through the shields that protected it. That right was reserved for the seven archangels alone, or those they granted permission.

Sera had only set foot in The Garden once since the schism, three days after Lucifer’s and Lilith’s banishment. The archangel Uriel had called his brothers and the higher-ranking angels to a little temple he had constructed into the mountain, its entrance adorned with a tower that housed a single large plain bell.

The Bell of the Last Hour had tolled the very first time that day, right before the archangel’s call.

And inside the temple, the Prophecy of the End Time, carved in stone and cast in iron letters.

Sera found herself before the steps leading to the double winged wooden door, of which one side stood open. She walked up to the entrance, but hesitated.

“You have called for me”, she announced herself loud and clear, glad that no hint of the tremble she felt made it into her voice.

“You may enter, Head Seraphim”, came the reply from inside.

The angel braced herself and stepped in.

The temple consisted of a single room lit by hundreds of candles placed along three sides of the roughly carved stone walls. Their flickering light didn’t reach the ceiling, letting the darkness pool above anyone who entered. No candles were placed on the hind wall where the metal letters reflected the light in an orange and yet somehow cold shine.

Her footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty room as she walked up to the two archangels. Michael and Gabriel stood with their backs towards her, their three pairs of white and golden wings folded neatly behind them. As the general of Heaven’s defenses, Michael was always clad in full angelic armor, but rarely seen with his spear. Gabriel wore his usual white and jade green robe with golden embroidery.

She couldn’t see their expressions as they were facing the inscription and what resembled a clock.

It was a round silver plate, but the twelve hour numbers were replaced by nine golden teeth coming out of the black rock and latching onto the clock face like prey caught in the maw of an amorphous beast. There was only one handle, an undulating piece of blackened iron, that looked like it had broken through the middle of the silver plate like a tongue.

The first time she had seen this nightmarish clock, that tongue-like handle had pointed at the first tooth in the upper right quarter. Now it pointed at the fifth, and since there were nine teeth and the final tooth seemed to be the topmost one, where the twelve would be placed on a normal clock, it was now obvious that more than half of the clock’s face had been passed.

The realization hit her like a blade to the stomach, ice-cold dread gripping her heart.

Her eyes flew to the words of the prophecy glinting in the flickering light.

Uriel had never given any explanation. The archangel, whose eyes stayed eternally covered by a set of small wings protruding from his temples, wasn’t known to speak much or only do so in cryptic words. If he had offered any more insight beyond creating the temple to his siblings, she wasn’t privy to it.

Michael turned his head slightly towards her.

“Sera.”

His stern tone made her flinch, and she hastily bowed in greeting.

“You have summoned me, Highnesses.”

“Indeed”, Gabriel responded, revealing himself as the one to have called her. “As you can imagine, the Bell of the Last Hour tolling again is quite troublesome. We placed you in charge of dealing with Hell’s unrest to try and prevent just that.”

Gabriel turned around to face her, as did Michael, albeit staying silent.

“Are there any news we should be aware about?”

Sera was taller than both archangels, but she had always felt small in their presence, and a part of her wanted to cower at their feet now and beg for forgiveness. It took a lot of her will just to remain standing, hiding her fear behind professional composure.
“My Lords, I’m sure you are aware of the Morningstar’s daughter’s project and –“

She was interrupted by an impatient hand gesture from Michael. “Yes yes, anything else?”

“Well …” Her breath caught her chest. She hadn’t yet revealed Lilith’s presence in Heaven to anyone, nor Adam’s dealings with his former wife. The First Man’s death was known, of course, but not every detail surrounding his demise. Sera knew that she should have reported any decision made and every action taken, but she hadn’t, and now she would be judged …

Michael’s gaze burrowed into her, before his brother suddenly laid a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel waved a hand in dismissal at the Head Seraphim.

“I’m certain you will do anything in your power to look deeper into this. I am expecting your full report in three days. You may leave.”

And that she did, bowing again deeply before fleeing the temple and teleporting back to her office. Her heart was hammering in her throat and cold sweat clung to her back and hands. She knew she was given a chance here, but she had to play her cards well to avoid punishment.

She sent for Lute, using the time she had to wait for the Exorcist’s arrival to gather her thoughts.

“You’ve sent for me, your Highness?”, Lute greeted when she arrived, standing at attention.

“I have an order for your, one that needs to be treated with utmost discretion and urgency.”

Lute raised an eyebrow in interest. “Whatever you need, your Highness.”

Just as expected. Just what she needed.

“It’s about the Queen of Hell. You know where she’s located – go there and find me some grounds to arrest her, anything. But take care not to get discovered, we can’t let her suspect that anything’s amiss before we seize her. Just find me proof of her treacherous intentions!”

The new commander of the Exorcist army smiled. “With pleasure!”

.
…
.

In the flickering light of the mountain temple, Michael glanced at his brother.

“That was unexpected kind of you, Gabriel. Giving her an opportunity to save face. Do you know what she’s hiding?”

The Judge of God shook his head.

“No, just that there is something that troubles her heart. I could feel the guilt wafting off of her. She thinks she screwed up and fears punishment.”

Michael nodded in understanding, then frowned.

“We can’t let her fall, you know that, right? The scandal … it would weaken all of Heaven. Tear us apart from the inside, again. We can’t let that happen – not with the clock ticking”, he said, pointedly lifting his head to look at the monstrous clock.

Gabriel grimaced. “I shall be the judge of that.”

The Enforcer of God let out a sigh.

“You always are, brother. You always are.”

Silence settled between them, each of the brothers contemplating the newest developments.

Finally, Michael summoned his spear and pointed with the weapon’s tip at the fifth verse.

“Do you think it’s his daughter?"

Gabriel shrugged. He had contemplated the prophecy’s verses for a long time, and the only thing all seven siblings agreed on was that the moniker of ‘the Fallen’ could refer to none other than Lucifer. Hell was therefore involved in bringing about the end of Creation.

“Even if he were to step back as King of Hell and let his kid take the throne, she would still be Queen. Not a ‘King without Court’. Besides, that verse has already happened.”

“We assume that it has happened. We don’t know a damn thing!”, the general yelled in frustration, his voice echoing in the small chamber. How was he supposed to defend Heaven if they didn’t know what was coming for them? What plan had their fallen brother devised in that brilliant yet corrupted head of his?

“When had the second toll sounded?”, Gabriel suddenly asked.

“Roughly a hundred years ago, I think? I’d have to ask Uriel for specifics, he always knows the exact time.”

The Judge shook his head. “Charlotte had already been born. She’s not the prophesied Child.”

“You’re assuming again.” Michael sighed once more. “A few thousand years and nothing, and then suddenly four tolls within one century.”

Judge and Enforcer looked at each other, quietly reading the fears and worries in the other’s face, until Michael broke the eye contact and the silence.

“We really might be running out of time.”

Their gazes were drawn back to the clock’s face, that was frozen in the state of being devoured by golden teeth.

“We just might.”

Chapter Text

33 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

It was always all hands on deck when it came to setup one of Charlie’s parties, and the Princess had a talent for rallying every available help to her cause – especially a cause that promised booze and copious amounts of food and games. The reason for the impromptu celebration spread like wildfire between the residents of the hotel, and whether the news was met with wonder or skepsis (sinners tended to be a stubborn lot, despite the ethereal music earlier), everyone was willing to do their part if it meant a night of indulging their more harmless vices with the blessing of the Princess.

Didn’t matter that they’ve just held the grand reopening celebration – the more parties the merrier.

It was proof of the lack of self-control the majority of souls suffered from, in Alastor’s opinion.

But there was an exception for everything, was there not, and some achievements did deserve proper celebrating after all.

Or the people accomplishing them.

Even if in this case it meant sharing the spotlight. It was well earned after all, and there was no hit to his pride admitting as much, for if it hadn’t been for the King’s craftmanship, he wouldn’t have been able to do it at all, but more importantly: no one else could have even made the attempt, not to mention succeeding at it, even with the Devil’s help.

No matter how many similarities Vox claimed that they both shared, the irrefutable truth was that only the Radio Demon had the necessary control over the airwaves.

And all of Hell would soon remember that once the broadcast to Heaven went public.

But he had to figure out how to best handle that head-splitting ache he got from dealing with the heavenly magic. Maybe it was just a matter of practice and acclimatization, and it would get easier and gradually less painful each time he connected to Heaven. If that was not going to be the case though, he had to find a way to ease the headache faster than resting for hours every time, like he had done today.

Not to mention the hunger he’d gotten from exerting so much power for the entire duration he had to hold the connection open. Alastor had snuck into the pantry and emptied his stock of sinner meat, avoiding the other residents who were busy with party preparations, and still he’d had to resort to traveling into the city via shadow to hunt fresh prey and sate the very worst of the growling void inside of him.

All in all, it took decidedly too long for him to get into any state of feeling composed enough to socialize without raising suspicion that something about him was off. Because deviating from one’s usual appearance or behaviour was usually a sign of weakness and invited attempts at either exploitation or hostility, and even if most of the hotel’s residents didn’t pose any threat to him, it wasn’t in the demon’s best interests to invite any speculation about his new level of power having side effects.

By the time both the piercing headache and the gnawing in his stomach had subsided to dull background sensations, he was already running late. It vexed him immensely, and the only thing he could do about it was to make sure to make a fashionable late entrance instead of just being unpunctual – which otherwise would only raise suspicion on its own.

When he finally emerged in the lobby from his shadow, he was greeted by an ear-splitting squeal of exuberant joy from Charlie.

“AL!” She dashed in his direction and, oh dear him, the only thing he could do was bracing for impact as she threw herself at the Overlord to try and crush his bones in a hug.

“We all heard the music and it was soooooo beautiful and dad told us what you did and I can’t believe it or well I can because of the music and –“

“Charlie! Breath, my dear, will you? Yes, that’s it, that’s a good girl!”, he cooed, trying to reign in his warbling static and subtly prying himself from her grip at the same time. As much as her veneration for him was appreciated, he preferred receiving it without her clinging to him.

As he made his way over to where the rest of their inner circle of residents had gathered, she continued showering him with praise and a breathless retelling of her initial reaction and what her father had explained to them – which, to the demon’s surprise and relief, wasn’t all that much. Lucifer had remembered the Overlord’s original demand not to let anyone know that the King had been in his radio tower, and only admitted to building the amplifier and handing the artifact over to the Radio Demon with some general advice regarding angelic magic.

No mention of either the antler core or their deal – the ominous hellquake being a topic of great, and at times ridiculous, speculation – and he did appreciate that even more than the well-earned acknowledgement.

And albeit being oblivious to these details of their joined effort, Charlie’s greatest joy sprang forth from the very fact that the King and the Radio Demon had in fact worked together without any bloodshed or major property damage, and to her that was the highest achievement of all, higher even than entrancing the hotel with heavenly music, and only ever to be eclipsed by redemption itself.

And of course, once she had pointed their suspiciously peaceful collaboration out, the rumour mill went into overdrive.

Because if the Radio Demon had gained power, then there had to be price!

Had he sold his soul for this? Sworn fealty to the royal family? Owed a certain number of favours, or years of servitude? The Radio Demon had fought the Exorcists on behalf of the Princess – was this his reward?

Alastor listened to the hushed whispers and let them speculate. There was always an advantage in knowing what people thought.

Some people had very specific ideas, of course, first and foremost Angel Dust. But the spider left his speculation to the usual innuendos for the first hours, only starting to voice his more detailed speculations later that evening, after he had successfully lured Lucifer and Alastor – and for good measure, Husker – into a game of Truth or Dare.

And because this was Angel Dust, it was a variant where a refusal was punished by having to take off an item of clothing.

Now, everyone who had ever played a game of Truth or Dare knew that the possibility of utter humiliation and the start of personal villainous arcs was high, even without alcohol being at play. In Hell, participating in this game was an exceptionally bad idea.

But this was the Hazbin Hotel, the only place in the Seven Rings where a contracted porn star, a soul-bound former Overlord, a current Overlord and the aforementioned soul’s owner, and the King of Hell could look each other in the eye and silently agree that this would not get out of hand, or else Charlie would be disappointed.

Like, mandatory-group-therapy-and-extra-bonding-exercises level of disappointed.

There were worse punishments to suffer in Hell, but not many.

And like any unspoken agreement, the opinions on what counted as ‘not getting out of hand’ differed.

Since Husker was participating in the little game, they had seated themselves at the corner of the bar counter, with the King sitting directly at the counter bend between the deer and the spider, to allow for the bartender to also do his job.

At this point they all were already several drinks into the evening, so sitting near the source of steady supply came naturally.

The player choosing between answering a question or doing a task was determined by the spin of a small liquor bottle. Since Angel had suggested the game, he had the honour of the first spin, the bottle neck promptly landing on the Radio Demon, and the porn star didn’t waste any time ‘playing with his food’, as Alastor would have described it, going straight for the kill instead.

“So, Alastor, I’m wonderin’”, Angel cooed, in his best innuendo-voice, “For that ampli-thingy, did tha Short King take ya virginity?”

Said Short King spit his drink. “EXCUSE ME?!”

“Oh for - … It’s the first fuckin’ round, Angel!”, Husker groaned.

Alastor only stayed composed because he had expected this question from the porn star every time the spider had thrown him one of his famous eyebrow wiggles this whole evening. He was prepared.

The demon leaned over towards the spider, eyes narrowed halfway and grin wide.

“And what if he had?”

“WHAT?”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud!”

Alastor’s cackle was loud and gleeful. “As if! I would have had to arrive in Hell a virgin to begin with!”

“Wait, ya not? Then what’s all that prickly ‘n’ prude actin’ about?” For whatever reason, the spider demon seemed offended, but the Overlord didn’t care for it. He only shrugged.

“I tried it during my lifetime, I didn’t like it, end of story. But prude? Show me a demon that survived ninety years in Hell and calls himself ‘prude’, and I’ll show you a liar. The constant exposure is annoying, if anything.”

Angel looked like he wanted to drag the dispute on or ask a follow-up question, so Alastor spun the bottle to shut him up.

The King chose a dare, so Alastor made him ask Vaggie for a dance and then used his powers to play a slow waltz over the radio. The three of them watched the glaring awkwardness between the King and his future daughter-in-law with rapt attention, snickering in amusement while Charlie gave the dancing pair a thumbs-up in pure delight at the scene.

“Oh, I hate you so much!”, Lucifer grumbled as he returned to the bar, a deep golden blush of embarrassment on his face, which made Angel burst into full on laughter.

“Whatever for, sire? Your daughter is positively delighted by this little bonding exercise!”

“Shut up!”

The next challenge fell on Husker, who opted to answer a question. The Devil took a moment to think about what he wanted to ask, and when Alastor recognized the first signs of overthinking, he shifted his position to ‘accidentally’ kick Lucifer’s shin, which pulled him back to the here and now.

“Uhm, what’s your fondest memory from your life?”

Three pairs of curious gazes settled on the bartender, who looked taken aback for a moment before smiling fondly.

“Coming home to my girl from the war.”

Both Lucifer and Angel blinked in surprise, while the Radio Demon only took a sip from his rye. With the cat demon being in his employ for many years now, he knew most of Husker’s stories.

“That’s so sweet!”

“Ya ain’t shittin’? Which war?”

“Second World War. I was at the fall of Berlin in Germany.” He sounded proud of it. “Dodged the draft for the first one by a few years, unlike the boss here”, he added, nodding in Alastor’s direction and with that, the attention was redirected at him.

“Ya fought in tha Great War, Smiles?”

“I did indeed!”

“Hu, let me guess: stationed in France, due to your knowledge of the language?”, the fallen angel guessed somewhat smugly.

The confidence was warranted, though.

“Bien vu, mon roi!”

The spider gawked at him. “Holy shit, was that French? That was hot as fuck, Smiles! Say somethin’ again!”

“Ha! No.”

“Oh, come on! Pretty pleeaase?” Angel tried his best bedroom eyes, underscored by what he claimed to be his award winning sultry ‘Voice of Seduction’, to absolutely no avail.

“I believe it’s Husker’s turn, isn’t it?”

The cat demon spun the bottle, its neck pointing at the Radio Demon again.

“What’s it gonna be, boss? Truth or dare?”

They stared at each other, the deer demon searching for micro expressions that might help him read the former Gambling Overlord’s poker face. He knew Husker’s tells, but that didn’t mean that it was an easy task when the other focused all his will on revealing nothing but a smirk.

And that the bartender had in fact chosen to school his expression was a tell on its own.

Unfortunately, the circumstances didn’t allow Alastor to dig and prod for more clues.

“I get the impression that I won’t like either option.”

“He, choose your poison then, boss”, Husker responded with a triumphant glint in his eyes.

“Fine, then let’s make it interesting at least, shall we? Dare, it is!”

“Alright!” The bartender placed a new bottle on the counter before the Radio Demon, its content a sparkling liquid like champagne, only a few shades darker in its golden coloration.

Alastor felt his eye twitch. “Is this …?”

“It is”, Husker confirmed his suspicion, the smirk on the cat demon’s face growing wider. “I dare you to only drink from this bottle for the rest of the party.”

There was nothing he could do to refuse and save face at the same time. Even if he opted to shed some clothing, it wouldn’t prevent the damage to his pride. It was just alcohol – a special kind of alcohol, but nonetheless nothing nefarious enough to allow for a graceful retreat.

He would make Husker pay for this.

Alastor downed his current drink – because no way in Hell would he let that rye go to waste! – without a word, sliding the empty glass over to the bartender with a glare, who provided him just as quietly with a new one.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the King lean over to Angel while still staring at the interaction playing out before them.

“What’s going on?”

“I ain’t havin’ a fuckin’ clue!”

Alastor stifled a sigh and grabbed the bottle, inspecting the metal screw cap warily but found no evidence of tampering. An audible hiss escaped and bubbles rose from the liquid as he unscrewed the bottle and poured himself a new drink.

As he set the bottle down, his glass was stolen by the little monarch. Three pairs of eyes followed the King’s every move – two in shock and one in frustration – as the fallen angel carefully sniffed the drink and then took a tiny sip.

“It’s cider”, Lucifer said, surprised.

“It is, and it’s mine, thank you!”, the Overlord growled, stealing his glass back, too vexed to prevent their fingertips from brushing and too comfortable with the Devil’s burning touch to react like he usually would. Which didn’t go unnoticed, of course, according to the glance exchanged between the spider and he cat.

This situation was derailing more and more with every passing moment and he had to get back on track, and do so with cider already wetting his lips, the sweet and sour taste of fermented apples sparkling on his tongue.

If there had ever been proof that his guard was lowered around this ragtag band of misfits, this was it.

When he sat the glass back down, it was empty. Alastor hadn’t meant to down the first fill in one go, yet he had done just that without thinking while that delectable taste had filled his senses and overrode his self-control effortlessly.

“Well played, old cat”, he said, voice low and eyes glowing ominously.

He relished in the flicker of worry that crossed over the bartender’s face. Alastor filled his glass again.

“My turn.”

Lucifer again.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll go with ‘truth’ this time.”

Alastor hummed as he thought of a question.

“Presuming that the other archangels in Heaven are indeed your siblings, which one are you? Oldest? Youngest? Somewhere in the middle?”

“Hmm, as far as familiar bonds go for beings that weren’t really born, I’d say that yeah, we’re siblings. And believe it or not, but I’m in fact the oldest.”

“That is indeed hard to believe, given your –“

“Don’t you dare say ‘height’!”

“– your childishness, is what I wanted to say.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“And your stature, of course!”

“Oh, DOUBLE fuck you!”

“If ya need a third, I can –“

“ANGEL!”

Next up was the spider, who also chose ‘truth’. This time the King had a question prepared.

“Was there a person you loved more than anything in your life?”

The porn star smiled wistfully. “Molly. My sister.”

Alastor’s ears perked up. “I remember you mentioning that name before. She’s the one you want to contact in Heaven.”

“Yeah, I …” Angel’s voice trailed off, his expression switching between woe and longing. “Yeah.”

“What about you?”, Lucifer quickly redirected the attention to Husker. “Your girl?”

A moment of hesitation, then: “Yeah.”

There was a tiny twitch in the cat demon’s smile, and the Radio Demon wondered whether he was the only other person here who knew that Lucifer and Husker were talking about different girls, or if the spider was also privy to the knowledge that the former Gambling Overlord had had a daughter in life.

“You, Al?”, the King turned to him.

Alastor briefly considered not answering. It wasn’t his ‘truth’ question, there were no consequences to refusing besides disappointing a curious fallen angel, who was enjoying a little game in (mostly) friendly company …

The drink in his hand provided no advice in this regard, and when had that glass become halfway empty again? He could feel his consciousness on the edge of splitting, one part embracing the buzz that was building with the now rapidly growing inebriation, and the other part trying to hold on to reason and control, and being aware of it all slipping.

“My mother”, he finally responded, taking another sip.

When he turned his gaze back, he saw Angel grin widely.

“Did tha Short King just call ya –“

“S̶͙̼̬̭̈̈́pȋ̴̡n̷̫̭̓!”

Cackling, the spider demon spun the little bottle. It landed on Alastor. Again.

The Overlord tapped the bottle with the tip of a claw, a spark of green magic checking for any trace of power that would indicate influencing the spin’s outcome, and glared at the object as if it had personally offended him when he could find nothing suspicious.

“Truth”, he snapped, and perhaps Angel’s sense of self-preservation wasn’t totally lost after all, for the spider chose to forego any of the more salacious options. On the contrary, the question he asked showcased his more observant side most people disregarded far to quickly.

“Say, Smiles, Alastor is ya name from life, right? Why’d ya keep it? Somethin’ ta do with the whole ‘Hell’s my home’ schtick?”

“It’s not a ‘schtick’, I’ll have you know. But you’re correct. I’ve had various monikers during life, every one of them accomplished in some way, but myself I only got to be after death. Then again, people do love a good moniker, hence ‘The Radio Demon’.”

The spider and the fallen angel leaned in closer, curiosity piqued. “What otha names ya got?”

The Overlord took another sip, or tried to, finding his glass empty already again. He sat it down to fill once more, having gone through half the bottle in too short time.

Not that he cared that much about that anymore, with the warmth of intoxication settling in his muscles.

With his other hand, he counted off the names.

“’La voix’ and ‘el roi’ during the war, and ‘loup-garou’ was what the papers called me during my killings.” He snickered, inebriation loosening his tongue where he otherwise would have stopped sharing information. “You should have seen the tantrum Vox threw when he learned about the first one, ha!”

That caught the spider’s curiosity specifically. “What? Why?”

It was the King who answered. “’Vox’ is Latin and ‘voix’ is French, but they both mean ‘voice’.”

“No way!” Angel blinked, and then a badly stifled laugh clawed its way up the spider’s throat. “No way, you were ahead of him even with tha name?!”

“Always have been, always will be!”

“How’d ya get that name? Let’s hear some war stories!”

Another sip. He could leave them hanging, and the part of his brain that wasn’t yet swept away by the cider cautioned him about sharing this much about himself, even if the information couldn’t realistically be used against him. But the Devil watched him with rapt attention, and that was even more intoxicating.

“Well, you probably won’t be surprised to hear that I was a radio operator during the war, translating messages between the allied forces, and relaying orders to the battlefield. The United States had declared war on Germany early April 1917, I arrived in France with the first wave in June. We were only supportive forces at first, but nevertheless a welcome sight to the exhausted French and British troops. Shortly after, the Germans introduced mustard gas to their weapon arsenal and that’s when things got truly ugly. Whole landscapes became no-man’s land with a scarce flow of information for days on end. No way of knowing which troops had perished and which were only cut off and in need of rescue. That’s when our commanding officer looked for volunteers to hit the trenches.”

Another sip to wet his lips.

“Officially it was a recon mission. Avoiding active combat if possible – fun fact: it wasn’t! – and trying to gather intel on sight and reestablish connection to lost troops. Reaching the unreachable, if you will …”

In the reflection of his glass, the demon watched the Devil’s eyes widen.

“That’s were the moniker of ‘the voice’ came from. Delivering news from the heart of the war zone, good and bad alike. I’ve been told later that many of the operators at base shared stories of which of my transmissions they had received, like they were battle trophies.”

“Whoa, Smiles, yar a bloody war hero?!”

“Ha!”, Alastor scoffed. “Bloody, sure, but there’re no heroes in war. Only monsters.”

“On that front I have to disagree, boss.”

“Do as you must, old chum.”

The King cleared his throat. “What about that ’king’ moniker?”

“Ha, worried about that crown of yars, Short King?”

“As if!”

Alastor smirked. He had anticipated for that titbit to be of special interest to the little monarch.

“I’d lie sayin’ that I ain’t also curious, boss. Haven’t heard that story before”, Husker chimed in.

“Well, that came somewhat hand in hand with la voix. After the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk in March 1918, the Germans started their spring offensive, pushing deep into French territory after years of barely moving the line. Literally rolling over our position one morning, and suddenly we found ourselves behind enemy lines. See, we had all volunteered to be out there, but my brothers-in-arms knew that it took as less as one bullet to my head for them to become one of those lost troops. Heck, with regards to frontlines, we already were. One of my comrades, a young fella named Francis, had carved a tiny set of chess pieces to occupy his mind between missions or during rests, and stemming from that, he coined the phrase ‘Le roi ne doit pas tomber’.”

“’The king must not fall’”, translated Lucifer, King of Hell. “They needed you to get home.”

The Overlord shrugged. “None of them could work the field radio like I did. They had the basic training to operate it, but I could manage to get a signal where all of them would fail, and they knew it”, he proclaimed, now priding himself with the talent that had ultimately become part of who and what he was.

“And that otha name, that louy-thingy? That was ya serial killer name?”

“Believe me, Legs, you ain’t wanna know about that one”, the bartender cautioned.

“Duh, I am asking, ain’t I?” The spider looked at the Radio Demon expectantly.

“’Loup-garou’. It means ‘werewolf’”, Alastor explained, flashing his most wolfish grin at the porn star. “The authorities couldn’t decide for a long time whether the killings were done by a human or an animal.”

“Oh. Oh no!”

“Warned ya.”

Snickering in malicious delight, the deer demon reached for the bottle to spin, resulting in the cat demon having to answer a question.

“Hmm, what would you say was your greatest sin, in life or the after?”

Husker thought for a moment, taking off his hat. “Hard pass.”

Angel was next, opting for a task. The bartender dared him to get any form of a kiss from Vaggie within thirty seconds. Alastor pulled out his old silver pocket watch, reviving the broken time piece with a spark of magic and giving the spider the start signal.
They watched as Angel tried with growing desperation and frustration to persuade a highly distrusting former Exorcist to give him a kiss on the cheek, or at least the hand. When he finally dashed back to the bar, his dare completed, the Overlord’s grin sharpened.
“Thirty-two seconds! Close, but a failure I’m afraid!”

“Oh, come ON!”

“Rules are rules, I dare say! Blame Husker if you must, but it seems you’re not as good a seducer as you pride yourself to be!”

Angel gasped. “How dare ya! Just wait, I’ll get ya for this!”

“Oh? Do go on, I want to see you try!”

The spider spun the bottle so viciously that it took almost a minute to settle on … the Radio Demon.

“Ha! Let’s hear it: who’s tha most important person to ya?!”

Alastor’s felt his eyes flicker into red dials.

“No amount of cider could get me drunk enough to reveal such a valuable information to the likes of you!”, he sneered, ripping off his bowtie in payment for refusing to answer.

The spider hissed.

“Guys, guys! Let’s calm down, okay? This is just a friendly game, right?”

Alastor wouldn’t have registered the words spoken if it weren’t for the hand that was placed on his forearm, heat seeping through the fabric and demanding attention.

He hadn’t noticed that he had risen from his seat until then, but he gave in and sat down again, which was sadly followed by the removal of said hand.

“Fuck”, Husker whispered, followed by a louder: “Sorry, boss, I shouldn’t have sprung the cider on you –“

“Ah-ah, don’t you apologize for that, old cat. I told you to keep that stuff away from me and you found a loophole, so I applaud you for that!” He lifted his almost empty glass in a mocking toast, downing the cider and setting the glass down with a loud clank. “I would never fault you for trying, dear Husker, but I do expect you not to whine about the consequences!”

“Look, it was just a little prank, I didn’t intent for you to down two thirds of the damn bottle in less than an hour!”

“Oh, my good man, but that’s the crux, isn’t it: intentions don’t matter! It always comes down to the consequences, as I’m sure our dear King can attest!”

“Fuck you, that was uncalled for!”, Lucifer complained, and there was hurt underneath the anger in his voice.

It made the Overlord rake a claw through his hair and down his face in sudden anguish for having caused that pain, almost drawing blood.

“It was”, he admitted, cracking his neck in an attempt to ground himself again. “My apologies, sire.”

He could hear Husker mutter a barely audible “Dear God” under his breath and decided not to try and contemplate what the cat demon was referring to.

“Alright”, Angel said, smoothing his hair in a theatrical display of composing himself. “Just a friendly game!”

The bottle stopped at the spider, and there was a long moment of silence as porn star and Overlord exchanged a stare.

“Go on, dare me if ya dare!”

Alastor rolled his eyes and then let his gaze wander through the lobby in search for inspiration. Something comparatively mild, yet entertaining. He spotted Niffty frantically cleaning puddles of spilled drinks on the floor and smirked.

“Tell dear Niffty to go and clean your room.”

“What?! But I ain’t findin’ all my toys ever again!”

The Radio Demon hummed in confirmation. “She might take a trophy or two.”

“Nah, not on my watch, it ain’t happenin’!”, the spider decided, already buttoning his jacket open.

“Dammit, Angel, why ain’t ya starting with your gloves or somethin’?”

“Aww, Whiskers, I know yar likin’ what ya seein’!”

“Shut up and spin the damn bottle, Legs!”

The spider did as he was told. It was Husker’s turn again.

“Come now, kitty-kitty, ain’t ya a brave kitty-kitty?”, the porn star taunted and – to the Overlords surprise – got indeed the desired result.

“Fine, damn ya, what d’you want me to do?”

Angel leaned back to pull up his legs and place them directly on the counter.

“What the –… No damn boots on the damn counter!”

The spider demon smirked. “How about ya help me take ‘em off, Whiskers?”

Alastor felt annoyance rise at the amount of innuendo Angel put into every single syllable. And it didn’t get any better from here – while Husker put in some effort to be done with his dare as quickly as possible, the porn star did everything he could except grabbing the shaft of is boots outright to drag this task out as much and as sexually charged as possible.

The only interesting part was the blush shining through the thin white fur of the cat demon’s face. It confirmed a suspicion he’d had for a while now …

The Overlord’s eyes wandered to the fallen angel to glean his reaction to the unseemly display. The Devil appeared to hold back a giggle, equal parts amused and embarrassed, although the deer demon couldn’t be sure, his judgement becoming increasingly impaired with the amount of cider he had consumed.

Alastor was aware that he needed to stop, but that intoxicating taste lingering on his tongue was begging him to take another sip whenever it started to fade, and resisting was painful in a way he didn’t appreciate. But this could only get worse the longer it went on, he needed to be done with this game and with the questions, he needed to end this …

But first, revenge.

He would have to seize the first opportunity he got before he was no longer able to.

The bottle spun.

“Truth”, said the King.

“Alright, how about a lil’ confession, your Majesty?” The bartender poured the Devil a new drink, unprompted. As if to imply that he would be needing it.

Alastor watched Lucifer lean back slightly, sensing the danger of an uncomfortable question. As much as this was part of the whole game, since he had just wounded his King with his own careless words, the Overlord felt his hackles rise in response to the change in atmosphere.

Neither of the other three seemed to notice.

“Uhm, what kind of confession are we talking about? I’m not a priest, you know, ha ha!”, the Devil laughed nervously.

“Your ring. Ain’t wearin’ that anymore, hu? That means you’re ready to move on from the missus?”

Lucifer stopped breathing. As did the Radio Demon. A deep golden blush spread over the Devil’s face, and his eyes darted down to his empty ring finger. The King flexed his hand, as if trying to chase away the phantom sensation of the metal band that had sat there for millennia.

“I …”

Maybe the King wouldn’t answer. He didn’t need to, he could just take off his coat and be done with it.

“I think that ... well …”

Alastor could feel the King’s discomfort in his guts. He wanted to sink his teeth into something, anything.

The monarch took a deep breath.

“You might be right about that”, the King sighed. “I think it’s … not good for me if I cling to the past any longer …”

Angel and Husker exchanged a glance – a knowing look and a tiny nod, while the fallen angel wasn’t paying attention …

Ruby and red eyes narrowed, radio dials flickering in and out.

This was a conspiracy. There was a plot unfolding here, and he had been too distracted to see through it sooner.

Well played indeed.

But this game wasn’t over yet. Only now, Alastor was officially done with the ‘friendly’ part of it.

Again, the bottle spun.

The Radio Demon’s claw stopped it prematurely.

“Speaking of confessions”, Alastor said, swirling the cider in his glass. He side-eyed the Devil, the edges of his smile curling upward into a smirk.

He didn’t take his eyes of the blushing King while his ears picked up on how Husker ceased cleaning the glass in his hands as well as breathing, and Angel blurting a “No fuckin’ way!” that would have made heads turn if anybody remaining in the lobby had been sober enough to pay attention.

The Overlord gazed at the monarch just long enough for the building tension to become palpable, before suddenly turning his head towards the cat demon, making the bartender jump in response.

“Husker!”

Next to him, the fallen angel took a long and heavy exhale. One seat over, the spider demon snorted. But the Radio Demon’s red eyes were fixed on the former Overlord behind the bar counter, who stared back at him with a mixture of annoyance and wariness.

“Since I’ve shared a story you hadn’t heard before, how about another one? Say, old chum, did I ever tell you how close you came to owning my soul?”

“Oh cut the bullshit!”, Husker yelled angrily. The gall. “I remember every damn card dealt that night, every hand revealed an’ every bet made! Never once did I get as close to ownin’ ya as I thought I was!”

Alastor cackled gleefully. “Oh, my good man, all these years and you still haven’t figured it out?”

The cat demon bared his teeth. “How you cheated, you mean? I know now that ya used your shadow to peek at my cards, an’ I’m sure the damn thing helped you get that royal flush in the last game!”

“Oh no, an Overlord cheatin’? What a fuckin’ surprise …”, Angel chimed in sarcastic indignation. Neither the porn star nor the Devil seemed taken aback, and why would they? This was Hell.

“Of course I was cheating”, the deer demon shrugged. “We both were, isn’t that right, dear Husker?”

The cat demon growled, but didn’t refute the claim.

“But I’m not talking about that last game. I’m talking about the very first.”

Husker scoffed. “You had a lousy hand at that one, an’ we only bet –“

Alastor watched with hungry satisfaction as realization set in.

“No …”

“What? What d’ya two bet?”, Angel blurted out, hooked by the story and unable to deal with the suspense. Alastor ignored him.

The Devil was silent as the story unfolded.

“Funny little game, that first one”, the Overlord continued. “You were so patient to explain the rules to lil’ old me, just a friendly game between two fellow Overlords. Straight hands of five, no community cards, no drawing. A simple, beautiful mind game.”

“No!”

“We wagered money for the blind bet. You then suggested to raise to a few souls. Just one, for starters, to add a little spice, and so I did. And you raised the bet to two souls. Keep it simple, yet enticing, right? After all, what are two measly souls to someone with an Overlord title, hmm? Usually the bets don’t start below a few hundred souls for the likes of us, a drop in the ocean really when your average Overlord owns a few ten thousand souls at minimum.”

The former Gambling Overlord’s face was one of pure dread as Alastor forced him to relive one of his worst days with a new perspective.

“Oh, but our dear audience isn’t aware of another important little detail, so let’s rectify that. You had a golden house rule enforced in your fine establishment, one that everyone had to sign in agreement or else was barred from entering. One that allowed a player to match any bet made, but if you were unable to pay your debt at the time of leaving, you had automatically sold your soul to the establishment’s owner. To you.”

“You’re lying”, Husker said, pointing a trembling claw at the Radio Demon. “You’re lying! Ain’t no fuckin’ way you only owned a single damn soul at that time, you already were an Overlord!”

“Indeed I was, but I do love to defy expectations, and there are other ways to gain power, you see.”

“Wait, wait, wait! Ya really tellin’ us ya were an Overlord with only one soul in tha bank? How many do ya own now, Smiles?”

There was no need to answer, but neither was there harm in doing so. He had already admitted not to need soul contracts to base his power on. None of the souls that had fuelled his rise could ever be taken from him, and of those few who were shackled to him, only one would he rather destroy than give up.

Besides, Lucifer looked at him with a curiosity that had eclipsed his apparent distaste for what was happening, and so, the Overlord held up a hand and curled his thumb inwards.

“THREE?!” Angel gasped in disbelief, while the cat demon still seemed too shaken to react.

“Three. Niffty, Husker … and another.”

“Whose tha third?!”

Alastor’s grin only sharpened.

“That would be a story for another time.” He turned back towards the bartender. “Because there’s a punchline to this story, isn’t there?”

“Please …”

But the Radio Demon had no mercy.

“What was my hand that game?”

The cat demon swallowed. “A pair of kings.”

“And you had three queens. But that wasn’t the hand you revealed. Because greed is your primary sin, old friend, and you wanted to win the price at the end of the road. But to get there, we had to walk the way first, so you couldn’t afford the risk of chasing me away too soon with an unpleasant experience. You wanted me hooked, you wanted me hungry for more, you wanted me to chase the rush! You needed me to be on a winning streak for a while, only to pull the rug under my feet when the bets would have amounted too high to repay without selling myself in the process! And thus … what did you do?”

Husker said nothing, unable to voice a single word while the air was thick with the stench of desperation, anger and grief. It tasted better than the cider.

“You switched a queen for a jack … You let me win. As I knew you would.”

“How?”, came a raspy, desperate whisper. Music to the radio Demon’s ears.

“You should know by now, pet: I don’t win by playing games. I win by playing people!”

Silence. Silence so loud that it drowned out all the other noises of the party, of people oblivious to this moment of revelations. If anyone had noticed the rising tension and potential escalation in their midst, no one had dared to interfere.

Alastor raised the glass, but he didn’t drink this time, watching Husker over the rim and the tiny sparkling bubbles of the cider.

“I … I’m gonna take a quick break, boss”, the bartender said, putting the towel and the glass down and slinking away. The deer demon didn’t stop him.

“Q.E.D”*, he snickered after the cat demon had left. “One player eliminated.”

“What in tha actual FUCK, Smiles!”, the spider burst out, standing up and slamming his primary hands on the counter. “That was cruel!”

“That”, Alastor snarled, slamming his hand holding his hand on the bar top as well, “was consequences!”

“Ya bein’ an asshole is what this was!”, Angel yelled and stomped off, going after Husker. Alastor didn’t pay his insult any mind.

“And there goes player two.”

A moment of silence, then the King finally spoke up.

“Well, I think this game is over.” There was a tone in the fallen angel’s voice the demon couldn’t discern, which made his smile tighten and his ears draw to the sides.

“I suppose so.”

“You, uhm … wanna head upstairs?”

Oh, how he wanted to – to be done with the party and done with the day. Exhaustion was settling in his muscles, now that he was no longer faced with an imminent challenge or confrontation. And the last thing he needed right now was for anybody else to witness his high level of intoxication.

But.

“I’m not pleasant company this evening, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, well, about that … I have a question, and I’d like a bit more privacy for that, so …”, Lucifer left the rest of the sentence hanging at the implication.

“As my King commands”, Alastor quipped half-heartedly and rose from his seat, taking care to steady himself and not become entertainment for any soul foolish enough to glance over.

“I guess you’re not taking the stairs this time, buddy”, the King chuckled, but that, too, didn’t sound that amused as it might have been intended to be.

Lucifer looked around, checking if anyone was paying attention to the two of them, before opening a portal and urging the demon through. Alastor didn’t need to be asked twice.

They stepped into the Overlord’s quarters, the portal closing behind them. The fire in the hearth erupted to life with green flames at their arrival. Alastor staggered the short distance towards the chaise lounge, instantly plagued by vertigo that subsided far slower than he liked after sitting down.

Meanwhile, Lucifer seated himself in the armchair, as he usually did. He had taken the bottle of cider with him, studying the label.

"I don’t get it – why cider? You usually hold your liquor remarkably well with far stronger stuff.”

The Radio Demon chuckled humourlessly.

“That appears to be one of Hell’s very own jokes. It’s because of the part of my brain that’s cursed to be deer-coded, if you will.”

The fallen angel looked at him uncomprehendingly, and the Overlord sighed.

“Deer tend to get easily drunk on fermented apples.”

“Oh.” And then, the King blushed again in that tantalizing dark golden colour. “Oh.”

The demon snickered.

“But … it’s just a little alcohol! The same substance as in rye, far less concentrated even!”

“That’s apparently what makes it so hilarious! Getting drunk on something slightly stronger than apple juice!”

And he hated it so fucking much! Which, with regards to Hell, surely was entirely the point.

Lucifer’s eyes switched between him and the bottle with a dumbfounded expression and oh, the urge to lunge and bite was strong. Alastor let his head fall back over the backrest to avoid having to look the fallen angel. He bit his own tongue for good measure, too, the taste of his own blood blooming in his mouth grounding him.

“Was that all you wanted to ask? About the cider?”, he asked after a moment.

“No”, came the hesitant answer.

Alastor stayed silent as he waited for the fallen angel to build up whatever courage he needed to.

“You said to Husk that you win by ‘playing people’”, the King finally said, and judging by his pensive tone Alastor knew where this was going. He closed his eyes.

“You’re wondering whether I played you, too.”

“And? Did you?”

The demon straightened his head again to make eye contact with the King. But Lucifer didn’t look at him, staring into the dancing flames of the hearth instead.

“Naturally.”

It was the obvious answer, and yet the Devil still flinched in his seat as if the demon had struck him.

The Radio Demon blinked. “You can’t possibly be surprised by that. You called me out yourself, on the rooftop, about using Charlie to get you to build the amplifier. Surely you must remember?”

“I …”, Lucifer started but stopped, sighing deeply. “I do remember that, but … that wasn’t the only time, wasn’t it?”

It wasn’t really a question with the way the King’s voice portrayed a mix of annoyance and resignation, and when Alastor stayed silent, the monarch didn’t wait too long for an answer he already knew.

“I just … thought that … maybe I would be different … but I guess I’m just a fool after all”, the King continued, his jawline tense and the words being uttered through shaking breaths, and suddenly the realization hit him that Lucifer might be moments from leaving, from portalling away only to break down in the privacy of his own rooms and this time Alastor would be barred from entry –

“You are different”, he heard himself admit in a voice that is devoid of any filter and far too quiet compared to his screaming thoughts. “By now, that is. I had no reason to trust you before.”

The King scoffed, shaking his head in disbelieve. “And now you have?”

“Don’t!” The surge of anger was so sudden that it surprised them both, feedback screeching as his filter kicked in again with too much force. The fallen angel finally looked up at him in surprise as the Overlord stood from his seat.

“Don’t you dare doubt me now!” He felt his eyes shift to dials and his antlers grow, the intimidating display somewhat undermined by the drunken sway in his walk as he crossed the distance between the chaise lounge and the armchair.

There was a moment were Lucifer’s expression shifted to anger as well, maybe the rebellious kind that had landed him in Hell, or maybe it was perceived righteousness, a remnant of his angelic core, and stars above, made it Alastor’s teeth ache.

Reaching the still seated King, the demon bend down sharply, slamming his hands on the armrests to lean on, as his smile twisted into a sharp snarl mere inches from the monarch’s face. Only his ears betrayed him once again as his control slipped with the alcohol still coursing through his bloodstream, giving away the desperation beneath the ire that laced his voice with a growling vibration.

“I placed my life in your hands TWICE now! My reputation, my pride! My soul laid bare before you as much as it can and not once did I try to make a deal that would prevent you from using what you learned against me, and there’s not one being in Hell who can claim the same, not even Rosie!”

Which was a realization that only came to him now that he voiced it. It was foolish, a rookie mistake reserved for new arrivals in Hell … one usually lost his soul for this level of naivete. And yet it was true, both in word and sentiment, and one day he might regret that. And if he could do anything about it, that day had yet to come.

The eyes that held his piercing gaze were golden and wide, and showed no sign of anger anymore. He could practically see the swirl of thoughts behind them, gears turning and assessing his words, pulling on memories to confirm or refute the Overlord’s claims. It did nothing to reduce his own wrath, however. How could Lucifer not see?

“So what if I tried to gain your help without selling away what little I had left for myself? We’re still in Hell, my King, in case it slipped your mind! How was I supposed to fathom that the Devil might indeed care?!”

Those golden eyes widened even more, tracing the demon’s face in search of something, because apparently he was still not convincing enough, and that was the ugly truth about his existence, one that his father had known back then and Vox had confirmed it decades later, that Alastor could never give enough, never be enough, even if he tried –

And he had tried, hadn’t he? Subconsciously at first, perhaps, but not anymore …

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t care … For your daughter you do, yes, but nothing else. Not for sinners, that’s for sure, and especially not for such a vile, violent, twisted and tattered soul, ha! Why would you? To think that I might have been the different one, yet obviously the only fool here is me …”

He tore himself away from the King’s proximity, grabbing the bottle of cider to chuck down a few gulps as he turned, for now he wasn’t drinking for the taste but for the numbing dizziness of intoxication to grow. Maybe then he could forget this humiliating exchange for a little while, maybe then he wouldn’t feel so raw anymore, his skin itching under his clothes like it was too small, pulled tight over his flesh and bones like the stitches that held his smile.

Now the impulse to vanish was his own, to give into the animalistic part of his brain that begged him to flee and hide in the shadows, or to consider the more predatory approach of hunting and destroying whoever and whatever had the misfortune of crossing his path, to bath in their blood until he didn’t feel like bleeding himself anymore.

None of these options were made more appealing by the buzz in his head and his vision growing a little fuzzy at the edges, so the demon returned to the chaise lounge instead. Laying down on the blood-stained upholstery instantly reminded him of the night Lucifer had healed him.

When his feelings towards the Devil had suddenly gotten … complicated.

To think that, of all things, it had started with a touch.

“You are different.”

The fallen angel’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Alastor didn’t respond beside a little hum in acknowledgement that the King had spoken. He could see now how those words weren’t sufficient evidence of their truthfulness, but he could also not say what proof he wanted.

Or why he indeed wanted there to be one.

It shouldn’t have mattered what Lucifer thought of him.

“You are vile, and violent, and twisted, and tattered … and at the same time, you’re unlike any sinner I’ve ever known. Admittedly there aren’t many in the last centuries but … I tried, you know. A long time ago. And once in a while, I’d try again and … well …”

Alastor turned his head to look at the fallen angel but had to strain his eyes a bit to get him into focus. The King sat slumped over in the armchair, looking lost and frail and smaller than usual. His golden eyes stared at his drink, or his hands, the demon couldn’t quite tell.

“Most sinners either grovel at my feet in hopes of a little power or shy away in fear of the Devil, and those few who do neither, simply choose to politely avoid me. But you … you’re not afraid to piss me off. You’re not grovelling for forgiveness either. And you don’t ignore me – never that. The more I think about it … the more I should perhaps feel honoured that you do try to pull my strings …”

The King chuckled lightly, and Alastor’s ears twitched at how genuine it sounded.

“Why?”, he wondered and was surprised at himself that he’d said it out loud.

Lucifer finally looked up and met his gaze.

“Because it means that you treat me like a person.”

The demon burst into a snicker. “You’re aware that being manipulated is usually considered a shitty treatment?”

The King’s expression rapidly switched between a frown and a smirk, finally settling on a sigh.

“Yeah, I know … maybe that was a dumb way to put it. I meant to say that … you know me … like only very few people do …”, he said, smiling fondly now but casting his eyes down at the same time.

“The Sins?” Putting Lilith’s name in his mouth was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

“For starters, yeah.”

“Hmm.”

“And that’s … precious. To me, anyways. And that’s way I care. About you, I mean. That, and …”

Alastor waited for Lucifer to go on, watching the golden hue of a blush growing over the monarch’s cheeks, but instead of finishing the sentence, the King started to fidget restlessly with an expression of guilt crossing over that angelic face and replacing the fondness. The demon couldn’t quite comprehend what he was witnessing, the inebriation muddling his ability to read the Devil’s emotional state with ease, especially with the glaring disconnect from the sudden switch in expressions.

Whatever the case, Lucifer was losing the battle with his spiralling thought once again, and with the topics of trust and care addressed somewhat satisfactorily, the Overlord felt inclined to rescue his King from himself once more.

“Don’t get all maudlin on me now, sire, I’m too tired to endure that kind of torture any longer.”

The Radio Demon turned his head straight again, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples against the buzzing in his head. “I think I’ll have to actually sleep this one off for once, Husker be damned. I’ll have to make him regret pulling that bloody cider on me a little more”, he added with a groan and could hear the fallen angel chuckle. Whatever thoughts had distressed the King, he had apparently successfully overcome them.

“Right, I guess I should get going. ‘Night, Al.”

“Sleep well, my King.”

He heard the sound of a portal opening, but no steps going though. After a moment, the demon opened his eyes a fraction to find the King standing in front of the portal leading to his bedchamber, arms wrapped around himself and staring into the darkened room on the other side.<

“Lucifer?” The little monarch’s name spilled from his lips before he could think about it and he sat up.

“I …”, the fallen angel’s voice was quivering. “I think …”

Alastor already stood, taking a few unsteady steps towards Lucifer. But if the Devil registered his approach, he didn’t react to it.

“I haven’t heard or seen Heaven in millennia, you know …”, he continued, barely audible. “And I … I think …”

The King gripped himself tighter and bit his lower lip, weighed down visibly by the weight of his knotted emotions in his stomach and unable to form the words he wanted to say.

“I think you don’t want to be alone tonight”, the demon said what Lucifer could not.

The Devil didn’t look at him. He just stood there, holding himself upright and trembling from the tension in his body, and slowly nodded.

“Very well.” Alastor placed a hand on the King’s back and gently pushed him through the portal, following suit. The portal closed the moment both of them stood on the other side.

Every time the deer demon had set foot in this room his hackles rose on instinct, and this occasion was no exception. It didn’t help that his skin was still crawling under the fabric of his cloths, and however fuzzy his perception and thoughts had become from the alcohol, this sensation was unfortunately not dulled.

The wish to tear of his garments and leave his skin bare clashed with the memories the interior caused to flash inside his mind, but the twilight of the night’s sky dimmed all the colour and allowed the Overlord to focus on the fallen angel.

Lucifer didn’t make any attempt at getting ready for bed. He just stood on the spot Alastor had stopped guiding him to, claws fidgeting nervously and eyes trained on the bed as if the bedding would swallow him whole the moment he lay down.

“Go on, my King. Undress.”

And albeit slowly, the Devil started to move.

Obediently.

A rush of power surged through Alastor’s mind and body, right along the spine and settling somewhere low in his abdomen. It pushed the fuzziness away, clearing his head just long enough to ask himself a most important question:

What the fuck am I doing?

Not only should he not be here in the first place, but more importantly he should not be staying.

He certainly should not heed the whispers of that foreign desire that sent shivers over his overstimulated skin

He should neither watch as more and more of that porcelain skin was freed, nor should he peel away at the layers of his own clothing.

Watching Lucifer in nothing but his boxers walking to the bed and staring at it anxiously was also something he shouldn’t do, as was looming over this most beautiful of all creatures from behind.

And yet, Alastor was doing all this and was considering more, if Lucifer were to let him, for he had sworn to himself that he would savour this for as long as he possibly could to make it worth the punishment after. And for a moment he had been on the verge of losing this unnamed thing between them, and he wanted to be double-damned if he didn’t take that for the warning that it was – a reminder that this would be over sooner rather than later, one way or the other.

His eyes traced the line of Lucifer’s spine and the six symmetrical slots where the wings would sprout from. The fallen angel’s pale skin appeared flawless, but Alastor knew it was a lie – he had seen his King in his most vulnerable state, without the glamour he hid his scars under.

He knew where to trail his claws over, where to let them ghost along the marred flesh which must have been pierced by angelic weapons eons ago –

Lucifer gasped at the sensation and spun around, eyes wide at the sudden realization of his surroundings and their state of undress, of the implications and possibilities, and Alastor captured the King’s face in both his hands just as the fallen angel was about to say something.

The Devil froze and the Radio Demon’s eyes flickered down to the partly opened mouth and he wondered how it would feel like to kiss the Devil, how it would taste –

To taste a star …

– and if it would compare to the delicious flavour of his golden blood –

… wouldn’t that be something?

– and the beast inside him raised its ever-hungry head, infusing its demands with his already burning desire, and it was all wrong and delightfully right at the same time.

“Alastor?”

Lucifer’s voice reached him through the haze in his mind like a melody, and he made eye contact again. The King hadn’t moved, and the previous shock in his expression had been replaced with something softer, something curious and confused.

“You’re right not to trust me … You shouldn’t, as long as my honesty is bound by limitations. And that’s fine by me. But that’s not the issue that had you all upset, isn’t it? Heaven painted the Devil as the greatest deceiver there ever was and will be, never to be trusted, and you learned to believe that, didn’t you? So tell me, my King … how can I proof my trust in you? That you are trustworthy? What do you require of me?”

He hadn’t noticed how he had lowered his head while speaking until he could feel Lucifer’s warm and quickened breath over his lips. Their faces where so close now, all he could see were those glowing golden eyes with their red pupils blown wide like an exploding star.

“Do you need me at your feet again? Or on my back perhaps?”

The Devil’s breath hitched, his voice a whisper. “I thought you’re not one for grovelling, Al …”

Alastor’s lips twitched, turning his smile into a snarl for the briefest of moments.

“I’m not grovelling, sire … I’m offering.”

“But you said, you … you didn’t like …”

“Well, apparently the appeal rises with high quality company.”

The King drew in a long breath, the confusion in his face turning into something more determined.

“I think …”

“Yes?”

“I think you’re drunk, Al.”

The Overlord chuckled. “That I certainly am!”

Lucifer laid his hands over the demon’s, grabbing them in a slow but firm grip and pulling them down, forcing the deer to let go of the fallen angel’s face.

“I think … you don’t really want to do this …”

“I assure you, my King –“

He was interrupted by a hand placed on his lips.

“I’m sure you believe that right now, but … I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”

Alastor could only stand there for a moment, trying to contemplate the rejection and whether he should be angry or relieved or disappointed. His hazy mind couldn’t quite make a decision, so maybe that, too, was something best left to the morning.

“Very well, have it your way then”, he relented, taking a step back, and there was a flicker of instant regret crossing over the fallen angel’s face. It would have been highly satisfactory if it weren’t for the fear that also settled there, the foregone conclusion of being left alone in retribution for setting a boundary.

Perhaps it was a sign of already sobering up a bit that he was able to read his King again with such clarity.

Tentacles emerged from Alastor’s back, two of them wrapping around the petit monarch and the others pulling back the duvet.

“What –?!”

“Shush now, sire! You wished to not spend the night alone and I require some rest now, so there’s only one acceptable way to satisfy both our needs”, he said while crawling onto the bed, pulling the fallen angel close to him under the cover, and whether Lucifer was stunned to be manhandled like this or was secretly relieved to have any further decision taken away from him, he let it happen either way.

Alastor wrapped his arms around the King in a tight embrace, pressing the Devil’s blazing hot skin of his back against his own chest and stomach, spooning him and curling around him to maximise the area of skin contact, and oh, how delightful that was!

Like embracing the sun, a tantalizing heat tethering on the edge of pain from invisible flames of light, burning the itch away and melting the tension that the alcohol hadn’t been able to reach.

He could feel Lucifer relax into him after a few moments without any protest, only a long sigh as if letting go of something, a puzzle piece slotting into the right place with ease without any gap left behind.

This was perfect, this was right, and sleep was pulling heavily on his consciousness now. Eyes falling shut, Alastor rested his chin on the King’s head, breathing in that sweet rotting apple scent with traces of cinnamon and – unlike the blood – ash instead of copper. There was a rumble in his chest as he exhaled, more a purr than a sigh that would have been embarrassing if he wasn’t so content in this moment, and so tired.

Sleep found him far too quickly after that.

Chapter Text

34 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Sleep didn’t come to the King of Hell. He didn’t want it to.

How could he even consider giving himself over to unconsciousness when he felt like floating, emotionally and somewhat physically?

Alastor was curled around him as much as he possibly could, their difference in height now allowing their bodies to slot together perfectly. The demon’s arms were wrapped tightly around the fallen angel, clinging to him like a child to a stuffed animal in search for protection would – a mental image Lucifer swore to take to his grave or else this would be the first and last time he ever got to enjoy this kind of intimacy with Alastor.

When was the last time he had been held like this? Felt wanted like this, needed like this? It had to be a few hundred years, he couldn’t even remember. Not that his relationship with Lilith had already grown cold by then, no, they had hit that stage only after his dreams had begun and they had started arguing about his refusal to do anything about them. But the cooling down of their love had been a slow process, and falling asleep in any kind of cuddling position was one of the first acts of intimacy to vanish.

He hadn’t known then. Hadn’t seen the writing on the wall, faint as it was at that time. That was the devious thing about growing apart – even if one were to notice it early, it was only ever acknowledged once the rift was already too wide to simply step over it. And if you didn’t start to build a bridge from both sides by then, it only grew harder and harder to mend the gap before it couldn’t be done at all …

Lucifer wondered when the first crack in their relationship had formed. Was it something he’d said? Was it something he had done or – more likely – hadn’t done enough of? When had Lilith’s patience with him run out?

When had she finally realized that he wasn’t the archangel she had fallen in love with anymore?

That some part of him had remained broken, something he couldn’t conceal with a glamour like he did with his scars.

Alastor knew about the scars.

Well, that they existed at least, if his ghostly touches earlier where any indication. The Overlord must have spotted the marks the night he had first entered the King’s quarters. The fallen angel wasn’t totally sure, but the probability that he hadn’t thought about a glamour spell during that time was extremely high.

The demon had yet to comment on them, though, but so was Lucifer. He, too, had seen the scars on Alastor’s body after the Wendigo incident.

The Radio Demon was covered in them. Some were clearly claw marks, others appeared like cuts or puncture wounds from weapons – a few of those reminded Lucifer of his own.

Maybe Alastor hadn’t mentioned them to avoid questions about his own scars. It stood to reason that this topic might be as sensitive for him as it was for the fallen angel. Then again, the demon didn’t seem to use any glamour spells to hide them – contrary to the King, who used his magic to conceal the marks even under layers of clothing.

He could … ask. Confess his curiosity and let the topic fall the moment Alastor expressed any kind of discomfort. Lucifer would have to brace himself for counter questions, though, and that was another thing entirely, wasn’t it, he could feel his heart start to speed up just thinking about it –

Hu.

Except, that it didn’t. The fight with his mind to prevent his thoughts from spiralling didn’t happen. Which made him realize that he was contemplating – or at least glancing at – more than just a few topics for a while now, without breaking down emotionally because …

Because he was floating.

Surrounded in the coldness of Alastor’s body as much as possible, he felt like being suspended in the crystal-clear waters in the lake back in The Garden. The sinner’s breath had evened out a while ago into a slow and even rhythm, pushing against his backside like gentle waves. It was grounding in a way, and the irony wasn’t lost on Lucifer when the only comparison his mind could draw to this feeling was ‘floating’, but that didn’t make it less true. Because while his thoughts were bubbling up as chaotic as usual, the rest of him stayed … underwater, in a sense.

Not drowning, no. More like … being removed to a safe space and looking at his thoughts like a sea creature observing a dancing air bubble. There was only serene tranquillity here, and any emotion that tried to stir up the gentle waters was simply … washed away.

Well, not entirely, it wasn’t like suddenly being emotionless. But the excess seemed to diffuse out of him, like too much colour being diluted to a softer shade.

A shade that didn’t overwhelm him. A shade he could finally handle.

Now and then little pinpricks of ice tickled his skin as Alastor dreamed. Claws twitching, a hoof kicking, and his breathing becoming irregular while he experienced whatever his mind conjured.

Lucifer turned his head around slowly, shifting his upper torso from laying fully on his side to be halfway turned on his back, careful to otherwise stay closely connected to the other man’s body and to not disturb the sleeping demon – hooray to snake-like flexibility, that was definitely coming in handy now.

Alastor’s eyes were moving rapidly behind closed lids, his smile fallen to all but the little upcurve at the edges that were held in place by invisible stitches. It made him look content, like he was at peace with the world and himself.

The ear he laid on was forced immobile, but the other one was twitching. The King couldn’t say whether that was because of the dream or the demon’s ‘deer-coded brain’, as the Overlord had called it, staying on high alert in this vulnerable state.

He remembered their conversation on the hotel’s roof top one evening. Alastor had told him that he never slept except for ‘stealing a few minutes here and there’. A few days later, during one of his daughter’s trust exercises where Alastor had been present without participating – Charlie didn’t ask that of him anymore, not since that one enlightening group therapy session – Lucifer had caught him doing exactly that. Sitting back comfortably on the sofa, the sinner’s posture had relaxed a little more than usual, his gaze behind halfway closed lids had become unfocused, and the ears Alastor usually held fierce control over were twitching at every sound made and every voice that spoke up.

While Charlie had explained the rules of the exercise and everyone’s attention had been on her, Alastor had ‘stolen’ a few minutes of rest without anyone noticing.

Well, anyone else but the King. The Devil had paid more attention after that and had been rewarded with catching a handful more incidents, most of them in the last two weeks during their nightly get togethers. It always happened during an inconspicuous situation – while reading a book or enjoying a classic piece of music.

Pretending to be awake when he was not.

Lucifer had realized then what the sinner had alluded to: that he slept like prey animals did, on high alert and only in short intervals at any given time.

It was a matter of survival in a world where a single moment of getting caught off guard could lead to one’s downfall.

And here he was now: the Radio Demon, fast asleep.

There wasn’t a situation more dangerous to a soul’s existence, reputation and pride in Hell than this.

Alastor had proposed sex to proof his trust in the fallen angel, which was a highly vulnerable state to be in as well, but in terms of letting one’s guard down, this was an even more profound gesture.

The more he thought about it, the more guilty he felt, because Alastor had been right – there should have been no need to provide any more proof than he already had. The worst part was that Lucifer had already recognized all the big and – hopefully – most of the small moments that showcased the demon’s trust in the Devil to do him no harm … and yet, it had only needed one story and a little demonstration of the Overlord’s manipulation skills to let the seed of doubt sprout and bloom.

It had been so easy to fall back into the familiar pattern of feeling inadequate, and for all of his insecurities to crawl out of their pit and stoke the fire of his self-loathing …

“Heaven painted the Devil as the greatest deceiver there ever was and will be, never to be trusted, and you learned to believe that, didn’t you?”

And of course Alastor had seen right through him, had done so despite his own anger and inebriation and found the hidden yet bleeding wound, and instead of sinking his teeth in it like the predator he was at his core, he had … simply pointed it out.

No, no, he had done more than that.

Alastor had tried to bandage the wound. Stitch it with words, like the green threads he had used to sew his angelic wound together.

Like the ones that made his smile ever-present.

The King lost track of time gazing at the demon’s face, the sharp features turned soft like they rarely did while awake. How could he possibly fall asleep himself and waste these precious hours, especially since there was no telling how Alastor would react to this in the morning when he awoke sober.

If there was one skill the Devil had perfected in the last millennia, it was laying in bed doing nothing, but for the first time in centuries he didn’t do so with regret or self-loathing but enjoying the hours instead. And doing so, not despite the creature that was a monster even by Hell’s standards due to its abhorrent nature, but because of said creature.

He couldn’t help but wonder why. No matter how much he wanted to believe that all of this was based in some kind of true companionship in its purest form, the chances of that were incredibly low. This was Hell, and everyone had ulterior motives.

Fuck, it was true for the Devil himself, wasn’t it? He had yet to tell Alastor about his prophetic dreams …

Lucifer had been so close to actually do just that, since the dreams were one of the reasons why he cared. They had been the reason why he had started to care, dammit, and now he was scared to reveal this detail because how could the red sinner not take that the wrong way?

Then again … Alastor had warned Lucifer about trusting him for as long as he was chained, so if anything, the Overlord should be somewhat understanding about omitting some information, shouldn’t he? The fallen angel could hide his fears behind the claim of not wanting the demon’s owner to know about the dreams, who knew what they could do with that knowledge, right?

Yeah, maybe if he told that to himself over and over again, he would believe it when he eventually came clean about it.

This conundrum right here would have normally sent him towards another spiral, and yet, while the fear and guilt was still present, their weight wasn’t crushing him here, under the waves of the Crimson Stags breathing, while the sinner switched between dreaming and deep sleep like the tides at the ocean’s shore.

But just as every ocean knew storms, so every soul knew nightmares.

Alastor’s arrived in the early twilight hours.

It started with little twitches again, telling the fallen angel that the demon had entered another dream phase. But this time the sinner’s breaths quickly grew shallow and fast, and the twitches and kicks became more frequent and jerkier.

The radio in the adjacent living room sprang to life, warbling static and discordant notes filling the air. Lucifer could make out little bits of music that were so heavily laced with white noise that he couldn’t make out any lyrics, and only fragments of melodies that seemed to shift every few seconds, as if the radio was unable to reliably hold the frequency and was instead searching, searching, searching …

There were other sounds hidden in the crackling and hissing static, too.

Splashing of water.

A stag’s bugle.

Lucifer could get a glimpse of the demon’s dream if he wanted. The temptation was strong, but without Alastor’s consent, it would be a direct betrayal of the sinner’s trust, even if this was just a nightmare about a hunt gone wrong or something like that. It was a matter of principle.

Alastor suddenly stilled.

The radio emitted a distorted voice. The Devil couldn’t make out all the words, not even with his heightened hearing. The static was too thick, chopping the words into pieces Lucifer’s mind had to recreate by filling the gaps. It was a male voice, though, and the fallen angel couldn’t discern whether it was Alastor’s voice, or if he just wanted to believe that.

>> … d̴͎̤̺̔͗̀̂͒̊̈͐̀͑̐͑͘͜͝o̷̤̬̿̃̃͊͑̀̄ I̶̢̧͖̲̺̹͎̪̿̈́̃̉́̍̀̓̽͜͝ o̶̧̫͔̪̭͈͚̗̩̙͒̔̓̊͑̃͛̈́̀͝w̴͕͈̫͑̇́͜e̷̺̒̀́̈́͗̇̀́̂͆̓̽̒͛͜͠ t̸̍̈́̔h̶̺̘̣͓͙̉̌̅̈́̋̕i̵͊̈́̉͋͝s̷̛̩̤͔̜̳̬̙̼͙̩̭͍̋̇̓͒̽̔́͛͒͐̈̊͘ … ̵u̸̮̩̪̇̉̎̀̉̑͒̏̂͑͘ṅ̷̰̑͗̀͑̎̋̊̉̃͊̓̕͘e̷͛͒x̶̫̱͚̠̺̱̦͕̻̙͇̆̏̅͝ͅp̷̡͕̜̼̳̭͓̉̑̇̈ͅe̸̛̺̩̬͖̹͐̋́̈́̀͆̏̒͂͒̾͊͠c̷̈́̌̐ț̸͎̈́̏̍͌̍̑́̾͝ę̵̧̟̘͍̬͙͎̈́̍̓̊͗̆̔̄͐͌͛̕͠d̸͊̀ … p̸͍̂͂̽̂̿͒̈͛l̵̍͑̐̉̅̐̊̄͐̃̓̕͠ē̶̂͑̄̍̓̍͋̃̕̕͝ä̵͎̼̙̳̤̪͍̠͕̠̎̈́͋̕s̴̢̛̖̖̥̯̄̊̎̀͗͂ũ̶̪r̷̛̓̽̀͋e̸̺̼͎̾̀̑̀͂̑͝? <<

The next thing he could identify was the barking of dogs. Behind him, the demon growled in his sleep.

Then the voice again –

No, this one was someone else, someone female!

>> … a̶̫̲͖̙̒̓́̈́̏̓͐͒͆̓̚ l̶̨̩͉̫̬̜̟͉̮̥̬̿̎̀͛̊͌̿͌e̵͛͆ą̶͓͉̗̗̫͖͓̍͐͒̓̇͊̔̚͝͝s̷̤͖͗̇͛̈ḫ̴͔̞͔̮͍̣́̽͑̉͌̇͗͌̋͒͝ … ó̸̹̭͚̼͈̠̭̻̘͒̈̀̽̀̐̊̐͒ͅͅr … c̸̢̝͔̩̎͋̐̈͋̈́͋̕͝ā̵̞̮̫̟̰̙̘̏̌g̶͎̿̈́̾̈́̑͐͌̐͊̚e̶̢̢̻̳̯̪̤͍̗͙̐̈̒̀͋̅͐̓̐̃ … <<

Was that Alastor’s owner?! There was something familiar in that voice, fuck, he knew it had to be someone powerful, powerful enough to possibly be part of Hell’s nobility and thus he must have met that entity at some point, and probably more than once, and if he were to just take a peek into the sinner’s dream he might find out who –

>> BANG! <<

The sound of a gunshot exploded from the radio and Alastor jolted upright with a broken scream lodged and dying in his throat.

Lucifer couldn’t help but flinch at the deafening noise and sudden movement but didn’t dare move after that. He had at some point during the night turned back fully on his side, and thus his face was now turned away from the demon behind him just like before. He had shut his eyes reflexively and now held them close, pretending to be still sleep.

Alastor was panting heavily, and the King could hear and feel him move his body slightly on the bed. The demon was probably disoriented just like he had been after the Wendigo incident when he had awoken in his bayou, secretly observed by the King.

A few moments later he heard the gasp he had been expecting, signalling the demon’s realization of where he was and whom he was with. It didn’t matter how much Lucifer wished to have the Radio Demon taken up on his offer, didn’t matter how hard it had been to resist the kiss – Alastor’s mind had been clouded by inebriation, and the Devil knew that exercising restraint had been the right thing to do, but damn did it hurt to be right about the sinner regretting this situation come morning.

The only thing he could do was to fake being sound asleep and let the Overlord save as much of his pride as he could by sneaking out through his shadow, and pretend to not remember how the evening had ended, that he had ever stepped foot into the red sinner’s quarters this night or the other way around, and maybe that would be enough to save what he could between the two of them –

He was dumbfounded at the sigh his ears picked up, a sound so full of relief that he was sure he had imagined it until he felt the body behind him sink back on the mattress.

And then an arm was cautiously pushed between the fallen angel and the sheets to wrap around him like it had before, followed by the rest of the deer demon curling around the King once more.

Pulled back into the possessive yet gentle embrace, Lucifer could neither hold back the tears that rose to his eyes nor stop his breath from hitching in a quiet sob.

“You’re staying”, he whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself, but Alastor’s hearing was impeccable.

There was a moment of silence, then: “You’re awake …”

Lucifer tried to stifle his sobs as much as he could, but he couldn’t prevent his body from shaking.

Alastor didn’t comment on it.

“You had a nightmare”, the King finally replied, and the Overlord only hummed in acknowledgment, not addressing the implication that he might have woken the Devil, and Lucifer didn’t push the topic.

He didn’t really need Alastor to know that he hadn’t slept the entire night, expecting the morning to bring disaster.

A few more moments of companionable silence went by in which the Devil calmed himself a bit more.

“I was a little tempted to look, you know?” Lucifer felt a little braver now that the crisis he had expected hadn’t come to pass.

Alastor stiffened.

“But you didn’t.” Spoken with confidence despite his body language betraying his wariness, and the fallen angel wondered whether that was another sign of trust or something else.

“No, I didn’t.”

The Devil contemplated telling Alastor that the radio had reacted to the nightmare but decided against it.

It was dawning on him that sleeping in the same bed might not be a onetime occurrence as he had expected it to be, but if the Radio Demon was concerned about the King finding out about his owner, then he would probably reject the idea.

Hu, then again … Alastor couldn’t tell him, sure, and he had made it clear that he couldn’t allow Lucifer to pry the information out of his head, but finding out without the demon knowing should be in his interest –

“Good. It wasn’t a pleasant dream, no need to expose yourself to that experience.”

But now the Overlord was omitting the fact that there had been an opportunity here …

Or maybe not. Maybe Lucifer had misinterpreted the voice and the words, maybe those elements had been just a conjuration of the sinner’s mind without any root in real events. Dreams were made of fabricated images and thoughts after all, at least the non-prophetic ones were.

“Yeah, figured as much. Nightmares aren’t pleasant by definition, you know?”

Alastor hummed again, and that was that, end of the topic. Only Lucifer couldn’t let it go.

“Wanna tell me about it?”, he asked after a pause.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m curious? And I asked nicely?”

“Nicely? You haven’t even said ‘please’, sire!”

The Devil felt his cheeks heat up with a flush.

“Well, if you have to be a prick about it, I don’t wanna know!”, he pouted and felt immediately silly for it.

Alastor chuckled, his breath tickling in the fallen angel’s hair and the laugh vibrating in that bony chest pressed against his back.

And of course the demon left it at that, as he always did in the knowledge that it drove the King crazy.

Only this time Lucifer could punish him for it by wriggling his way out of that cool embrace – or trying to, because the sinner instantly tightened his grip to prevent the monarch from escaping.

“Stop squirming, you little –“

“Nu-uh, I’m not cuddling with a pesky, prickly –“

The arm he lay on moved suddenly up, the demon’s hand covering his mouth to stop the train of curses, and Lucifer bit the upper most red-clawed finger on instinct.

The demon drew a sharp, hissing breath but didn’t pull his hand away. The taste of copper, salt and the faintly sweet note of decay like swamp water danced on the Devil’s tongue. And something else, something he had never tasted before, rich and dark like peaty rye, but different.

And Lucifer was shocked to find that he liked it.

Both of them stilled, surprised by the sudden turn of events. The Radio Demon was the first to break the silence, relaxing his grip around the fallen angel, but the King did not make another attempt at extracting himself from the embrace. He let go of the demon’s finger, though, half of his face now cradled in the large palm of the blackened hand and watching the marks his teeth had left heal within seconds.

“I dreamed about my death.”

Was that why there were dogs barking?, he almost asked, remembering just in time not to bring up the sounds he had heard over the radio.

“Oh”, he responded instead, which was a weak-ass reaction for sure, but Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it.

“When you said you were tempted to look … did you refer to that mind scrying ability of yours again?”

“Uhm, yeah?” Why was Alastor circling back to that topic?

“Do you have control over what you find?” The sinner tried to make it sound casual, but the Devil could sense the underlying wariness in the almost non-filtered voice.

“Well … kind of. I could find anything I want, if it’s there, but … minds are messy. Especially here in Hell – I’m sure you can relate!” The King chuckled at his own insinuation and was relieved to hear Alastor snicker behind him as well.

“It’s really hard to find something when I’m not even sure what exactly I’m looking for. Memories don’t exist in a thought-vacuum, there’re always connected to other experiences, and that’s what makes it all a tangled mess, really. It’s much easier if the other participant focuses on whatever they want me to see – it’s like a big fat neon sign saying ‘Look here!’ and well … then I can actually look.”

Silence.

Lucifer gave Alastor a few moments to mull over the information before he rolled around to finally face the demon. The Radio Demon’s gaze was clearly directed inward, and the fallen angel was stunned to recognize the flickering emotion in those red eyes as longing. Alastor was not only contemplating the idea of the mind scry but fighting with himself over it.

“Al?”

Before he could think about it, he laid a hand on the Overlord’s cheek, the red and ruby eyes instantly snapping into focus.

“You trust me, right?”

Another flicker of something Lucifer couldn’t identify in time, and then the demon let out a slow, shaky breath.

“I’d like to … remember a certain face more clearly.”

It wasn’t phrased like a request, it was technically just a statement, but Lucifer knew better, knew how hard it could be to ask for help with something highly treasured and guarded. He smiled tenderly, grateful for being given the opportunity to actively proof to Alastor that his trust was warranted.

“Alright, I can help with that. And I won’t spy, I promise.”

He waited for confirmation, to make sure that this was indeed what the sinner wanted and not a misunderstanding, and when Alastor slightly nodded after another moment of silence, the King moved his hand up to the demon’s forehead and gently directed his magic to look –

– His sandals make loud smacking noises against the cobble stones as he runs along the street, dodging pedestrians and a single car with the driver angrily honking at the boy, but Alastor pays him no mind. He’s eager to get home and present his catch to his mother: a three feet long catfish fresh out of the river.

The beast has fought him tooth and nail, so to speak, and it shows on his wet and muddy clothes. His mother will not be pleased about that, but he’s sure the fish he has wrapped in an old towel and now carries in the bag strapped over his shoulder and back will make up for it.

As the bag smacks against his lean body with the rhythm of his steps, he sometimes feels the fish jolt and wriggle although it’s dead – he knows it is, he has plunged his small pocketknife through its skull to kill it, but it still keeps occasionally jerking.

He wonders why that is.

It’s not important right now, though, he can see the yellow house down the street – HIS yellow house with the white door and white window shutters and the narrow white balconies on the upper floors.

He throws the unlocked front door open and takes two steps at a time up the narrow staircase –

“Ey, watchit, boy!”

“ ’Pologies, Mr. Guidry!”

– and knocks at his apartment door breathlessly. He can hear steps approaching from the other side, and then his mother opens the door.

She’s a woman of undefined age to Alastor’s child eyes, smooth chestnut skin and warm hazel eyes that shine like amber in the sun light. Her thick chocolate brown curls are tied into a bun to get them out of the way while doing chores, but some strands always come loose to frame her heart shaped face.

To Alastor, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and he wishes he would look more like her and less like his father, although she insists that he should be glad for that.

One day Alastor will understand what she means by that, and he will loath the fact.

“Mon chéri, whatcha gotten yaself into?”, she gasps with a heavy southern accent as her eyes trail over him, worry evident despite the boy’s wide grin.

“Caught a mud cat! Look!”, he replies and –

– Lucifer has no corporeal form here, but if he had, he would be gawking, for Alastor’s voice is almost unrecognizable to him with that childlike higher pitch combined with the same southern accent he has never heard the demon use. To his surprise, he can feel the Overlord’s own irritation in this moment as they are watching the memory unfold, as if the demon himself has forgotten about this detail of his early life –

– slips out of his muddy shoes to run to the small kitchen and unpack his catch.

“Now ain’t that a real big boy y’got there, mon cœur! Ain’t I always tellin’ folks there ain’t a livin’ thing ma bébé ain’t catchin’! Guess I’ll be changin’ dinner plans”, she exclaims, and he beams at her praise.

She bows down to take his face in her hands, catching one of his own stray curls to tuck behind his ear and swiping a bit of dried mud from his face with her thumb, smiling at him with adoration and pride the whole time.

Suddenly, the memory flickers, the woman’s face staying in focus but now the angle has changed, she’s laying in a bed, sleeping, looking older and exhausted, frail, worn out, her hair thinner with streaks of grey sprinkled in, and he’s leaning over her, watching her chest rise and fall with strained breaths and silently saying goodbye –

The Devil can feel Alastor’s agitation, grief and anger swirling in his mind like storm clouds.

‘That wasn’t me!’, the fallen angel hastily tries to assure the demon, afraid that Alastor suspects him of breaking his promise not to pry.

‘I know’, comes the growled answer that echoes all around Lucifer’s consciousness like thunder.

The memory changes back to the younger version of Alastor’s mother, a still image Lucifer can feel the demon study before there is push at his consciousness, a clear sign that Alastor has had enough and wants the scry to end.

And Lucifer doesn’t hesitate to comply and retract his magic, but before he can fully retreat from the Overlord’s mind, something pulls at him, like an invisible tendril snatching his leg if he had an actual body here.

Hu, how strange, never has a mind ever tried to hold him, normally any intrusion is fought against instinctively, and he can feel that instinctual hostility surrounding him, too. The only reason Alastor’s mind isn’t outright fighting him is the demon’s consent, but he can feel the defensive aggression closing in on him since the sinner want’s him gone now.

So what is trying to prevent him from leaving?

But he has no time to investigate the unexpected hold on him, he must go now if he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, and so he compels the strange force to let go with a pulse of his power –

– As he pulled his hand back, Alastor turned away and rolled on his back, and Lucifer ignored the little sting of hurt that action caused. He could tell that the demon needed a moment to himself, evidenced by the fact that the sinner pried his arm free from under the fallen angel to cover his face with both hands.

He wanted so badly to reach out but was unsure how the demon would react. Touch might not be appreciated right now, no matter that a whole night spent cuddling seemed to indicate something different, but Alastor had ended their contact for a reason and the last thing Lucifer wanted to do was to push him away even further.

All he could do was be patient and wait, and thus that’s what he did.

Alastor’s breathing was visibly strained – no, controlled. Deep inhales and exhales that almost managed to hide all the little hitches. He held his teeth clenched together in a silent, twitching snarl, and his ears were pressed back against the pillow.

When the demon finally raked his claws down his face, Lucifer only noticed what little remained of the swiped away tear tracks because he was looking for them.

“She was beautiful”, he whispered, unsure if he was overstepping with commenting on what he had witnessed.

“She was”, the Alastor replied after a moment, voice free of filter and a little hoarse. “Lovely woman, too. Went to Heaven, and deservedly so.”

There was nothing the Devil could reply that felt right. Luckily, the Radio Demon didn’t seem to need a response.

“You had curls, like her.” It was perhaps a strange detail to single out, but he had been surprised by the fact and how different it had made the sinner look even as a child. He couldn’t for the life of him picture the demon with that hair style.

“It was the only thing that made me resemble her. Naturally, Hell took that away from me.”

It felt like a gut punch how upset Alastor sounded, and the fallen angel was at a loss for words because of it.

But then, the sinner turned on his side again and propped himself up on one elbow.

“Since I find myself rather grateful for this … service, what reward does my King desire?”

Lucifer blinked.

“That … that won’t be necessary? It was a gift, if anything, no payment requi– …”

“Ah-ah”, the Overlord stopped the King’s objection by placing his index finger over the fallen angel’s lips, smirking. “I won’t allow you to squander my generosity again like you did before we went to sleep.”

The King felt his cheeks blush, but the feeling didn’t stop there.

“I … uhm … wasn’t certain whether you would remember that part …”

“Every word. At least I’m not aware of any lapse in time other than sleeping far longer than I usually do.”

That feeling, that heat, now crawled through his chest to settle in his guts. Lucifer rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on both arms.

“So that means”, he started, with his heart fluttering anxiously while he tried to mask his growing excitement behind a teasing grin of his own, “that I can get a kiss?”

Alastor chuckled and the fallen angel expected some kind of mocking remark, but the demon leaned closer instead, reaching with his free hand to cup the Devil’s chin and pull him in, and Lucifer could only hold his breath in anticipation until their lips touched.

It was a chaste kiss at first, a mere touch of partially parted lips, like tipping a toe into a body of water to cautiously test the temperature, but even that was enough to send a spark of electricity down the King’s spine, instantly followed by a shiver. His tail emerged, slashing wildly and dislodging the duvet to free itself, and Lucifer couldn’t care less.

He crawled closer to increase the pressure and was rewarded when the Overlord’s lips parted a little more, allowing the Devil’s forked tongue to probe against the sinner’s sharp teeth and for Alastor to do the same as the kiss deepened.

The Radio Demon watched him through half-lidded eyes and Lucifer held his gaze until his eye lids fell shut from the pleasure and he focused on the tenderness of the kiss alone.

Alastor let himself sink back on the pillow and the fallen angel followed blindly, chasing the connection and the desire that was building below his gut.

Lucifer could feel the demon’s smile stretch before the kiss was broken by a chuckle.

“Someone’s eager”, Alastor teased with that low voice of his that was already unfairly hot under normal circumstances but was now devastating to the King’s restraint.

But the words made him aware now that he had climbed onto the demon’s body, straddling his thin waist with his legs while his boxers were pushed to a sizable tent by his hardened member. A wet spot had already formed were the pre-cum had soaked the strained fabric.

Shit, shit, shit! He had asked for a kiss and nothing more, and here he had been trying to go all the way and then some while Alastor … might even be up for this, hu, he had alluded to remembering his offer, hadn’t he?

His gaze switched between the throbbing tent in his underpants and the demon’s amused expression, back and forth, back and forth, until his brain suddenly short-circuited, making him do finger guns at Alastor with a cocky grin.

“I guess I should hope that your offer is still on the table, hu?”

The Overlord’s smile twitched, and some of the amusement left his expression.

“Ah, regrettably the mood for sexual intercourse has passed, I’m afraid.”

Lucifer’s grin fell from his face. “What?! You’re kidding, right?”

He could feel the demon tense under him, and not in the way he had been hoping for. Alastor propped himself up on his elbows, which made the King effectively sit in the demon’s lap.

“I assure you, sire, I do not jest. It’s simply rare for me to get aroused, even if the kissing was quite enjoyable.”

And the fallen angel could tell it was true, because his butt was situated right in Alastor’s crotch where the sinner’s manhood was hidden inside that animalistic fur pouch, and there was nothing hard pressing against his butt cheeks.

He didn’t know how to respond to that, nor what to think about the sinner’s assertion. Alastor watched him closely, unmoving, waiting … and suddenly Lucifer became aware of the deer demon’s eyes slowly narrowing, his ears drawing back and his body growing rigid with every heartbeat the King stayed silent.

Bracing himself for the Devil’s backlash against the rejection of his advances.

The realization put an instant damper on his churning arousal.

Somehow, the Radio Demon believed that refusing sexual requests safely didn’t fit under the umbrella of their established trust.

Lucifer didn’t dare to examine the implications of this observation any further right now. Even scratching this little at the surface of this topic made a stone drop in his belly.

“It’s okay”, he whispered, choking on the thoughts that came unbidden to him regardless. He cleared his throat to repeat a little firmer: “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

The Overlord tilted his head a bit, ears perking up. “You’re not?”

“Of course not! I mean … I would lie if I said that I wasn’t a little disappointed here, but, you know, that’s my own fault after all, right? I mean, who’s the one now regretting their decisions in the morning, ha! That’s what I get from playing the good guy!”, he giggled half-heartedly, trying desperately to ease the tension in the air.

To his relief, Alastor relaxed visibly. The demon sat up, which forced the fallen angel to lean into the other man to keep his balance, and how the fuck did the sinner still manage to tower over him by several inches?!

“I’d say that, since you are the Devil, one might call you somewhat prone to bad decisions, sire. How about adding another one to your tally?”, the Overlord said, and it had never felt better to be mocked again.

A smug smile spread across the Devil’s face, yeah, this was so much better, this was the Alastor he lov– liked.

“Sure, why stop now?”, he replied, and found himself suddenly manhandled again, turned around and sitting in the demon’s lap now with his back pressed against the sinner’s chest, held in place with one red-clawed hand while the other slid across his stomach. The hand only stopped once it reached the waistband of his boxers, and Lucifer’s breath hitched.

He could feel the Radio Demon lean in, his face right next to the King’s as he whispered in that damned low voice:

“I so hate to disappoint my King, therefore I have an alternative proposal to provide some … relief.”

One red-tipped claw scratched at the waistband, and that little friction of fabric was enough to let the Devil’s cock harden again and throb in response.

“If you want me to, that is …”

Fuck YES did he want it, but all he could do was nod eagerly and thankfully that was clear enough consent for Alastor to carry on, peeling the waistband away to free Lucifer’s leaking member.

Fuck, was all he could think as those long piano finger wrapped around his cock and started to gently stroke it, catching the beads of pre-cum with the thumb to use as lubrication.

A few moments later Alastor started switching between a gentle caress and an earnest pump as if playing a flute to the melody of the Devil’s gasps and hitching moans – FUCK, no metaphor now that involved a mouth doing things to any kind of cylindrical-shaped object or he wouldn’t even last a minute …

Not that he was about to last long, anyways. The King hadn’t been touched like this in a long time and only occasionally touched himself if the mood struck and he was in high enough spirits. Masturbation might be good for a sweet kick of dopamine rush, but only if one could muster the energy to pleasure oneself in the first place. Which he usually couldn’t, not when every arousing thought evoked images of Lilith and was therefore followed by a wave of either guilt or grief.

Luckily, he didn’t need to think of his wife right now, he didn’t need to think at all, only feel, feel, FEEL.

Alastor still held him tightly pressed against himself, restricting the fallen angel’s squirming and that right there was another button pressed to coil that heated spring in his abdomen.

“Ah … shiiiit, I’m … I’m close ….”, he managed to hiss between panting breaths. He couldn’t help but arch his back as much as he could against the restricting arm as he bucked his hips to rut against the movement of that circling hand down below. Throwing his arms back to get a grip and hold onto something, anything, he caught soft fur with one hand and a creaking antler with the other.

“ Ï̴̬̖ k̶̬̣̮̼̣͒̄n̸̹͒͘ô̵̭̮̙͝ẘ̸̓̓̅ ”, came the growled and distorted answer right next to his ear, accompanied with a huff of breath and something hard and smooth and pointy against the crook of his neck, and the mere thought of teeth about to sink into his skin was enough to send him over the edge.

He came with a broken whine over his stomach and the demon’s hand, and instantly let himself sink completely into the sinner’s hold afterwards.

And still, he felt the teeth against the skin of his neck, a closed maw with bared fangs on the brink of biting the prey’s throat.

Lucifer stilled, the high of his release turned into a feeling of impending doom, his breath catching in his throat. Speaking of high, he only noticed now the high-pitched tone shrieking through crackling static in the air.

“You’re … good? Al?”

“L̷̇̎e̸̒t ğ̴̨̬̖͈̬̈́̉o̷̻͒͝ …”

“W-what?”

“E̸̯͂̄̈̽̕Á̴͓̳̬͐͝Ŗ̷̯̀̀̉͗!”

Oh. Oh.

“Ah shit, sorry!”, he hastily exclaimed, only now realizing that the patch of fur he was still holding on to was indeed a velvety soft deer ear. He immediately let go of it, as well as the antler. No wonder that had branched out, yeah, if he’d had the brain capacity to form a thought, that might have been a clue right there.

Alastor drew a shaky breath and leaned back, Lucifer could hear his head hit the wall with a soft thud. His hold on the King loosened, and he lifted the hand from Lucifer’s member to observe the streaks of drying spend.

“Always such a mess. Would you mind cleaning this up, sire?” There was a hint of disgust in his voice that made the King wince a little.

“Hu, I’d thought you wouldn’t mind bodily fluids, with you being a cannibal and all?”, he joked, but did as he was bidden with a snap of his fingers.

He then leaned back slowly until his back rested against the other man again, testing if Alastor was still amenable to close contact or if the ear-incident had disgruntled him too much to allow for more cuddles.

But the demon didn’t seem to mind.

“Assuming again, are we, sire?”, Alastor huffed, and the fallen angel flinched a little. “I may be a cannibal, but I still have taste. My enjoyment of blood doesn’t equate to me enjoying every body part there is in a creature.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Hmm.”

They shared another moment of companionable silence, and just as the King thought that he could stay all day like this, the Radio Demon spoke again.

“As pleasant as this is, I need to get up now. My morning broadcast starts in fifteen minutes.”

Despite his words, the demon didn’t move, and Lucifer contemplated for a moment to try and persuade him to just stay, broadcast be damned, but he knew it would be a waste of effort. It was a matter of pride and reputation for Alastor not to miss a broadcast, and asking him to skip one might just come across like a joke at best and an insult at worst.

“Alright, big guy, have fun.”

The Overlord chuckled and the Devil could feel him draw on his powers –

“Wait!”

Alastor halted, looking down on the King questioningly.

“I wanted to … thank you. For spending the night.”

Red and ruby eyes stared at him, unblinking. Searching for something.

“Maybe … we can do that again?”, he continued somewhat hesitantly, smiling sheepishly. “If the mood strikes?”

The edges of the demon’s smile curled a bit upward. A little softer, a little gentler.

And a flicker of an emotion in those piercing eyes that the Devil thought might be, hopefully, – please, Father, let me have this! – adoration.

“If the mood strikes.”

And then he was gone, vanished into shadows, and Lucifer fell back onto the now empty pillow, grinning like an idiot.

He was still grinning by the time the radio sprung to life as the broadcast started, wrapped comfortably in the bedding that still smelled after the sinner, while a single thought repeated itself over and over in his head, simultaneously inciting a swarm of fluttering butterflies in his core as well as a lingering dread he couldn’t shake off:

I think, I love this man.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

34 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

“ … But she was bold, I’ll give her that, and rather persistent, too. Thus, I finally relented and invited her for dinner that very evening, and I’m sure you can all imagine the look on her face when she realized why the table was set for one person alone, ha ha! Her screams were quite lovely indeed, a beautiful addition to the broadcast’s choir! So, let this be a cautionary tale – a warning and some advice, if you will – when in pursuit, make sure it is indeed prey you’re hunting, and not a predator!”

Canned laughter and applause erupted in the broadcast.

“I must say, this little tale has left me with a bit of an appetite, so if you see me out in town today, make sure to steer clear, dear listeners! And speaking of hunger, I have one last tasty song for today’s broadcast before I leave you all to your miserable day!”

Then Alastor lowered his voice, as if letting his listeners in on a secret. Which, he supposed, wasn’t far off.

“But before I bid you farewell, dear audience, I have a sip of fresh hot tea for you all: the Hazbin Hotel is reaching for the stars and beyond in an upcoming special new program, to be announced soon on all frequencies, but only available here on ‘Radio 666’ and hosted by yours truly of course, so stay tuned! And now without further ado: Eat Your Young by Hozier! Until next time …”

He let his last words blend with the first notes of music and then leaned back, propping his feet up at the edge of the console.

🎶 I'm starving, darling
Let me put my lips to something
Let me wrap my teeth around the world
Start carving, darling
I wanna smell the dinner cooking
I wanna feel the edges start to burn🎶

He would lie if he were to deny that his hunger had anything to do with choosing the song, or with the topics of today’s broadcast in general. It was a growling beast in his stomach, gnawing at his insides with pointed teeth, demanding to be fed.

🎶 Honey, I wanna race you to the table
If you hesitate, the getting is gone
I won't lie, if there's something to be gained
There's money to be made, whatever's still to come🎶

It didn’t help that his thoughts kept returning to the earlier events of this morning. How disoriented he had been from waking up from the nightmare, the gun shot still ringing in his ears, only to find himself in that room, in that bed, next to blond hair …

He had been frozen like a deer in headlights, which had been the only thing that had stopped him from leaping out of the bed in pure revulsion and panic – precious seconds, as it turned out, for his mind to register how small the body next to him was, how short the hair, the partly exposed slits on the pale back were wings could sprout …

Alastor had never been this relieved to be wrong.

🎶 Get some
Pull up the ladder when the flood comes
Throw enough rope until the legs have swung
Seven new ways that you can eat your young
Come and get some
Skinning the children for a war drum
Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns
It's quicker and easier to eat your young 🎶

At that point, the Overlord had briefly contemplated extracting himself silently from the bed and leaving. Them falling into bed together had been a foolishly drunken decision, one the King hadn’t taken advantage of, and Alastor could have made sure that it stayed that way.

Not that he had regretted his offer, but … he had been less enthusiastic about it. Inebriation had already made him more susceptible towards certain carnal desires, but it would have also helped with the sensory aspect of going through with it. Having sobered up, though, the demon had been less comfortable with the prospect of sexual intercourse.

But to the fallen angel’s surprise – and, admittedly, his own – he had stayed. Another impulsive decision rather than well thought out, born from greed and selfishness and a blatant disregard for the consequences looming on the horizon, only waiting to descent upon him.

All because of that need deep inside, sprouting like vines throughout his body, his mind, his soul, and growing like the hunger that plagued him …

🎶 You can't buy this fineness
Let me see the heat get to it
Let me watch the dressing start to peel
It's a kindness, Highness
Crumbs enough for everyone
Old and young are welcome to the meal 🎶

… urging him …
… demanding of him …
… begging him …

🎶 Honey, I'm making sure the table's made
We can celebrate the good that we've done
I won't lie, if there's something still to take
There is ground to break, whatever's still to come🎶

… to taste …
… to devour …
… to keep …

🎶 Get some
Pull up the ladder when the flood comes
Throw enough rope until the legs have swung
Seven new ways that you can eat your young🎶

And now the scent of Lucifer’s skin, sweaty from arousal, was lingering in his nose and his mind, a reminder of his teeth pressed shut against that porcelain neck and the Devil’s racing pulse underneath.

He had been so close to biting down –

🎶 Come and get some🎶

– but if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to stop there. His actions might have been foolish, but Alastor was under no illusion that he would have regained control quickly once he’d lost it.

🎶 Skinning the children for a war drum
Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns
It's quicker and easier to eat your young🎶

The last beats of the song bled into static as the broadcast ended. The ‘On Air’ sign flickered and turned off.

The silence after a successful show was usually comforting, but right now it lacked satisfaction. The quiet begged to be filled again, to either drown out the repeating memories or guide his thoughts into a direction that was more useful.

Like answering the question of: Why in Hell was he losing all sense of self-preservation when it came to Lucifer?

Alastor had been meticulously orchestrating his healing for a price as low as possible and achieved it. He had gotten lucky after his faux pas with losing control over the Wendigo, and being civil and repaying his self-perceived debt as a result had been a reasonable decision.

And from there, everything had suddenly spiralled out of control, and he had allowed it to. Had taken part in it!

And for what? To savour a strange fascination he had for that paradoxical, divine, radiant and silly creature that was the Devil, and his burning, consuming, cleansing touch …?

The Radio Demon bent forward sharply with a frustrated growl, pushing himself out of his chair to stand and lean on the control panel. The console sprang to life under his touch, and he set the frequency to 66.9 before reaching for the switch to activate the internal speakers only. His red-tipped claws hovered over the switch, hesitating.

He had told Charlie that this frequence always played music, and that hadn’t been a lie … but of course, it wasn’t just as simple as tuning in to a broadcasting radio station. No one ever seemed to wonder why the song that played upon tuning in always started at the very beginning, or why the music always felt personalized no matter one’s current mood or circumstances.

It was soul music.

Not the genre, but the soul connecting to the airwaves in a way even he couldn’t control, and expressing itself. It didn’t work with every radio, only those he conjured with his magic, which made him believe that perhaps souls had some kind of frequency of their own, a soulwave that could connect with his magic to use as a conduit to be heard.

It was revealing, to say the least. Perfect for gathering intel on a person’s actual feelings in a subtle and unassuming way, if they were the one turning on the channel.

The crux was, that it worked on himself, too. And right now, he was questioning himself whether he really wanted to hear what his tattered soul had to say about Lucifer everything.

His fingers were still hovering above the switch, and a growl escaped his gritted teeth. How humiliating to be afraid of little a piece of music, especially if no one else was around to hear! Alastor chuckled to himself, a desperate, manic sound that betrayed his resolve, and finally flicked the switch.

The sound of an electric guitar and a drum set playing a gentle tune filled the inside of his station. The demon felt his ears folding back. He knew that song. It had been written long after his time, but since it was a classic, of course the Radio Demon was familiar with it.

🎶 The world was on fire and no one could save me but you
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
With you
With you
(This world is only gonna break your heart)🎶

Love? LOVE?! This desire, this hunger wasn’t love! He remembered how the love for his mother had felt. He knew that he loved his son.

The emotion Lucifer evoked in him was … different.

🎶 What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you🎶

“Shut up!”, he snarled, yamming his fist on the console in anger. “That’s not what this is!”

But of course, the song kept playing.

🎶 And I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
With you
The world was on fire and no one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd love somebo– 🎶

Alastor flipped the switch again and shut everything off. The silence that followed was deafening.

As far as he knew, the soul music had never been wrong. Then again, it never could be taken exactly word for word, since the song that played hadn’t been written by the soul itself, only pulled from the airwaves as it had been composed by living mortals, thus a certain variance in accuracy should be expected.

The Overlord couldn’t deny a significant degree of overlap between the lyrics and his current state of mind, but regarding the song’s conclusion as to his confusing emotions, that’s where the discrepancy came in, obviously.

It was best not to linger too much on those words, and perhaps a conversation with Rosie was the sounder approach in dealing with the mess he had gotten himself into. She would help him detangle these feelings that wound themselves around his mind and soul like strings, deceptively delicate in their appearance but strong like angelic rope, trapping him.

It wouldn’t be the first time either that she had set his head straight with regards to a relationship of his. Rosie was the undisputed expert in this field and he valued her opinion.

Yes, a visit to his dear friend was indeed due. The demon hadn’t seen her since the hotel’s re-opening celebration, and what good of a friend was he for not checking in on her and Cannibal Town sooner?

He would send her a note to expect him on the morrow for tea. It would be rude of him to stop by unannounced without giving her the opportunity to be prepared for an interruption of her busy schedule, after all, and he only ever did so when there was a certain degree of urgency to the situation.

Besides, he had another appointment in town today. There had been a message from Velvette among this morning’s mail, giving him an address and a time to fulfil his part of the deal. Alastor would have appreciated an earlier notice, but such was the peril of deals. He had still enough time left to get some paperwork for the hotel done and scout the designated location before the start of the shoot at 2 pm.

Satisfied that today’s schedule would keep his mind occupied for most of the day, and looking forward to seeing his best friend and getting her expert advice, Alastor smoothed the wrinkles in his coat and left his radio tower.

.
…
.

The address led to a warehouse in the border zone between the Entertainment and Industrial District. Not exactly neutral territory, but as close as it got for Pentagram City. The streets were ruled by gangs that lasted between a week and a few months, but at the moment none of the sovereign Overlords had laid claim to these buildings with their small apartments and shops.

It provided a little bit of freedom for those smart enough to still own their soul, but it came at the price of regularly changing landlords a.k.a. the current gang that held that particular street, and its members collecting protection money instead of rent.

Whether the residents got their money’s worth in security was another story entirely.

Alastor travelled in shadow form through the small and dark alleyways between the buildings, dodging any soul that stumbled in his way. He didn’t want to be seen, neither by the Voxtek drones that were scattered all over the city, nor the sinners that lived here and were always on the lookout for quick cash to be made.

There were runes etched into the warehouse walls, small and unassuming little things that didn’t draw attention because that was their entire objective – to divert eyes and encourage ignorance towards this area. Devious when used under the right circumstances and for more nefarious purposes, keeping the weaker souls away without attracting the curiosity of an Overlord.

Velvette knew how to protect the privacy they had agreed on for the shoot. And since he could feel the compulsion of the deal still tugging softly as the appointed time approached, the deal was still intact, which meant that the Influencer Overlord had neither told anyone about this nor set a trap.

But of course, she could have found a way to circumvent the terms of their agreement without breaking the deal outright, and thus the Radio Demon would stay vigilant. He was confident though that Velvette had no interest in backstabbing him until the three hours were over and she had gotten everything she wanted, and Alastor would make sure to not leave her time to change her mind once the deal was concluded.

The demon slipped through the keyhole of the metal front door and emerged on the other side, announcing his arrival by knocking at the inside of the door with his microphone.

“About fucking time!”, Velvette yelled from the next room, her heeled boots clicking sharply as she neared the small corridor he stood in.

It took the deer demon only a few steps to meet her at the entrance to the main hall.

“Lovely afternoon to you, too, dear”, he greeted with his usual smile, ignoring her brusque tone and brushing past her.

The warehouse had been repurposed into a one-time studio, but calling it ‘makeshift’ would have been an insult. The area designated for the shoot only filled a fraction of the space the warehouse had to offer, making it appear a little lost in the big hall, but the equipment was of high quality.

Two sets of bright studio lights with reflectors illuminated a light gray backdrop. A tripod with a mounted camera was placed in front of the instalment, while multiple racks with a variety of clothes in different styles lined both sides for easy access.

“Let’s get started, I want every fucking minute of this to count”, the Influencer Overlord yapped as she followed closely behind.

“No time for pleasantries? How very discourteous, but I suppose it can’t be helped. Very well, tell me what you expect of me, then.”

“First, I need to see what I’m working with, so take off your clothes”, she ordered. “No no, not with magic, take them off layer by layer, I want to get a feel for what looks good on you.”

An annoyed crackle of static escaped him, but he complied without a fuzz, peeling of his garments under her scrutinizing stare.

“Hu, you really do have a tail.”

“Obviously.”

“Is it true that you only hide it to piss of Vox?”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “The picture box has to make everything about him, doesn’t he?”

She didn’t comment on that. “What’s with the golden antler tips, by the way? Those are definitely new.”

What is she talking about?

His eyes narrowed. “And? What of it?”

They stared at each other for a moment before the Influencer Overlord waved dismissively.

“Whatever, I can work with it.”

“Fabulous.” He would have to check his antlers when he got back to the hotel.

Velvette left it at that and motioned for him to go on. If she was surprised by the reveal of the corset, it didn’t show on her face.

“Considering the rush you were in when I arrived, you’re taking your sweet time staring now, my dear.”

“Shut up”, she instantly barked, but the Radio Demon’s smirk only sharpened. “I didn’t expect a corset to vibe this hard with you, that’s all.”

Alastor didn’t respond to her comment, letting a few more minutes tick off her precious time. He was sure that the corset wasn’t the only thing she was contemplating – he could tell that her eyes trailed over his many scars as well, always going back to the most prominent one crossing his chest.

“Alright, I was planning on putting you into as many different styles as I can, but I changed my mind. We’re still gonna go through some casual and classy fits, but the main focus will be Goth.”

She turned to the clothing racks and snapped her fingers, over and over, frantically switching half of the outfits she had brought.

“Goth?”

“Yeah, you know, the whole edgy-children-of-darkness vibe? Ugh, I forgot what an old geezer you are! It’s dark colours, lots of lace, chains, embroidery … everything from dark Victorian to slutty Alternative. With what I’ll put you in, that toothy grin of yours will make for the perfect mysterious-vampire-lord charm that will make sinners flock to the new collection in masses, ha!”

Alastor wasn’t quite sure whether to be concerned or intrigued by the Influencer Overlord’s sudden outburst in determination, but their deal required of him not to argue with fashion choices, so he had to go along with whatever she had in mind anyways.

At least it sounded like this could be entertaining, after all.

.
…
.

Lucifer wouldn’t have mind staying in bed all day, but Charlie would have gotten the wrong idea about why he wasn’t leaving his rooms again, and he didn’t want her to worry. He was fine, absolutely and truly fine, even if he had skipped breakfast and lunch, so what, intermittent fasting was a thing, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been hungry anyways, or maybe just a little, but his bed had been too comfortable to leave for once, instead of him not having the energy to do so.

So what if he was already missing Alastor’s cool body pressed against his, and tried to cling to the memory of it? Was savouring something good a crime now?!

Actually, since they were in Hell, some pesky Overlord out there might indeed take offense to one of his underlings having a good time. Lucky him that he was the King, then, hu?

The only way to sour the mood was if Heaven were to open a portal and come for him –

Yeah, please don’t, that would definitely ruin the day …

Thus, he got out of bed for his daughter’s sake alone – only to be unable to find her. The fallen angel looked in every meeting and therapy room, but there was no sign of Charlie. Or Vaggie, for that matter. Residents were strolling about and in no rush to get to any kind of activity they might be running late for. There was a little altercation in the movie room about whatever, the issue resolving itself apparently the moment the King stuck his head in to see if Charlie was handling the situation.

When he couldn’t find her in the kitchen or the lobby as well, he made his way over to the bar. Surely Husk had seen her if she had gone out?

“Hey there, Husk, buddy, have you seen Charlie anywhere?”, he asked, his eyes wandering to a ferret-looking sinner that was glancing between the pint before him and the fallen angel.

“Ay, Princess’s in town with Vaggie an’ some volunteers handin’ out pamphlets again. She wants folks to see that the hotel ain’t a joke anymore an’ we’re actually gettin’ new guests.”

Aww, his little girl showing off the progress she was making filled him with fatherly pride.

“That means she’s not, uhm, she hasn’t been worrying about me again, right?”

The bartender looked at him with a hint of a smile, his facial lines softening a bit, but instead of answering, the cat demon went over to the ferret. “Drink up, will ya? Yar cut off ‘til after dinner, anyways.”

The small demon grumbled something under his breath, but emptied his glass immediately and left the bar, flipping off Husk in the process. The bartender only chuckled and returned to the fallen angel.

“Ain’t worryin’ yet”, Husk finally replied, “but let me tell ya, your Majesty, that you better show your face to see for herself when she gets back.”

Yikes. How much trauma had he caused his daughter that every time he was late, he caused her the anguish of thinking that he was hurled up in his rooms again, unreachable.

“Heard you loud and clear.”

“A’ight.” The bartender placed the glass he had polished on the shelf and took a new one to dry off. Hu, look at that, it wasn’t always the same glass he towelled – they did change!

“Wanna have somethin’ to drink, your Majesty?”

“Sure, do you serve coffee, too?”

“If ya okay with the machine brewed stuff?”

Lucifer thought about it for a moment and already knew that it wouldn’t compare to Alastor’s way of making the caffeinated beverage. Brewing coffee seemed like a holy – or maybe an unholy – ritual with the way that man took care to perfect every step in what should have been a simple task.

“It’ll do”, he decided, only because he wanted to have a reason to sit here while he waited for Charlie to return.

Or for Alastor to find and distract him. Thinking about it, he hadn’t run into the Radio Demon while searching for his daughter, which was rather odd.

“Comin’ right up.” Soon the coffee machine started to hiss and gurgle.

While waiting for the coffee to be ready, the King pulled out his phone. It was about time to get the search for the Radio Demon’s owner going.

The group chat he shared with the other Sins notified him of over four hundred unread messages. Lucifer skipped them all – there was really no point in trying to catch up with events from months ago. He typed a new message:

< LuLu: Hey guys! Does any of you have a soul contract with a sinner? Or knows of a Goetia who has one?

There were instantly multiple people typing.

< Ozzy: Luci?!
< Bee: The heck? You haven’t written in ages, Lu, how are you?!
< LuLu: Surprise?
< Lulu: Feeling good actually
< Bel: You always say that and it’s never true
< Ozzy: Ouch
< Bee: Bel’s got a point, tho
< LuLu: It’s true, I swear!
< S8tn: You missed the meeting. AGAIN!
< Ozzy: … are you perhaps seeing someone?
< LuLu: Guys, can we focus on my question?
< Ozzy: OMF, you’re seeing someone! I give you a call, one sec!

And that was the point where Lucifer put the phone away with a sigh. The bartender took that as signal to speak again without interrupting the King’s business.

“By the way, boss also went downtown. Runnin’ some errands.”

“Oh, uhm, ‘kay …” Was reading minds an Overlord thing? Maybe he should look into that. “Good to know. I guess.”

Husk set the coffee mug in front of him with a slight smirk. “Figured ya might be wonderin’.”

Fuck, was he that obvious?!

His phone rang. Lucifer ignored it, and the cat demon wisely refrained from commenting.

He took a small sip from the steaming beverage. Yeah, this didn’t even come close to comparing to the red sinner’s coffee.

“How do you feel today?”, the King tried to deflect the attention away from whatever the former Overlord thought was going on between Alastor and him. “After, you know … uhm, how do I put it …”

“After I fucked up?”, Husk finished the sentence for him. He didn’t appear to be peeved about it, though, but his expression got a bit sombre.

“Well, I wouldn’t say –“

“It’s alright, sweeter words ain’t changin’ the fact that I had it comin’. I did him dirty with the cider, an’ worse, I did it in public. Could’ve been worse, honestly, but then again, maybe the boss ain’t done with punishin’ me yet. Especially since I doubled-down an’ pushed too far when I asked you about ya wedding ring. Sorry for that.”

Lucifer’s gaze instantly fell down to his finger where the golden band no longer sat. Being reminded of the ring made the skin there itch, and he reflexively scratched the spot with the claw of his thumb.

“It’s alright, no big –“ He blinked and looked back up at Husk. “What does that have to do with Al punishing you?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and shot him a knowing look.

“Ya haven’t noticed?” The little smirk was back. “The question made ya uncomfortable. An’ Al gets defensive of the people he cares about. More so when he’s drunk.”

The words echoed in Lucifer’s mind and he couldn’t help but avoid the cat demon’s eyes, staring at his coffee instead. The coffee that had not been made by Alastor, who had figured out instantly how the King preferred this beverage. Who preened his wings with such meticulous care. Who kept almost everyone at a physical distance of a few feet unless he initiated contact first, and who forced himself not to flinch at Charlies enthusiastic hugs, but sought out the fallen angel’s touch.

Who spent the night because the fallen angel was dreading to be alone with his thoughts and then stayed and – …

Yeah.

It was clear now that there was trust between them, on an intimate level in more than one way even, and that had to come with a certain level of care for the other person, surely. And Lucifer had just realized this morning that was he felt was more than just caring, but that didn’t mean that this was also the case for Alastor. He had to keep that in mind, or else he would likely load all his hopes and wishes and expectations onto an unsuspecting deer demon and that could only end in disaster …

Lucifer glanced up at Husk who still had that fucking knowing look on his face. Damn his tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve when he was unprepared for a topic that made him emotional …

He could get away with changing the topic now, right? Surely the knowledgeable bartender would understand that he was not about to discuss was the Radio Demon may or may not feel for the Devil.

The King cleared his throat.

“Speaking of the game going awry … can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but … if you had won Al’s soul back then, what would you have done with him?”

Lucifer watched as Husk took an open bottle from the counter, looked at it pensively for a moment, and then took a swig.

“Man, I ain’t know anymore how often I’ve thought about that. Dreamt about that. What could’ve been … or what I’d do if I could ever turn the leash around. “

Another swig from the bottle, and then a deep sigh.

“I ain’t been a nice guy back in my days. Didn’t give a shit about the souls I owned or traded, I tell ya. But the infamous Radio Demon would’ve been a crown jewel for sure. The thought alone of havin’ the Overlord killer at my beck ‘n’ call … phew.”

There was a wistful look crossing over the cat demon’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a more serious expression.

“I would’ve allowed him to keep his power – or rather, I would’ve found out then that I can’t actually take his power by taking one measly fuckin’ soul – an’ I would’ve protected myself with the usual orders. No harmin’ me, no plottin’ against me – the whole catalogue of Don’t-try-to-fuck-me-overs. And then I would’ve moved against my enemies. Taken over their territory, one by one. Lettin’ them choose between workin’ for me, bound by contract, or havin’ the Radio Demon come after them.”

Lucifer frowned. “Wouldn’t your enemies have ganged up eventually to take you out?” And Alastor as well, to neutralize Husk’s greatest weapon, and thus playing directly into Roo’s hands.

“ ‘Course they would’ve.” The former Overlord shrugged nonchalantly, but his shoulders were tense, betraying his supposed calmness. “It would’ve been a bloody turf war … But Al’s right, ya know, my greatest sin was always greed. I would’ve set my eyes on the whole city. Makin’ myself King in all but title.”

And all the while, the actual King of Hell hadn’t cared about any of this, and he wouldn’t have started to care even if the power dynamics in the city had changed that dramatically. Lilith might have intervened, though, and maybe if she had asked him, he would have snapped his fingers and turned the self-proclaimed King of Pentagram City to dust.

“Sounds like Al did everyone a favour then.” The Devil had been aiming for a little humorous quip, but the tone in his voice remained stern.

It was Husk who chuckled dryly at that.

“Ya ain’t wrong there, I guess. I was a tyrant in my domain already, and I just would’ve gotten worse.”

The admission came as a surprise to Lucifer. “Does that mean you’re glad you lost the game?”

“Ha! I ain’t glad about the leash, Hell nah. I’m glad he didn’t take me out like all the others. An’ overall … it might’ve been a good thing that my life took an unexpected turn then and there, if ya know what I mean.”

The King stared into his half empty coffee mug. “You know … that would actually make for a pretty good story for group therapy.”

The former Overlord looked at him in surprise and disbelief, and the fallen angel rushed to explain.

“Think about it! You essentially told me that a sudden change in your afterlife prevented you from become an even worse person, and instead, you now have the opportunity to make something of it! That’s what the hotel’s for, right? To help you make that change, because it’s big and scary and …!” Lucifer motioned widely with one hand, trying to express his thoughts with movement where words failed him.

“Well, I’m not a guest though –“

“But you’re not just an employee either! You take part in almost all the activities and sessions! And we’re talking about the general message of your story here, not the Don’t-play-cards-with-the-Radio-Demon part.”

A small smile appeared on the cat demon’s face.

“Well, I’d say that’s a fuckin’ important lesson, too.”

“Alright, yeah, it can be both. Should be both.”

“He, yeah, I get what ya sayin’. I guess since Al’s no longer attendin’ the therapy sessions, ain’t no problem in tellin’ that story.”

“What’s told in group therapy, stays in group therapy.”

“Exactly.”

They toasted to that, coffee mug and beer bottle.

“Congratulations, by the way, your Majesty. Gettin’ friendly with the Radio Demon really is impressive”, Husk said afterwards, and this time there was no smirk to accompany the statement, only honesty.

Lucifer almost choked on the rest of his coffee, because ‘getting friendly’ really was the understatement of the year after this morning. Maybe even of the decade. Although he wouldn’t go as far as to say of the century. Yet. But they could work on that.

“You mean, since he doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends to begin with? That’s not really unusual in Hell, is it?”

“Nah, it’s not. But Al’s a lot more civil with women, so as a man, getting’ on his good side ain’t an easy feat, is all I’m sayin’.”

Lucifer flashed the bartender a wide smile. “What can I say, I can be rather charming!”, he cooed.

Not that he had actively tried that tactic on Alastor, it had been misery and displays of power that had done the trick when he hadn’t even wanted anything more than understand his dreams surrounding the Crimson Stag …

“He, yeah, or the hotel does have an effect on him after all.”

Now that caught the Devil’s interest, and he leaned in closer, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Oh?”

He noticed how the cat demon’s eyes casually scanned their surroundings before responding.

“Al usually ain’t much of a team player. The last time he tried somethin’ like this … it worked for a while when it was just him an’ Vox, but when other people got involved, it ended with half the Entertainment District levelled. So when he roped me in, I naturally thought that this ain’t gonna last long. An’ yet, he’s still here, despite the exorcists and getting’ his ass kicked by Adam an’ all… “

Husk suddenly hesitated, and he looked around again.

“What?”

“Shit, I ain’t sure how much I can say without the boss skinnin’ me alive”, Husk admitted, a flicker of wariness crossing over his face. Lucifer also noticed that the former Overlord had gone back to calling Alastor ‘the boss’ again.

But there might be something interesting here, a valuable clue maybe, anything – Husk was perceptive, and he knew Alastor longer than anyone else except for Niffty probably.

“I won’t rat you out, if that’s what your worried about”, he said with a smile that turned smug as he continued. “Besides, don’t you think you owe me a little for the ring question?”

Yes, he was not beneath playing dirty, too. He was the Devil, after all, even if he didn’t live up to that name very often.

Husk deflated a little and cursed under his breath.

“Look, your Majesty, all I’m sayin’ is I’m surprised he’s still comittin’. Then again, somethin’s changed while he was away. He’s changed. He hides it well behind that smile of his, but I ain’t blind.”

Lucifer blinked, trying to contain his disbelief. “What do you mean, he was ‘away’?”

The bartender looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“No offense, yar Majesty, but that really ain’t a secret? A few years ago, the Radio Demon vanished after an extermination. Folks thought him dead at first, but no corpse was found an’ Niffty an’ I – especially I – were proof that he couldn’t be double-dead. No one knows where he’s been or what he’s been up to, an’ he ain’t tellin’ shit.”

There it was, a clue, right there in front of him …. and Lucifer didn’t know what to do with it.

“And you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that either?”

Husk gave him a long, scrutinizing look.

“I have my guesses, but I ain’t spillin’. I ain’t ready for double-death, yet.”

And that was that, and it was clear to the fallen angel that any attempt at persuasion would be met with stubborn survival instincts. Which was fine, Lucifer had a good guess himself as to what had caused Alastor’s absence.

He tried not to focus on the implication that the Radio Demon might have been free until a few years ago, which could be considered damn ‘recently’, and it was Lucifer’s own fucking ignorance that had allowed someone to catch themselves a Wendigo …

But there might be another hint here, one he would have to think carefully about. Because it seemed reasonable that Alastor had somehow left the Pride Ring with his master, when sinners usually couldn’t do that.

So … who in all of Hell could smuggle a sinner out of Pride and to another ring?

And why had no one noticed?

.
…
.

Snap.

His outfit was changed for what felt like the hundredth time. Alastor adjusted his pose to the new garments – they were well beyond the classic looks by now and deep into what Velvet called ‘Dark Romance’. All in all, in wasn’t too far off from what he had worn during the hotel’s re-opening, but with more lace, including the sleeves and cuffs, high necks and brooch-adorned jabots.

Until now, the outfits had been surprisingly comfortable, although not everything was to his taste. Could be worse, though – judging by a throwaway comment earlier, he had apparently dodged going through a collection of swimwear.

Click-click-click. Alastor tried not to think about the staggering amount of unglitched images.

Velvette’s phone rang. Again. It was the fifth time in the last hour alone, not to mention the countless times the device had buzzed due to a text message.

She had not once picked up the call to not lose valuable time for the shoot, but by now she had also stopped reading her notifications. To Alastor’s silent delight, she had also started to get annoyed by the constant demand for her attention that tried to interrupt her work, although the young Overlord hid it well.

It fit well into the overall plan the Radio Demon had for her.

Snap.

“What … is this?”

“What does it look like?”

“Like a gown. A dress.”

“Gratulations, old man, your eyes work. What’s your point?”

“This is women’s clothing!”

“Ugh, so what? Most of my models would kill for the combination of waist and legs you sport. You’re quite feminine for a guy –

“I beg your pardon!”

“– you can wear this stuff, so stop complaining!”

“Urgh, fine …”

“Fucking finally! Now, give me your bedroom eyes!”

“My ẁ̷͖̹̳̹h̷̢̠̙̑͛͌͘͠a̸̜̲͝ẗ̶̛̙͖͍̻̫̙́ ?!”

.
…
.

Lucifer was still in the lobby when Charlie finally returned with her group of volunteers. Judging by the number of pamphlets each of them was carrying, they hadn’t been very successful, which also explained the peptalk Charlie was giving them while walking through the entrance.

As his daughter spotted him, her face instantly lit up, but she took care to properly finish what she had started and only came over to him once she had sent her group off with Vaggie.

“Duckling! How did it go?”

“Well, we didn’t get as many pamphlets out as I had hoped, but a lot more people noticed us and asked what we were advertising, and a lot of people had already heard about the hotel, so I count that as a win! People are getting interested and word is spreading!”, she said with shining enthusiasm and determination, and the King found himself … stunned, actually.

Slowly but deliberately, Charlie broke through the iron clad indifference and ignorance of the sinner’s she had sworn to save. It might not have looked like much, but for the fallen angel this was indeed progress, even if the end goal of redemption still seemed unfathomably far away.

“That’s amazing, Char-Char! If there’s anything I can do to help …”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that!”

“Oh?”

She led him to the nearby couch and they sat down.

“I was wondering”, Charlie started, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice, “if you would be willing to teach a therapy class.”

His smile faltered. Here was his little girl, requesting his help and he felt his stomach drop instantly due to what she asked of him. “You know I’d do anything for you, duckling, but therapy –“

“I was thinking music therapy … or maybe, if the therapy aspect frightens you, we could simply call a music class? To teach them how to express their feelings with music instead of, well, acting out their anger on others, or let their grief eat away at them?”

That sounded … better. Doable. Yeah, he could teach some people how to read notes and learn to play an instrument! The knot in his guts slowly detangled.

“Sure, yeah, I could totally do that!”

“Really?!”

“Of course! I can teach music if people are interested!”

She flung her arms around him in a hug. “Thanks dad! This really means a lot to me!”

Lucifer didn’t know how to respond to that, any words catching in his throat as he desperately tried not to tear up. He hugged her back tightly, until he could feel her softly detaching herself from him again, so he let her go.

“I’m so glad you’re up for this, dad! I know it’s not easy for you to be here since you’re not really comfortable with sinners –“

Oh, he was comfortable with at least one of them, alright, very comfortable …

“– but I don’t want you to feel like you don’t belong, so Vaggie and I thought very hard on how best to include you in our daily routine.”

‘I don’t want you to be alone in your rooms all day’, was what she wanted to say and didn’t, Lucifer realized and yikes, that stung. It stung even more because she was right to worry about this.

“That’s sweet of you, apple pie. And you’re right, sometimes I feel like more of a burden than a help to you …”

Admitting as much was hard in of itself, and being rewarded with his daughter’s compassionate smile didn’t make it any easier. She shouldn’t have to pity him, when it was his responsibility as a father to be strong for her.

“Music is a great idea, by the way, Char-Char, might be good for myself, too, to let some emotions flow now and then, you know?”, he added, aiming for a light-hearted quip and missing his mark miserably.

“Actually, it was something Alastor said that made me think of it”, Charlie confessed with a shy and apologetic smile, as if she was embarrassed by the fact that she hadn’t come up with idea herself.

“Hu? What did he say?” Alastor had never once mentioned to having talked with Charlie about getting Lucifer a spot in the therapy program.

“That I shouldn’t think too much about what you can do with your powers, and instead find something that caters to your talents and that brings you joy!”

The Devil stared at his daughter wide-eyed. Alastor could have easily suggested the music class directly. The sinner knew Lucifer well enough by now, they had spent hours talking about the invention and history of instruments and music in general. Or he could have pointed out the King’s love for crafting and proposed an ‘Arts & Crafts’ class.

Instead, he had seen Charlie struggle and gave her a push into the right direction, letting her earn the credit for coming up with a solution for herself and allowing for a tender moment between father and daughter. And Lucifer couldn’t help but wonder, whether the demon would have revealed his involvement later to claim a little credit, or if he would have kept silent, a secret little victory just for himself?

“That was … uhm … really thoughtful of him”, he finally managed to say because he was under the impression that Charlie expected some kind of reaction.

“It was, wasn’t it? I honestly was expecting him to mock me – or, well, mock you – when I asked for his advice, but he only looked at me funny for a moment and then said that and was done with it …”

She was a little pensive there, with a soft smile like looking at a fond memory, before her eyes focused back on him.

“And I’m so glad you two finally get used to each other, I know you’re both trying very hard for my sake and I appreciate it. Like, a lot.”

– Arms wrapped around him, pressing their bodies together as if attempting to merge, his own fluttering heart almost in sync with the sinner’s beating rapidly against his shoulder blade, and teeth against the crook of his neck, promising, promising, promising –

Yeah, they were trying so very hard to ‘get used’ to each other, yep, totally, Heavens above he couldn’t think of that now with his daughter sitting right in front of him!

“Of course, sweetie, of course …!” He needed to change the subject, and quickly. “Since we’re already talking, uhm, I wanted to, uh, well, ask you something totally unrelated …”

Shit, that hadn’t been smooth at all …

“Oh?”, she perked up, eyes curious and unsuspecting.

Which was a relief, yet it didn’t really help with the anxiety that was growing in his stomach again about the subject he wanted to broach.

“Well, you see …”, he started, but the words got caught in his throat again. “I was wondering …”

His right hand moved to the ring finger of his left in search for the wedding ring to fidget with but only finding empty, itching skin instead. Charlie’s eyes followed the motion and her expression fell a little.

“Is it … about mum?”

Lucifer let out a shaking exhale.

“Yes.”

She took his hands in hers, to stop his fidgeting and convey support.

“It’s okay, dad. I miss her, too.”

Fuck, how do I do this?

“If it’s about the ring, I can help you search!”

He blinked, confused. “But I know where it is?”

Charlie’s eyebrows arched in surprise, confusion now settling in her face, too. “You didn’t misplace it?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck …

“No, I … I took it off.”

He could see the realization creeping in, slowly and painfully, the question of Why screaming at him from her eyes without her voicing it aloud. He wanted to laugh and take it back, wanted to summon the ring and show her that hadn’t meant it, a cruel joke and a moment of weakness, nothing more –

“What I want? Perhaps I should ask you that question, my King”, Alastor had said, the first time in the King’s bedroom, with the ring in his claws and Lucifer’s eyes had been drawn to it, transfixed.

“Why did you let me in?”

– but that would be a lie, another one like the countless times he had told her that he was fine when he was not, and he couldn’t do that to her anymore, he just couldn’t.

“I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing, but I don’t resent her for leaving me. Our marriage was troubled for a long time, long before we even had you. Please, duckling, please don’t ever think that you are somehow at fault for us splitting up, you hear me?”

Charlie smiled faintly and nodded, but her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

“I don’t understand why she left you, too, and that’s something I have a much harder time to forgive. But that’s … a different topic, and I don’t want to spring that conversation on you, now all of a sudden. What I wanted to say, was … I think, I’m done waiting for her … and I … I just hope that you’re okay with me moving on …”

He knew that he needed neither her permission nor her approval – there was nothing she could do about his dying feelings for Lilith or his decision to move on from that relationship. Even if Alastor was not interested in anything more than friendship with perhaps the occasional benefit.

But it would be nice to have her understand and be okay with it. It would hopefully dispel the guilt he felt for not holding on anymore at last.

“Okay, dad”, she finally said, her voice quivering. “If you think that’s for the best … if that’s what you need to be happy again …”

Charlie tried her best to smile, his strong, brave girl, and Lucifer couldn’t be more grateful to have her as his daughter. He lifted a hand to place against her cheek, wiping away the little tear that escaped her eyes despite her efforts not to cry.

“Yes, sweetie, I think that would help a lot.”

He pulled her into an embrace and she clung to him tightly, her body shaking now and then as she sobbed quietly. And Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a bit like an asshole for putting her through this, for being selfish and putting his own needs before his daughter’s once again.

But he also felt a little bit more free.

.
…
.

“Yes, that’s the look, keep still now!”

Click-click-click.

“Now look over there and play uninterested.”

Click-click-click.

“Now give me a side-eye as if something interesting caught your attention.”

Click-click-click.

“And now –“

One of the metal coiling doors leading directly into the main hall was blasted open from the outside, electricity sparking along the broken slats.

“Vel? What’s going on, I called for an emergency meeting, why are you not – ALASTOR?!”

“VOX? What the fuck are you doing here, I fucking said I was busy!” Velvette was seething.

“A pity, since this shoot is no longer private, I shall take my leave!”

Alastor didn’t wait for a response, instantly vanishing into his shadow and leaving his current outfit as a pile on the floor, while tentacles grabbed his own clothes and pulled them into the puddle of darkness they had emerged from. The lingering compulsion had indeed dissipated, the conditions of the deal having been broken by the TV Overlord’s intrusion.

“Vox, you idiot! I had twenty-three minutes left!”

“YOU TWO HAD A DEAL?!”

The Radio Demon’s laughter went unheard as he left the building, leaving the two Vees to their dispute.

.
…
.

The moment he walked through the entrance doors – after having made himself presentable again, of course – Charlie roped him into a meeting to discuss his plans on going forward with the Words Left Unspoken broadcast. She had set her mind on making Angel Dust his first guest for the show and Alastor had no objections, and since the spider demon had already returned from work, Charlie made him attend the meeting, too.

They spent an hour outlining the script for the program and vaguely aligning on a schedule in the near future before the Princess finally dismissed them.

Alastor passed by the kitchen to see who was responsible for dinner, finding Cherry and Niffty battling an enormous living fish from Envy, which apparently Cherry had won during a little friendly ‘challenge’ with some Imps. Said Imps had turned out to be sore losers, dumping the living monstrosity resembling a cross between an octopus and a shark straight into the hotel’s kitchen, where it squirmed and splashed and demolished half the kitchen interiors.

The Radio Demon left them to their fun.

He found Lucifer sitting in one of the booths in the lobby engrossed in his phone, muttering and rolling his eyes while he typed. Alastor made his way to the bar, wordlessly accepting the glass of rye Husker offered at his approach, before walking over to the King.

“I don’t think I will ever understand the appeal of constantly staring at such a device. As much as Hell is all about punishment, this level of self-flagellation seems excessive even to me.”

The Devil let out a heavy sigh and put the phone down. “Yeah, I sometimes envy you for not having a phone”, Lucifer said, pinching the bridge between his eyes.

“Ha, finally the wisdom of my refusal gets acknowledged, and it is by you of all people!”

“Hey!”, the King exclaimed in mock offense, trying and failing to supress a smirk.

Alastor took a sip from his drink and twirled his microphone, extending a small nod as he was about to depart when the King suddenly sat up straight.

“Someone’s coming”, he said, eyes fixed at the entrance doors.

Since the hotel had garnered more interest, people were coming and going all the time, so that was hardly a novelty. The fallen angel’s reaction could only mean that the wards around the property had alerted the King to the presence of someone more powerful than their average guests.

Alastor walked to the bar again to leave his drink to the bartender’s safekeeping, then made his way over to the entrance. He had almost reached the doors when a familiar Overlord stepped over the threshold.

Velvette scanned the lobby with a quick glance before she narrowed her eyes at him in unmasked suspicion.

“Did you expect me?”

“’Expect’ is too strong of a word, my dear”, he replied with a smug grin. “But after witnessing the poor reaction of a certain business partner of yours, I believed there to be a small chance of you stopping by.”

For a brief moment, his eyes flicked to the backpack she had slung over her shoulder on one strap.

She let out an exasperated huff. “Don’t get the wrong fucking idea, grandpa – I want to edit those pictures and I want to do so without having to watch my back because that pissbaby insists on throwing a fucking tantrum, ya got me?!”

Alastor didn’t even try to conceal the glee that turned his grin wolfish.

“Of course, my dear! The Princess has decreed that the Hazbin Hotel shall be a safe haven to any soul that enters! Speaking of …”

He snapped his fingers and Niffty appeared in a plum of shadows, blinking at him in surprise while holding a long and two-pronged meat fork with an octopus tentacle impaled on it.

“Niffty, dear, please fetch our esteemed Princess and inform her that we have a VIP guest for … one night?” Alastor turned his gaze questioningly to the Influencer Overlord as he spoke.

Velvette only flipped him off, clearly still vexed about coming here at all. The Radio Demon decided to let her vulgar behaviour slide, for any comment on it would have made her lean into it even more.

“He will of course know where you went”, he remarked after Niffty had sprinted off, side eyeing the peeved woman.

“Of course he fucking will, and he can stick that observation where the sun don’t shine! My business is my fucking business!”

Alastor hid his snicker behind a few seconds of canned applause from his microphone.

“Oh my GAWD!” Charlie came running down the main stairs. “I’m so glad to have you here! This is the first time an Overlord is staying as a guest and –“

“Stop right there, missy, I’m not here for your redemption bullshit, I just need a place to work for the night –“

“Of course, of course! Buuut, let me give you the tour anyways and then I’ll see you to your room! You’re in luck, dinner is almost ready, or will be soon, or soonish, anyways, so this is …”

The Radio Demon had to stop himself from cackling openly as he watched Charlie guide a highly annoyed Velvette away from the entrance.

“Isn’t she one of the Vees?” Lucifer appeared beside him.

“She is indeed.”

“But … that should make her an ally to that Vox guy and an enemy to you, right?”

The demon took off his monocle and swiped it a few times over the fabric of his coat, cleaning off a little smudge.

“Oh, you know how it is, sire … Sometime lines get a bit blurry.”

They watched in silence for a moment as both women ascended the main stairs, Charlie still talking non-stop and animatedly, and Velvette sniping back at her.

Alastor could feel the Devil’s sideway glance at him, but he pretended not to.

“This is an instance of you ‘playing people’ again, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“My, look who’s suddenly interested in politics. Should I be concerned?”

“About me getting involved? Only if I stumble into a scheme of yours by accident.” The King scoffed, making it clear that he still had no intentions on regulating the sovereign Overlords’ dealings and disputes within the city.

“Just out of curiosity … how long is this one in the making already?”

“What makes you think that this is a long game?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement, but the King threw him a thoroughly unimpressed look.

When the Devil answered, his voice was far more subdued to keep the words confidential, and much more serious.

“Because, while the Wendigo might prefer to lure in and ambush, you are more of a long pursuit hunter. You wound your prey, and then you let it bleed …”

And the Radio Demon suddenly felt seen in a way that made a shiver run down his spine and heat spread across his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, flustered by his own reaction.

“I suppose that is a fair assessment. Very well”, he replied, schooling his own expression again, but not without having to clear his throat. “A discord between Overlords is always bound to happen. The Vees are no different, the synergies they share are also grounds for conflict between them. I only set some wheels in motion a few weeks ago.”

The King was silent for a moment.

“Why her?”

“Because she is the smartest of the three.”

“Hu? Wouldn’t that make it more difficult?”

“Only if I were to try and deceive her.”

“Which … you are not?”

“Which I am not.”

They watched Charlie and Velvette disappear around a corner of the first floor.

“I’ll see you later?”, Lucifer quietly asked.

“Of course. I’ll stop by.”

But first a shower and dinner, and then he was looking forward to talking to his son.

And after that … he might let himself be persuaded to share a bed again.

Chapter Text

35 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

When he finds himself in a dream, Lucifer instantly knows it’s a prophetic one, and all he can think is:

Fuck!

A part of him is relieved that whatever causes him to have these dreams, it’s not done with sending him warnings. But that also means that there’s danger again to Alastor’s life and it’s causing panic to rise in his heart and his mind.

That everyone’s and everything’s very existence is equally on the line is almost an afterthought.

He’s not standing in the forest this time, but already in the bayou, right at the water’s edge. It appears to be nighttime and although he can’t see the moon, its light is reflecting on the black water and the canopy of the trees, turning the lazy wafts of fog silvery.

It should be a serene sight.

It’s not.

The fireflies are missing, as are he sounds of crickets and frogs. Even the water flows so slow that it makes no noise. The entire scenery is devoid of life, the silence oppressing and constricting.

And Lucifer doesn’t dare move for fear of disrupting the quiet.

He knows he needs to investigate. There is no telling how long it will be before the danger reaches Alastor in the wake world, and this might be the only opportunity he gets at finding out what is coming for the deer demon.

Thus, the fallen angel takes a shaking breath as he steels himself and –

A sound pierces the silence.

It’s the discordant wail of a siren, reminiscent of those used to alert citizens of an incoming tornado or air raid, but slowed down and at times distorted.

It sends a shiver down the King’s spine, but it’s finally enough to make him take action. Lucifer spreads his wings and flies up, following the siren’s cry to a treeless island in the middle of the bayou.

A radio tower stands there, crooked steel beams reaching for the sky with a small shed-like structure on top that houses the radio station. The resemblance with a fire lookout tower is striking, especially in combination with the siren still wailing its alarm signal, and Lucifer uses his vantage point to look around the surrounding swamp wilderness.

When he can’t find any sign of smoke or fire or any other kind of danger, he lands on the railed walkaround of the little cab to take a look inside.

The panoramic windows are cracked and busted, with glass shards sticking to the edges like jagged teeth. The consol inside looks exactly like the one Alastor uses in his current radio tower, its lights blinking erratically.

He could go inside and turn the speakers off – the Devil is confident that he knows how to do that, as Alastor has explained to him how to work the station, after all. But he doesn’t want to affect things until he has laid eyes on the Crimson Stag, and so he leaves the alarm on, although it’s grating heavily on his nerves while being this close to the speakers.

There are no stairs integrated into the tower’s structure. The Radio Demon can travel by shadow and doesn’t need them, or this is simply dream logic – or rather, illogic – but that’s probably not important right now. Lucifer hops over the railing and saunters downward, landing in the soft wet grass.

Looking up at the radio cab again, the tower’s bent and crooked shape makes it appear as if the structure is moments from collapsing, but it’s not that disconcerting to Lucifer, who has seen the Overlord’s previous iteration of his radio tower patched onto the old hotel.

Nevertheless, he can’t help but inspect the steel beam next to him closer. The metal is rusted like it’s been standing here for decades now, and when the King scratches off a few rust flakes, the claw of his thumb suddenly breaks through the crumbling paper-thin surface.

Gold leaks through the serrated hole, viscous like congealing blood.

The fallen angel stares in disbelief before slowly lifting his hand. He lets his forked tongue flick against the stain on his thumb –

It’s not what he’s expecting. It’s not angelic blood – it’s literal gold. Not molten, but cold liquid metal.

“That’s … odd. Even for a dream”, he says to himself. Then again, is it really?

Maybe his first thought is correct after all, and this is meant to me a metaphor for golden angelic blood, perhaps because this is a building and not a living being, yes, this starts making sense now, but why the Hell would Alastor’s radio tower bleed at all?

There’s a warble of static behind him and the Devil spins around. The Crimson Stag stands only a few feet away, head lowered and ears pinned back, baring its teeth at the fallen angel.

And in the middle of his forehead, right where the death mark on the sinner would be, liquid gold seeps through what looks like a bullet hole.

Lucifer’s blood instantly runs cold. “Al?”

More static growling is the reply, but one of the ears is twitching forward, listening. A golden droplet trickles down between the creature’s eyes, leaving a glistening line in the short red fur.

“Alastor, it’s me. Lucifer.” He tries to convey calmness with his voice, but maybe that’s more for himself than the deer, because the Devil feels on the verge of freaking out.

The second ear perks up and the deer tilts its head, and while the Kings was used to seeing this behaviour on the red sinner, it looks sickeningly unnatural on the Crimson Stag. The static laced growling stops.

What is really unnerving the Devil, though, is that he’s confronted again with a situation where Alastor is already hurt instead of witnessing the attack. Just like with the wound Adam had caused, the damage is already done, and now all the King can do is save his lover friend lover friend companion from his demise again.

But when has this happened? And how? The sinner was fine before going to bed, there’s no hiding a freaking hole in your forehead, and if the demon would have used a glamour spell, Lucifer definitely would have noticed, because Alastor doesn’t usually use those, if ever! Not to mention that there’s no need for the Radio Demon to hide an injury from the Devil anymore, the relationship they have now is much different from what it was the last time the Overlord had been harbouring a deadly wound!

He lifts an arm and reaches for the deer, which stretches its neck to sniff the fallen angel, only to turn around and walk away from an increasingly confused and concerned Lucifer.

Alright, perhaps he shouldn’t have expected the Crimson Stag to react to him like the real Alastor would have (how would that have looked like, anyways?), this creature is nothing more than a metaphor for the red sinner. And that means that perhaps the bullet hole is too. After all, the previous dream had exaggerated the tear across the demon’s chest as well, right?

Right. But not much.

Fuck.

Suddenly, the deer staggeres. It catches itself before the Devil can spring into action, and stands still for a moment as if confused. Lucifer watches as a tremor runs across the Crimson Stag’s flanks and its tail flags in alarm and trembles. Its front legs buckle while the hind legs remain standing, the creature bending down unnaturally with its head raised high in what looks like a silent scream. Only it’s not silent at all, the bugle is screeching and blending with the wail of the siren in perfect disharmony.

“Alastor!”

Lucifer flaps his wings and kneels before the tormented stag only a moment later, his hands reaching for the deer’s face without knowing what to do but with the urge to comfort and help –

The Crimson Stag’s head snaps back down and the creature lunges forward from its kneeling position, and the fallen angel can’t react quick enough. The sharp antler prongs impale him, piercing clothing and flesh effortlessly –

– and Lucifer woke with a choked gasp that tried and failed to be a scream. He would have jolted upright if it weren’t for the arms wrapped firmly around him, holding him in place. An embrace so cold it sent a shiver over the Devil’s sweaty skin, but that was so much more preferable to waking up to a cold and empty bed …

“What is it?”, came a low and sleep-drunken voice from behind him, crackling with annoyed static, and the King felt the tension bleed out of him.

“Nothing. Just a nightmare.”

He should tell him. Should have told him already, probably right from the start.

“A nightmare isn’t nothing. Shall I repeat the question, sire, so you can decide?”

Oh, this damned, insufferable –

“Prick”, Lucifer said with a huff, failing to supress a small smirk and glad that Alastor couldn’t see it.

Then again, the demon probably could here it in his voice, bastard that he was.

“Oh, it’s a prick now that has you so upset? My, how bothersome, I shall remove them from the premise instantly!”

And then the Radio Demon moved, and even though the King new it was a tease, he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from the sinner now, not after having dreamt about the Crimson Stag in agony and a hole in the centre of his forehead –

“Don’t you dare!”, he hissed, grabbing the demon’s arms and clinging to them. Even his tail sprouted, wrapping around one of Alastor’s long legs to keep him from moving away.

“Just shut up and go back to sleep!”

The demon snickered quietly, small huffs of breath tickling against Lucifer’s hair and the King could perfectly envision the smug grin that must have spread across the other man’s face.

“As my King commands.”

Alastor shifted a little, readjusting his position, and it didn’t take long for his breath to even out again.

But Lucifer couldn’t relax that easily, the details of his dream fuelling the sinking dread in his stomach again.

“Al?”

“Hmm.” It sounded like the demon was almost asleep again.

“How did you die?” There weren’t many ways to die that would create a death mark on the forehead, but the fallen angel had to know for sure.

“What does it matter?”

“Just … answer the question. Please?”

He really didn’t want to start a longer conversation now, not when the dream was still in the process of carving fresh images the fallen angel would prefer to forget directly into his brain. Springing this topic now on the half-sleeping demon was highly unfair, and Lucifer would really prefer to be prepared for this talk himself.

Case in point: Alastor took so long to reply that the King had started to believe that the Overlord had fallen asleep again for good.

“Gunshot”, the sinner finally mumbled. “To the head. Satisfied now?”

No, Lucifer wasn’t satisfied with the fact that the Radio Demon’s manner of death matched the Crimson Stag’s injury, fuck, was that simply a coincidence or were these events actually related?

“Yeah … thanks”, he whispered, his words being acknowledged with a low rumble in the demon’s chest instead of words.

The fallen angel waited until he was sure that the Overlord was sound asleep again before summoning his phone to his hands. He quickly dimmed the background light as to not wake the demon behind him, since he only needed just a little bit of contrast to be able to see and read everything on the darkened screen.

He skimmed over the new messages in the Sins group chat, but there was nothing of interest to be found. Thus, the King switched to his private chat with the Sin of Lust. Ozzy and he had chatted almost the whole evening while Alastor had been reading, and of course the sinner had caught him glancing now and then, finally commenting with a sly grin that if the Devil was craving for his attention, he just needed say as much.

Lucifer had put down the phone then and they had talked about the book the Overlord was currently reading, a French translation of The Art of War by Sun-Tzu. And while Alastor didn’t hold back with praise for the ancient Chinese general and his insights, he also didn’t spare the French scholars whose commentary was added in this translation any mockery, ridiculing their apparent short-sightedness.

Picking up his conversation with Ozzy where they had left off felt a little awkward now, but the Devil had the urge to talk to someone other than Alastor, even if he wasn’t sure right now what he was willing to divulge.

< LuLu: Hey … r you up?

Only then it occurred to him to look at the time. His phone showed 01:13 am. Shit.

< LuLu: Sry for the time …
< Ozzy: It’s fine, am still up!

The message was followed by a picture of the Sin in bed, and cuddled up to his bared chest was that imp lover of his, Fizz (his actual name was longer, but Lucifer hadn’t managed to remember it, yet).

< LuLu: Cute!
< Ozzy: What about YOUR guy?
< LuLu: Right here ;)
< Ozzy: Oh wow, didn’t expect you to move that fast, but good for you!
< Ozzy: Waiting for a pic btw …
< LuLu: Not as fast as you think *eyeroll*
< LuLu: Yeah, don’t know about that … he doesn’t like being photographed or filmed …
< Ozzy: Pic or I will believe that you’re imagining things! :P

Ozzy was only teasing, of course. But Lucifer would have lied to say that he didn’t want a picture of the deer demon on his phone …

His heart was hammering in his chest as he switched to the camera app and lifted the phone to get a better angle, which was enough of an indication that the Devil very well knew that this was a bad idea. Probably. If Alastor found out, that was …

Should he deactivate the flash? If he did, there was probably not much to see other than his glowing eyes and a bit of his face, but if he didn’t, the flash might wake up Alastor.

Damn decisions.

Lucifer activated the selfie mode to see how bad the picture would look without the flash and was surprised to find that the camera feed was already glitching in places where parts of the demon could be seen. For a brief, terrifying moment he thought that the Radio Demon was awake and aware of what he was trying to do, only to let out a long exhale in relief when he realized that this was not the case.

Which meant that the glitch effect was not consciously caused by the Overlord like the King had believed …

Hu, interesting. Anyways …

The fallen angel braced himself, smiled for the camera and then deliberately cleared his throat to drown out the sound of the photo being taken as he pressed the shutter button.

The flash was blinding in the dark room – and Alastor stirred behind him with warbling static. Lucifer instantly tossed the phone away to get rid of the evidence.

Luckily, the red sinner didn’t wake, and the Devil briefly contemplated sending a little prayer skywards in gratitude, but if anything, his Father would probably respond with something nasty for his insolence, and thus Lucifer dismissed the thought.

Summoning his phone back to him, he repaired the cracked screen with a spark of magic and then inspected the photo.

As he had expected, there was not much of Alastor to be properly seen. Nevertheless, he had a picture now of both of them, something he could look at whenever he wanted, and somehow that made everything a tiny bit more real.

He sent Ozzy the picture.

< Ozzy: Luci, you gotta take another one, your camera seems to have malfunctioned …
< LuLu: Nah, it’s not, that’s just what happens around Al
< LuLu: Told you he doesn’t like his picture taken
< Ozzy: Oh?
< Ozzy: That’s odd, nevrr seen something like that
< Ozzy: *never
< LuLu: Yeah, he’s really not you’re average kind of guy …
< Ozzy: I’ve got one serious question, tho
< LuLu: Shoot
< Ozzy: Is he the reason you asked about one of us or the Goetia having a soul contract with a sinner?
< LuLu: …
< LuLu: Yes
< Ozzy: Luci …
< LuLu: Look, I know what you’re trying to say. I already told him that I can’t break his contract, and that was before we started … well, this. He didn’t argue about it, and neither of us brought up the option of killing his owner. He even advised against trusting him fully, because obviously there’s a lot he’s forbidden from revealing. He knows I’m interested in finding out who forced the contract on him, but I didn’t tell him that I’m actively looking into this. Don’t try and talk me out of this now!
< Ozzy: Alright, I won’t
< Ozzy: The contract was FORCED, you say?
< LuLu: It was. You should have seen his reaction when I told him to his face that it was his own damn fault for selling his soul …
< Ozzy: Okay, okay … I just don’t see why a Goetia (since it’s none of us) would need to force this on a sinner, is all. With what demon royalty has to offer a mortal soul, there should be no need to force a contract. Even if the sinner really doesn’t want to sell his soul, then you just get one who does, right? That’s why I have a little trouble here believing this story …

And that, Lucifer could understand. Until now, he had kept the detail about Alastor’s true nature to himself, and without that knowledge, he could see why the other Sin was having doubts.

< LuLu: Believe me, there’s a reason … but I really don’t want to talk about that over the phone
< Ozzy: Then how about you come by one of these days? We can talk, maybe see a show if you’re up for it?

Perhaps he should do that. Talk to someone who knew him since before the Fall, and who he trusted. He could tell Ozzy about the Wendigo and see how that went before informing the others. That was probably smarter than arranging a meeting and outright declaring that there was one of Roo’s monsters roaming the Pride Ring.

< LuLu: I like that idea, actually, I’ll see where to fit that in the schedule. I have one now, can you believe that?!
< Ozzy: Sounds crazy coming from you! Hope it works for you, tho!
< LuLu: I’m trying here, ok?
< LuLu: Gonna try to get some more sleep now. Talk to you soon!
< Ozzy: Sweet dreams!

Ugh, yeah, about that … he preferred for the rest of the night to pass dreamlessly.

He tried not to think too hard about the dream and instead focus on the cool body curled around him and the feeling of floating …

When Lucifer woke again, it was to the sound of the morning broadcast and the smell of fresh coffee.

.
…
.

When he arrived at Rosie’s Emporium, the Cannibal Overlord instantly gave her shop duties over to one of her trusted employees and invited him upstairs into her quarters for a private conversation over tea.

Alastor usually preferred coffee, with the exception of the blood tea only Rosie knew how to properly prepare, and thus he never turned down an opportunity to be served this unique beverage.

“I must say I’d expected you much sooner, mister!”, she said with a smile, but her tone is stern and the deer demon didn’t even try to keep his ears from folding back at the reprimand. “You had me worried there after what happened at the celebration and with your fog hunting!”

“My sincerest apologies, my dear! I have no excuse for my lack of consideration, though I assure you that I did not intend to cause your mind any unease. Let me make it up to you, will you? I bring quite astounding news”, he tried to appease her.

He was rather sure of her forgiveness, but manners and common sense demanded of him to make the effort nonetheless. One should never take a good relationship for granted, no matter how long-lasting it had already proven to be.

Rosie poured both of them a cup as she sat down, and Alastor instantly took a sip from the scalding hot brew, relaxing back into his chair as the flavours of herbs and copper bloomed on his tongue.

“Well, I do hope those are some tasty news or I shall be cross with you, good sir”, she said with a smirk, the threat more playful than earnest.

They both knew that time tended to blur when caught in a routine, in Hell even more so than it did on Earth. Nevertheless, there was a difference between failing to visit during a stretch of profane repetitiveness and leaving her worried for his well-being for a prolonged period of time.

“They are indeed. But first, let me assure you that you needn’t worry about my health anymore. That nasty wound Adam bestowed upon me has been taken of since that very night.”

Her smile turned a little smug. “That I already knew, darling, or did you believe I wouldn’t have dragged you by the ears to do something about that by now if I still thought you were hurt?”

Alastor’s ears twitched at the notion. “I suppose, I should have expected as much. But how, pray tell, did you learn of this?”

“Heard it from the King himself!”, Rosie said, giggling at his perplexed expression. “Oh honey, apparently you’re not the only one with some tea to spill!”

She took a sip of her own beverage. “Look, darling, I know your tells when you are in pain, even if no one else can see them. You were in a lot of pain that evening, and then that grizzly video dropped and the King whisked you away … I figured something was happening, but when I saw the fog outside I knew it was … bad.”

Her smile was gone now, replaced by a serious expression. Even though all had ended well, she didn’t hide the concern the memory caused her.

“I confronted him then. Got him to confirm that he had healed you and without a price tag attached, no less! Well played, darling! But he also let slip that you lost control in the process, and that you had … turned.”

“Hmm. I see.” One of his claws clinked repeatedly against the fine china as he contemplated this revelation. “He failed to mention that you two had conversed.”

“Did he now? I wonder what else occupied his attention …” Rosie raised an eyebrow and then made a point of not looking at him with the aura of a mother knowing what her child had been up to.

Alastor felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with a lack of clothes.

“Oh, don’t give me that look now, mister!”, she laughed, but let him off the hook. For now. “Now tell me about the big news! Does it have to do with your antlers or yesterday’s morning broadcast?”

The Radio Demon allowed himself a moment to savour his tea before answering, a bit mollified now by the change in topic, although that wouldn’t last for long. He was here to consult Rosie about his rapport with the King, after all, and he could already feel the discomfort of broaching that subject creeping in his veins.

“Both of these things are related, actually”, he confirmed and expanded on her assumption with a sly grin.

“Oh? Don’t keep me in suspense now! What does gold on your antlers have to do with ‘reaching beyond the stars’?”

Alastor wasn’t one for playing humble.

“The gold tips appear to be an unexpected side effect of my grown powers”, he explained, his grin growing even sharper. “I’m able to broadcast into Heaven now!”

Her reaction was just as he had anticipated. Rosie gasped, her smile widening in excitement.

“Oh my stars! What a ‘reach’ indeed! But how? And does that mean you can speak to the angels directly now?”

“That was the idea, my dear! In fact, I presented the possibility of a new broadcast to the Princess, with the aim to make the denizens of Heaven aware of their sinner brethren’s efforts for redemption – and let them know about the unruly exterminations, of course. Heaven might soon be quite occupied with an uprising in their very midst if we play our cards right.”

They both giggled at the prospect of Heaven being subjected to the very thing they had claimed to try and prevent the citizens of Hell from doing, only for it to happen with their own people.

“Well, that will hopefully keep them from enacting revenge for the First Man’s death. Say, have there been any communications with regards to that?”

“Not that I’m aware, my dear”, Alastor responded, shaking his head. “But I would expect for them to act soon, which is why the new broadcast will commence within the next week to counteract just that.”

Who knew whether someone in the higher angelic ranks had already noticed the repeated breaching of the Heavenly shields because of his continued calls to his son and the Queen? He needed the program to start sooner rather than later to take advantage of the element of surprise before that chance had passed.

“As for the how…”, he continued, as nonchalantly as possible despite his growing unrest. “I was able to secure the King’s help with that. He build an artifact that enhanced my power significantly once it was installed in my tower. I suspect the gold on my antlers to be a direct result of this upgrade as there was gold used in the amplifier’s construction.”

The Cannibal Overlord quirked an eyebrow again. “That sounds reasonable. So, you’re saying his Majesty visited your radio tower?”

“Yes.” Alastor knew that she was already coming to conclusions with the way she looked at him. She never failed to lock in on any and all important details. “I invited him in. He knows.”

She sat the cup down and leaned closer, propping herself up on the small table and lacing her fingers together. Alastor made a point of holding her gaze while her smile grew.

“Alastor, darling, did you come by today to tell me something?”

There was no fooling Rosie, she always saw right through him – through everybody – when it came to matters of the heart relationships, and yet he shied away from speaking the words. He sat his tea down because he didn’t trust his claws to not shake or letting the cup slip.

“Well … I did come to you to … ask for your advice.”

“Advice with regards to …?”

“Rosie …”

“Al, honey …” She reached for his hand and he let her take it. Her smile was softer now. “I’ve seen you two dance and thought that this had potential. Then he healed you, and now you’re telling me he granted you power, all without you selling your soul to him, right?”

The Radio Demon could feel the stitches in his lips pulling tight without appearing, but the way she had phrased the question allowed him to at least nod in confirmation that he had indeed not sold his soul to Lucifer.

“And I’m sure there’s more you haven’t told me yet, because you came to me for advice and there’s only one subject matter I specialize in and in which you are utterly out of your depth. But before I can begin to help you with that, I need you to say it out loud first.”

There was zero reason for his heart to hammer in his throat like it just did. Rosie had him already figured out, of course she had, any thought of her being shocked or surprised had been ridiculous from the start. She didn’t need confirmation, not really. But Rosie was also right about him being embarrassingly helpless in expressing his feelings with words, no matter how quick-witted he was otherwise.

Alastor felt her squeezing his hand to reassure him, and he caught himself wishing for a different, more heated touch.

He should just get it over with. The deer demon took a deep breath.

“I found myself in bed with the Devil.”

“You – … excuse me, what?!”

Judging by her expression, he had to revise the thought of being unable to shock his dear friend.

“My apologies, was I too blunt?”

“No, darling, no … but climbing into bed with someone is not really your thing, Alastor. He didn’t … this isn’t part of any kind of deal, is it?”

Alastor watched her face twist in concern until suddenly something clicked into place and he understood.

“No! No, Rosie, it’s not, he didn’t … he didn’t force himself onto me!”

He stood, almost jumped from his seat as the coiling tension in his muscles snapped and urged him to move, to put distance between himself and the source of his unease. Alastor pulled his hand from her grip, the touch suddenly unbearable and a stark reminder of another’s, a wrong one, and although he knew it was his deer brain screaming at him to flee, he forced himself to stay. The lights flickered as he paced and tried to collect and explain himself, because he couldn’t let Rosie get the wrong impression in this matter.

“He’s not like Vox, Rosie … He would never! It’s worse even, I was the one to suggest intercourse! Can you imagine?! And you know what he did? He said No! He rejected the offer because I was drunk! He thought I would regret it come morning! Vox … Vox would have never let the opportunity pass …”

Rosie regarded him with wide eyes, but her mouth was concealed by one of her hands, and therefore he couldn’t discern her reaction fully. It didn’t stop him from continuing, though, because now that he had started pouring his heart out, he couldn’t stop.

“And then, when he wanted to take me up on the offer the next morning and I wasn’t willing anymore, he … he accepted it, Rosie. No anger, no backlash, no accusations of leading him on, nothing but understanding and consideration, although it was clear that he was disappointed!”

“My, my …”

“I’ve been sleeping the last two nights! Sleeping! Seeking out his touch like I’m possessed, because it feels like fire against my skin and I can’t get enough of it! His smell, his taste, it’s intoxicating, I want to bite and devour and make him mine alone, but I’m afraid, Rosie, I’m afraid of hurting him and this is madness even for me!”

He only became aware of once again raking his claws through his hair and over his scalp when he felt his blood seeping down his neck and temple. Rosie was suddenly by his side, taking his hands in hers and guiding them down and away without letting go.

“Al, darling, listen to me!”, she said, her voice gentle but expecting obedience. “It’s okay. You’ve never been in love before and it’s scary and confusing. Believe me, honey, I get it – it happens to the best of us.”

“Love.”

“Yes. Love.”

He stared at her, eyes wide and pleading, and ears folded back. “This can’t be love, Rosie. I know love, this is not … it.”

“Love takes different forms, Al, it’s not the same for everyone. Or with everyone. And forgive me for saying this, but you haven’t the slightest clue what being in love feels like.”

There was nothing he could say to that.

“You did consult the radio first, didn’t you?” She knew him too well indeed. “What did it play?”

“Chris Isaak.” Alastor hated how quiet his voice was. How defeated it sounded. “ ’Wicked Game’.“

“I see.”

“This can’t last, Rosie.” His smile only remained due to the stitches that held it in place.

“Does it need to? You didn’t get yourself into this with eternity in mind, did you?”

“I didn’t plan any of this!”

“Good! Then treat it like a lucky accident and make it an experience worthy of remembering, it might last longer with that mindset.”

It sounded like what he had told himself all this time: to savour the moment, for however long or short that would turn out to be. He had already gotten more than he had expected when he first made that decision.

And with that affirmation, he decided to accept her judgement, and in doing so most of the unrest in his muscles started to fade.

“Alright. Thank you for your counsel, my dear, and please accept my apology for losing my composure. It was rather unseemly.”

“I accept your gratitude, darling, but drop the apology. You’re head over heels for that man and it showed, that’s all!”, she giggled, and Alastor bristled, but he supposed that a little amusement on his behalf was justified. “We shall not speak of it again.”

He couldn’t agree more.

Rosie let him back to the table and handed him a handkerchief to clean up the blood in his face and neck.

They sat in silence sipping their tea, and the deer demon was aware that his friend gave him time to collect himself. It was only when he finally started to relax that Rosie spoke up again.

“If you don’t mind sharing, but I’d like to hear a bit about our dear King! I only had the pleasure of meeting him briefly at the celebration and judging from that, the rumours clearly don’t do him justice. So, how’s he really like?”

Alastor took a moment to think about his answer. There was so much he could talk about, so many things he had noticed once he started spending more time around the petite monarch that it was hard to decide where to begin.

“He’s … a dreamer who believes himself living in a nightmare. A nightmare of his own creation, no less, and that has scarred his mind. There is still so much potential in him, but he let’s himself be chained down by misplaced guilt. If I were to have any influence on him, that is what I would strive to change”, he contemplated aloud.

“As you have undoubtedly concluded for yourself, our dear Charlie got her bleeding heart from her father. But unlike his daughter, Lucifer tries to close his heart off to avoid the pain that comes with such capacity for compassion. He fails more often than he succeeds, though, and then he falls victim to despair. But as deep as this pit of misery is he throws himself in, as high does his spirit soar when he’s in a good mood. It’s like –“

He was interrupted by a violent yank on his chain that almost pulled him from his chair. The teacup fell and shattered on the floor, splashing what had been left of the beverage. The demon barely managed to keep his balance.

“Alastor?!” Rosie looked at him with surprised confusion, and he could only stare at her in response, his blood running cold.

That pull hadn’t been a summon, but as close as it got to one without the chain appearing or a portal opening right behind him.

The Queen called for him.

“Something happened, I have to go!” That was all he could give her, even though he knew his words would only cause more questions than they answered.

Alastor stood, but before he could make even one step, there was another yank that made him stumble and almost fall.

“Alastor!” Rosie was on her feet as well.

“I’m sorry, Rosie, I’ll explain when I can!”

He let himself fall into his shadow and slithered away as fast as he could, following the direction the taut chain pulled him towards while his mind was reeling with questions.

What did she want from him now? He had established communications to report to her, just as she had wanted, so that she would NOT summon him back to Heaven! She had not mentioned or hinted at the possibility that she was considering to call him back regardless – and she didn’t seem to do so now, or else she could have just done it without consideration for his circumstances or whereabouts.

No, she called him to a specific location, somewhere in Hell …

His chain – although still invisible – didn’t slack at any moment during his hasty travel. Not has he reached the abandoned building complex the Queen had caught him in years ago, and neither as he descended towards the cellar where his flight had ended once upon a time. Only when he reached that very room did the chain and the compulsion to follow abruptly recede.

The room was drenched in darkness, but Alastor didn’t need any light to make out the small figure standing lost and alone almost in the middle of it, just shy from the spot where a portal would open if summoned by the Queen from the beach house.

The Radio Demon emerged from his shadow, instantly calling a small flame to life in one of his hands to allow himself to be seen.

“Alexis!”

The boy flinched at the sudden call of his name and the flicker of light, clutching his platypus plushie tighter to his chest, before he recognized the demon.

“Papa!”, he cried out, flinging himself at his father who caught him, wrapping his free arm around his son tightly.

“What are you doing here, Alexis? Did your mother send you?”

There was no other explanation for it. Alexis wore a backpack over his clothes, but other than the stuffed animal, he had nothing else with him.

His son let out a whimper that relayed all the fear and tension the boy currently held in his small body, and lifted a hand to show him a single peace of lavender coloured paper. Alastor took the note and unfolded it, instantly recognizing Lilith’s graceful handwriting.

Alastor,
Lute found out about Alexis. He cannot stay here any longer.
Protect him, and continue preparations as discussed. It will
be only a matter of time now until they banish me back to Hell.

It was signed with the Queen’s royal sigil. Alastor examined the paper for any traces of a hidden second message but found none. This was all the information she wanted relayed to him.

At least the urgency in calling him was now explained. She had dropped their son off and then made sure Alastor would hurry to find him.

“It’s alright now, I have you”, Alastor said, placing a hand on the boy’s cheek to make him meet eyes. “Welcome home!”

Alexis chuckled, a fleeting and uncertain little sound but it was better than his cries. Once the young demon had composed himself, the Overlord would need to get him to a safe place to stay.

And there was only one such place in Hell.

Chapter Text

35 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

Father and son sat next to each other in the darkness of the cellar, with the boy leaning against the red sinner’s shoulder and cradled with one arm, the flickering flame in the Overlord’s other hand still the only light source.

He had asked Alexis to recount for him what had happened once the boy had calmed down, thus learning how his son had snuck down to the kitchen during self-study time to grab a snack, only for movement at one of the windows to catch his attention. An angel had cautiously peeked inside, a female with short white hair and yellow eyes, but she had noticed him when he tried to sneak away and find his mother.

“ … and then I screamed for mom to come, and the angel fled, and mother was furious and went after her. And when she came back, she told me to pack some clothes and that I had to live with you for a bit now, and that she would soon come, too.”

Alexis’ eyes were fixed on the platypus plushie Alastor had made for him.

“I don’t think she caught the angel”, he added with a sombre expression.

No, I believe she did not.

Alastor had never once doubted that Alexis’ existence and his parentage would come to light eventually. It didn’t matter how long it took, but some day the deal with Heaven would have ended one way or the other, and there would have been nowhere else to go than Hell.

But however and whenever that would have come to pass, the Queen naturally would be there to take the brunt of the backlash. Not because she wanted to, but because she was the one with the power in this dynamic, the one who had betrayed her husband and her marital child – in short: the one to blame.

There would be no escaping the humiliation that came with that revelation, however, and although Alastor had already had time to think about this fact and make peace with it as much as he possibly could, he still dreaded the initial wave of reactions to hit.

He could think of so many slurs and degrading monikers that would be attached to his name, and many more still he couldn’t start to imagine. His reputation would be in tatters, the fear and respect he had garnered from other sinners and his fellow Overlords would be reduced to whatever the Queen allowed him to keep, always depending on her mood and her orders for wielding his power over others or for himself.

Of course, getting involved with the Devil hadn’t been part of the Overlord’s contemplations until fairly recently. Almost the same was true for the Princess – with the Queen back in Hell, she would have tried to support her daughter directly if Charlie only let her. Since Lilith had sent Alastor to help the Princess in her stead, there would be no need for him to stay at the hotel anymore, especially to not act the part of a constant reminder of the Queen’s infidelity.

The Queen would confine him to a place close to her and Alexis’ accommodations, more or less like the beach house probably, depending on how closely she wanted to keep an eye on him, with a room set up for her research exactly like that damned white marbled cellar …

And now Alexis was here, and Lilith wasn’t, and he had to deal with a situation he hadn’t anticipated in his wildest dreams.

Perhaps, if he weighed is options carefully, there was an opportunity here due to the Queen’s absence. But to make full use of it, he needed time to think about how to approach this, and unfortunately, time was exactly what he didn’t have right now.

If he were to smuggle his son to Rosie’s or his old place for a night, Alastor’s absence would be noticed at the hotel. He could send a note to dispel any suspicion, and that might be enough to buy him a little time. But someone would see Alexis and not keep quiet. Vox’s drones were everywhere. Most sinners would jump at the opportunity for cash or fifteen minutes of fame for being the one to get the first picture of the Radio Demon and a suspicious child to the media. And then the rumour mill would start turning and spew out theory after theory within an hour, and the amount of speculation would reach the hotel before dusk, and not time would have been gained at all.

Maybe Lucifer would even show up on his doorstep to confront him, finally having come to the right conclusions, and then what? Alastor was sure the King wouldn’t hurt a child, but he wouldn’t count himself that lucky for the third time.

The only way to prevent any of this was to travel with his son via shadow and confine him to … the bayou, perhaps. He would be safe there. Hidden.

A prisoner.

He couldn’t do that to his son. Alastor would NOT take his fawn from his golden cage, only to put him into an iron one. He had promised Alexis to show him his real home, and he would not go back on his word now. It would probably only be days before the Queen showed up, his only opportunity to have his son truly to himself and teach him what he could without motherly supervision.

Besides, Lilith clearly didn’t expect him to go on the offensive with this, or else she would have included an order in her note that prevented him from doing so. Perhaps she believed her previous instructions to be enough of an obstacle, but Alastor knew by now that there was another way to tell his story.

Now, the Queen had given him the direct order to protect Alexis, and the deer demon was fully prepared to make the argument that explaining the situation to the King was for the sole purpose of keeping his son safe from the Devil’s wrath. And he would do so without words even.

Alastor could already feel the warring compulsions in his mind subsiding, his reasoning anchoring the loophole to his orders and allowing him to proceed.

All he needed was a moment with Lucifer before the media got a chance at muddying the water.

The Radio Demon stood, pulling the boy up with him in the process. Alexis looked at him curiously.

“What do we do now?”

“First, I must properly introduce you to some important people. Along with that, I’ll figure out your accommodations. We’ll see about everything else afterwards.”

After all, everything did hinge on the outcome of those first meetings.

“Now hold on tight and don’t be scared, we’ll take a little shortcut!”

Alexis immediately clung to him and the stuffed animal equally, and the Overlord pulled them both into his shadow for faster travel and to avoid prying eyes at least until they reached the hotel.

They emerged at the iron entrance gates at the foot of the hill the hotel stood on. Alexis shivered and swayed a little from the sudden shift in sensations, but gazed around curiously as soon as he had regained his senses. His red and lavender eyes widened as he took in the grandeur of the building looming before them.

“Whoa!”

“That, mon cœur, is the Hazbin Hotel I told you about!”

The little demon gasped. “Can we go?!”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here!”, Alastor responded with a cheer, matching his son’s enthusiasm albeit not feeling it.

If anything, dread gnawed at his insides with every step they took uphill. He had one arm wrapped around Alexis’ shoulders to keep him close and compromise any drone footage that might be taken of them right now. With his microphone, he motioned to the two most prominent structures at the uppermost corners of the building.

“That’s my radio tower. I do my broadcasts from there, and my suite is right next to it!”

“Will I live there with you?”

“That is certainly the goal. And over there in the apple-shaped tower resides Lucifer, King of Hell!”

“Ooohh!” Alexis sounded amazed by the prospect of living near the monarch but then frowned, hesitating in his steps. “Is he … a bad person?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”

“Because mother always gets sad when she talks about him.”

The Overlord scoffed. “That is because your mother regrets leaving him to imprison us in Heaven, not because he’s evil.”

His boy didn’t seem convinced. “Will he be mad at us …?”

With a sigh, Alastor stopped their approach for a moment to face his son. “Alexis, listen closely: you’re not to blame for your mother’s mistakes. Or mine. Do you hear me?”

The boy nodded, but sensing that it wasn’t enough of a response, he added: “Yes, father.”

“Good.”

They continued walking up the hill and Alastor did his best to keep the anxious warbles of static humming in the air as quiet and confined as possible.

The problem was that there was no real plan to this. He had one ace up his sleeve, possibly, but he had to wing his way into playing that card first before Lucifer threw him out or outright blasted him in his anger and pain.

The fact that he had thought the same after the bite-incident and then no retaliation had come of it did nothing to sooth his concerns. This was different – this was a betrayal of the highest order, and no matter how unjust it was for the Radio Demon to be the one to face the King’s wrath for it, the fact remained that he would be the one to reveal this ugly truth.

“Now keep in mind, mon cœur, that the people in there don’t know of your existence or the relationship between your mother and I. This will be a shock to them, and there will be anger or tears or both. Try to not take it personally. Hide any fear or hurt you may feel – this is important here in Hell, I told you this before.”

He saw his son nod again, and this time he let that be enough of a confirmation.

“I need you on your best behaviour. You will not lash out at anyone, no matter what. You will do as I say. Right now, much depends on the both of us not stepping out of line. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alexis straightened himself with a look of determination in his eyes, although the way he clung to the stuffed animal as if it were a weapon to wield made him look more adorable than fierce. Then again, that might work in their favour.

They had almost reached the entrance doors when Alastor stopped to face his son once again.

“One last thing: Did your mother forbid you from speaking about anything?”

“No?”

That did surprise the deer demon. Lilith must have been quite in a hurry to get their son out of Heaven, and probably for a reason. She had panicked and made a rash decision, just like she had when Adam had backed her into a corner when they made that deal all those years ago.

“Very well.” He would keep it that way. “Rule number one?”

“No handshaking with anyone!”, the boy cited without a moment’s hesitation.

“Attaboy!”

And with that, there was no delaying what was to come any further. Alastor took a deep breath and pushed the door open, ushering Alexis through and following suit himself.

His eyes quickly scanned the lobby. There were a few guests here that made their way from one part of the hotel to another. Husker manned the bar, of course, and was accompanied by Angel Dust. The Radio Demon’s eyes didn’t linger there, not even as he heard a glass shatter on the ground, indicating that they had been spotted and conclusions had already been drawn. On the first floor a group of sinners were trickling out of the music room.

No sign of the King or the Princess –

“Al! There you are, I was wondering if – oh, who’s that?”

There she was, walking into the lobby from the direction of the kitchen. Charlie was followed by her own variant of living shadow, Vaggie, and the red sinner could have done without the former Exorcist right now.

The Overlord pushed the little demon a bit to make him move and meet Charlie halfway. The encouragement wasn’t needed as it turned out, as Alexis was quite eager to meet the Princess.

“You’re Charlotte – I mean, Charlie! I’ve seen pictures of you and I wanted to meet you for so long!”

Charlie waved and crouched down to be on eye level with the young demon, surprise and delight pulling her expression into her signature bright smile.

“Oh? Well, I’m happy to meet you, too! You are …?”

“My dear, please allow me to properly introduce you two! This handsome young man is Alexis, my son. Alexis, as you correctly concluded, this darling young lady is Princess Charlie Morningstar, daughter and rightful heir of the King and Queen of Hell. Please greet your half-sister accordingly!”

As Alexis politely bowed with a happy “Pleasure to meet you!” on his lips, Alastor watched the Princess’ expression change. First to surprise at the mention that he had a child at all, and then to confusion and shock as the implication of his words settled in, her smile falling completely.

His own smile couldn’t fall, not truly, but the demon let it change to something small and apologetic. He had grown to like her, after all, even if her enthusiasm often was too much to bear, and watching her go from cheerful to appalled as denial and realization warred within her made him feel a spark of pity for her.

She didn’t deserve this.

Yet, that sentiment remained a brief flicker due to Alexis backing away from Charlie and into his father, having realized how upset she was with the both of them by the way her horrified gaze switched back and forth between father and son.

“HOLY SHIT, SMILES FUCKED THE QUEEN?!”

The growing static he had caged inside so carefully broke out in a screeching shockwave at the most vulgar outcry of the spider demon, letting the lights overhead flicker and some of them burst. Most of the other hotel guests that were currently present fled.

Vaggie drew her spear, which made Alastor turn his attention on her instead of the porn star because how dare she waved that weapon in the direction of his son –

“ALASTOR!”

The Radio Demon halted, his limbs snapping back into place where they had stretched and cracked a moment before, his radio dial eyes turning back instantly as he looked up.

Lucifer stood on the first floor gallery right at the door to the music room, looking down on all of them.

“My quarters. Now”, the King said, his voice low and grave and full of authority that didn’t leave any room for refusal.

Not that Alastor wanted to refuse.

The Devil didn’t wait for an answer, turning away and walking through a portal that instantly closed behind him.

His departure was followed by a moment of silence, which the Overlord took advantage of by calling for Niffty. The little demon maid appeared in a cloud of shadows through the nearest vent.

“Niffty, dear, this is Alexis. Go and show him your collection and stay there for the time being. Bring him with you when I call you again.”

“Oohh, a little bad boy! Come, I’ll show you my treasures, come, come!”, Niffty exclaimed excitedly, unfazed by the aura of anger and despair in the grand room and beckoning for the young demon to follow her to the vent she had just crawled out of. Alexis hesitantly walked over, looking back with both uncertainty and curiosity in his eyes until his father waved for him to go along.

The moment they were both out of sight, Vaggie was the first to move.

“You treacherous –“

Alastor spun around, swatting her spear to the side with his microphone.

“If you ever dare to wield that thing at my son again, I will impale your head on it as a warning to others”, he growled through hissing static, before moving himself out of her reach by taking a step back.

He turned his attention to Charlie, who had fallen to her knees by now, still petrified or perhaps in disbelief as to what was happening.

“I shall spare you an apology for putting you through this, Princess, for I have none. I can only assure you that this is not an act of cruelty, but of necessity.”

She met his gaze, and Alastor dared to hold it only for a moment before turning away and approaching the stairs. As he did so, he motioned with his microphone at the cat demon behind the bar.

“Husker, you will make sure that the Princess and her paramour won’t follow upstairs to interrupt his Majesty and I. That conversation shall remain private, or else”, he shifted the microphone to point at Angel Dust, “he will bear the consequences of your failure!”

“What?!”

“Fuckin’ asshole!”

The Radio Demon didn’t care for the protest that was erupting and vanished into his shadow to hurry towards the top floor. Emerging in front of the door to Lucifer’s rooms, he took a moment to brace himself.

This was it.

Alastor didn’t know what to expect, and it frightened him. Surely there would be anger and disappointment at the very least … but to what degree? And what else would he have to face? Lucifer had always diverted his expectations, and until now those diversions had leaned towards the positive side of the scale.

But everyone had his limits, and this was certainly crossing a line.

And no matter how this went, he couldn’t imagine the companionship they had built to come out of this intact. He had always known that this couldn’t last, and looking back at the last two weeks – and especially the last two nights – he was glad that he hadn’t needed Rosie’s advice to claim those experiences for himself.

Yes, he had always known, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier now.

But he had one chance at getting his side of the story across, and he needed to focus to not mess it up.

Alastor drew a shaky breath and knocked.

.
..
.

He should have been furious that Alastor was taking so long to comply with his order, but the truth was that he was glad for it. He needed that moment to himself right now.

To keep the flaring heat inside and not explode and take the hotel and everyone in it for a ride through flames and blinding light that most wouldn’t survive.

Speaking of being blinded … how had he not seen?

Lilith.

It all made sense now.

Of course Lilith had started to search for the Crimson Stag on her own when Lucifer didn’t cave to her wish of investigating.

Of course it was her who had stolen Alastor’s record from the Archive of the Lost.

Of course she had figured out what he was and then forced the leash on him.

Lucifer still had no clue where she had taken him, but was that even important anymore? She had left, and she had taken the sinner with her, and both had happened a few years ago and why THE FUCK had he never cared to ask when Alastor had gone missing?!

And then she had sent the Overlord who normally wouldn’t have touched a hotel for redemption with a ten feet pole to help Charlie, because she could face neither Lucifer nor her daughter with a boy in tow that, in addition to having obvious deer traits, resembled her enough that there was no denying whose child he was.

It all fit so perfectly that a part of him desperately wanted to believe that this was a ruse. The Radio Demon was a seasoned manipulator after all, bragging about ‘playing people’ and even admitting that he had pulled the King’s strings, too, and Lucifer had been fucking grateful for it!

Breathe, he needed to breathe, but he couldn’t, there was just not enough air, not in this room, not anywhere –

Knock-tap-knock-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

Alastor was here.

Suddenly, Lucifer couldn’t stand to see him.

To look into those ruby and red eyes he had learned to read with the way they changed subtly due to emotions that otherwise didn’t cross the rest of the sinner’s face.

To hear that filtered voice that got more distorted with distress and less so in moments of sincerity.

Or had all of that also been nothing more than an illusion?

The door opened behind him, followed by a few steps into the room, and then the door clicked shut again. A light tap indicated the lower end of a microphone to be sat down, and he could imagine Alastor standing there, straight as a pole and both hands folded over the top of his microphone.

Lucifer clenched his hands into a fist. His horns and tail had emerged, the latter swishing angrily.

“Your Majesty –“

“Back to formalities, hu?”

He expected an exasperated sigh or scoff, but there was only silence for a moment.

“Lucifer –“

“Don’t call me that.”

Yes, that was him being an asshole, and if the Overlord dared to complain about that, the Devil would happily take that excuse.

Alastor kept silent, however, and Lucifer finally turned around, revealing the tracks of angry tears that already stained his face.

The deer demon stood at the door exactly as he had imagined him, the only difference were the folded back ears and a smile that only existed because of the stitches.

“Who’s the mother?”

“You already know.” Alastor’s voice was almost without filter and too quiet.

Lucifer hated it, hated that it felt like water on the fire that burned in his gut.

“Then tell me at least why!”

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?!”, the fallen angel yelled now.

The Radio Demon said nothing, and that was all the King needed to know. A choked and pained chuckle escaped his dry throat.

“Yeah, figured that was part of the deal.”

There had to always be a gain for both sides.

“So, for forcing the leash on you, YOU FORCED YOURSELF ONTO HER?!”, he screamed.

Alastor lost his composure at that, almost exploding into the towering eldritch form, just like Lucifer had wanted to do himself.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED!”

“LIAR!”

“You think she would let herself get pregnant from an ASSAULT?!”

For a brief moment, Lucifer faltered at that. It was true, Lilith couldn’t have gotten with child without a specific ritual that allowed for conception. But then the flame between his horns flared again, alongside the fire spewing from his mouth.

“Then you asked for a child as your part of the deal!”

Alastor’s gigantic antlers dug deep furrows into the ceiling as the monstrosity barely managed to fit into the room.

“What grounds for such a demand would a mere sinner even have? Be done with this foolishness and think, sire!”

“The only foolish thing was to let you get even remotely close!”

More tears were flowing now, following the half-dried path their predecessors had already carved along his cheeks.

“You must have had a real blast to weasel your way into my heart and my bed! Wanted to get the whole royal pair, didn’t you?! To think that you even were so full of yourself as to tell me to my face that you couldn’t be trusted, confident that I would throw those warnings to the wind!”

The demon shuddered and then shrunk back into his normal humanoid form. Alastor’s mouth was twisted into a snarl, but what gave the King pause were the tears glistening in his red eyes. They didn’t fall, and the fallen angel needed to blink to make sure that he hadn’t imagined them.

“Hilarious that you would choose to believe me in that of all things and not now. But since I can’t tell you the truth, even if you were to listen, the only way for you to gain that knowledge would be to pry it from my mind.”

Wait, what?!

“Of course, I can’t allow for that to happen, thus if you were to try that, I would have to fight the most powerful being in Hell for whatever it’s worth …”

This was a trick. Somehow. It had to be. Alastor wasn’t really suggesting …

There were no more tears in the red and ruby eyes that watched his every movement as the King unfurled his wings from the slits in his back. The demon changed his stance into something more defensive, his smile finally stretching into a grin that spoke of triumph instead of fear or despair.

And Lucifer found himself hoping, against the voices in his head screaming bloody murder, that he hadn’t misunderstood the invitation.

That his trust in the red sinner hadn’t been misplaced after all. Because why would the Overlord remind him of this option, and challenge him to scry his memories if that would expose all his lies?

With a sudden snap of his wings, Lucifer was on the sinner. Alastor was quick to react, his tentacles emerging and trying to catch the fallen angel, who broke through the solidified shadows without struggle.

The Radio Demon didn’t try to defend himself in earnest – a mere token effort to satisfy a compulsion in his mind and nothing more.

Lucifer touched the demon’s forehead with two fingers and a pulse of magic –

– and finds himself in a storm cloud of memories instead of a single scene, a whirlwind of images and sounds and emotions.

But it only takes the King a moment to realize that Alastor is not trying to hide the information he’s seeking, no, what the demon tries to convey is a sequence of events over a longer period of time without having to relive every single one of them. Which is not an easy task and the deer demon has only experienced the mind scry once, and the sense of urgency is not helping to sort the barrage of memorialized sensations.

‘Alright, I’m here, and I’m listening’, he assures the sinner, hope and dread and distrust warrying in his chest for dominance. ‘Try to calm down, and try to think of this as a story you’re telling.’

He gets no response from Alastor, but he can feel him concentrating, and the storm dies down to a softer yet ice cold wind, which tells the fallen angel that what he is about to witness is something the sinner utterly dreads.

There is no such thing as narration to tell the tale, only impressions, which makes it easier to understand but simultaneously so much more painful to sit through.

For the story of Alexis’ conception is one of selfishness and detestation. There is no sugarcoating it.

The buildup to it is slow and agonizing. With Lilith trapped in Heaven, unable to contact her loved ones in any way, she grows lonely. She keeps herself occupied quite well during the day with Alastor being her ‘project’ or simple company. But the nights are long and dark and full of haunting shadows of the past.

At first, she only calls the demon to her bedroom to help her fall asleep. To play some music, or read her from a book. Then she asks him to sit beside her bedside and stroke her hair. Alastor doesn’t complain, but his thoughts already wander to where this could lead. He doesn’t like the paths they’re taking. And to his horror, they are proven right eventually.

Sitting by her bedside is replaced by laying down on the empty half of the bed while caressing her hair. Letting her hold his clawed hand. Then by her resting her head on his arm. On his chest. All the while his muscles are rigid from suppressing the urge to flinch, to recoil from her touch, to flee. Sometimes she falls asleep quickly and moves away, allowing him to retreat silently. Other nights he isn’t so lucky. In any case, the sensation of the touch always lingers far longer than the actual contact, crawling and itching on his skin, no matter the layers of fabric – if there even are any. And there is nothing he can do about it. Only endure it.

Ultimately, that isn’t enough. Lilith has other needs, those of a sexual nature Alastor doesn’t share. He has tried a few times in his mortal life of course, but there is nothing to it that he has found appealing so far. He knows how to relief himself if needs must, which are rare moments, but there’s not much he knows about pleasing others – a gap in knowledge he really doesn’t mind but that isn’t acceptable when it comes to be of service to the Queen.

In other words, Lilith has to teach him. And he hates every moment of it.

Lucifer is grateful that Alastor has mercy on him and spares him the details. He already feels the equivalent of nausea from what he is experiencing.

Alastor learns to fulfill Lilith’s bodily desires, but what she longs for emotionally, he cannot give her. His gentleness is without love, his roughness without craving. He does not find any pleasure in the reactions he can pull out of her while servicing her desires – those are not for him, but for the fragile illusion he plays a part in. The demon is not allowed to speak or, if possible, make any noise at all during the act, and Lilith never looks at him. All for the illusion to hold a little while, before always, always shattering in the end.

Sometimes she gets angry at him and lashes out, but most of the time she just cries. And Alastor takes his time to get dressed, watching her reflection in the standing mirror. Lilith is beautiful in those moments of self-loathing, ravaged by guilt and shame, but that is all the satisfaction he gets out of this despicable act. That and the minuscule relief that he knows for a fact that she will not call him to her bed the next day, or the day after that. But in two weeks or three, or maybe four, he will find himself in her bed again, and again, and again, and he has no way of changing that.

He always leaves the room the moment she pulls herself back together. Every time the craving for a hot shower is stronger than after his messiest kills in life. There is nothing disgusting about blood on his hands, his face or his clothes, the thrill of feeling it gushing hot against bare skin and rapidly cooling off.

But Lilith touching him, him touching her, the sweat, the saliva, and other bodily fluids … He cannot stand it. His skin is itching, like vermin crawling directly beneath it. He turns the water scolding hot, because it needs to be hotter than her touch to cleanse the sensation, to the point his skin is painfully reddened, sometimes even blistering and peeling off afterwards. And if, for some reason, there is still any ickiness left somewhere on his body, he uses his claws to override the sensation with sharp piercing pain.

And Lucifer suddenly understands why the red sinner seeks out HIS touch in his natural burning form. It is a pain the Radio Demon has associated with cleansing, with healing himself, with BEING himself again.

‘Enough’, he cries, begs. He can just go, if he wants to, but he feels, knows, that the Overlord isn’t done yet, and it terrifies the King.

‘No. You need to know’, comes the answer, and Lucifer is shocked how hollow and strained Alastor sounds. ‘I will not go through this again. Please, Lucifer!’

The fallen angel only nods, knowing that he will be understood.

And maybe it is due to his begging, but the flood of impressions ends and a single memory is pulled up, and Lucifer finds himself in his own bedroom – no, not his, not like it is in the hotel, but a replica of the palace bedchamber he shared with Lilith.

It is one of those nights after everything is done. As Alastor buttons the sleeves of his shirt, the Queen catches him watching her through the mirror. They stare at each other for a long moment and Lilith’s facial expression seems … contemplative.

“You hate me for this, don’t you, Alastor?” Her voice doesn’t waver. She has already calmed down, much faster than he has anticipated, but her eyes are still reddened.

Alastor chooses his words carefully – he always does. He is forbidden from lying to her, but that doesn’t mean he has to be blunt.

“’Hate’ is not the word I would choose”, he says, not turning around. He straightens his collar and, through the mirror, carefully monitors her expression. There is a spark of curiosity in her lavender eyes.

“Elaborate”, she demands. Alastor has expected this order; Lilith always makes him explain himself. He turns around to face her.

“My Queen, with all due respect, I understand the predicament you’re in, but this –“, he motions from himself to her, then to the bed she is still in, “– does not give you what you truly want. I cannot replace your husband …”

With a flash of purple magic, the chain appears around his neck. He falls forward on all fours as it is yanked and pulled tight, forcing him to look up as he kneels on the floor. He knows better than to get up, but the glare he shoots her spells defiance.

“You know nothing of what I want!”, she yells. “Do I need to remind you of your place?”

Alastor gasps for air as the chains tighten, choking him. “No … I know what … I am to you … A lab rat … and your royal whore!” His voice is a strained growl, full of static and distain. It makes Lilith pause.

She watches the deer demon start to tremble as he restrains himself from clawing on the chain that cuts his breathing off. Finally, Lilith leans back against the cushioned headboard and lets the chain dissipate. Alastor gasps for air and pants heavily, trying to blink the blur away and get his sight to focus again. He pushes himself to stand up and grabs his coat, not bothering to put it on. He just wants to get out of here, there is nothing more for him to say, and since Lilith has turned her head away, this conversation is clearly over.

But as he turns towards the door und reaches for the doorknob –

“I want a child.”

A record screech fills the air as the demon freezes.

No.

No, no, no! She has not just said that!

The demon stares wide eyed at his hand which has barely touched the cold brass. This cannot be real, this hasto be a nightmare, notwithstanding the fact that he never fucking SLEEPS! Alastor blinks and swallows hard, then slowly turns back around, his smile a strained grimace.

“I beg your pardon, my Queen?”

Lilith looks at him and lets out a long sigh.

“I know you can’t possibly understand how much I miss my family, Alastor. And who knows how long I will be stuck here because of that cursed deal with Adam – which I made only because of YOU, may I remind you – and I … I need someone I can love and care for and for that someone to love me back. And that someone can’t be you.”

He glares at her. How can she even dare speak of the family she has left behind so willingly? The husband she betrays at a biweekly to a monthly rate while still carrying their wedding band? The daughter she has abandoned?

But what truly makes his blood boil is the insinuation that it is HIS own fault that they are stuck in this situation. Which, in her mind, was probably true. She has felt forced to protect her people and, according to her, all of creation against what he is or could become. Nevertheless, control has slipped her hand in making appropriate arrangements and now her situation has ‘flaws’, to put it mildly. This is a hell of her own making, and he would have laughed at the irony that it is placed in Heaven of all realms, were it not for the fact that he is stuck in it, too.

Before he allows himself to retort with a biting remark, she speaks again.

“Look at it this way, my dear: If I have a child to love and to care for, I won’t need you to share my bed anymore.”

There is a rush of adrenaline flooding his blood that feels like the building anticipation during a hunt, right before the kill. The buzzing white noise of whirling thoughts, anger and dread is instantly subdued by a laser sharp focus. He can use this, he just has to figure out how. And quickly.

Alastor narrows his eyes. “Even if I were to entertain this thought, how would that even be possible? Sinners can’t reproduce, can they? I had assumed that having your daughter was due to your husband’s nature.”

“Well, you have assumed wrong. I am the first sinner, cursed by Heaven with infertility, as all of you were henceforth.” Lilith voice is laced with bitterness and sorrow. “But Lucifer and I created a spell that reversed this curse, although only temporarily. That’s how Charlie was conceived.”

“I see.”

So it is possible. He should have guessed as much, the Queen wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Well, in truth, this was not much of a suggestion now, was it? Alastor is convinced that Lilith has put quite a lot of thought into this idea, she isn’t the kind of person to make such a decision out of impulse if she has the time to think it through. Her mind is already set on this, clearly, and there is nothing he can do about it.

There is another question burning on his tongue, though, but he swallows it. No point in asking why she wants HIM to be the sire if there is no one else available – she will flay him on the spot if he even dares whisper Adams name as an alternative option.

He’d rather try another risky yet calculated move. He has to secure at least a sliver of freedom for himself.

“I want this to be a deal”, he says in a low voice.

The moment the words leave his mouth, he is slammed into the door behind him with a gust of purple magic.

“HOW DARE YOU!”

Lilith is in his face within heartbeats. Instead of the chains choking the demon, she holds him by his throat with one bare hand. Alastor grabs her wrist instinctively, but even being physically stronger than her, he cannot make her let go. He is not allowed to hurt her in any way, and therefore the force he can exert on her arm is very much limited.

“You are in no position to make such a demand! I could just command you to do it! You can’t refuse me!”

Lilith’s demon form starts coming through. Her horns curl further, resembling a ram’s horns, and parts of her skin turn into black scales. A lizard-like and spiked black tail thrashes furiously through the air.

Alastor’s strained grin grows ever so slightly.

“You are right, my Queen, I cannot deny your orders. But I can make everything as hard and agonizing as possible for the both of us. I have endured enough of your so-called ‘research’ to know that most of them require an active and willing participant to get proper results. That’s why you offered me the leash in the first place, isn’t it? Instead of just caging me like the animal I am to you!”

Her fingernails have turned into claws that pierce the skin on his neck and throat. He can feel the thin trickle of blood running down and seeping into his shirt. At least the pain and the wetness numb a little bit the burning sensation her touch evokes. Alastor still manages a hissed chuckle as he continues.

“But I can stop being the obedient pet you are used to. I will find every tiny way to circumvent your orders, exploit every wording of a command to ruin your research! And who knows, maybe I even get myself killed in the process … But death is not an option, is it now, my Queen? It would render all your sacrifices null and void, would it not?”

Lilith’s eyes are black holes with sharp lavender-colored slit pupils. He can see the seething rage within them, but also … desperation.

“Terms!”, she growls, and Alastor’s heart skips a beat. He has won.

As a little token of peace, he forces his claws open to release her wrist. He can feel her hold on him loosening in response, if only just a bit. She hasn’t yet let go of his throat, though.

“Alright then … we do this … fertility spell of yours. I’ll sire your child.” He shudders at the thought. “And after that, you’ll never ask me to service you sexually or affectionately ever again. Do we have a deal?”

She takes her time mulling his words over, searching for loopholes, contemplating what-if’s.

“Conditions: Your role as sire is not over until the child is born and survives the first year, otherwise we’ll try again, and again, until successful.”

Alastor’s eyes glow red and he almost growls. He prefers this to be a one-and-done-deal, but of course Lilith has to make sure that she gets what she wants as she always does.

There is another catch here, one the Alastor of this moment cannot see and could not fathom if he were to be told, but one that the demon presenting this memory has long since felt the hooks of: that he will come to love this child that is forced upon more than anything …

– Another image flashes for a brief moment, finding its way into this memory at that thought but quickly pushed away again: an infant, no, a newborn still covered in blood and vernix, held by red-tipped claws as it draws its first breath –

In any case, he can’t afford this little piece of freedom he has brokered for himself to slip away. He has endured this torment for too long to risk bargaining it away last minute.

“Agreed.”

He extends a hand, a green hue already emanating around it. Lilith finally lets go of his throat and grabs it, purple magic glistening as they seal the deal. A burst of magic energy shakes the room, green and black glowing sigils appearing in the air and burning themselves into the surrounding walls. Alastor’s antlers grow and branch, scratching the ceiling, but it’s Lilith’s demonic form that truly dominates the room.

Black leather wings expand from wall to wall. Black scales replace her pale skin, accentuated by light gold and purple. Long claws adorn her fingers and toes, and a long slender neck ended in a dragon’s head graced with light golden spikes and horns like a crown. She is a sight to behold, a true Queen of Hell, and maybe one day he gets to see her rain down her fiery rage in all her fearsome glory.

The magic dissipates quickly as they end the handshake, their appearances reverting instantly. Lilith returns to bed.

“I will have to make sure that your nature will not interfere with the spell, but I expect to have the rite prepared by tomorrow night. A few adjustments should suffice.” She says nonchalantly and settles in under the blankets. As if they haven’t just decided to shake the foundation of both their worlds – and that of others.

Alastor only bows to hide his loss for words. His pulse is still racing, and he leaves the bedroom before his body and mind can decide to break down under the weight of this development …

It is here that the memory ends, but the feeling of crumbling and shattering still lingers. It takes Lucifer a moment to realize that it’s not him causing this, but Alastor. The storm is surging again, no longer held back as the demon’s composure fractures.

And the fallen angel knows all too well how that feels like, all the pain of those revisited memories all at once, but the only thing he can do is to retreat in the hopes that being left with no one to witness will give the sinner some peace of mind.

However, just like the last time, something doesn’t want to let him go, but now its not only the feeling of something coiled around him like a rope or a tentacle, it’s also invisible teeth burrowing into him and once again Lucifer has to free himself with force to come back to himself –

– and was immediately pushed away, whether by hands or the pressure wave of the deafening feedback screech he couldn’t tell, stumbling backwards with his wings flapping to fight for balance. The armrest of the couch was what stopped him from falling on his ass, though, forcing him to sit as his knees buckled, digging his claws into the upholstery to hold himself upright and to feel grounded, at least physically.

Mentally … oh boy.

He might have escaped Alastor’s mental breakdown, but he couldn’t escape his own.

Because

WHAT

THE

FUCK?!

Millenia of love, even if it was sometimes a bit of an on-and-off thing. And yes, he had changed, and yes, she had too, but …

A part of him – and he hated, hated, HATED that it was a loud as fuck – wanted to find an excuse for her actions. Wanted to see it ‘from her perspective’, as one generally should in any kind of dispute or confrontation, BUT …

There was no excuse. End of discussion. He drew a line here, and maybe that was a bit hypocrite of him to do that only now, in this situation and because of the people that were involved, but any hater could go fuck themselves, thank you, things were always different when they suddenly involved people you knew, or cared about, or loved!

Yes, this was Hell. Yes, sinners did unspeakable things to each other on a daily basis. And he had looked away and let them torment their kin.

But Lilith …

She, of all people, should not have crossed that line, no matter all her other dealings over the centuries. She, who had refused to ‘mate’ (her words!) with her assigned partner Adam because of the way he treated her, among other things …

Lucifer looked up, searching for something to focus on and the blood in his veins went from boiling heat to freezing when his gaze fell on Alastor.

The demon had slid down against the door, now sitting on the floor slightly bent over. He held himself with one arm wrapped around abdomen, his claws digging into his side, drawing blood. His head was lowered, ears pinned against his head and quivering. One hand shielded the demon’s eyes from view, but he could see a drop fall now and then, that left little stains on the floor, and they were not of blood.

Alastor’s breathing was laboured but measured, the airflow fiercely controlled and pressed through gritted teeth, and when Lucifer realized that the Overlord was using one of Charlie’s breathing techniques to regain his composure, he didn’t feel pride in his daughter like he usually would, only a deep cutting sadness that this was needed in the first place.

“I’m sorry …” His voice was so quiet that the King wasn’t sure if he had spoken those words allowed at all, but as he considered repeating them, the Radio Demon shifted slightly.

One red eye gazed at him through the gap between long fingers, burning with wrath.

“Dȍ̶̢n̶̢͐’t yo̸͈̓u d̸̗̎a̷͇͋re pi̵͇̍t̸͈͝y me̶͚̕, o̴͓̊r I’l̷͎̊l̵̺̓l rĭ̷͕p o̷̙͌u̷̢͋t ỷ̷͜o̵̺̎ṷ̵̈́r̵̘̊ wí̷̹n̷̼͌g̷̹͒ s”, Alastor growled, a hollow threat and they both knew it, but the Devil didn’t call him out on it.

If Alastor needed this to feel not so helpless anymore, this was the least he could give him.

Lucifer blinked, a little surprised to find himself still silently crying, and maybe that was one more thing that contributed to the demon’s anger.

“I don’t”, he replied, wiping the tears away. “If anything, I’m impressed how you deal with all that.”

There was a small and strangled sound, but when the King looked up, all that had changed was that the demon’s stare had gotten less intense.

“What I meant was … I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

Heavens above, he had been such an asshole! Lucifer felt the urge to vomit. He had made assumptions again and acted on them, spewing allegations, lashing out at the person that was the least to blame, if at all. The fallen angel curled in on himself, perched on the armrest like an oversized bird.

Now it was him hiding from the other man as his wings spread around him like a cocoon.

“I’m afraid I’ve burdened you with the duty of explaining this to Charlie. With regards to remorse, I’d like to call us even.”

Lucifer choked on a sound that wanted to be either a cry or a desperate chuckle. Dear Father, he had to tell his daughter, didn’t he?

“Stop that.”

“Hu?”

The fallen angel retracted his wings and only then realized that he had started to plug out feathers absentmindedly in his distress.

“That. You’re destroying my hard work.”

Alastor sounded genuinely annoyed, but there was something else, something tiny, a hint of something … tender.

“Guess you’ll have to put in more work, then.” It was a little humiliating how hopeful he sounded, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was a single ray of sunshine peeking through the storm clouds.

And there it was – Alastor’s smile was still hidden behind his red-clawed hand, but Lucifer could see the skin being pulled back and wrinkle at the cheeks.

“I shall see where to fit that into my schedule”, the Overlord replied with a mock sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose, a movement that also served to subtly wipe away any evidence of shed tears.

“Does that mean you’ll stay here?”, the King asked, a little surprised. He had assumed otherwise.

The Radio Demon moved to stand. “I can’t really leave, Lucifer.”

Ah, yeah, that made sense, of course.

“Alright … I guess that means that I should talk to Charlie sooner rather than later …”

Ugh, might as well get it over with now before he lost his courage. This conversation wouldn't get any easier, anyways.

“I can let her know that you wish to speak with her. She should be still in the lobby.”

Fucking mind-reading fucking Overlord bastard …

He almost chuckled at the thought, because for a fraction of a moment, there was an element of normalcy amidst this madness.

“Sure”, he sighed in defeat and opened a portal next to the red sinner.

Angry voices spilled into the King’s room, stemming from an argument that apparently had grown into a shouting match between three or four people. It made Lucifer jump from the couch and following the red sinner through the portal, alarmed by the altercation.

“ALASTOR!”

Charlie appeared out of nowhere as the Overlord had barely made two steps into the lobby, donning her demonic features and tears in her eyes, and then she slapped the demon in the face with enough force to make his head jerk to the side.

Suddenly, everything was silent. No noises other than the Princess’ hitching sobs and a slow exhale from Alastor.

As Lucifer stood frozen in shock, he watched the deer demon slowly lifted a hand to touch his cheek where Charlie had struck him.

And then his pupils narrowed into slits as all warmth left those red eyes and the Radio Demon turned to face his attacker, and Lucifer knew that a retaliation was incoming that was wielded with the sharpest weapon in the demon’s arsenal and aimed to harm.

And the Devil couldn’t bring himself to stop him. Not this time, not even for Charlie.

“Your mother will be pleased to hear that her daughter does take after her, after all”, the Radio Demon said in a low voice thick with static and disappointment, each word a strike meant to cut deeply and doing just so when Charlie finally started to realize their meaning.

She gasped and took a few steps back, the anger on her face quickly replaced by regret and sorrow, and Alastor just left her crumbling on the spot as he walked on.

“It appears as though you all may need a day or two to cool your heads. Thus, Alexis and I shall spend the night elsewhere.”

He said it for all to hear, but Lucifer knew that it was actually addressed to him alone.

“You piece of shit! Do you really think –“

“V̵̧̟̊̈́A̶͉͔̯̅̾̌G̸̟̘̿̐͘G̶͉̾I̵̲͗͑̄Ẹ̶̢͖̑!”, Lucifer interrupted her, lacing his voice with power to warn her and everybody else from speaking up now. They all looked to him in shock and confusion – all but Alastor, who didn’t show any reaction at all, didn’t even look back.

“Niffty”, the Overlord summoned the little maid, and when she appeared a moment later, she brought Alexis with her just as instructed.

The boy looked a bit disoriented for a moment, before instantly zeroing in on his father.

“Papa! Look! Niffty made Sir Percival a crown!” He held his platypus plushie up to show off the new crown that was made of … cockroaches. Of course.

“Yes! And I’m gonna make him armor and a sword, too, to make him a real knight!”, the little cyclops demon added with glee, clapping her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, mon cœur, but we must be off now. I want you to meet a very dear friend of mine!”

Alastor ushered his son towards the hotel’s entrance. The boy looked back to wave goodbye to the rest of them, frowning as he saw their expressions of grief and anger and concern, but the Overlord quickly diverted his attention back at him and then they were gone, the thud of the doors falling shut echoing loudly through the lobby.

It took a moment before anyone moved. The first was Husk, pulling the spider demon away from where they stood next to the former Exorcist and towards the bar.

Charlie suddenly started to cry in earnest, and Vaggie rushed to her side and lifted her up with both hands in a bridal carry. Her one eye found Lucifer, who wanted so badly to console his daughter but felt unable to and unwanted in this moment.

“We’ll talk later”, he promised quietly, trying not to feel hurt or guilty by the way the former Exorcist schooled her expression before finally nodding and walking with the Princess in her arms towards the elevator.

As he watched them go, something – or rather, someone – caught his attention. Standing in the first floor gallery and overlooking the whole lobby was that Vee girl, Velvette, typing on her phone.

Following an impulse, Lucifer snapped his fingers and set the device aflame. She let it fall with a surprised yelp and a curse, but when their eyes met, she quickly composed herself and walked away with a shrug.

The Devil turned and left the lobby through the still open portal. Only when he was finally alone in his quarters he allowed himself to fall to his knees, his power leaking out of cracks forming in his body from the buildup of emotions that needed an out and found it in a scream that shook all of Hell.

Chapter Text

35 Days since Last Extermination, Hell, Pride Ring

It took a while for Lucifer to … pull himself together. Literally, as in ‘reassemble his body’ and taking shape.

He did so without recreating his clothes, because that never went the way it should for whatever reason, and he really didn’t want to deal with fibres between his muscles or half a button embedded in a bone. That would be a nightmare to sort out and he had enough of those already, thank you, and in more than one way at that, fuck you very much.

Stepping into his bedroom to gather some new garments and get dressed, the fallen angel suddenly stopped like he had hit a brick wall.

Staring at the large bed with its canopy, the curtains, the dresser, the wardrobe, the standing mirror …

Every time Alastor had entered this room, he had hesitated for a moment, even if just for the duration of a heartbeat. A twitch of his ears, a breath held before stepping over the threshold, or – if the coat had already been off – a flick of his tail. The King had noticed and wondered but never asked, because it had seemed like something trivial and the deer demon would probably have dismissed the question with a quip or a jab anyways.

Now, as images of Alastor’s memories flashed before his eyes, he understood.

The Devil didn’t think twice before starting to destroy the room and everything in it that was a reminder of Lilith and her shared past. He tore down the curtains and the canopy, shredded the bedding and the mattress, ripped apart the wooden bed frame. He threw the rest of the furniture against the walls and only spared the windows (not that he cared much for the cracks that formed due to getting hit by broken off splinters), until a strewn about pile of scraps was all that was left, with even the tapestry hanging off the walls.

A small object caught his attention due to its golden glint, because of course it did, and for the longest time that had been a pleasant and comforting thing until it became a reminder of his failure to be a good husband and father, and now …

Lucifer picked up the ring and stared at it. Such a small object and yet it had held so much power over him, a symbol of love that now felt like a weight around his heart holding him down.

No more.

The act of taking the ring off had already been freeing, but that wasn’t enough anymore.

The Devil let his temperature rise even more, directing the heat to the palm of his hand. He watched as the golden band first started to glow and then melt, liquid gold running down the side of his hand as he turned it, hot droplets falling on the carpet and broken furniture that caught fire eventually.

And the fallen angel just stood there as he let the fire consume what was left of the bedroom, only confining the flames and smoke as to not spread into the bath and living room. The windows burst from the heat of the roaring blaze at some point – he shouldn’t have bothered trying to keep them intact apparently.

He could have just simply magicked it all away, of course – the interieur, the ring. But this felt better, felt right.

It felt final. As it should.

The King didn’t expect anyone to come and inquire why his tower was burning. Noone had dared to knock on his door when the ground had quaked, so why would they come running now just because of a little fire?

He walked into his bathroom and took a shower, a quick one for once because the cold water reminded him of Alastor to the point that it hurt too much, and then portalled his way into the living room to not cross the smoke-filled bedroom again and ruin his cleanup.

The fallen angel regretted a little failing to safe his clothes, because now he had to create new ones on the spot and those never felt quite right, but needs must and he hardly could walk to a tailor in town butt naked.

His phone chimed, alerting him to an incoming message. And again, and again. Lucifer summoned the device to his hand with an annoyed sigh.