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Alastor stayed only long enough to let Charlie know that the deluxe suite on the floor below her own – two floors from Lilith's estranged husband – should suit her mother nicely, before bidding them a good night and expressing his wishes that they enjoyed catching up.
Despite his anger at the man, he couldn't resist a glance over his shoulder to see Lucifer's reaction to the sudden appearance of his wife.
Lucifer looked frozen, his eyes like wide yellow saucers on his face, mouth hanging open in shock as he clutched onto the banister as though it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. Within seconds, the king had summoned a swirling red portal and stepped through it without saying a word, the glimpse of the four poster bed Alastor caught enough to tell him the other man had retreated back to his rooms.
Alastor wasn't exactly sure where he was planning on going, he only knew that he needed to get away from the hotel – away from Lucifer – and process the fact that the man had betrayed his trust in such a way.
Tracking his movements in the royal library – digging around, trying to find out more.
Alastor had told him to leave it alone.
That the man had gone behind his back, investigating his activities – it rankled him.
What else had he been hiding, what other secrets was he keeping? Did he know more about the extermination schedule than he'd spoken about, like Husk had suggested? The royal communications – the ones that he had so hastily removed when Alastor noticed them – his phone calls.
Had Alastor been wrong, to put his trust in the man? Had life not demonstrated, time and time again, that to trust somebody was dangerous, that it was a resource that should be spent sparingly?
What had Lucifer even hoped to get out of it, in any case? Alastor had already told him he couldn't help. He couldn't have made it any more plain. The last thing he needed was the fallen angel finding out just who Alastor had been foolish enough to shackle himself to, thinking he was getting more out of the arrangement than he gave up.
His racing thoughts had carried him to a seedy bar, several blocks away from the hotel. He could barely even remember whether he'd walked or drifted on the shadows, so caught up had he been in his own mind.
With a wave of his hand his shadows nearly wrenched the door off its hinges, the sputtered protests of the bartender dying down as Alastor's furious grin and glowing red eyes filled the doorway, the demon sweeping in and taking up residence in a booth near an old jukebox, the previous occupants of the table hastily vacating it on his arrival.
“Whisky. Neat,” Alastor barked at him, the bartender hastening to fill a glass with shaking hands, the bottle clinking against it. The radio demon glowered out at the other patrons who found themselves in such a dingy place as this, at such an hour. Didn't they have anywhere better to be?
Almost three in the morning, and they chose to spend their time here, rather than at their own homes. And Alastor was now one of their number – how far he'd fallen.
Sipping his whisky – eugh, not even a particularly good one – he watched as a pair of reptilian sinners resumed their game of pool, murmuring to each other in low voices.
“Where is the music? This place is dull,” Alastor exclaimed, speakers behind the bar almost immediately crackling to life as the demon tending it turned on the radio at his instruction. It was clearly picking up some Earthly station, playing a song Alastor didn't recognise. It was a little upbeat for his mood, but he could work with it.
It can't be said I'm an early bird...
Draining his glass in one swallow, Alastor got to his feet, striding over to the pool table. He grinned up at the square headed reptile sinner before him, tilting his head.
“Good evening. Up for a game?” he inquired, his shadows already working their way into the pockets of the table, spilling what balls had already been potted back onto the table.
You keep telling me to live right...
“Uh – sure. H-here,” the other demon responded, holding out his pool queue for Alastor to take.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Oh, no. I was thinking of something a little more entertaining!” his canned laughter rang in the air, the reptilian sinner casting an uncertain glance to his friend as Alastor grinned at him, his hands folded patiently behind his back.
Alastor jerked his head around to the bar, a mere thought enough to increase the volume of the music as he tapped a foot along to the beat.
“What did you have in mind?” the other demon asked, leaning down to speak slightly closer to Alastor's ear, in order to be heard over the music. The unfortunate man still didn't seem to realise that his life was about to take a turn for the worse.
But while in this world...
Alastor whipped a hand up, seizing the demon by the collar, the other man's face level with his as he bared his teeth in a smile that was anything but friendly. His eyes flicked over to radio dials, his voice distorting with static.
“Run,” he suggested, laughter echoing from his throat as he pushed the other sinner back, the man falling heavily against the pool table before scrambling upright, making a beeline for the door. Before he reached it, a shadow coiled around his ankle, yanking him onto the ground as Alastor's limbs cracked, his antlers almost brushing the ceiling.
“Too slow,” Alastor growled out through his teeth, sweeping towards the door before he took the entire place down around him, his size increasing even further as he reached the street, body swelling through the door like some kind of monstrous, spindly balloon.
He dragged the hapless sinner with him – wrong place, wrong time for the poor fellow – and leant down, one hand on the roof as he cast his black gaze over the room, finding the other demon who'd been at the pool table.
A shadow wrapped around the sinner's waist, and Alastor raised the two demons in front of his face, tendrils writhing around him as they struggled in his grasp.
“Now. Which one of you is faster?”
* * * * * *
Alastor swiped at his lips, grimacing at the nasty taste in his mouth. Gamy, and he was sure he had a scale or two stuck in his teeth – cold blooded sinners always were somewhat unpleasant to consume raw.
Still – with a stomach full of one and a half reptile demons (he really couldn't finish the second), and another glass of whisky to attempt to wash away the lingering sour flavour, he felt... marginally better, than he had an hour or so ago.
Better enough that he thought he might – might – have reacted slightly unfairly to the king's questions. After all – he was a curious man. And Alastor hadn't exactly been coherent during that incident of his, so could he really blame the ruler for trying to find out more?
(For going behind his back about it? Yes, absolutely, but perhaps it wasn't worth dismissing this entire thing over.)
Alastor wasn't accustomed to regret or remorse, or any of those words that Charlie liked to throw around when discussing how to become a better person. But something in him did balk at the idea that this – this – might be enough to shatter the fragile trust he'd built up towards the king.
He really didn't want it to be the case – and he was sure Lucifer would have an appropriate explanation for his behaviour.
Damn everything – not even this seemed able to squash the burgeoning affection he felt towards the other man. These... feelings.
With a sigh, Alastor took a left at the top of the stairs, intending on seeing if Lucifer was still awake – considering the events of the evening, chances were good on that front – and he was relieved to see the light shining out from under the king's door.
Still several feet away from said door, Alastor paused, his ears standing to attention as he heard Lucifer's voice from within.
That wasn't too unusual, when taken alone - Lucifer often talked to himself, particularly in times of stress.
No – it was the fact that there was another voice speaking back.
A female voice.
Alastor's heart plummeted into his stomach.
What were they doing, in Lucifer's rooms, at this hour?
He had thought that – that there was no longer anything to be concerned about, on that front.
Lucifer had said there wasn't. Had said things were over with his wife long ago.
Had that been another falsehood?
Not stopping to think about it, Alastor swirled into the shadows, sweeping silently under the door, only half reforming inside the king's wardrobe. He felt uncomfortably close to being a Peeping Tom, despite the fact that he spent the majority of his nights in these rooms, also.
Alastor peered out through the gap in the slightly ajar door, doing his best to control both his racing heart and his hissing static, trying to calm each enough to be able to hear the low conversation going on between the king and his – his wife.
Fuck.
Lucifer was sitting at his workstation, his shoulders slumped as Lilith paced in front of him, arms crossed under her breasts as she scowled, whatever they'd just been saying leaving them with nothing but an uncomfortable silence.
“I should have known you'd put her up to something like this,” Lilith eventually sighed, stopping her pacing, facing her husband with a frown. Lucifer's own brows creased, and he did his best to straighten his shoulders, lifting his chin.
“This was her idea. Entirely her idea. I – believe me, I was sceptical at first, too. I tried to... to tell her to stop,” Lucifer muttered, sagging again. He didn't look very much like the big boss of Hell right now – he looked tired, his eyes heavy, hair falling around his face as though he'd spent the last hour dragging his own hands through it. His tie hung loose from around his collar, one or two buttons undone.
Alastor felt a pang – he both hoped that he was the cause of such an expression, and felt shame at wanting such a thing. But the alternative was that Lucifer was looking so upset because of Lilith – that she still had such a hold on his emotions.
“Then tell her again!” Lilith swept an arm in front of her, her voice cracking as her eyes flew wide. “If she ends up in the firing line because you encouraged something so... so reckless-”
“I would never let her get hurt!” Lucifer protested immediately, squaring his shoulders once more and getting to his feet. The top of his head barely came up to Lilith's chest, and the woman sank down to sit on the bed – Alastor's stomach twisted, he'd been in that bed less than a day ago – putting them once again at a height.
“Luci, you always said that. You never saw how encouraging those lofty dreams could hurt her – don't you remember what happened when she saw you flying?” Lilith asked, and Lucifer's face blanched, the man flinching back at her words.
“I – I didn't think that... I didn't know...” he muttered, looking distraught. Lilith gave him a sad smile.
“A broken leg heals – an Angelic wound won't. You have to put a stop to it, or they... they will,” Lilith admitted, casting her gaze to the floor.
Alastor had never met the queen, personally. Knew only what most of Hell knew – that she had been created for Adam, and thrown off his yoke. That she had fallen to Hell with Lucifer, and when he had disappeared from the public eye, she had stepped up and taken charge.
She had always seemed an imposing presence in the media, with her statements about what she would and wouldn't allow to be known or published about her family – he'd almost forgotten that she was, in fact, the first human.
And she looked it now. There was nothing but earnest concern in her gaze as she implored the king to do what Heaven had ordered – put a stop to the hotel.
“Why did you come, Lili? I haven't seen you in almost eight years, and even before then, we didn't – I hardly... why?” Lucifer asked, his voice small. “Why now?”
Lilith gave him a soft smile, twisting the ring on her left hand.
“Because... I am still your wife. And I'm Charlie's mother. If I couldn't get you to listen to me, maybe I could get her to,” she said softly, but Lucifer was already shaking his head, tears brimming at the corners of his bright yellow eyes.
“That's not – this marriage has been over for a long time,” Lucifer choked out, turning away as he rubbed the back of his hand roughly against his eyes. Lilith stood, crossing the few feet between herself and the fallen angel, drawing her hand slowly down his arm and turning him back to face her.
“Then why are you still wearing your ring?” she questioned, tangling their left hands together.
Alastor almost gave himself away, barely controlling the blat of static that threatened to emerge at those words. She was right – when he was with Alastor, Lucifer would often – though not always – take it off.
But he always put it back on in the morning.
Relief washed over him as Lucifer stepped back, pulling his hand from her grasp, but it was short lived.
Lucifer was wearing a guilty expression – of course he was, Alastor thought bitterly.
He was probably remembering just how thoroughly he'd betrayed that marriage.
“Even if – even if I tell her to stop it, she'll ask why. She'll want to meet with Heaven – she won't just stop, Lili! Charlie is determined to redeem sinners, and the fact that I haven't told her it works – it's killing me! Every single day that I look her in the eye, I have to pretend that I don't – I don't know? How am I supposed to live with myself, if I destroy this for her?” Lucifer asked, his hands open before him, as though begging for a better answer.
“Because she will be alive,” Lilith shot back, her voice determined in all the ways that Lucifer's was uncertain. She stepped forward again, behind him, wrapping her arms over Lucifer's shoulders and pressing his back against her. To Alastor's dismay, the fallen angel didn't step away, this time.
No, he – he merely brought his own hands up, crossing his arms over hers.
He even leant back against her, his head tilting against her ample chest.
“She is the only thing worth fighting for, Apple Pie,” Lilith murmured, and Alastor could see Lucifer's teeth clench, a tear running down his cheek as he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, still not wanting to put an end to Charlie's dream.
“I'll keep her safe,” Lucifer promised, his voice barely above a whisper. Lilith gave a sigh, her own head tilting forward in defeat.
“It's more complicated than you know,” she said quietly, drawing her arms out of his grasp – he clutched at them, Alastor noticed, another flash of hurt going through him at that fact – and stepping around the man to place herself in front of him.
“I don't want them to win, any more than you do. But we have to do what's best for Charlie. If you think – if you think that you can protect her... I hope you're right,” she breathed, cupping Lucifer's face in her delicate hands and tilting his head up.
She smiled softly down at him, a wistful, sad looking thing, and the king blinked up at her, his eyes still wet, wearing a lost expression on his face.
“My sweet Apple Pie,” the queen murmured, bending down.
Alastor's eyes flew wide as he realised where she was aiming – and that Lucifer wasn't pulling away.
He didn't – he didn't want to see that.
He'd seen enough.
Wrenching his eyes away from the sight, he sank back into the darkness, slipping unnoticed under the door, wavering back and forth on the way back to his own rooms as his shadow tried to stop him, tried to go back to the king's rooms, a silent howl on its open mouth.
There was a pain in his chest he hadn't felt since his battle with Adam. It felt like the wound had reopened, but when he tucked his fingers under his shirt, they came back clean – no trace of blood.
His shadow hovered at the door to his rooms as Alastor sank into one of his armchairs, burying his fingers in his hair as he slumped forward, his grin a rictus thing on his face, his eyes wide and wild.
He snapped his gaze to his silhouette, fury once more welling up in him, only exacerbated by his shadow's pitiful behaviour.
“Stop it,” he hissed out, directing a shadowy tendril to wrap around its neck and drag it back to his heels, his shadow fighting every inch of the way, incorporeal claws trying to hook into the floor.
“Did you not see? He doesn't want you. You're nothing to him. You're just a shadow,” he spat at it, bitterness lending his words a harsher tone. It quailed on the ground, its mouth turned down as his could not be, its ears pinned as tightly to its head as his own.
“You were a fool. How could you let yourself get so attached? It really is pathetic,” he went on, directing the words at his silhouette so he didn't have to direct them at himself.
Alastor had been nothing but a distraction for the man, something to pass the time. He'd thought he was the one playing the game, and it turned out that he'd been wrong the entire time.
That Lucifer could think it acceptable, to force the sinner to feel this way, to trick him into it...
He was furious.
~fin~