Chapter Text
Lucifer wasn’t afraid of being killed.
Well, as the king of hell and the devil himself, he couldn’t die anyway. Both a curse and some sort of twisted blessing. Tied down to this realm in a constant spiral of hate and pain at those above.
Loss and despair.
Oh, Lilly, where were you…?
But Lucifer wasn’t afraid of it. He wasn’t afraid of pain. Nothing could be as painful as the day he fell with her in his arms. And the pieces left after that? God knows how far his fucked up mind was. Past fixing, no doubt. A burned and battered body concealing another, bruised and hurting but still okay. They were okay.
Had they not been okay?
He couldn’t die.
But he felt like he was now.
How long had it been? Suspended by the metal cuffs that burned his wrists and the cables that were pushed and pulled deeper into his skin with every shaking breath. This box (still a working theory, but he was nearly certain it was a box) fogged with every labored breath.
The pain was enough to make him believe he was back in heaven again, just shattering through another flashback of memories that refused to go away. Scars that refused to heal. The pain, holding him from his ankles to his wrists, was akin to those dreaded chains that held him down completely, forced to bow his head in submission that his pride wouldn’t allow. Not even as they ripped him of what remained of his angelic grace.
He could hear something above. Singing…it sounded like Lilith, but that was wistful thinking. It was most likely his darling daughter. Charlie sounded so much like her. He remembered the nights in Eden with Lily’s voice playing through the grass and trees. Notes that made heaven itself come to life. Those songs that he’d gotten so used to falling for, over and over. Until the final fall here, and he couldn’t find the will to feel anymore. Yet she kept singing. So perfect.
Almost painfully so.
Still no sign of Shaggie, no…Veggie? Whatever, Charlie’s girlfriend, even though she said she’d return. At least, that’s what he thought he remembered…Fuck he was so tired.
His head slumped forward, chin cutting into his blood-stained chest, but it wasn’t worth the extra pain to move. Every muscle contracted against the arching electricity that fired into the system of his angelic heart. Fuck that TV head man. He could feel himself being drained of the power that heaven had gifted when crafted by the Holy hands of God. It was too similar…
He just wanted to go home.
Was he even allowed to call the Hotel home? The cold, stone walls of his much too formal castle were hardly ever a home to him. If walls could speak, theirs would not. Centuries spent Home was home because of the people. But Charlie was still mad for what he’d done.
The ground around him shook, the glass cracked around him, but didn’t dare break. Lucifer’s back arched with another shock. Fuck, the bad tingles were back. He cried out, Holly mother of God, it hurts. The electricity lingered as more blood dripped from where the cables were dug into his skin.
Then it was just silence and his heavy breathing. Lucifer hated that more.
Then a crackle of static.
“Well, well…isn’t this quite the predicament?”
Lucifer lifted his head as much as his drained body allowed to see a blur of red approaching his container.
“Seems like you’ve got yourself into a challenging situation, your majesty.”
Ah, the Bellhop. Lucifer had seen him earlier when he was first captured, being the annoying little shit he always was.
Lucifer would almost be ashamed for the demon to see him like this, but it hardly mattered when Alastor was beaten up just as much. He favored his right arm, bleeding under his red suit, but Lucifer couldn’t tell how much because of the damn color. Smart ass.
His smile was strained, too. The way he held himself with whatever pride was left after whatever happened up there.
Lucifer, arguably, was doing the same thing.
“Lookin’ good, red…” Lucifer forced out. This was humiliating, nonetheless, even if they both looked like shit. “Finally decide to ditch the chair?”
Alastor made a tsk sound, resting his hands on his cane (since when was that fixed?) in front of him. “I figured I’d finally stretch my legs. I think you can relate.” He gestured to his overall stretched out and hanging body.
“Hah…Fuck you…” Lucifer groaned, head falling back.
Alastor hummed and walked around the box, tapping on the fragile glass that was now splintering with cracks. He was enjoying this, Lucifer could tell. You could tell a lot by his ears, actually, perked up and forward. It seemed strange to see the Radio Demon in such spirits, smiling ever so high, even when his body was probably hurting as well. Not that Lucifer gave a fuck. His own head was too dizzy to care, and it was hard to breathe. I want to go home…
The glass suddenly shattered around Lucifer and he flinched. The shards didn’t cut him but snagged at his ripped clothes regardless. He was too tired to protest when Alastor stepped closer.
He expected Alastor to laugh.
He expected him to hold out his hand or some shit and offer a deal.
He expected, perhaps, more pain.
He didn’t expect Alastor silently work on the angelic cuffs holding up his arms.
“I hate you…” Lucifer muttered, but didn’t push him away. “You make no sense.”
“I assure you, sire, that the hate is equally matched,” Alastor said with a bright smile to go with it. The first cuff fell away and Lucifer’s arm flopped down, his body sagging forward.
Alastor’s shadows worked on one of his ankles while the Bellhop himself continued on his second arm. Lucifer held back a wince at the prodding hands of the demon in front of him. This was going to suck tomorrow if the shocks did what he thought they did to his powers…
Finally, the remaining cuffs released him and Lucifer immediately fell forward. Again, he expected Alastor to drop him, but he simply caught his small body before it could land on the glassy floor. The cables fell away automatically, leaving harsh punctures and burns on Lucifer’s pale skin. His golden blood continued to flow everywhere. Making a horrible mess.
God…how weak did he have to be to actually lean on the Radio Demon?
“Can you walk?” Alastor asked, holding Lucifer steady at his side.
“Didn’t think you’d care, Bambi…” Lucifer muttered. But the king knew he didn’t. Alastor’s voice was one of detached amusement.
“I don’t,” he confirmed. “But answer my question.”
“...No.”
Alastor let out an annoyed huff and used his shadows to teleport them above ground. Lucifer felt his body slip into the cold of the shadow before nearly falling on his face when they materialized. Again (strangely), Alastor held him.
The area looked like a complete wreck. Buildings were crumbled, rubble scattered the ground, and there were some areas where you could see blood, both from Sinners and angels. Said Sinners were huddled with each other. He hated them, really. Hated what they did, how they represented hell. But what could you expect of them?
'I’ve got you, Lilly…'
'Always.'
“Dad!”
Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he saw his daughter and her girlfriend running to them. Thank God she was okay. He couldn’t see any major injuries on her other than a few scratches and a messy dress.
“Hey, Char Char…” Lucifer forced a smile that turned more into a grimace. “Yeah…don’t go down there…it’s a place of pain…” His legs gave out again and Alastor extracted his hold. Charlie caught him this time, helping him sit down.
“Thank you, Alastor!” Charlie said but the demon was already gone. Lucifer blinked out of sync. Damn, everything hurt.
Chaggie appeared at Charlie’s left, her face slightly pale as she looked down at the king. “Your majesty…I swore I would-”
Lucifer held up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t worry, uh…Charlie’s girlfriend. Thank you for being with my daughter.”
“It’s Vaggie, sir,” she said, looking at Charlie with a soft smile that was only shared between lovers. “But…you’re welcome.”
Charlie smiled back, taking her girlfriend’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Lucifer felt like an intruder in the moment.
He was used to the feeling.
Lucifer cleared his throat and forced himself to stand. He still felt extremely weak, which was weird. Usually, his angelic magic would kick in around now to start healing his wounds.
Unless…
Charlie stood, worried. “Dad? Are you alright?”
Damn him for making them worried. Why did he have to be such a nuisance? They had won! They should be celebrating.
Another forced smile. “Don’t worry about me, sweetie. Just worn out. You must be too after all that.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Charlie!” A blur of blue and white engulfed his daughter in a hug. The two spun around, laughing, and Lucifer was taken aback by the angelic appearance of the other.
So similar to…
“Emily! Careful, your wing!” Charlie stressed. Lucifer saw the bloody wing covered with ichor. Unfortunate, really, but Lucifer hardly looked at it and focused on the girl’s halo and face. There was no doubt. She was a Seraphim.
Lucifer watched distantly as Charlie, Vaggie, and Emily talked, checking on each other with concerned eyes of friends. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much to see her. But it was his first time being even close to another angelic being in millennia. Not since that trial.
Not since his fall.
If that wasn’t enough, an angelic portal opened and Lucifer’s blood ran cold. He felt her before he saw her. That same presence, once so comforting throughout his time in heaven but now a dreaded reminder of everything he lost.
Sera stepped through the portal in a hurry to her sister’s side, concerned eyes (the same eyes…) looking over her sister and widening with horror at the sight of her wing, even when Emily smiled at her and assured her it was okay.
Since when do you care about wings? Lucifer thought bitterly, but he froze when Sera’s eyes landed on him.
Everything stopped, and it was just them. The past weighed heavily between the gazes that held each other. Lucifer, desperate to look away, couldn’t. And Sera’s face became a twisted mix of things that Lucifer didn’t understand. His mind gave him all the reasons not.
‘For your rebellion and question of God, and for the mark of evil you have unleashed upon the world, you, Lucifer Morningstar, are condemned to Hell-’
He could feel all the eyes staring at him. Whispering and casting looks of disgust and betrayal. He felt Lilith hold onto his arm, trying to escape it all as well. He dragged her into this mess.
Just because they both had a dream.
‘-to see all the evil that you have allowed to seep into the souls below.’
The Ophanims nodded to the Seraph’s command. Those once warm eyes looked down at Lucifer with coldness. No mercy. He saw his brothers, the other Archangels, watch with detachment. Saw the other Winners and the other Angels. Saw Adam, staring at Lucifer with hate for what he’d done.
He saw the approaching angelic blade. Raphael stepped to him. Felt the opening void behind him. Felt Lilith’s sharp intake of breath as he spread his wings to hide her from the inevitable.
Felt Sera’s many eyes as the chains held him down as his Halo was cut and severed-
Lucifer felt a hand on his shoulder and his mind was brought back. Sera was still looking at him, even as Emily tugged at her arm. Oh, the resemblance was painful. Only now did he realize that his breathing had picked up, chest tight and unyielding. His body, despite the pain of his injuries, felt numb and not like his. Except for that single hand that was still there.
Lucifer looked back, eyes slightly focusing more as he found Alastor standing there, but he wasn’t looking at him. His red eyes were staring dead at Sera with something that he couldn’t read.
Lucifer took a breath. “What are you-”
“You should go back to the hotel.”
“I don’t have to listen to you…” But his body was betraying him as he swayed. He sighed and tried to summon his cane, waving his hand in the air.
Nothing happened.
Huh, strange.
Lucifer tried again, focusing on his magic, but a wave of pain, similar to the bad tingles, ran through his body from his heart. Lucifer held back any sounds but his mind raced with all the possibilities.
And it was all leading to only one.
Fuck…not now…
“Your majesty?” Alastor raised an expectant eyebrow.
Lucifer swallowed back his panic. He saw Sera and Emily leave through the portal as Charlie and Vaggie reunited with all their friends again. The Sinners he met. “Nothing. Just…gotta get back to the hotel.” Every beat of his heart seemed to weigh him down, making everything heavy. He had to get out of there. Away from everybody.
Alastor didn’t say anything about it, but definitely noticed something was off. He observed Lucifer and his smile grew slightly wider, eyes gleaming with interest again. “Well, go ahead and teleport yourself there with that flashy trick of yours.
Lucifer shot the demon a glare, shrugging his shoulder out of the grip of the clawed hand that still rested there. He assumed he wouldn’t be able to summon any portals back to the hotel either. Just his luck. He was in no condition to actually walk all the way back. Charlie and others were already ahead and gone, and there was no way he’d ask the Bellhop-
Alastor grabbed Lucifer’s wrist before he could react, and once again, they melted into the shadows. Lucifer instinctively held onto Alastor as they traveled, again feeling the cold of the shadows but also the silence too as they traveled further than before. When he finally opened his eyes, he was in his room. Ducks scattered around.
Lucifer stumbled, clutching his head with a dizzy feeling. Alastor looked at him with those same calculating and amused eyes.
“Thanks, I guess.” Lucifer leaned against the wall. “But I coulda by myself.”
Alastor’s hum was full of radio feedback. “I’m sure you could have, sire.”
“Asshole…” Lucifer grumbled, walking stiffly to his bed and plopping down headfirst, not bothering to take anything off.
Annoyingly, Alastor was still there, peering around the room with keen interest. “So this is where the king of hell resides.”
“Read the plaque at the door,” Lucifer muttered into the pillow. Another wave of pain was washing over him, and he really wasn’t in the mood for any more of the Radio Demon today. And it was best if he left sooner rather than later, considering what would start happening to his body if the pain didn’t stop and his powers didn’t come back.
“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Alastor supplied helpfully, looking at his nails. “Quite flattering, really, that’d you’d go through the trouble just to keep dear old me out, darling.”
Another painful pulse of his heart made his magic flicker back for just a moment. Lucifer felt his wings extend from his back and flap in agitation.
“Interesting…”
Fuck that Bellhop.
“Red, read the room and get out,” Lucifer said, slightly breathless. He forced his wings back in.
“I can read the room just fine.”
“Alastor, please…” Lucifer’s voice was more pleading than he wanted it to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He needed him gone.
For a moment, Alastor’s eyes looked at him with something other than mockery. Lucifer saw him look at his wounds. The sweat that started to bead his forehead. And that pathetic look of desperation his eyes held. Alastor may have been acing strange, being surprisingly considerate today for helping him back to the hotel, but Lucifer couldn’t believe that his motives were all clear or good.
He couldn’t see what would happen…it would ruin everything.
Alastor’s fingers tapped rhythmically on his staff. “Very well then, sire. And what should I tell Charlotte?”
Lucifer relaxed slightly, ignoring the fact that Alastor was letting him off so easily. “Just…that I’ll be down later. I’m just recovering from…Box man.”
He only nodded. “Of course, your majesty.”
“Wait…”
Alastor stopped at the door, his back turned to Lucifer. “Yes, sire?”
‘You’re pathetic.’
Lucifer nearly flinched at his own mind. He ran a hand through his golden hair. “Nothing. Just thank you…”
Alastor chuckled, looking back at Lucifer with a big (fake) smile. “You must be mistaken, my king. I don’t care about what happens to you. I’m simply doing my job as the host of the hotel to prevent anyone from tainting its reputation.”
“Oh yeah? What happened to quitting?”
The demon grinned and opened the door. “The Radio Demon is not quite done with his broadcast.” He snapped and Lucifer jerked, feeling as if his wounds were burning again.
“What the hell-?!” He pulled up his shirt to see that his wounds were stitched closed with a neon green that illuminated his skin. But by the time Lucifer looked up, Alastor was gone.
The small man sighed and lay back down, stitches throbbing. Nothing made sense. That damn demon made no sense. For all he knew, toying with Lucifer was the only thing Alastor wanted. That’s all they did to each other. Hell, that’s all they knew how to do to each other.
Yet somehow, it felt different after the battle. After seeing what Vox did to each other…After seeing themselves at lows they didn’t want the other to see.
Not that it mattered, Alastor was sure to tell him he didn’t care.
Nobody did.
‘You’re just a nuisance. You put us here. You won’t fight. You can’t-’
‘Pathetic. Why would I ever-’
‘Get up.’
‘GET UP.’
‘G̸̤̓E̵̟̿T̷̟̈ ̶͚́U̷͕̓P̵͓͠.’
Lucifer let out a sharp gasp and curled up, clutching his chest. His magic flared again, but only three of his wings sprouted, out of sync like the rest of his body. That damn machine…
Slowly, the king of hell managed to pull himself up again, stumbling to the door with wings heavy and dragging behind him. Lucifer’s mind raged against everything else. It was all wrong. All twisted and wrong. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have fallen.
He should have died.
‘You should have died.’
Lucifer summoned what remained of his fading magic and cast a spell around his room. A ripple of gold raced along the walls before it settled out of sight. There. Now nobody would be able to hear.
Lucifer fell to his knees, barely registering that pain compared to the other that was rising in him rapidly. Fuck. Fuck this head of his. Fuck his powers. Fuck heaven. He hunched over, panting and silently crying.
Fuck hell.
But why did it have to hurt so bad?
And so it began. Lucifer’s eyes glowed gold as they burst open. All six wings, painful and racing with what felt like that same electricity, overcame him and had him grounded. The first scream was ripped raw from his lungs.
The first of many more to come.
If there was one thing Alastor could do forever, it would be watching fireflies.
Sure, tearing apart Sinners was entertaining. Broadcasting screams for hell was exhilarating. Even tea with his former owner, Rosie, had its perks. Talking through all the drama of the century between Overlords was something he quite enjoyed when she wasn’t thrusting at every opportunity to remind him of his shackles.
What an annoying situation.
Luckily, he was free from that. And Vincent had been his ticket to a long-awaited freedom. That bastard woman and bastard television couldn’t hold him down now.
Where was he…ah, yes, the fireflies.
Alastor prided himself on the bayou he’d added to the second half of his room in the hotel. One half, a more muted color (in his eyes, as a half deer, reds and oranges appeared almost grey or yellow some of the time), and the other, a splendid swamp-like replica of the bayous in his homeland of Louisiana when he was still alive. Oh, the people he’d killed and buried in those swamps. Such good memories.
And the fireflies were always such irony to him. His mother, a Winner no doubt, had told him when he was just a boy that they represented the inner light and hope in them all. Such innocence and hope were long since destroyed in his later years after she died at his father’s hands.
Every kill hosted in those bayous had the same thing: The damn fireflies. Flickering and winking at him as if knowing that the next body would just drag his soul further down. Such irony that what they represented became what Alastor strode away from.
Yet they were always there. Always with him. Kill after kill. Some sort of hope that he turned away from after killing his father in cold blood. Running for years on the streets of his hometown alone.
They had also been there with him when he died. Silent like the bullet embedded deep within his skull. He remembered their light when everything else went black.
You couldn’t find fireflies in hell (unless they were literal flies on fire) unless you were here. In his bayou. He could stare for hours just remembering. Just reflecting.
Just knowing what he turned away from.
So here he was now. Bandaged from his chest wound to his arm with stitches and a stiff posture. His single chair turned towards the seemingly endless bayou ahead. He sipped from his “Oh Deer” mug and felt the bitter coffee sting his tongue. The fireflies flickered past his red eyes.
Hope and inner light.
What a joke.
Alastor’s ears flicked up at the sound of knocking on his door. He sighed, slightly irritated by the intrusion, and sent his shadow to unlock the door for him. It was quite a way away, and it would just put strain on his body. And more strain on his smile.
The door opened and his shadow receded as Charlie walked in, pausing for a moment at the door to take in the sight of the strange bayou.
Alastor couldn’t say seeing her put him in the best spirits. If anything, his smile turned more sour. More bitter. Who could blame him? He was missing days, and she did nothing about it. Nothing at all. Not to mention what she did to her own father for fucking something up when it wasn’t even his fault.
Not that Alastor cared or anything. The point was, despite Charlotte’s teaching to Sinners to care and love, it seemed the teacher was hypocritical after all.
“Hi, Alastor,” she stepped into the room a bit. “I was wondering if you’ve seen my dad lately?”
“His highness?” Alastor asked, taking another sip. He should have been the last person to ask. The hotel staff should know that.
“Yes…it’s been a while. I didn’t even see him come back after the battle with Vox and…” The princess bit her lip. “I’m just worried. It was my fault he’d been taken in the first place, and I just blew up at him before that. I feel horrible.”
Ah, so she did have some sort of heart for her father after all.
Alastor let out an amused humming with static feedback. “I can assure you I haven’t seen him since the battle either, my dear. And I find it unlikely that I would know his whereabouts.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “You hate each other…But I had to ask. Nobody else has seen him either.”
So his suspicions had been confirmed.
Lucifer hadn’t left his room since the last time he left him. The king’s desperate eyes still kept appearing in Alastor’s mind, no matter how hard he pushed that look away. Such an unfit look for the man who was supposed to rule hell.
But Alastor had seen firsthand what those injuries he had sustained from Vox’s machine did. Of course, Lucifer would need some time to heal.
The problem? It had been four days.
Didn’t Archangels have healing properties?
“I will tell you if I see him, darling,” Alastor promised, though he knew heartily that he wouldn’t.
Charlie just nodded, stuck in her thoughts, before turning away and heading back out the door. It closed with a click and Alastor’s eyes, once again, were met with the flickers of the bugs ahead of him. Four days, huh? Alastor, of course, had been out of his room quite often in need to maintain his title as host of the hotel, especially with even more Sinners willing to stay here. But never once had he seen Lucifer up and about. It seems the other staff were having similar observations.
How interesting indeed.
Alastor finished his cup and set it down on the table next to the chair he’d been constantly glued to for the past few days. Still healing as well. He didn’t care. Not at all. The situation amused him at best. But caring? Not for the Radio Demon. Especially not for a duck-obsessed little man who ran around with a head full of pride.
Learning of Lucifer’s punishment from heaven, not only being chained down to hell, but also being unable to harm Sinners as well, fueled something in Alastor. A weak spot. A place where he could slither in.
And perhaps, just perhaps, get the king to give things that Rosie hadn’t before. But this time, he’d be holding the strings.
Yes. That was the reason why he kept thinking about that pathetic man’s face when he saw the Seraphim. The way he’d dissociated. Why he pulled him out of it. Why he helped him back to the hotel and stitched him up. Left when asked.
Yes. It was only to stay on his good—yet blind—side until he could get close enough to take what he needed.
Alastor watched a firefly flicker near his hand and he halfheartedly grabbed for it. Its movements, even slow and lazy, evaded his attempt. He didn’t want to kill them. Not really.
Just how he didn’t want to kill Lucifer. He was a stepping stone to where he needed to be. Nothing more, yet nothing less.
That’s why it didn’t make sense for him to get up and grab his coat (fixed by Niffty and her obsession with cleaning everything) and walk out the door, staff in hand behind him with his hands.
I’m checking on prey. Alastor reminds himself. No point in using a dead monarch.
So he left his bayou and fireflies to walk towards the man with that silly little plate outside his room that read “NO ALASTORS ALLOWED”. Please.
As if there could be more like him.