Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“All I'm trying to say is...does he really need to be here?”

Charlie sighed for the tenth time that morning as she checked off another item on her checklist, only half paying attention to the demon following her around like a wayward, cranky duck.

“We've been over this.” Charlie began, irritation seeping into her tone as she continued down the hallway. “It's a hotel for redemption. We don't turn anyone away.”

“But he's an evil menace.” Her father, the king of hell, most definitely whined. “Look at what he did to my- our carpets, Charlie! Tomato red? It may as well be pink.”

She didn't have the heart to tell him the color of the carpets was the last thing on her mind.

“Look, Dad.” Charlie stopped, finally turning to face him. He bumped into her. “Alastor is an important part of this hotel. He's an asshole, yeah, but he's been nothing but helpful since the day he appeared on my doorstep. He isn't going anywhere.”

“Of course,” Lucifer said in a familiar placating tone that made Charlie want to punch a wall. “But you don't need him anymore. You never did, really.”

‘I never needed you, either.’ She had to physically bite her tongue to keep from saying, feeling guilty for even the thought.

“Dad.” She gripped his shoulders and forced a smile. “Why don't you...go check on the food? Make the table spread look nice.”

“You...want me to...?” The way Lucifer lit up at the simple request was equally heartwarming and heartbreaking. “You've got it, Char Char! It'll be the best table spread hell's ever seen.”

She released him with a tight smile. “Great.”

“I know just the thing,” He continued obliviously, spinning on his heel as he opened a portal to the kitchens. “It has to be absolutely perfect for my little girl.”

He disappeared. Charlie looked at the spot for a moment before hitting her face with the clipboard with a muffled scream.

“Don't let him get to you, hun.” The firm, reassuring squeeze to her shoulder was instantly grounding. “He's just trying to help.”

“I don't understand why he has to be so annoying about it.” Charlie allowed the clipboard to lower, frustration met with her girlfriend's ever patient smile. “Why can't they just...I don't know, ignore each other?!”

“You brought two of Hell's strongest demons under the same roof and neither of them can do anything to each other because they don't want to upset you.” Vaggie snorted. “I'd say letting them bicker is the least terrible thing either of them could be doing.”

Charlie pouted.

“...But,” Vaggie pulled her into a hug. “They're both being insufferable about it, yes.”

“I just want everyone to get along.” She whined in a tone mirroring her father's.

“Well, they both missed the trust building exercises day.” Vaggie smiled at the similarities. “Maybe it's time to organize a new one. Once we get some more sinners at the hotel, obviously.”

“Oh my golly,” Charlie instantly perked up, pulling away. “You're a genius, Vaggie! It worked so well last time it's bound to work again!”

“I've got a few ideas in mind.” She mused, smiling wider at Charlie's side eye. “Don't worry. Safe ideas.”

“I'm excited to hear them.” Charlie leaned in for a peck. “Okay, okay. Back to work. Thanks, Vaggie.”

“Anytime.” She fondly watched as Charlie resumed following her checklist, then allowed her smile to drop. She started for the stairs.

Alastor liked hanging around the kitchen.

Despite Lucifer’s continued requests to leave the interior decorating alone, Alastor didn’t feel inclined to comply. A change of rug here, a new bit of wallpaper there-- All over the course of the final days leading up to, as Charlie put it, The Grand Reopening!!!!, written and said with equal amounts of gusto from the princess.

Alastor was sure to do his part in organizing the occasional odd task, but otherwise kept an amicable, reciprocated distance- a bandaid on the greater issue that was the king attempting to assert control in things he had no business futzing with.

The final straw had been the buffet table. A platter of perfectly good fingers (a gift from Rosie as a blessing to the establishment) and choice slices of meat were all laid out perfectly alongside whatever nonsense his charge determined appetizing. It was nice.

And yet, he saw the insufferable, presumptuous gnat pivot and make way towards the table the moment he spotted it.

Popping up directly in his path in a swath of haze, Alastor snapped his staff against the ground and leaned towards the king with an ominous creak of static. “Problem, your majesty?”

Their fragile peace crumpled like a paper ball.

“Charlie put me in charge of the table spread.” Lucifer stood a little taller, coolly matching Alastor's glare. “Not everything is about you.”

Husk, plate of deviled eggs in hand to add to the table, paused. One look at both demons immediately had him walking away.

“I was just...” Lucifer gave a little twiddle of his fingers, moving the dish of actual fingers to the end of the table. At the center of a table, a towering mass of golden caviar appeared. “...moving things around.”

“Why, I never said it was!” Alastor hummed, tapping his mic and reverting the spread to its previous state, not once breaking eye contact.

Instead, the caviar sat on a newly manifested circular table to the side; now, with appropriate accouterments available. “I won't deny our patrons a good spot of roe, but at least have the decency to know what to serve it with.” Cocking his head, he added, “Though, I suppose only seeing the worst of us sinners taught you little of the world, hm? Shame that the only good thing to apparently reach your ears in all these millennia were notions about fish seed served plain.”

Angel, who'd been gathering drinks for the coolers spread throughout the lobby, snorted and held open the door for Vaggie as she reached the threshold. “Don't worry, they just started.”

“Your suggestions are noted,” Lucifer expressed through smiling, gritted teeth. “But I wasn’t done.”

The caviar returned to its rightful place with a tablecloth and decorations befitting only the finest of establishments. It was joined by the set of accouterments Alastor had summoned, but in golden dishes far more befitting Lucifer’s style. Beside it, a champagne fountain in the form of a little statue of a smiling Charlie pouring the champagne.

The fingers and meats were shoved onto the new circular table, an obvious afterthought.

Angel, who'd been gathering drinks for the coolers spread throughout the lobby, snorted and held open the door for Vaggie as she reached the threshold. “Don't worry, they just started.”

“That's not as comforting as you'd think.” Vaggie huffed, taking a moment to catch her breath and scan the kitchen for any damage. Angel shrugged as she trucked on, aimed for their resident toddlers. “Alright you two, break it up.”

She had to forcefully wedge herself between them for that to happen.

“Alastor--”

“Bold to presume I was the cause of this go around.” He interrupted, leaning away from her touch and neatly brushing off a lapel. “I was merely tending to what was left on the docket.”

She spared him a wan, tired look, and continued, “I was going to say that there was something else that could use your attention.” Crossing her arms, Vaggie settled for a flat stare. “And Charlie told Lucifer this is what he could work on, so that's why he's here.”

“Hm.” An equally flat, droning sound chipped through the air, “Unfortunate that even his own kin can't stand to be around him.”

As Vaggie spoke, Lucifer leaned over just enough for Alastor to clearly see his smug smile.

“Maggie’s right.” He agreed primly, making a shooing gesture. “Make yourself useful elsewhere. Don’t you have someone else to micromanage?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. Lucifer glared right back. Music started up from out of nowhere, ready to put this annoying sinner in his place once and for all.

“WAIT!” The dining room doors burst open, putting an abrupt stop to the music with a record scratch. Charlie, out of breath from having clearly sprinted from the upper levels, braced herself on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “I forgot Alastor was down here and I-” She looked up, cutting herself off as she took in the scene before her.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Vaggie breathed, relief loosening the tension from her shoulders.

“Charlie!” Lucifer beamed, stepping towards her with open arms. “I’m so glad you’re here to see what I’ve done with the place! Despite some setbacks, I think it’s coming along really we-”

“Are you fucking KIDDING me?!” Lucifer paused, outreached arms pulling inward in a show of surrender instead. Charlie stood to her full height, fury twisting her features into her demonic form. “You’ve been down here for two minutes!”

He blinked. “Yes? With my powers, all of this is child’s play. Did you want me to take longer? I could-”

“You couldn’t get along for TWO MINUTES?! I ask you to do one thing and leave Alastor alone, and what do I find? You immediately tried to pick a fight with him!” Charlie stomped over to him, taking him by the elbow as he tried to defend himself. He allowed her to drag him along as she approached Alastor. “And you!”

A slow creak of popping stereo followed the radio demon standing upright, eyes creasing in delight as Charlie expressed an apt amount of horror. An amused little chuckle escaped him, one he poorly concealed behind a hand and just as easily quieted at her reprimand with a curious crook of an eyebrow.

She glared up at him, voice level. “I expected better from you.”

From the doorway, Husk smirked and popped a deviled egg in his mouth as he offered the plate to Angel, who paused to pluck an egg from the plate and jeered at the two with a low, “Oooo.” before popping it in his mouth.

She took Alastor by the elbow with her other hand as she guided both demons into a pair of chairs, who squinted at the two onlookers with his head nearly turned a full 180 degrees to look them straight on. “Now you’re both going to sit there and talk to each other until you’ve sorted out whatever this is, because there’s no way we can open up to the public if the staff can’t even get along!”

Lucifer, though touched to be called part of the staff, crossed his arms as he faced away from Alastor. “I have nothing to say to him. He’s the one who keeps coming after me.”

Taking his seat with dignity, Alastor crossed a leg over his knee and hummed, “Very well.” Simply to be contrary.

Releasing his staff into the ether, Alastor clasped his palms in his lap and turned to Lucifer. “You’re a rude, dismissive little goblin-”

“Okay!” This time it was Angel that stepped in, clapping one set of hands and setting an upper palm on Charlie’s shoulder as a kind of comfort before she could get worked up again. He gestured an offering with the other. “How’s about a field trip?”

Vaggie sighed, “Angel, we don’t have time for that-”

“No, no,” He held a finger up to her, daring to smile at Alastor’s narrowed glower, “Just them. There’s a demon Cherri told me about last week, real mean reclusive sort on the outskirts of town. Wouldn’t a heard of this place.” Cocking a hip and propping a fist against it, he pointed back and forth between the two for emphasis. “The kinda demon only these two could handle if shit went south during recruitment.” Shrugging, he looked to Vaggie, “It’d be like that time you threw me an’ Pentious off a roof into an active warzone--build camaraderie and all that shit.”

“A recluse in Pentagram City?” Husk quirked a dubious eyebrow. “Where all the overlords live?”

“Not for long.” Niffty giggled, appearing out of nowhere on Husks' head with a pen and notebook in hand. He grunted in displeasure, but didn't remove her.

“It’s actually pretty easy to slip under the radar if ya got the mind for it.” Lifting Niffty from Husk’s head, Angel tucked her under an arm and absently adjusted the hat. Smirking, he snorted derisively, “But, yeah. Not that it ever lasts long if, ya know, ya end up needin’ a place to stay, any kinda job, groceries--” He listed each point off. He continued until he ran out of fingers and Niffty had squirmed from his hold to dart after a skittering beetle.

Shaking his head, Angel failed to notice the discussion of his suggestion, “Anyway. Cherri said somethin’ about him bein’ a dragon? Not much reason to seek out any sorta amenities if you’re a fire breathin’ lizard--presumably.” He nodded at the consideration then frowned. “Or maybe she was sayin’ our conversation was draggin’.”

Pursing his lips, he cupped his chin and muttered, “Were we goin’ to a drag show?”

There was a moment of silence, broken by scrolling frequencies and dimming lights, “Personally, I’d rather swallow glass.” Then the atmosphere righted itself in an abrupt swoop, “But, if that will put everyone at ease before our big debut, fine.” Looking back at Lucifer, Alastor’s grin glinted like knives in defiance. “I’m more than willing to accommodate.”

“That...” Charlie's expression lit up, turning to properly face Angel. “Is a wonderful idea, Angel! Yes! Nothing bonds people together better than a shared goal!”

No one else was as enthused by the idea as Charlie.

With Alastor's assent, she turned hopeful eyes towards her grimacing father. “I don't know about this, Charlie.”

She looked at him.

“Working with people was really always more of- well, not my thing...”

She upped the puppy dog eyes.

“Plus, outskirts? Pfft, what? We have those? I really don't...” Despite his best efforts to avoid eye contact, Lucifer was failing miserably. Finally, he heaved a deep, resigned sigh.

“Fine.”

“Yay!” Charlie clapped her hands. “Okay, you're both going to have to work together and quickly if you're going to get this done before The Grand Reopening!!! So- Angel Dust!” Despite how much taller than her he was, she stood on her tiptoes to place her hands on his shoulders. “I'm putting you in charge of this.”

Hearing his name, he straightened and looked about, “Huh?” When Charlie placed her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him with the most ill-founded faith he’d witnessed since death, Angel’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Huh?”

“No one has made more progress at the hotel than you have.” Charlie smiled proudly. “Out of everyone here, I think you're the best one to make sure these two stay on track.”

Her reasoning made his gut sour with endearment and a small, near-pained smile twitch at his lips in a way only Charlie could ever manage.

She released him, shooting a pointed look at the two chairs behind her, which had turned into a menacing, grinning staring contest. At Charlie's look, Lucifer gestured pointedly at Alastor’s blatant hostility.

“I think they could use an experienced mentor in learning how to get along.” She rolled her eyes before turning properly to the two demons. “As for you two, I want you both to do anything Angel tells you to do.”

Angel pushed a hand into his hair, sparing a nervous side-eye to Husk then perked up at the opportunity to call the shots. Not that he’d trust the Radio Demon to do anything he wasn’t inclined to participate in, but Lucifer? King of Hell himself, desperate for his daughter's approval, at the beck and call of a porn star at her request? Talk about a power trip.

“Anything appropriate.” Vaggie added sharply, noticing his growing smirk.

“And do your best to get that poor sinner in here before someone else gets to him!” Charlie paused. “But you can't force him. It has to be a choice. It's really important that it's a conscious, no pressure, choice.”

“Yeesh. This is all so needlessly complicated.” Seeing the flicker of hurt on Charlie’s expression, Lucifer quickly added, “But, uh. Anything for you. Sweetheart. Obviously. So, where is this sinner at?”

“Aaand this is where you take over, Angel.” Charlie smiled encouragingly, stepping behind him.

Vaggie’s warning squint only served to make him roll his eyes and he decided, fuck it. “Alright, sure. Put the twink in charge of the daddies, that’ll go over without a hitch.”

“What did I just say-”

“One is literally a daddy an’ the other screams dom, toots. It ain’t my fault ya don’t call it like it is.” Angel waved her off with a pointed gesture at the two and propped his upper arms akimbo, crossing the lower. “But, yeah, I got it. Consent is sexy.” And grinned teasingly at Vaggie’s scowl.

He turned to his new charges with a kernel of confidence having Charlie at his back. Christ the things he’d do for her baffled him still. Which brought him to answering Lucifer’s question, “He’s near the peak a the pentacle, a ways into the craggy rocks an’ shit that surround the city.”

“How are we going about this little... what was it you said?” Alastor asked, lounging back in his seat and feigning a genuine curiosity well enough that Angel frowned.

“Field trip.” He repeated, unbothered. “It means the three of us are gonna go for a walk: no powers, no physical fightin’ with each other, no musical numbers.”

“Field trip.” He parroted back, the term gaining a subtle note of condescension. “Why, it sounds delightfully drab.”

Standing, Alastor swept a palm through the air and tapped his mic into existence with a crackle, bracing his palms against its top. “But, the weather is supposed to be lovely today. What’s a little scum on the shoe when you’re spending an afternoon with a chum.”

‘Scum’ was said to Lucifer, bent low to articulate the word directly in his face before popping back upright and twiddling his fingers with amusement on ‘chum’ at Angel, who immediately grimaced.

Rubbing at the tension building in his forehead, Angel ushered the two out and whispered to Husk in passing, “Have me a drink that’ll knock my ass out when I get back, please.”

“Good luck.” Husk smirked, giving a little two fingered salute.

Chapter Text

A molotov cocktail soared through the air like an errant pigeon.

Angel whistled at its impressive arc and dutifully took a picture of it for Cherri, sending it as the bottle exploded on a massive imp carrying a flaming garbage can. The imp shrieked and ran into the pillaged mini-mart.

Lucifer’s gaze remained glued to the sidewalk, surroundings little more than white noise.

With a perfectly good set of wings and teleportation abilities, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gone for ‘a walk’.

Eden, maybe?

He distinctly remembered the feeling of warm, lithe hands intertwined with his as Lilith walked with him through the garden, marveling at all of Heaven's creations.

He liked the sweet tartness of the apricot, Lilith liked the sharper taste of the pomegranate.

Though she liked everything, Eve had been partial to plums.

Adam, ironically, loved apples.

Lucifer’s grip on his staff tightened. Useless 6,000 year old trivia for people long gone, resurfaced because of a walk.

Ahead, Alastor was humming a chipper tune in surprising peace. Or, was for a commendable amount of time before he stepped aside and stuck out the length of his staff.

Lost in thought, Lucifer was perfectly susceptible to tripping- doing just that in a comedic stumbling hop that caught the toe of his boot in a crack and sent him face first into the gored pit of a corpse's torso. He grimaced at the tacky, rank remains that peeled with him as he attempted to find purchase to get up without shoving his hands into his decaying cushion.

“Ey! I saw that!” Angel warned, snapping a picture with a spare hand even as he crouched to help Lucifer up. “Y’alright, Lu?” Accustomed to his own fair share of bloody showers, he offered a sympathetic smile and peeled a piece of the sinner’s scalp off the stained shoulder of his suit coat.

Alastor stood aside, observing his claws and shrugging with indifference.

“Disgusting.” Lucifer frowned at his ruined clothes as he finally pushed himself up with Angel’s help. Alastor’s amusement needled at his patience. ‘This is for Charlie,’ he recited internally. A hammering mantra even as the cacophony of the surrounding war zone ticked him right the fuck off.

Lucifer decided he'd had enough.

Unaware of Lucifer’s fuse, Angel continued to pluck bits of viscera like a preening monkey. “Yeah, but a lil’ peroxide, cold water and a sponge and it’ll--” The sharp crack of the cane against the sidewalk and the resulting pressure of magic swooping out made the sinner flinch away and shield his face.

It was like a nuclear explosion of cleanliness, instantly polishing everyone’s clothes, the street, and every demon in the vicinity. Not a speck of blood, filth, or corpses remained.

Niffty would’ve lost her mind.

“...Come right out.” Prone to turf disputes, Angel hadn’t realized the dingy brown of the sidewalk had been from all the dried blood; now, a glaring, uncomfortable off-white that almost came across as sterile.

The warring factions were frozen. Where the three had been previously ignored, not a single eye was looking away now- honed on their sharply dressed ringleader.

“Don't you people have anything better to do?” Lucifer looked up, annoyed. The street cleared with record-breaking speed.

Then, he turned to Angel and smiled. “Sorry, did you say something?”

The blackened aura radiating from a sparkly clean Alastor made Angel inch away and cross both sets of arms as he looked back to Lucifer.

“No powers, remember?” He gently reminded, unable to match the smile. Sparring another cursory glance at the now vacant street, he waved the two on and kept walking. With a show like that, who knew what'd crawl out of the woodwork.

“—tired of eating? Get your daily dose of Everything Shake at Veets—”

“—buy your very own V-watch today—”

“—Voxtagram: spy on your friends and family—”

It was times like these, hooked into his surveillance room and absorbing information like a sponge, that Vox felt like a god. Few could handle the sheer amount of processing Vox did on the daily, facilitated by his demonic form. Not a single other overlord could do what he did with such ease.

In other words, Vox felt pretty powerful.

Which is why it hit like a sucker punch to the gut when a security camera picked up on a burst of intense magic. “The hell?!”

Vox sat up in his chair, the monitor on his shoulders returning to his face as he pulled out of the onslaught of information to focus on the disturbance. He pulled up the footage on all of his screens, each a different angle of the same area.

“Well, well, well.” Vox grinned, leering at the short, white suited figure on the spotless street. “Look who's decided to stop being a recluse after all.”

It was impossible to miss the unmistakably familiar red, glitching blob. Claws dug scores into his chair as Vox enhanced as best he could without damaging the technology, shaking with rage.

“Alastor,” His voice distorted with fury. “Is ALIVE?!”

The entire entertainment district shook from the force of his yell.

“The whole point t’all a this is to get ya... I dunno, down to our level?” Angel scratched the back of his head, an absent gesture with a lower arm including a still waspy Alastor, “Can’t really understand that if ya' just wiggle ya’ fingers like Mary Poppins an’ woosh away every inconvenience, y’know.”

“Who?”

“Speak for yourself.” Alastor piped in, spinning his cane and leering at Lucifer in passing as his pace carried him ahead.

Angel rolled his eyes, “Big talk, but he’s a sinner too.” And when he said it, he made sure it was loud enough to reach tufted ears. He was spared a flicker of annoyance cast over the overlord’s shoulder and met it with a smirk. “None a’ us are free of fuck-ups, pal.”

Shooing away the vitriolic sting of static like a gnat, Angel refocused. “Anyway, ya seemed out of it.” He prompted, “Somethin’ on your mind? Charlie always says lettin’ it out is always better than keepin’ it in.”

“Unexpressed emotions will never die.” Alastor recited, rounding a corner and passing on a cheery wave to a couple of crouched cannibals gnawing on what looked like the victim of a hit and run. They readily perked with a gorey chorus of, ‘Hi, Al!’ “They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways. Freud said it first, I believe.”

“Course you’d remember somethin’ like that.” Angel griped, avoiding the stare of one particular cannibal he may or may not have jacked a two kilo brick of coke from during a one night stand. Picking up the pace, he continued, “But yeah, what he said. An, maybe, as an example, he could share why he had such a stick up his ass about going for a walk.”

“HA!” The demon’s neck cracked with the force at which his head jerked back on the laugh, entirely upside down as he stared Angel dead in the eye and clipped a succinct, “No.”

As the two sinners bickered, Lucifer was once again pulled into deep thought, though this time it was accompanied by the repeated, distracted murmur of, “Down to your level...”

Angel opened his mouth to shoot another barb at the bombastic shit head, still strolling along with a snapped neck out of spite, then paused at Lucifer’s consideration.

That wasn’t really what he’d meant to have him focus on, making Angel purse his lips. If the Radio Demon was going to be a little shit about everything, the least Angel could do is say he was getting somewhere with Lucifer.

Fuck if he knew where, though.

All too familiar with the want to remain silent and ignore an offered hand, he wondered if what was said earlier even really made sense. Was he doing this right? After all, it wasn’t like Angel ever led the group sessions.

It was starting to feel like a few too many grades in his education were skipped here.

“I've got it!”

Especially when Lucifer declared understanding in such a way that Angel wholeheartedly knew he absolutely didn’t.

With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer’s form changed. The cane and bowtie disappeared, but the hat and rosy cheeks remained as a swirl of glitter lifted his height and pale skin erupted in a fine layer of black and brown feathers. A pinch of his fingers at his nose pulled his face out into a bright blue beak. He wore a red striped, popped collar dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, simple white pants, and bare, black webbed feet.

He looked like a duck. A furry? No... what were the bird ones? Angel was blatantly staring, a little taken aback now that they were the same height. Well, cosplay was roleplay, so maybe it counted for something?

Angel dragged a hand down his face and sighed.

“Is this better?” Lucifer grinned, continuing their walk without waiting for an answer. “They really like using animal motifs for sinners, don't they? I think I fit right in!”

“So is this trip more ‘three strikes and you’re out’, or are we just going to continue to watch him make an ass of himself? If you’re taking input, I’m inclined towards the latter.” Flinching away from Alastor’s abrupt manifestation beside him, Angel swatted at the tittering shadow that dissipated to whisps and zipped back ahead.

“Not that I’m complainin’ about the view,” Angel interjected as he moved to catch back up with him, eyeing the new set of long legs. “But, I think ya’ missed the mark a bit.” He pinched his fingers together, trying Charlie’s whole empathy shtick.

He noted the flat, dissociative glaze sliding over the king’s expression and bumped shoulders with him. “Any reason ya’ chose a duck? If ya gonna play the part, there should be a backstory.” He spread his hands as though laying out a potential scene. “Like, feedin’ gone awry-- or, uh, chased down an’ pecked t’death!”

“Roasted alive, fat stripped for butter and made into a decadent gravy-” Alastor chimed in, a little too chipper as he eyed Lucifer’s new form from where he’d paused at the edge of pavement leading to the outskirts of the city. “I’ve always been partial to venison, but you can’t go wrong with a good routeed duck.”

“Uh-huh,” Angel drawled, countering on Lucifer’s behalf by cocking a hip and brow as he looked Alastor from his antlers to the hoof print shoes. “Speakin’ from experience, deer boy?”

Static creaked ominously for a brief moment, a scroll of stations, then popped back onto the channel of jazz he always seemed to be playing in some capacity. “Why of course! My mother was a marvelous cook. Slap a bit of fresh meat in front of her and she could whip up a meal like no other!” He laughed, waving off the barb and carrying on into the wasteland.

Rolling his eyes, Angel nudged Lucifer and nodded his head after Alastor for them to keep going too. “So, ducks?”

The idea of coming up with a backstory was intriguing, and like anything that captured his interest, Lucifer devoted his full attention to it.

“My name is...” He racked his memory for the most human male sounding name. “John! Yes. John... Smith.”

He hadn’t done this in so long. It was like trying to exercise an atrophied muscle, but it was slowly coming back to him.

“I drowned in a duck pond.” He continued excitedly, tapping a fist to his palm. “My best friend...Matthew...slept with my girlfriend. So I tried to kill him in a fit of rage! But he pushed me into the lake and let me be eaten by ravenous ducks.”

Laughing would probably fall into the category of ‘counter productive’. So, Angel pinched his lips in a tight line and felt his cheeks cramp on a smile as he listened. He didn’t have it in him to inform the king of hell that it was only down here that ducks were vicious, six-winged little monsters.

“But since I’m a sinner now, I go by-” He paused. “Daffy!”

‘Daffy’ smiled, quite pleased with himself.

Though, short lived. As they reached the outskirts of the city, Lucifer beak turned down in a frown as his pace slowed. The change in scenery was abrupt. One moment there were endless streets of filthy pavement and buildings, the constant hustle and bustle of the city a backdrop of sound; then, at the jagged border, there was cracked, dead, blood-red dirt.

The silence was eerie.

He looked at the end of the pavement like it was reeling back to lunge at him.

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped moving until Angel nudged him again. After a moment of hesitation, Lucifer sighed and stepped forward.

They officially left Pentagram City.

“Ducks are, uh... They’re incredible creatures, really.” He eventually stammered, every inch of him screaming tense and uncomfortable. “They can walk, fly, and swim. There's the incredible vision, highly intelligent. Oh! and they have a specialized arterial system that keeps their feet from freezing,” Lucifer's hands spread out in front of him, as though referring to a diagram, “A beautifully complex respiratory system, absolutely flawless wings, not to mention they’re objectively the cutest animal in the animal kingdom, and -”

The more he spoke about ducks, the more animated he became. Even going so far as to turn to Angel with a wicked grin ill-fit for the cartoonish face. “-they have one of the longest penises in the animal kingdom.”

That particular fact was said with a good bit of pride as Angel guffawed. “I spent a long time designing the duck. They’re perfect in every way.”

“Oh yeah?” Angel encouraged, careful to watch his step as they traversed the wasteland. It’d suck if he broke a heel cause he was too distracted by Charlie’s dad talking about duck dicks while having decided that was the very animal he wanted to embody for roleplay.

Though, he did cast a pointed look to the devil’s groin with raised brows and enticed smirk.

“If you two are quite done-” Startled, Angel flinched away from Alastor. Those red eyes narrowed, and there was a certain curl pulling at the venomous grin that relayed exactly what he thought of the conversational turn.

“Fuckin’ hell, stop that!” Again, Angel moved to swat the pompous little shit and swung through inky mist.

“-I believe we’re nearly there.” This time Alastor reappeared on the other side of Lucifer, eyeing him in a way that mirrored what Angel had done; only, with immeasurable disgust. It was met with a flat look.

As if to attest the point, a plume of blue flame crested over the next outcropping of spiny rock. A bestial roar followed, echoing so loud it rattled at the chipped earth and Angel huffed, scowling. “Ya’ could’a jus’ told us like a normal person.”

“How dull.” Alastor cocked his head with a creak of tendons, grin peeling to the corners of his eyes. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining.” Another just as nauseating snap righted his posture with a mockingly solemn nod, “However, I will take your displeasure into consideration.”

“Doubt it’ll be in any way that’s actually considerate, but whatevah.” Angel groused, climbing the rock and peeking over the edge.

Lucifer readily joined him, adding a genuinely confused side murmur of, “Why doesn't that count as using magic?”

Angel blinked.

Huh, he never considered that.

“Al! No more of the shadowy shit!” Angel shouted over his shoulder only to realize Alastor wasn’t there. Whipping back around, he jolted at the pant leg beside his head and scowled up at where Alastor stood openly observing the scene.

Peering down at them, he snapped his fingers and lamented with a single deadpan, “Drat.”

Rolling his eyes, Angel focused on demons below them.

There were two: one a dragon, a fact he’d pat himself on the back for hearing correctly, and the other.... was an overlord.

One Angel knew to stay far, far, far away from. Shown very clearly in the lattice work of green webbing sizzling against scales where it bound the trapped sinner down. A painful, sadistic display that the lanky figure standing off to the side seemed perfectly content to observe.

“When I get out of here,” The dragon hissed, each word accompanied by licks of blue flame. Icy teal glared murderously up at his captor. “I'm going to melt that charred carapace you call skin and turn your bones to cinder.”

The lank figure leaned into the tilt of its head, “Hast thou failed to realize there is a certain degree of immortality we forsaken doth possess?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, manifesting a pair of binoculars. “Eternal rest only beckons at the edge of an angelic blade, poor soul.”

Despite the glowing, toxic green wires beveling into his scales with every move, the dragon reared. His body gave a futile lash against the serrated web even as it cinched and sawed for blood.

“Extermination hath past. And I favor a more,” The overlord bowed low, the angle sharp as his veridian gaze met the sinner’s staunched wrath. “Hands on approach. Again and again, thou shalt return as beckoned.” His grin widened. “And there shall I be, ensuring the discipline of thine eternal torment.”

The dragon answered with another guttural roar, a burst of flame extinguished in harsh plums of smoke from his nose as a snap of wire clamped his mouth shut.

The other demon never moved.

“Uh...” Glancing back at Alastor and Lucifer, Angel made a vague gesture towards the targeted recruit and current obstacle. “Batter up boys, I ain’t goin’ anywhere near that mess.”

“Hm.” Lucifer ducked back behind the rocks as his binoculars disappeared into the ether, nodding absently at Angel. “Well, that was disturbing.”

Angel looked to Lucifer, expression falling to full exasperation as wings manifested and ‘Daffy’ sparkled away.

What would it take for these motherfuckers to understand No Magic.

“Welp, we're not going back empty handed.” Lucifer cracked his neck and hopped onto the rock, looking down with purpose. “I've got this.”

“No.” Alastor interrupted the motion with his microphone barring out in front of Lucifer’s step and clotheslining him. The king gagged and fell back against the grit, sliding down in an awkward, feathery, half-tumble. “Much like those quaint little creatures you seem so fond of, remove an apex predator from the proverbial food chain and you enact discord amongst the entire ecosystem.”

Angel blinked, wondering how true that was when another predator slunk in and did the very same.

“Allow me to demonstrate a bit of diplomacy.” The mic spun like a baton before being used to steady his footing on the walk down.

Angel watched the exchange with a waning energy to give a shit. Lucifer was alright, of course, if not miffed and a bit dusty. Aside from tucking away the wings, he refrained from another dazzle of magic.

Alastor, too, dick though he was, hadn’t used any parlor tricks. So, they were kind of listening?

Propping his chin in his hand, Angel patted Lucifer’s back in consolidation after he fumbled his way upright. “The insidious stick down there is an Overlord, in case ya’ haven’t been in the know. An’, well...” Angel lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, “Since Al is too we may not have t’get our hands dirty over this. Let ‘im have a shot an’ if it goes to shit ya’ can glitter it up. How’s that?”

“Hmph.” Lucifer begrudgingly relented. Though it was only through the grace of Charlie ordering him to listen, Lucifer stayed put as he closely scrutinized the interaction.

Chapter Text

“Zestial, Yoohoo!” In the distance, a faint wheeze could be heard from Angel. Hopping over the tip of a lashing tail, Alastor twiddled his fingers at the sinner in passing and came to a stop in front of his fellow overlord. “Dear me this is quite awkward, I hate to interrupt such a fun little game you’ve started up-”

“Yet, thou dost that very thing.” The ancient being tilted in a shallow bow of greeting, curiously observing Alastor’s approach. His gaze flicked towards the minute favoring of one side over another. “Thou survived the holy crusade.”

“Indeed. You see, I'm on an errand to retrieve this...” Alastor adjusted just as quickly and spared a glance to the dragon, considering, “Lizard, for the hotel. Our grand reopening is soon and we’re partaking in a little last minute recruiting. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to take it off your hands.”

Tacking on after a moment of silence, he added, “Unless, of course, it is under contract?”

Another pause followed a slow turn of movement, a half circling around Alastor as Zestial hummed. “This pest hath no master.”

A sharp sizzle accented the tightening of webbing, “Nearly a fortnight it plagues my domain. If thou desire something so odious, there’d be little opposition to its removal--” Bending near to a stock still Alastor, Zestial added, “If it will abide an escort, of course.”

The two beings smiled at one another, Alastor’s eyes narrowed a flicker before turning to the beast, “Well, what will it be? Would you like to come and stay at a newly renovated hotel, or..” He swiveled the head of his mic at the webbing, “Continue playing with Zestial?”

“I don't need your help.” The sizzling, trapped dragon hissed. Truly, nothing was hurting him quite like his own thrashing.

“A spark of life still flickers within this one that aches to be snuffed.” Zestial hummed, eyes narrowed with glee as he closed a hand around the proverbial spark. “I yearn to see it extinguish with my own eyes. Nay, I needn’t even lift the finger. The demon hastens its own demise.”

At this point, though the action did nothing but further injure him, the dragon attempted to chew through the webbing.

“T’is a stubborn one.” Zestial glanced to the side, tone gentle as though speaking to a young upstart. “Thy quaint endeavors may prove fruitful elsewhere, Alastor.”

“I haven’t even gotten to the pitch yet, old pal.” Alastor laughed, a harsh grating sound as he pivoted and faced the demon properly. “You see, our hotel is the product of a darling little dream. One in which sinners, much like yourself, are offered the opportunity to un-fuck their lives!”

With his breathing strained, the sinner wrung out a reedy, snarled, “Fuck you.”

Zestial chuckled and Alastors grin quivered around his fangs like a silent snarl of his own. No magic shifted in the air, but tension snapped like a bow as Alastor leaned close, “Listen here, you pathetic excuse of a wyrm, this hotel is your best bet at living longer than-- What was it you said Zestial?”

“A fortnight.”

“A fortnight. Fourteen days!” Alastor flared his hands in a little jazz motion and leaned into his staff. “You haven’t been here long enough to do anything more than be categorized as a literal pest and nearly get exterminated like one as well. SO, unless you’d like to enter a new level of hell by his hand, I strongly suggest you reconsider my offer.”

Eyeing the webbing he drawled, “We certainly won’t hold you against your will.”

Throughout the course of the offer, though the sinner hadn’t stopped trying to break free, his movements became noticeably weaker.

“What will it be?”

At Alastor’s question he finally grew still, glaring at him.

“Odd.” Zestial was no longer looking at the bound demon. “Mercy doth not suit an overlord like you. Why not a bargain for the soul?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Alastor straightened, turning so he could face both. “Surely another under your thrall is more useful than chasing ants with a magnifying glass?”

“As such, It wouldn't benefit my interests to own such a disobedient wretch.” Zestial nodded towards the dragon. “It currently only serves to provide amusement. Though, it has been eons since a naive soul dared take refuge in my domain. T’is only just I do as I see fit, and I do revel in their shattering.”

“I don't disagree. After all, everyone knows the wastelands are your territory. Only an idiot would choose to trespass and stay.”

The sinner definitely wasn’t moving anymore.

“Its will is strong and its magic burns.” Zestial acknowledged. “But, hardly worthy of the patience thou bequeath it. What piques thy curiosity so?”

“As I said, I'm simply performing an errand to better the project I’ve decided to sponsor.” A sharp jab of his microphone into a raw cut ensured the sinner remained conscious while he awaited an answer. “What better participant for the hotel than a piteous fool too stupid to realize the inner machinations of this wretchedly wonderful realm. Hardly deserving of a place here, don't you think?”

“Ah, then perhaps it would better thine efforts to return in another sennight.” A further tightening of the web elicited a pained hiss that he accentuated with a broad, open palmed gesture. “See how prolonged agony makes the creature docile? Even now, this promise of freedom glints like the song of madness within icy pools of desperation. Have patience, for each day to pass this feeble fight shall grow weaker. ”

Alastor's smile twitched. “So there is an interest in procuring the soul?”

“It is not yet decided whether this one possesses any worth as an addition to my roster.” Four eyes crinkled with amused consideration all the same. “Tell me, Alastor, doest the breaking point of a soul ache like the snapping of bone, or the consuming rot of a disease?”

On the cliffside, growing increasingly impatient by all the talking, Lucifer stood.

Finally, quiet and weak, came a pained, “Fine.”

For a tense, silent moment, neither overlord moved. Then, Zestial raised a closed fist. When fingers spread open, the webbing unraveled and fell away in a greenish haze.

“For thine own sake, may fortune never weave our paths together again, lost soul.” Though he spoke to the demon, his eyes did not leave Alastor who tilted his head in a blasé acknowledgement.

With a menacing chuckle, the ancient overlord melted into a viscous dark ooze and disappeared into the cracks of the earth.

The sinner was out cold.

Alastor remained in place, scrutinizing the marred flesh of the dragon even as Lucifer popped beside him like a particularly annoying, glittery balloon. “Welp.” He popped the P like how Alastor wished to pop him in the jaw, “Good job, you let him die before we could get him back to the hotel.”

“Truly shocking you have no idea what a corpse looks like considering how long you've resided here.” Alastor drawled, nodding to Angel as he caught up to them.

With a pointed roll of his eyes, Angel crept close and crouched near the dragon's head. Holding a hand over a wide nostril, it only took a second before he flinched with a hiss and shook out his palm. “Yeah, Al's right, fucker ain't dead. Just beat t'hell an back.”

“And very poisoned.” Alastor cheerily added.

“Well, we can't get him back like this.” Lucifer huffed, rolling up his sleeves and rubbing his hands together with the flare of a holiday sparkler.

It was as he bent to reach out that Alastor's mic whapped against his knuckles, impassive as Lucifer yelped and flinched away. “Even a monkey can bandage a wound, but what of the poison? The deeper lacerations that require stitching? Is Daffy a medical professional as well?”

Scowling, Lucifer rubbed the back of his hand and squinted. Then glanced at the dragon with a smaller, hesitant frown.

“Thought so.” He sing-songed.

“Okay then, so do we just let him...” Lucifer made a complicated gesture, gave up part way, then settled for dragging a thumb across his neck, sticking out his tongue and rolling back his eyes.

Angel snickered. Alastor, mockingly, raised his brows. “Let him what? Use your words, you’re a big boy aren’t you?”

“Respawn? Is that the terminology now?” Lucifer ignored the asinine teasing and pursed his lips. “I mean we could just--” And this time he made a very obvious stabbing motion with his cane at the unconscious sinner. “Speed things along.”

There was a beat of silence before Angel whacked Lucifer on the arm and scolded, “I thought he was supposed t’be the sadistic one. Cmon Luci what the hell!”

“What’s with all the hitting!?” Lucifer balked, cringing away and scowling, “It’d be quick and he’d be good as new after, right?”

“Not exactly. There is no determining where he’d reappear. Besides, it would take too long.” Alastor lamented. Turning to Angel, he politely asked, “If I may, I have a friend who is well versed in toxicology and can whip up a mean stitch. It'd just be a little slip over to her residence, if you'd permit me.”

Blinking a few times at the courtesy, Angel propped an upper fist against his hip, crossed his lower set of arms, and waved a hand at him, “Alright, that was fuckin’ weird, but yeah. You have my explicit permission to spookily transport the noobie.” Crossing the second set now, he eyed Alastor suspiciously, “Where, exactly, is this ‘friend’ a yours at?”

His grin stretched to his eyes, shadows licking at their feet as he chirped, “Cannibal town!” And disappeared with their new resident in a swirling pit of shadows.

Angel threw up all four arms in a very clear ‘what the fuck’. Once alone, Lucifer pouted up at Angel and grumbled, “Do we have to walk?”

Scoffing, Angel replied, “Screw that--It’s a miracle I didn’t ruin these boots on the way in. Now, get us the fuck outta here.”

Chapter Text

“No, no- Margie, sweetie, what are you doin? We're makin cinnamon rolls, not pettin kittens.”

Playful, amused laughter filled the cozy kitchen as Rosie saddled up beside one of her clients. Instead of taking the dough, she reached over to put her hands over Margie’s in a physical demonstration of kneading. “Can you feel how much force I'm usin? The dough’s goin to keep all its lumps if you don't use a little force- and that's true for bakin and life!”

Rosie laughed as she pretended not to notice the growing blush on Margie's face, basking in the giggles of the other ladies.

“Come now ladies, chop chop! We've got a quota to fill!”

The kitchen quickly got back to work. Rosie fondly rolled her eyes as she continued her patrol.

“Hey Rosie, can I get a ‘demonstration’ too?”

“Jessica.” Rosie snickered, whacking her shoulder playfully. “You have a husband!”

“Like he could ever be as gentle as you!”

“Hah! Well if that's true, call him over! We could use some more blood.”

The following bout of laughter was abruptly cut short as shadows manifested in the kitchen, depositing an unexpected, but far from unwelcome, guest. Sparing a cursory look around, he took on a genuine glimmer of remorse. “Oh, the bake sale.”

The moment the shadows retreated they dumped a long, unconscious, bloody body behind him, sending kitchenware flying everywhere.

No one said anything. Then, Rosie snorted.

“Seven years you disappear without even a single postcard.” The group of women gathered curiously behind their leader, watching. “Now you just can't get enough of me, huh?”

Cupping his chin, Alastor considered the scene before glancing at Rosie, eyes creasing with fondness. “My dear, if I knew postal workers would make it past the town entrance I absolutely would have sent something.”

He sidled up to her and gave a peck to her cheek in greeting. “Besides, no amount of time in your presence would ever be enough to sate my appetite.”

“That sharp silver tongue of yours isn't going to fix up my kitchen.” Rosie giggled, leaning in for the peck. She reciprocated by fixing a wayward tuft of his hair.

At the chorus of coos, he leaned to peer past her shoulder and beamed at the gaggle of women. “And hello to you too, ladies!”

“Hi, Al!” Came the synchronized, cheerful reply.

Hungry eyes quickly honed in on the discarded body. Rosie followed them with a curious quirk of an eyebrow.

“Is that lunch or should I get a pot of tea goin for the next favor you're gonna ask of me?” She put a hand on her hip. “I'm gonna start chargin you, you know.”

Despite the murderous, ravenous silence, not a single cannibal stepped past Rosie.

Alastor shook his head. “No time for tea this go around, I'm afraid. Do pardon the interruption, but I believe I have what I hope is a tempting offer for a trade of services.” Their tittering interest quelled as he elaborated, “Unfortunately, this specimen is tainted--Zestial's work-- and I have a need for hands deft with a needle and thread.”

“Ah.” She nodded, turning towards the other women. “That means it's bad meat, girls. Now will you gossips stop gawkin and get back to work? You can eavesdrop as you knead.”

The women made varying sounds of disappointment, turning to leave just as Alastor reeled their attention back in with a hum.

He held up a finger, a tendril manifesting with a heavy sack of raw meat behind him that reignited the small crowd’s palpable hunger. “In exchange, I whip up a scrumptious lunch for all of us and finish off these marvelous rolls for you.” Raising his brows, he held his palms aloft as though measuring the equity of the exchange, “Sound fair?”

Cocking his head, he added, “I'd never be so brazen as to impose upon you without proper compensation, Rosie.” Snapping his fingers, his coat disappeared in a puff--replaced with a frilly apron and rolled up sleeves, “And I've been dying to share this old recipe of mine.”

All eyes turned to Rosie hopefully.

“You're spoiling them rotten.” Rosie sighed, making a show of relenting even though there was never a question as to what her answer would be. “But you know I can't say no to an Alastor Special. Alright ladies, take a break.”

The excited chittering of the girls faded to the background as Rosie and Alastor got to work.

“Nonsense. No one appreciates my cooking quite like you all, so it’s really a win win!” He waved off the notion of spoiling, fully knowing that it was, in fact, something he did regularly. As he spoke he futzed with his bowtie, unraveling it and tugging it off to tuck into a pocket as he rubbed his palms together and eyed the emptying space. Flicking a hand, a few shadowy tentacles peeled from the floors and began cleaning up and clearing away any wayward kitchenware that’d been sent flying.

A gentle hand ran over navy blue scales as she assessed the damage. Littering the body was a web of scars, repetitive as if the wounds were regularly reopened. “Feels like gator.” She mused, standing up to face Alastor. “This nasty work is definitely Zestial, but I'll see what I can do. You've got a deal.” She laughed at her own little joke. “Luisa, Dalia, please get this poor soul into my parlor.”

Two of the women, stockier than the rest, stepped forward. Between the two of them, they easily carried the dragon as instructed.

“Ah, I do miss a good fried gator.” He lamented, flicking his gaze aside to eye the tacky ooze mixed with the dragging smear of blood as he began laying out cuts of meat on the counter.

A few monochrome stitched figures tumbled from a tear into reality and followed behind, quickly mopping and sweeping as they went.

A quieter, smaller girl stepped next to Rosie as she moved to follow her helpers. “Should we help clean the...uh, mess?”

“You can make some tea.” Rosie patted the girl’s shoulder as she passed. “And let Alastor work his magic.”

“Didn’t he say there wasn’t time for tea?”

She turned as she watched Rosie go, who didn’t even glance back as she confidently answered,

“There’s always time for tea.”

Another snap and the radio he kept in the corner crackled to life. A melancholy croon of trumpet accented with piano weaved through the space, Alastor humming along and bobbing his head as he sliced, chopped and tossed meat into a pot to sear.

There were few things quite like cooking that managed to ground him so effectively; distracting in more ways than one as irritations and pains fell away to the pot.

Behind him, in the spaces left by those that were working on the rolls, more of the puppet-esque figures emerged to resume what work was left with a fervor.

The woman from before returned with a cup of steaming tea, standing on her tiptoes to peer in. “What are you cookin’?”

Alastor’s ears piqued at the question, though his gaze didn’t shift from the rapid fire chopping of vegetables. “A meat gumbo!” Turning, he took the cup in one hand and used a long pair of tongs to toss the meat into a massive bowl. “Thank you, darling.” He added after a sip.

She blushed at the endearment and waved him off in a fluster, “Oh, it's no trouble at all.”

He nodded, already back to work as the song on the radio shifted to something a little more upbeat and she sighed dreamily, wandering back over to a small cluster of other women to lament. “Why can’t my husband cook like that?”

Like a well oiled machine, the rolls were set on trays to rise. Stations were cleared and tidied up. After that, it took a good twenty minutes for him to get everything prepped and set; with another manifestation of a stitched figure to stir the roux, Alastor washed his hands and strolled over to the parlor.

Rosie had certainly seen better corpses in her day.

“Hoo, boy.” Surveying the sprawled, actively-bleeding dragon on her tarp-covered parlor floor, Rosie put her hands on her hips. “Where to begin with you.”

The two women, after dropping off the body and Rosie's requested supplies, were promptly ushered out of the room. She then changed into something more fitting for getting her hands dirty for the first time in ages- a cute, mint colored nurse dress.

A long time, but not the first.

She began with activated charcoal. Set with a fair bit of it- eating demon meat wasn't without its risks- she pried open the big, toothy maw. She was greeted with more lacerations. “What did you do, try and eat him?”

An eye snapped open. Rosie felt the jaw immediately trying to close, letting go in favor of grabbing her very heavy bucket. The jaw snapped shut with a loud snap just as Rosie whacked him in the head with it, knocking out her patient once more.

“None of that.” She tutted, easily prying the jaw back open. “I won't take it personally since I know you're probably in far too much pain to know what's happenin, but you're not an animal.”

The dragon, predictably, did not respond, though there was an inherent discomfort in him even while stunned.

With a bit of maneuvering, she managed to get the bit of liquid mixture down his throat. Groggily he started to thrash, but it didn't take much to straddle him and keep his mouth shut.

“Honestly.” She huffed, reaching within her pocket to pull out a sedative. Stabbed expertly between a couple of scales, it only took a minute before the body stilled permanently. “I was tryin to avoid this. Poison’s a sensitive thing and I didn't want to add anythin to your bloodstream, but someone decided they wanted to act like a real big, bad dragon.”

Once she was sure he was out- smacking his snout to make sure- Rosie hopped off. Reaching into the bucket, she pulled out a washcloth and got to work cleaning.

“Been a while since I've met a soul lackin in humanity.” She mused to her patient, content to carry the one-sided conversation. “Not in the cruel kinda way. It's Hell. More in this uncivilized, ‘went off the deep end’ kinda way. I can see why you were unlucky enough to get Zestial's attention. The souls under him- why, you'd hardly believe they were ever human.”

The wounds were extensive, but Rosie was nothing if not patient and thorough. “I can tell you tried to fight back. There's something to be said for that- folks that don't fight back don't last long here. Is that how you got old Alastor to help?”

She laughed as she dipped the washcloth back into the bucket. “I'm just kiddin. He wouldn't care. This has Princess written all over it.”

As if on cue, there was a gentle wrap of knuckles against the doorframe. “Knock knock.” A voice called. “Need a hand? I have a minute before I need to add the meat to the stock.”

Gently removing the rag from where she’d successfully stopped the bleeding of a larger cut, she tossed the rag in the bucket and called back, “Sure, hun. Come on in. Grab the sewing kit for me?”

Alastor neatly opened and closed the door before moving towards the neatly packaged kit as a kneeling Rosie turned to face him, straightening her apron.

“Well...your friend's lucky to be alive, I'll say that much for him.”

She was well versed with the language of Alastor’s eye twitches and laughed. “Oh, don't make that face. What would you have me call him, your charge? Your toy? This one under contract as one of your souls? Not your usual pick, but he's a fighter for sure.”

She reached out to gently pinch a fuzzy ear with each increasingly disgusted look as he joined her on the floor. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”

It was with well tested patience that he weathered the expected teasing with ease; appropriate reactions aside. Even the tweak to his ear merely earned a pointed flick from it and a light roll of the eyes. “You're too kind.”

With a bright laugh, she directed him to a particularly deep cut. “Let’s get to stitchin the deeper lacerations then move on to bandagin the shallower ones.”

He took her direction in stride, sitting prim in front of the designated wound and setting the kit beside him to pop open. The motion was a little more tense than he’d have liked, but it had been a day. Nothing he couldn’t ease away with a few words.

As she moved onto the next wound, she kept talking. “So if he's not any of those things to you, who is this?”

Heaving a great, put-upon sigh, he hummed, “An effort in spite, mostly.” Threading a large, bowed needle, Alastor leaned close to the hide and easily stabbed through tough skin. In and out, the motion was fluid and began a line of criss crossing sutures. “A successful maneuver, but one that has led to... well, this.”

“Ooh, spite?” Rosie paused her stitching so she could properly face him, propping her elbow on the dragon. “Do tell.”

He gestured with his free hand as though waving off fumes and gave the thread a slow tug to pull the edges of the cut Into a tight seam. Tying it off, he prodded at the puckered line and nodded in satisfaction before standing to scan for more.

For all that he spoke about needing someone with a deft hand, he was far from green in the practice. If one looked close enough, they’d see the pale lines scattered up his arms; many framed by the tell-tale dotting.

“Lucifer is staying at the hotel.” He tacked on, pressing back at the edge of a long slice along the beast’s flank to check its depth. When it continued to weep a dark trail of blood and ooze he used a tendril to snag an extra rag and stood aside with a cocked hip and arm folded under his elbow- needle still at the ready- as it cleaned away the mess. “Has been staying, I should say. In fact, he never left after his late arrival to the battle.”

His ears were still, but the tuft of his tail was not. As he spoke it would periodically give a single lash--like that of an irate cat.

“He’s the one that started all of this.” Another wave of his hand at the sinner, this motion shorter than his usual broad sweep, as he stepped forward to the cleaned wound and started up another stitch. “I was tying up a few tasks for the reopening--that’s over the next couple of days, by the way- and had such a lovely set up for the buffet. Your gifted platter of finger food front and center, of course, and he just waltzes down and replaces it with caviar.” As he spoke, the air splintered with static and veve around his bristling head.

When he pulled the seam shut the motion was much more harsh, the skin around it quivering in reflux and his side pinching in a raw cramp that went ignored.

It left him in a huff as he both literally and proverbially moved on.“So, things... escalated. Charlie intervened, as she does, and her pink trollop suggested a field trip.” He paused on his third stitch to toss finger quotes around the term, sticking the needle in the unscaled meat of the sinner’s inner thigh like a pincushion.

“SO!” He resumed, voice chipper with a sharp edge, “I settle the matter with Zestial diplomatically where he desired to handle it like a brute. By the end of it all I spitefully decided to enlist your aid rather than allow that prick another opportunity to throw glitter at something and get a gold star for piss poor effort.”

“Oh my.” She blinked once he finished. “Not the demon I was expecting.”

In hindsight, it made perfect sense. All of Pentagram City had been alight with conversation about Charlie's band of misfits fighting off Heaven, and she doubted a single soul didn't know that Lucifer himself had been involved.

Rosie, being the local gossip, heard it all.

“Does this mean exterminations won't happen anymore?”

“What's going to happen now?”

“So, like, do you think he's back on the market yet or...”

All excellent questions. All things Rosie was dying to know herself. Little did she expect Lucifer played a bigger role, especially in Charlie’s hotel, than she thought.

“So daddy finally climbed down his ivory tower to see what his daughter’s up to.” Lucifer the Recluse was also a well known fact. “Stepping on a few hooves?”

Alastor’s tail told her all that she needed to know. It had been a long time since she'd last seen her friend well and truly agitated. A little too much so. Rosie carefully watched him out of the corner of her eye, taking in the subtle pinch of his smile and the stilted breathing.

He was doing a good job of hiding it, but it became increasingly obvious he was straining himself. She filed these observations away as she listened to him vent. Like a real deer, she learned that anything sudden would scare him off.

“Well Pumpkin,” She stood up, joining Alastor by the wound he was working on. She removed the needle from the dragon’s thigh to take over sewing, designating Alastor to be the official Sewing Case Holder. “I never thought I’d see the day I'd see you jealous.”

That was untrue, something that was echoed in Alastor’s snort. Alastor was incredibly jealous and possessive by nature, something Rosie was acutely aware of. Who wasn’t? In Hell, if you didn’t fight for what was yours, it was bound to get taken from you or slip right through your fingers.

But there were few demons more powerful than Alastor to warrant such a heated reaction, and one didn’t get more powerful than Lucifer himself. Any weaker and Alastor would have been content to simply brush off the minor annoyance, but it was clear this was really getting under his skin.

It reminded her of the lovestruck, nervous suitors that often sat in her parlor, too full of emotion to know what to do with themselves.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She smiled, each expert stitch smooth and controlled. “You’ve been supporting her longer, haven’t you? She’s not the type to take that for granted.”

She finished the last stitch, cutting through the string with her sharp teeth.

“Who knows, maybe daddy’s just as jealous of how much she likes you.”

Nodding along, he hummed like a cat that got the cream, “I have, haven’t I?” Yes, blood of the covenant was indeed thicker than the water of the womb and all that. Though he’d been absent for a time, it would not erase his influence or diminish the importance of his place overseeing the project come to fruition.

The silence allowed him a moment to ruminate in a bit of readjusted pride at the success of this maneuver. As inconvenient as it may have been, he managed to undermine Lucifer and would be in good favor for playing along with Charlie’s wishes.

Music thrummed about him like a pulse in the absence of conversation, accompanying his wandering thoughts. Rosie did always create such a wonderful atmosphere, he’d have to make sure to visit for the actual bake sale and congratulate the ladies on their inevitable victory.

They moved onto the next, final wound. She tried to mull over her next words very carefully, then decided there was no tactful way to do this with Alastor. Time to bite the bullet.

“Alastor...” She paused on her next stitch. “You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you?”

Tilting his head, Alastor refocused his attention and raised his brows. The question immediately cut the music. Time stretched for a hair too long, “Of course, my dear. Without question.” Though the tone was far too controlled and suggested that was exactly what he was doing.

“And that you can tell me anythin, and I mean absolutely anythin? I don't care what kind of trouble you get in, I would eat any body for you.” She smiled, teasing, then fully turned towards him with a serious frown. Every single muscle in his body visibly tensed.

“Al, are you okay?”

Though she had no pupils, her eyes flicked down to his chest.

Flicking a glance down, he laughed a sharp staccato as he waved her off. “From the meat!” Referring to the thin split of blood seeping through his shirt. They were both very acutely aware of the direction it was staining from and that it was fresh.

Setting the case beside her, he lifted her hat and tousled her hair before plopping it back down on the mused mess. “Don’t worry your darling head about me. If anything dire were to happen, you’d be the first to know!”

“Alastor.” There was a stern warning in Rosie’s tone, matching the unamused look she gave him as she adjusted her hair and her hat.

Flicking an ear, he turned his head back towards the kitchen before pivoting his body to follow. “I believe that was the timer! Get yourself tidied up and I’ll have a plate ready for you, lickety split.”

“Now hold on a minute-!”

There hadn’t been a timer.

And, though there was a plate ready when she finally finished up, Alastor himself was gone. The sinner too. Beside her dish sat a petite strawberry shortcake with an eyeball garnish and bloody glaze.

The kitchen was left absolutely immaculate.

Alastor, less so.

As always, though she danced and spun through discussions of all sorts on the daily, Alastor understood the ease at which Rosie could cut to the core of a matter. Often, it’s what shined that place of endeared respect for the woman. Now, however, he loathed the implication.

First Zestial, now Rosie. That just wouldn’t do.

Manifesting in a jagged wash of shadow, Alastor deposited the dragon within the foyer of the hotel, its long body flopping against the carpet like a wet towel. A cursory look confirmed that the space was vacant, so he nodded and took one last leap to reach his tower.

The safety of it enveloped him, wringing a haggard gust of breath from his lungs as he leaned back against the wall. It took longer than he’d have liked to disrobe manually, magic exhausted and pain lancing across his torso with every minute shift; each flash brighter than the last against the back of his eyelids.

With the cool, humid air pressing at his skin, Alastor focused on steadying the quickened pace of his breathing. A hand tentatively lay over the fever hot gash stretching diagonally across his torso that refused to do more than form pitiful scabs around the cauterizations and edges of too taut stitches.

It was his shadow that managed to shift his coat into enough of a heap that he turned and laid back against it and the chill of the floor.

Staring up at the ceiling, Alastor sighed. “How irritating.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer’s powers were based on knowledge and imagination.

He could turn into anything he wanted. He could go anywhere he wanted. He could even create life, if he wanted to. Though a fallen angel, his Seraphim powers remained.

“Welcome to...Cannibal Town!”

“...This is the Entertainment District.”

Unfortunately, omniscience was not included.

“What? No, it's...” Lucifer lowered his staff, blinking at the bustling, modern area bursting with advertisements and stores. It was all completely new.

Being his first time actually exploring Pentagram City in several millennia, Lucifer was quickly realizing things had changed. A lot.

“...My mistake!” He laughed, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. “Here, let me just-”

The moment the red sparkles faded, Angel Dust spoke again.

“Doomsday District.”

“Son of a bitch.” Lucifer scowled. “Wait. I'll get it this time.”

“Actually we're really not that fa-”

They teleported to a couple more areas, each one further away from their destination than the last as they matched their user’s increasingly manic state.

An ocean in Envy. Right in the middle of Lu Lu Land. A hospital in Sloth. A shitty office with a very startled imp.

“LOONA!” Blitzo hollered, pulling a gun out of his desk and aiming for the space where Lucifer and Angel Dust had been. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO LET ME KNOW IF WE HAVE GUESTS! Especially if those guests are motherfucking Lucifer and a very famous and attractive porn star!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

A final whirl of magic led to Lucifer, breathing heavily, frantically looking around. “This one has to be it or I'll eat my hat-”

“Fuckin stop!” The last thing he expected was for his staff to get snatched and for it to be used to whack him upside the head, oblivious to his motion sick, headache-baring companion. “Get a hold of yourself! We're gettin nowhere.”

Before Lucifer could snap a reply, a nearby door opened. His face immediately paled.

“No, Froggy.” Asmodeus, ruler of lust himself, was scantily clad in nothing but a silk robe as he cooed to the imp on his shoulder, similarly clad in nothing but a robe and a satin jester hat. “I am not making lasagna for breakfast either. If you want lunch food, you have to actually leave my schedule open during lunch.”

“Give me that!” Lucifer desperately reached for the staff previously held high out of reach, taking advantage of Angel's surprise. No sooner did he lift the staff then-

“Lucifer?” He flinched, keeping his back facing Asmodeus. “Luci is that you standing in the middle of my kitchen?”

“Uhhh.” Lucifer pulled his hat down. “Err. No?”

A swipe of red sparkles was abruptly extinguished as Lucifer was picked up and hugged by the much taller demon in a comedic squeaky-toy wheeze.

“You never come down here!” Asmodeus gushed. “You should've at least texted! I would've cleared my schedule for you.”

“No need,” He grunted. “Really can't stay.”

“Lucifer, Lucifer?” Taking the hug and squealing delight as confirmation, Fizzarolli stretched down to stand next to their other guest; gobsmacked and blatantly staring. The mechanical whir of his prosthetics immediately pulled their attention and the wonder on their face multiplied.

He held a hand to his chin and looked them up and down; Something was incredibly familiar.

“Aren't you Angel D-”

“You’re Fizza-”

The two paused, eyebrows cocking and wide grins slapping over their faces. Going first, Fizz popped a hand on his hip and stuck the other out to shake, “Angel Dust right? Love your work.”

Stuttering out a surprised laugh, Angel pushed a hand into his hair, and returned the gesture, “Really? Wow, that’s a huge compliment comin’ from a performer like you. Your MC work is fuckin’ legendary.”

Proverbial sparkles of admiration floated around the two of them until Fizzarolli overheard the comment about scheduling. “Oz, we totally have enough PTO-- Lemme just shoot a few texts and make some calls so you can have a day to catch up!” He flapped a hand to dismiss any concern and jerked a thumb at the sinner next to him as he whipped out his phone, “Also, I wanna pick this fucker’s brain about the last XXXy awards.”

Lucifer allowed the hug for a few seconds longer before he poofed back onto the floor, straightening out his suit before gesturing at Angel with his cane. “No, we literally can't stay. This is a sinner-”

“You're hanging out with sinners again?” Asmodeus chuckled. “Big bad ‘I should make a giant pot and boil them all into a soup so they can marinate in their own sins’ Lucifer, making friends?”

“That was centuries ago.” Lucifer quickly dismissed, waving the concept away as he looked at Angel and tried to figure out what to say. “He's...Charlie has this thing... It's a long story.”

Angel smirked.

“How about this,” Asmodeus relented, highly amused. “I was just about to make breakfast. Why don't you two join us? You catch me up, I catch you up, then you can be on your merry sinful way.”

“Us?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow, finally noticing Fizzarolli just as Asmodeus looked to Angel Dust.

“Wait, you’re not just any sinner. Angel Dust?” Asmodeus lit up with excitement, reaching out to shake his hands. “We’re such big fans! We watch your movies all the time. You can’t imagine our disappointment when we found out you were a sinner, I would’ve hired you in a heartbeat. You’d make a hell of an incubus.”

Fizzarolli wiggled his fingers in greeting to the king and Angel put a hand to his chest in barely constrained delight before reaching out to take Asmodeus’s hand.

“Damn, the flattery--Butter me up anymore an’ this’ll get slippery in more ways than one!”

Lucifer led the way to the kitchen. One look at the ridiculous proportions of the kitchen table had him immediately manifesting his own Lucifer-sized table and chair, and an Angel-sized chair.

“So,” Asmodeus busied himself at the stove top, cooking as he spoke. “What's my favorite niece up to?”

“You're really better off asking her,” Lucifer chuckled awkwardly. “But she recently opened up a hotel to save sinners in order to stop the exterminations. I...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I've been doing my best to support her lately.”

Asmodeus simply laughed. “Damn, that's ballsy. I told you that girl was going to give you gray hairs. I'm so proud. I'll bet Lilith is too.”

The simple mention of her name was like the slice of an angelic spear, eliciting a physical, pained wince. “...Yeah...”

Fizzarolli gathered a tray of coffee and tea supplies and deposited them at the shorter table. Eyeing Lucifer, he braced a palm against the table and the other against his hip as he asked, “What, did she leave you or something?”

Tact forgone, the silence dropped like a lead balloon.

Visible sweat beaded at Lucifer’s temple as he quickly made himself a cup of tea and sipped very loudly from it.

Even Asmodeus had paused, turning to peer over his shoulder, all three faces marked with a worried frown when there was no immediate denial.

A loud clap broke the tension, Angel's hands clasped together as he smiled at the three startled demons, “How's about somethin a little lighter before breakfast, huh? Have you guys seen the shit Tiffany Titfucker has been tryin to push before the next awards?”

“OH my FUCK,” Fizzarolli immediately leapt on it, sitting on edge of the table next to Angel, “You're talking about this new dive into watersports and skat right?”

And there the conversation diverged into a very detailed discussion about how making things more dirty to be sexy did not always mean literally. Unless, of course, that was the clientele--

“Tiffany has always had a bad read on her audiences,” Asmodeus added with a large sigh, bringing over a couple plates for their guests. “Last I heard she was between producers too, hence the...” He waved a hand in a loose swivel before settling on, “Mess.”

“Oooh, makes sense.” Angel nodded, pointing with his fork, “She's always been heavy on the experimental side but this really came outa nowhere.”

The two residents of lust nodded sagely, sitting at their own table and turned to continue the conversation over breakfast. Though, this time Asmodeus focused on a quiet Lucifer.

Starting soft, the sin began with, “Sorry, I just realized I didn't introduce you two at the start, you really took me by surprise. In a good way.” He affirmed, then smiled fondly at the imp tearing into his food, “This is my partner, in business and life, Fizzarolli.”

Lucifer blinked, snapping out of his quiet stupor, and answered with a hesitant nod and a mumbled, “Charmed.”

Then, in a tone so gentle, Asmodeus looked back and asked, “Luci, babe, what happened?”

Fizzarolli was digging into the eggs, attention diverted out of some sense of politeness. Angel too mainly kept his attention on his plate, but offered an encouraging smile and whispered quiet assurance, “Charlie would want ya to have someone to talk to.”

And yet, the discomfort was palpable. Flicking his thumb against the lip of his cup, Lucifer grimaced. “It's really not-!” Gassing himself up for a very late denial fell flat almost immediately in a heavy, deflating sigh. His gaze became a little unfocused as the memories began to crawl back to him, shoulders hunching inward as though he could curl around his cup and disappear. “I... don't know?”

Not being able to stand the quiet for long, a burbling mania sunk in its teeth, “Things were fine. Then they weren't! We were happy. Then we weren't!” Back and forth he gestured, each motion becoming more sharp and raw; tea sloshing from the cup.

“None of it makes any sense!” He laughed; a sharp, desperate thing. “It's like one day she woke up and decided to just...!” The gesture was as lost and vague as his explanation. “Without a word!”

“Thousands of years together,” The pain was deep, the wound as fresh as if it happened yesterday. “and for what.”

The teacup in his hand exploded. Lucifer blinked a few times, covered in tea and ceramic shrapnel, as he placed the surviving handle back onto the saucer.

“But I'm fine!” His smile felt far too sharp and wide as he snapped his fingers. Not a spot of mess remained, the teacup as pristine as ever.

“Charlie's the one who's been taking it pretty hard.” His tone softened, expression regretful.

When he looked up, he was met with Asmodeus' expression of very deep concern, palms pressed together.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Seven years.” A long, pointed look. Lucifer found the teacup he'd fixed suddenly very interesting. “...A long time.” Another pause, this one filled with all the things he wanted to say even as he settled on repeating a tired, quiet, “I don't know.”

Angel reached out to squeeze Lucifer’s shoulder, one of Charlie's lessons coming to mind as he said, “Thanks for sharin with us, Luce. That's... that's real heavy shit you've been dealin with all on your own.”

Asmodeus and Fizzarrolli, the latter having looked up during the tirade, nodded in quick agreement.

Swallowing an obscenely massive mouthful of food, Fizz piped in with, “I know you’re saying your kid- Charlie right?- has been taking it rough, but don’t exclude yourself either. That’s a whole relationship that, like you said, lasted thousands of years.” He spun a loose swivel with his fork, brows arched pointedly. “Oz and I have only been together maybe eight and if anything like that happened I’d be wrecked.”

The sin reached out, placing a hand over Fizz’s arm and the two shared a small intimate smile before Asmodeus focused back on Lucifer to carry on the promise of support. He paused seeing Angel rubbing at his temple; another moment and he did a double take. “Honey, are you fuzzy?” His tone was laden with immediate concern.

Angel laughed at the turn, “I mean, yeah?” Very pointedly ruffing up his fluffy ‘bust’ led to a wince and a hand to his head. “Had this headache buildin’ since we did the whole ring roulette earlier, though. Don’t know what that’s about.”

Lucifer, having been shrinking away with all the attention, perked as it diverted then leapt up as he registered the literal haze of Angel’s opacity getting thinner; as though the sinner’s very existence were evaporating.

“AH!” The short shout brought the focus back and made him flinch, but he pushed a nervous laugh and reiterated the point he’d attempted to make earlier. “He’s a sinner-- Shouldn’t be outside of Pride, y’know, scrambles their whole corporeal state.” He shook the staff at the sinner, the motion like a blender. “We really should get going.”

Quickly brushing at his clothes, Lucifer spun his staff and tapped it against the ground to disappear the decor he manifested for the meal--their dishes appearing in the sink. Angel was already standing, a quiet panic behind his eyes that quelled when Fizzarolli zipped over.

“Hey, no worries. It was really good to meet you, Angel.” Grabbing his hand, Fizz popped out a sharpie and scribbled his number on his palm. “Text me, alright?”

Asmodeus also took a moment to speak to the other fallen angel, shrinking in a poof to stand just a little shorter than Angel Dust to place his hands on Lucifer's shoulders. “You can call me, Lucifer. I know it’s been a while but I still care and you don’t need to be alone with this.” It was soft, and emphasized in the gentler hug he pulled him into.

This time, Lucifer couldn’t help the stinging at his eyes and leaned into it; arms wrapping around the thicker torso and releasing a shaky breath.

When Angel stepped over they’d already separated, and with a final wave of his staff they burst into a shower of sparks.

There were no further detours as Lucifer stepped through the portal into the hotel’s foyer, quiet and subdued. Angel followed a step behind and grimaced, reeling at the odd sensation of walking from morning into night. And it definitely didn't help the headache.

The last thing either expected was the long, bandaged, unconscious body of the dragon sinner, right smack in the middle of the room. In front of it, a confused, pajama-clad Vaggie and Charlie stared in bewilderment.

At the sound of their arrival, Charlie turned and beamed. “Dad! Angel!” She threw her arms around them both in a hug. “You guys were gone for ages! I was starting to get worried. Where's Alastor?”

Squinting around, Angel honed in on the bar and was just leaning into a slump over when he was roped into a near bone breaking, familiar hug.

“Hey, Charlie.” He huffed, smiling despite feeling exactly like what flipping through multiple realities felt like.

Lucifer gestured silently to the dragon with his staff. When Charlie released him to look at him, confused, he tried to find his words. “Around,” He gestured a little more frantically. “Hey, listen, Kiddo. So. I really need to go do things. Important things. Alone.”

Confusion morphed to concern, spurring Lucifer into taking a few steps back. “Dad? Are you-”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me.” He spoke quickly, flashing a thumbs up and a smile before he disappeared in a flurry of sparks.

Lucifer’s quick departure wasn't surprising either, but still managed to loosen Angel’s smile into a worried line. With his thoughts spread between cramped neurons, he could only snort as Charlie turned worried, disappointed eyes on him.

“Did it go that badly?” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I'm sorry, Angel. That was a lot of pressure on you. I didn't think leaving them alone together was a good idea, but maybe I should've- ”

From the lit up bar in the corner, Husk’s laugh interrupted her. “You can't fix every problem you see, Princess. Whatever’s going on with those two? Isn't going to be solved by one field trip. You of all people should know that.”

Charlie looked at him in surprise, then back to Angel. “But...”

He immediately honed in on the bar, sticking it in his throbbing skull with a force before finally responding, “Honestly? Wasn't that bad.” He dropped a hand on her head and tousled the mess of hair further. “They listened for the most part an’ didn't fight. You should count that as a win, sista’.”

A few more assurances and there was a promise to get a game plan together in the morning for the new hotel guest. Charlie and Vaggie groggily turned in, and Angel made a wide pivot to the bar.

“You.” And it was said with a point as he only barely staggered to a stool and slumped against the bar like a puppet with cut strings. “I've missed that face. Most beautiful sight I ever saw, please tell me you got that drink.”

Propping his face up with a palm, he kept another at his temple and rubbed tight small circles. “An’ that it's strong enough to kill a headache built on hoppin’ through every ring an’ back.”

Husk was in the middle of polishing a bottle, but paused long enough to give Angel a once-over. “Damn. You look like shit.”

Angel rolled his eyes, regretting it immediately as he winced. “Yeah, you try baby sittin’ those two for a day an’ see how you come out lookin’.” A third hand held up a very lackluster middle finger.

Husk chuckled as he put the bottle back in its place, turning his full attention to his only current patron. “You want a drink?”

Leaning against the back of the bar with his arms folded, Husk retained a perfectly deadpan poker face when he replied, “Fraid’ we're all out. If you've got a headache, I can whip up some chamomile tea?”

Angel stared at the bottles and bottles of alcohol lined up on the rack then drug his gaze back to the ornery bartender when he offered tea. The last time Angel had tea it was on set in a bath for a commercial shoot. He hoped his glower relayed as much as he went “Huh?” with contested patience.

Husk stared him down for a second longer before he burst out laughing, pushing off the bar. “I gave it to you already.”

He leaned forward, plucking a bright pink martini glass from behind Angel's ear and placed it in front of him. Drawn on the white foam topping the cocktail was a heart.

It was so unexpected, Angel laugh-snorted as he grinned at the frothy heart. “Dork.” He cradled it and nursed a few decadent sips, groaning as it slid like balm over the headache.

“So what's the verdict?” Husk pulled out a bottle of cheap whiskey for himself, returning to his previous slouch. “Any hope for the overpowered toddlers? Guess it'd be too much to hope the king took care of...him.” He muttered the latter bitterly into the bottle, one of his ears swiveling cautiously.

Glancing up at the question, Angel held up a finger and drained the rest of the drink in one swallow.

When the glass tinked against the bartop, he felt much more like himself and managed to wring out a long, “Eeeeh?” as he tilted a flat palm back and forth. “Like I told Charlie, They didn't go at each other--no more than a little pesterin’ at least so that's somethin. Not so sure I'd call it hope, though.”

He offered a small, consoling smile. “Sorry, he's still kickin’.”

Husk shrugged, not expecting much anyway. “Worth a shot.”

Though, it did beg the question, “You didn't see him dump the body?” For clarity sake Angel jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the half of the dragon visible from the bar. He turned to look at it anyway, feeling somewhat impressed that Alastor actually followed through on treating the sinner.

“Nope.” Husk followed his gaze, disgruntled. “I should’ve- I've been here all night. It's not like him to be stealthy and not brag about it. Princess kept trying to ask me about it like he'd tell me anything.” He rolled his eyes. “What happened to that guy, anyway? Looks like he was put in a blender.”

Grimacing at the memory, Angel sighed, “Zestial is what happened to ‘im.”

Husker sucked at his teeth, sympathy eeking through in a small wince as he took the sinner in a new light. “Damn.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, Angel turned back to the bar and braced his elbows against it. “Only ever heard rumors of the guy; y’know: old as balls and psychotic, but like... Never expected it’d be in a quiet kind of way?”

He shivered.

“At least when they’re loud you kinda know what to expect.”

Husker’s mouth was pinched in a crooked line, nodding as he lifted the whiskey for a swig. When it came away, it was with a hard exhale and furrowed brows as his gaze remained fixed on the sinner. “I’d ask how you all were able to get him away, but I’ll take a wager and bet it was--”

“Alastor.” They said simultaneously. Husker knocked his head lightly back against the shelf, ears swiveling again, as Angel spared a cursory glance over his shoulder.

When they looked back at one another, they managed to share a soft laugh at the paranoia.

“Yeah. He actually talked though, like, no fightin or nothin.” Angel snorted and tapped a finger against the bartop to request another drink. “What's that about?”

Thankful for the opportunity to busy his hands, Husker swapped the martini glass for a short belled one and poured a couple fingers of brandy. The motion was as smooth as rotating decks of cards.

It was only when Angel took a grateful sip that Husker grumbled low in his throat and eventually answered, “You don’t fight Zestial.”

Angel arched his brows and sipped at the drink.

Another grumble, this time oriented at the glass squeaking under the rag in his hand. “How much shit do you know about the overlords?”

Angel continued to sip, the silence earning a pointed look from Husker. One that Angel threw up a hand at and went, “What? That they’re generally powertrippin’ assholes is about all I got for ya.”

Husker opened his mouth to snark back and found that he didn’t disagree. So he relented with a half shrug-half nod and tossed the rag on his shoulder as he set the martini glass with the others. “Well, I don’t know how much of what I know is still accurate, but...” And again, his gaze cut to the side, ears pinning as the radio in the corner burbled with a pop of static that startled Angel into looking too.

When it didn’t continue, he scowled and snatched the handle of whiskey from where he’d sat it and carried on in a low tone. “They all have their little ties and connections. Fuck with one and it’s a domino effect that no one wants to fucking deal with.”

Quieter still, he growled, “That’s why I never got into that shit.” And sucked down a hard gulp of the liquor that made Angel cringe a bit at the burn Husk was able to tolerate. “Alliances aside, Zestial? Heh,” He sneered and shook his head, “I don’t want to think about the fuckers that’d be running loose without him holding the leash. This one’s lucky you managed to loop... him into a game of one-up and etiquette.”

Angel huffed a nervous laugh, “Really? That’s it? We got him on manners.”

Husker’s expression was flat. “Yup.”

Angel held a hand over his mouth, incredulous and mildly horrified. Sparring another quick look at the radio, he asked, “So, we gonna continue this conversation while you walk me up to my room?”

“Sure.” He sighed, moving to tidy up the bar for the night. “I'm not coming in, though.”

“Damn,” Angel grinned, getting to his feet with the remains of his drink cradled in one hand. “Gettin’ presumptuous, Whiskers. Who said I would'a invited ya?”

This time, Husk was the one glaring. Still, he stayed close as they ascended the stairs.

“Speakin’ of overlords...” Angel watched as Husk tensed. “Do ya ever miss it?”

The question clearly took him by surprise, but he took his time mulling over the answer. “Sometimes.” His voice was soft and quiet in a way it only got on late nights, with a bottle or two of whiskey in him. “There was a lot of stupid shit I hated about it. Lots of politics involved, like what I mentioned earlier. Every damn meeting was a game of chess.”

“Ew.” Angel agreed, earning a small smile.

“But the power was nice. You're feared and respected, and that means most people leave you well enough alone.” He sighed wistfully. “Nobody would've dared to call me Whiskers.”

“I would've.” Angel promised.

“I was really proud of my casino.” When he smiled, it was genuinely sad. “Worked my ass off for it. Every single thing. Every soul I chose to staff it, every patron that walked through my door- everything went by me. I was on top of the world.”

He took a long, somber swig of his whiskey bottle. “Guess that's what came back to bite me, in the end.”

Angel paused as they reached his room. Husk didn't stop walking until a gloved hand clasped onto his shoulder.

“You ever think about openin’ one here?” Husk looked at him like he'd grown a second head. “Hey, Charlie allowed a bar and that's technically a vice, yeah? Might be worth a pitch.”

“Hah!” Husk chuckled. “You really are the dumbest, boldest, craziest motherfucker I've ever met.”

“Hey.” Angel frowned at him, pulling his hand back. As he went, Husk took notice of his hand and the scribbled number on his palm, but said nothing.

Husk pulled at the bowtie around his neck as he grinned toothily, releasing it with a loud, painful snap. “Front desk ain’t gonna man itself.”

Chapter Text

The human woman was...crying.

Lucifer leaned forward as he watched her from the safety of a cloud. Such fascinating creatures. Emily talked extensively about the spectrum of emotions humans would feel and the variety of ways they could express them- like crying. A physical expression of deep emotion, she’d said.

What emotion could the human be feeling to be crying like that? He’d heard whispers of issues cropping up between the two humans, but Lucifer hadn't been included in those meetings for a long time. Eventually curiosity won out, and now...

He watched her for a moment longer before ducking properly behind the cloud. A concentrated look at his hands and a shower of red sparkles later, his form changed to resemble a human. Less eyes, two arms, two legs... Were wings okay?

The words of another, grumpier Seraphim came to mind. “Humans are fragile, easily frightened creatures. It’s best to monitor them from afar.”

He’d never agreed with that little doctrine. What was the point of making a wonderful creation if you never got to interact with it? He’d been the minority in that meeting, as usual, but it seemed especially unfitting now.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Lucifer descended.

"Why are you crying?" Lilith looked up, alarmed, as Lucifer landed in front of her. She looked ready to bolt. "Oh- please don't be afraid. I won’t hurt you, I promise."

He held up his hands and waited. After a moment, Lilith sniffled and relaxed.

"Adam thinks that because he is bigger and stronger than I, I must listen to him." She wiped her tears away. "I can pick fruits as easily as him and cup my hands to hold the same amount of water. There is nothing Adam can do that I cannot."

"Of course you can." Lucifer readily agreed. "You were both created as equals. Your only differences are reproductive."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say as she burst into tears again. "If we are equals, then why must he treat me this way?"

"It isn't your fault." Lucifer moved before he could think, gently taking her hands in his. "If he can't accept that you were made equals, then that's a design flaw on his part."

Teary violet eyes looked into his own and suddenly Lucifer forgot how to breathe.

"Who are you?" She tilted her head. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

"Lucifer. Err, I’m an angel." He swallowed as she gave his hands a squeeze, remembering how to speak. "I made you alongside the other seraphim. I was in charge of your design, so I would know better than most just how equal you really are." He gave a nervous laugh. "I would get in a lot of trouble if they knew I was talking to you."

"I'm Lilith." She smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Lucifer had ever seen. "But, maybe you already knew that. Won't you stay and talk to me, Lucifer? Just for a little while longer."

"I would be delighted to." He joined her underneath the tree she was sitting by. "It doesn't really matter, honestly. I'm in trouble often."

She laughed, and the sound was so melodious his earlier assertion was immediately proven wrong. She was beautiful, she was perfect, and everything about her was unlike anything Lucifer had ever seen.

She didn't let go of his hands.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t know what answers I could provide,” Everything about her was so gentle, patient and kind towards him. “But you’re free to ask.”

“Was it me?”

Lilith looked at him with a confused smile as the edges of the memory became fuzzy. This wasn’t how the conversation had gone. Just as quickly, as if inhabited by her real spirit, her eyebrows furrowed with understanding.

“Oh, my silly little serpent.” There was no other being in the entire universe that understood him as deeply as she did. She cradled his face with her elegant hands. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why did you leave?” Lucifer’s voice cracked, gathering tears brushed away by a gentle thumb.

Her expression was of heartwrenching pity and sadness, like the question physically pained her.

She leaned forward to kiss him.

Lucifer’s eyes snapped open, real tears immediately welling up in his eyes. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up in a bed far too big for him alone, surrounded by mountains of rubber ducks and the general clutter of his bedroom. At his feet, Keekee shot him a glare for disrupting her sleep as she stretched and hopped off the bed.

“Again?” He murmured to himself, swinging his feet to the floor. A wave of his hand illuminated the chandelier and the couple of lamps scattered throughout the room, creating dim lighting. He remained that way for a while.

As he dragged himself to his feet, an ornate set of dinnerware waited for him at the table consisting of a pop tart and a cup of coffee.

On the bedside table, his phone buzzed. Lucifer looked at it, sighed, then wearily backtracked to grab it. As his eyes scanned over the new message, he nearly walked right into the table.

“Hey dad,” He read aloud in a mumble. “Hope you’re doing okay...The Grand Reopening!!!! was great...Uncle Ozzie called me the other day...”

He took a sip and paused. It took a moment for the message to sink in, resulting in coffee being spewed everywhere.

“WHAT?!” Lucifer tossed the poptart in his mouth, threw back the coffee like a shot, and marched over to his staff, enveloped in a swirl of magic that changed his clothes. Staff in hand, he paused to observe himself in a vanity mirror to touch up his eyeshadow then opened a portal to the hotel foyer.

All the decorations for The Grand Reopening!!!! were gone. Lucifer looked around with increasing distress until he spotted Charlie sitting at the bar, talking avidly to Vaggie and Husk. “Charlie!” He called a little louder than intended, making him wince as everyone looked at him. “Hey! What, uh- everything okay kiddo?”

“Hey dad.” Charlie smiled at him in confusion. Being looked at with that expression gave him a strong feeling of deja vu. “...Yeah? Everything’s fine.”

“But you were so excited to reopen the hotel.” He pretended not to notice the way Vaggie and Husk exchanged looks behind Charlie. “It’s not too late to do it, y’know. I could put everything back to where it was in less than a couple of seconds.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Charlie stood up with a concerned frown. “The Grand Reopening already happened? Like...a week ago?”

“A week? That... can’t be right...” He went very quiet. Charlie’s hand on his shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin, meeting her concerned gaze with panic. “It’s only been a few days?”

He looked at Vaggie helplessly, who very slowly shook her head. Husk didn’t even look at him.

There was a pause.

“The Grand Reopening went really well!” Charlie plowed on, guiding her father towards the bar. “We had a ton of demons show up! It was incredible. There’s never been this much interest in the hotel.”

“Less interest in the hotel and more an interest in how to kill angels and why Lucifer got involved,” Vaggie corrected. “But, yeah. Guess a press conference was a lot more effective at actually getting people here than a commercial.”

“Rosie showed up too!” Charlie continued, ecstatic, like Lucifer was supposed to know who that was. “She was a huge help. Her cannibals helped keep everyone in line! And they were more than happy to answer questions on how the angels tasted. It got pretty off topic from the actual hotel, honestly, but the point is that people were talking about us.”

“Uh-huh.” Lucifer slid into a bar stool, still struggling to comprehend the passage of time. “Did anyone...stay?”

“Well...” Charlie began in a way that anyone who knew her meant ‘no.’ “We passed out every flier and some demons said they'd think about it! But so far our only new resident is still Mr. Dragon. He hasn't woken up yet, so we moved him to his own room.”

“I still don't think he's going to wake up at all.” Vaggie shot Husk a glare that went ignored as he looked for a specific bottle on the shelf.

Lucifer zoned out as the three of them bickered about the sinner, leaning against the bar. He refocused as a bright green drink slid over to him, garnished with an apple slice. “Oh. Uh...thanks.”

Husk grunted as Lucifer took a sip, making a sound of pleasant surprise. It was pretty good. He continued sipping at it.

“Where's everyone else?” He spoke up, interrupting the current conversation.

“Angel's at work, Mr. Dragon is asleep, Niffty is...” A maniacal laugh followed Niffty jumping off the roof of the bar to descend on an oblivious cockroach. “...around, and Alastor is...”

Lucifer looked over as Charlie trailed off. He frowned and prompted her with a “Hm?”

“He hasn't shown up since you three came back.” Charlie's voice was quiet, her gaze averted. He remembered how upset she'd been throughout the construction process when anything reminded her of Sir Pentious or Alastor, both of whom were presumed dead, and the tearful, relieved joy when Alastor had reappeared.

What an asshole, making her worry about his well-being again. Lucifer took an irritated final sip of his drink before placing the glass on the bar.

“I've got this.” This time, there was no barring microphone to stop him. He disappeared with a flourish of sparks before anyone could even ask.

“Ally, darlin’, ya need ta’ watch yourself, y'hear?” Gentle hands feathered over tacky tear tracks and the tender scrape pulsing over his cheek bone. Warm, golden hazel peered into watery brown, “Now, are you sure it was jus’ a tumble?” Her smile was as soothing as honey. “You can tell me.”

His eyes didn't waver over the tiny smile pasted into place “Yes, mama. Jus’ a tumble.”

Palms cradled the sides of a dirty face, guiding him into the press of a kiss against his forehead.

Bleary red peeled open on a sharp inhale, the vividness of the dream spurring a hitch in an already shallow breath as Alastor pushed a hand over his eyes and into his bangs. His other remained over the crispened edges and rough stitching; the faint luminescence beating along his pulse, syncopated.

What pain the motion brought was just a part of a medium grade throb, constant and sharp like a parasite boring through the intestinal wall.

Progressively invasive.

Debilitating.

Inconvenient.

Sliding his gaze to the windows encircling his tower determined little--the light pollution of pride was too dense to allow significant difference between night and day, but plenty useful for staving off the need for anything more than a singular lamp; flickering and dull by his booth.

Like his mood.

Still, he pushed upward, panting with the effort expended as his bare back rested against the mercifully cool, metal bars of his daybed. Occasionally a jitter of ink would spasm across the floor; his shadow otherwise inert.

Alastor watched one of those spasms now, like a lethargic cat observing a wounded bird.

Dropping the hand from his forehead was only in an attempt to lift the bottle of rye from where he’d wedged it the night (day?) before; between the wall and frame. Another pang, another sigh, another drink to burn though the persistent ache.

“You’re lookin’ a lil’ rough ‘round the edges, honey. How many you had?” Mimzy chirped at him, arms crossed and bosom proffered provocatively where she leaned close, halfway atop the counter.

Let it never be said that her height was a limitation in any regard. Demonstrated by a drink deposited on behalf of the bartender; a markedly unimpressive specimen.

Still. Alastor snorted, fond and tense all at once as he swirled what remained of his own in his glass. “Not nearly enough, darling.” And threw it back with ease, despite the heat at his nape and soreness dogging his limbs. “What, no suitors to appease your insatiable appetites tonight?”

Her laugh was a squall, and he remained impassive behind a loose smile as her playful swat to the arm struck a fresh line of hidden sutures.

Flipping the empty glass, he slid a bill beside it and stood. “Oooh, ya’ comin’ t’dance?” Her excitement burbled like a fountain, spilling over as she gluged her frilly concoction and jumped down.

When she reached for his hands, he deftly folded them behind his back and bent with a grin. “Ah, ah. Just drinks tonight, my dear. I have a broadcast bright and early tomorrow.”

A hard blink dispelled the memory, clucking his tongue. When was the last time he’d broadcasted?

The consideration that it may have been during that stint with Vox nearly made him grimace. Eyes twitched to the side, observing the booth.

Perhaps...Not a broadcast. But, sitting upright and playing some music would be a simple enough change of pace.

It was as his legs folded over the edge of the bed, catching his breath, that the telltale shower of sparkling red split into the middle of the studio, spitting Lucifer into reality like the realm’s most irritating bubble of wasted space.

“What- how- why- what are you doing here?!” The King's confusion was outrageously misplaced.

The fact booted feet stood atop the stagnant shadow pushed reason and self aside; mouth splitting around a vicious snarl of a grin edged in stitching when he had the audacity to ask something so cretinous.

But the energy wasn’t there.

Tiny bursts of buzzing green, a piteous creak of stereo, and a razor’s edge glided across his torso as an overlay of channels crackled, “Get out.”

“WHAT THE-” Lucifer caught one look at a bare, sparsely furred gray chest and slapped a hand over his eyes. “Are you naked?!”

The reaction, entirely instinctual and ridiculous, didn't last long. The dolt peered through his fingers-- not out of perverted interest, but out of morbid curiosity.

Its length was nauseating, carved deep at a sharp diagonal from one side of his waist all the way up to nick at his collarbone. Lucifer could see bone as infection oozed with every inhale- there were remnants of dark clotting around what looked to have been stitching...at some point. Either torn or frayed, it did little to actually hold any of it together. Beneath the mask of audio, the rattle in his lungs was clear. The near imperceptible lack of a filter for the sinner’s body actively breaking down made it discordant, his command failing to provide the bravado he definitely didn’t have the energy for.

Claws dug into the mattress.

Alastor’s grip trembled with a strained force that barely pierced the fabric as his want to tear into the king and the knowledge he couldn’t warred within him.

Just move.

Move.

The push to rise puttered into a lean. Ears pinning, there was a precipice of blatant fury that the trademark smile began to teeter over. The whole point of residing in the tower was to avoid prying eyes; inanimate or otherwise.

Lucifer’s hand fell away completely as he openly stared. It wasn't until Alastor bristled further, some haggard attempt at standing, that he blinked; eyes snapping to a furious, glassy gaze.

“Uhh...” Placing both hands on the handle of his staff, Lucifer felt his mind blanking. Of the thousands of scenarios he could have expected from teleporting to this ratty tower, a heavily injured, shirtless encounter was not one of them. He stared at the wound again.

“That looks really bad.” He blurted with all the tact of a wet paper towel. The pieces started to come together. All at once, Lucifer had fulfilled his goal and answered his own questions.

Alastor felt his eye twitch.

“Your powers of observation are remarkably astute, if only your hearing were as reliable.” Even sneering was a harsh, flattened rasp; though, it wasn't clear whether that was due to the constant consumption of rye, or the injury.

But, the problem remained unsolved. Neither of them budged.

As the shock wore off, something about the wound caught his attention. It was calling to him the way creating things called to him, ran through his blood. Something...

“What happened?” His gaze flicked up again, serious. “Is this...from the battle?

The king’s focus began to shift; morphing from startled bafflement to a refined curiosity. One akin to someone well versed in something they weren’t expecting to see and taking a new interest in it.

That’s where Alastor drew the line.

Slung over the armrest of the daybed was his shirt and a quick snap of his arm yanked it free to hold in front of the wound.

It burned.

Lacking his usual coordination, a foot knocked into barely organized boxes of medical supplies partially tucked under the bed. A bottle of rubbing alcohol toppled over, but only a fraction of the liquid remained, so there was no spill. Just a tiny thunk and slosh as it rolled into Lucifer’s foot.

Watching Alastor desperately reach for his shirt and knock over the first aid kit at his feet was something akin to watching an injured animal snarl at anything that came too close. Lucifer frowned, glancing at the bottle as a baffling burst of pity twisted in his gut. It was brief, raising a brow.

“What, never caught up on what happened before you got there?” He laughed, the sound strangled between frequencies and overlay as black seeped into his sclera. “For shame, man. Why, if not for me Adam would have slaughtered sweet Charlie in an instant.” He mimicked vaporization with a pop of his lips around a burst of air shaped through his teeth.

He leapt over a log, hot on the tracks of crushed foliage and muddy, scuffed prints.

Beaming, he rounded a thick trunk and heard the all too familiar crack of a shot.

A sharp pinch to the forehead.

Then nothing.

Alastor sucked in a hard breath, red returning as his eyelids fluttered. His grip cinched where it held tight to the neck of the rye and used it to brace himself upright against the woozy spell.

“Man?” Lucifer looked up again, too confused to be even remotely offended. The longer he observed, the more the demon’s comparison to an injured animal seemed to fit. Every word and action was measured with prickling animosity that waned at his ability to remain upright. It was all so unlike the usual pompous, irritating radio demon he’d come to know that it unnerved him.

“Leave.” Alastor croaked, gaze remaining foggy and fixed on the angel despite it all.

Ignoring the second command entirely, Lucifer cupped his chin in thought.

Going back to the name, another puzzle piece slid into place. “Of course,” He murmured, recalling the odorous aura from his own portion of the battle. If axe body spray had a magical signature it would belong to Adam, and Alastor reeked of it. “He really fucked you, didn't he?”

Charlie had tearfully mentioned how the hotelier had given his all in the fight for the hotel, and who else would pose much of a threat to him but Adam? No wonder he had disappeared, off licking wounds that would never heal. It all seemed so obvious, now.

It was impressive that Alastor was still alive at all.

The will to remain upright waned with every passing second, and yet he still straightened sharply with a force when Adam was referred back to him.

In particular, the phrasing.

A low growl jittered in Alastor's throat, agitation curling his lip. ”No.”

A blatant lie, and one he knew was as clear as glass. But, he hadn't been inclined to reveal that on purpose and felt frustration beginning to cycle inward at the stupidity of attempting to maintain a ruse while half dressed and on the latter half of a self imposed rot.

Parasitic pain laced in tune to his pulse through bruised ribs like the rift of that horrendous instrument.

As kindling to a flame, the insecurity caught in a blaze of shame; the bender rending its toll as the focus of pain management became too large a task to simply drown.

What was he even doing?

At this rate, Alastor was barely staving off the inevitable death he'd been so set on avoiding. Exhausted and dogged by the agony of his cells frying in angelic harmonies, he relented, ironclad grip going slack on the shirt.

Lucifer hesitated, breaking eye contact. He could leave this incredibly annoying, stubborn demon to inevitably die alone in his decrepit tower. But when he remembered how much Charlie had cried during the reconstruction of the hotel...

Well, none of this was for himself.

“I...” Lucifer sighed, forcing himself to look back. “I'd like to take a look at it.”

He held up a finger, showing he wasn't finished as Alastor’s focus swayed in the scrolling of white noise and muffled sound bites.

“Look, no doctor in Hell is going to be able to help you with an angelic wound. If we even had any half-decent ones in Pride. But... I might be able to help.” No point making false promises. It wasn't like he made a habit of healing sinners often. Not to mention this wasn't a medical issue. No, at its core it was the arcane of the divine and it was a bitch to work with. Especially when it wasn’t your own.

Lucifer knew as soon as he’d said it, the demon wasn’t going to be receptive.

Confirmed as Alastor chuckled, the sound cricketing in inflamed lungs and colored with a hint of mania.

Not once, in life or death, had the Radio Demon ever sought the advice or care of a medical professional. Personally, he found them to be lecherous money hounds set on profiting off those that had need for aid.

Better to be self sufficient, and yet... here he was. Succumbing to infection like a shot mark hiding away in a cave.

“I’d, uh, just need a teensy bit of a closer look.” The sinner didn’t move, glazed eyes locked on the hands gripping the cane in front of him like a bar to ward off his volatile temperament.

Alastor supposed he was rather like an animal, now.

Pupils slid to focus on Lucifer's face, placid as a lake as the tower abruptly cut to dead air. “You may do what you must on one condition. You speak of this to no one. Not the injury, not the action, not even your presence here.” The studio lights flickered and shadows spasmed like the seizure of rictus as he held out a hand, “Deal?”

Where a contract of any degree would pull from the depths of a well he’d never seen the bottom of, now it felt like a sip of a dingy puddle. Again, effervescent little fizzles of green flitted around him, but really only added a ghoulish sheen to his pallor and emphasized the hollows of his dulled eyes.

“Huh?”

Lucifer balked, expecting more of a fight. He'd even begun mentally weighing the pros and cons of healing him against his will for Charlie's sake.

Everything about the situation felt incredibly disturbing and wrong.

Still, his consideration was obvious as he mulled over the tightly wound tremble of the outstretched hand.

As King of Hell and a former seraphim, Lucifer never had need for deals. There was little outside his power, certainly nothing a sinner or a human could provide- memories of his more... sadistic years in viscous, cyclical vengeance tickled at the back of his head but he quickly dismissed the memories.

Besides, they hardly counted as deals when the exchange would inevitably land in his favor.

So, generally as a concept it was pretty laughable. The shift of shadows and magic in the air holding as much gusto as a half-sat whoopie cushion. All things considered, though, the ‘deal’ wasn't unreasonable.

And, it actually approached something equitable.

The things he would do for his daughter.

His consideration didn’t take very long, but Alastor’s shoulder still quaked with the effort of holding out his hand.

“Fine, fine.” Mind made up, he paced the rest of the way to clasp Alastor’s hand. “You have a deal.”

Relief was instant as the terms were accepted in a grip that Alastor couldn’t match even if he’d wanted to.

Lucifer watched as green tendrils of smoke bloomed from the handshake, crawling up their respective arms like thorned ivy, binding the deal. A little uncomfortable, but not all that surprising. He withdrew his hand and shook off the lingering prickle with a little nod.

Alastor remained adrift, hand dropping to his lap as the agreement settled neatly into place alongside two others he held in a particular regard.

“Okay!” Lucifer grinned, voice cutting the quiet like a club as he clapped his hands together. With one simple motion, his hat, cane, and topcoat poofed and appeared on the coat rack by the radio setup. “Let daddy work his magic.”

Whatever satisfactory balm had been applied in those spare moments wiped away with the sharp sound; Alastor’s ears flattened before slowly righting in a low attention and an unimpressed, half lidded glower. “Your grasp of nuanced language is incorrigible.”

Still unconvinced Alastor was actually going to let him help, Lucifer warily crouched down. Each movement was slow and deliberate, carefully watching for a wayward microphone or an angry shadow, as he peeled off the shirt Alastor had hastily covered himself with.

Baffling the king further when he made no move to interfere.

If the sinner’s breathing was shallow before, it quivered now at the sensation of fabric peeling away from the tackiness of the wound; vision graying around the edges as Alastor held firm to the resolve to remain upright.

Attention elsewhere, Lucifer observed the injury with a focus befitting an artificer--Slitted pupils scanning as though he could very well see past the surface of marred flesh. It was likely he could. Alastor knew there had been a tear somewhere, too far gone to care with the croon of the bottle and imbibed sleep.

When the king meticulously removed the elbow length gloves to reveal a similarly colored skin tone, Alastor snorted derisively and raised the bottle of rye to his lips.

Up close, the injury was an entirely new kind of awful. Magic was eating its way out from the inside in an almost acidic decay, impossible to naturally heal or to medically treat. Though it was obvious Alastor had done his best to stitch the wound and treat it accordingly, all it had served was catering to the consumption and prolonging the inevitable.

Another day or so and there wouldn't have even been an Alastor left to heal. Eyebrows furrowed with the serious concentration he only reserved for his creations, Lucifer placed a bare palm over the wound.

A vivid, opposing glow of garrish, honey-yellow seared outward with Adam’s latent holy magic. Although Lucifer’s palm initially countered in the usual flare of dazzling red, it spun in a swirling blend to mirror and pull.

Extraordinarily slow and thorough, Lucifer began to extract the holiness with the speed of a syringe.

The timing was either incredibly stupid or well placed with the icy touch against the fevered inflammation and open exposure of the slash. Alastor’s throat cramped around a swallow, clamping it down in a razing burn just so he could exhale sharply at the sensation.

Suddenly, it was fresh.

As raw and terrible as the moment Adam had struck him, clearing through the reservoir of a week of inebriation meant to drown the agony. Alastor’s other hand managed to tear through the material of the bed this time, trembling as he wrangled his breathing into a forced tempo.

In. Two, three, four.

Out. Two, three, four.

In the ensuing silence, though Lucifer’s concentration never wavered, his thoughts wandered.

Magic was a complex, unique thing, even more so with beings as old as himself or the original humans. Every bit of honey magic was a piece of Adam himself, twisting and merging with his own as he channeled it into his palm. It was familiar and nostalgic in a way that brought him back to his old workshop in heaven.

“Oh, Adam.” He sighed softly to himself, fond and bittersweet. The memory of Adam ranting at them all, quieted by a dagger through the chest, came to mind. “It didn't have to be this way.”

Other memories came up, unbidden. Questions he could never ask Lilith that shameless, loud Adam never failed to answer. Stupid, fun little games and challenges that doubtlessly would have gotten them both in trouble if the other Seraphim had been watching.

Adam’s soft, genuine smile as he clapped Lucifer on the shoulder and called him his best friend. “No homo, though.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows pinched and he sniffed as if absorbing all of Adam’s pain itself. A familiar pit of regret clawed at him.

Through it all, Alastor had been maintaining a hard stare at what was happening. The sight kept nausea and delirium at bay; Lucifer’s humming, golden glow undulating between stark white and ashen gray at the core. He laughed at the thought of it being beautiful.

The color of sunshine beaming through the canopy, glimmering off the bayou; his chuckle a rasping croak like the frogs in spring.

His mind began to float like a flat bottomed boat coasting the back channels of his home, imagery of greenery and humid warmth seeping through his mind like the window to his mother’s kitchen. Soft piano buzzed through the radio next to her humming back as his nerves lit with such acute agony that he felt absolutely nothing at all.

Something soft and solid broke the full tilt forward as what little strength remained frayed and snapped.

It filled his nose with the scent of mulled cider and the faint mustiness of rubber

Suddenly, there was humming. Lucifer blinked as he felt the warm, exhausted body of his patient slump onto him, barely managing to pull back his palm to catch him before they both ended up on the floor.

“Whoa there,” He grunted, pushing the body to lean back against the daybed. “Watch it.” He righted the bottle of rye that had fallen from loose fingers while he was at it, then wiggled his fingers to get back to work before he got a good look at Alastor.

His skin was very pale. Wound aside, everything about him looked utterly terrible. His breathing was shallow and haggard, making Lucifer abruptly realize the amount of pain he must be in. It occurred to him that healing him all in one sitting probably wasn’t the best idea.

...And maybe some actual medical attention wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.

“Unavoidable, I guess.” He lamented with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you could’ve, you know, said something.”

He didn’t expect the somehow-still-creepily-smiling sleeping demon to reply.

It wasn’t exactly medical attention, but when Lucifer placed a hand to Alastor’s forehead he offered his own energy to replenish the energy he had taken. His palm glowed red, stopping only when the color properly returned to Alastor’s skin.

The back and forth passing of magic was starting to make him nauseous. Lucifer retrieved his hand to cover his mouth from the ensuing yawn before he took his gloves out and pulled them back over his hands. “Yeah, okay. I think that’s enough for now.”

A snap of his fingers spawned the rest of his outfit back on his body.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the job.” He absentmindedly told the sleeping sinner, too tired to consider if anything he said would actually stick. “Just don’t do anything stupid like using your magic until I’m done.”

With that, he opened a portal and stepped into his own tower for a well earned nap. Even though, as if it’d saturated the back of his nose, Lucifer swore he still smelled body spray.

“What's your problem?”

Sprawled out on a long sturdy tree branch like a plump cat enjoying an afternoon nap in the sunshine, Adam cracked open a brown eye to look down at the angel glaring up at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Lucifer delivered a solid punch to the tree, sending an unsuspecting Adam tumbling to the ground. “What's. Your. Problem?”

“Fuckin ow!” Adam scrambled to his feet, rubbing his arm from where he'd fallen on it. “What's my problem?! What's your problem, you ugly little troll?!”

“What makes you think you have any authority over Lilith?” Lucifer crossed his arms, unapologetic. “How dare you speak to her that way?”

“What way?! I didn't even do anything.” Adam hissed, leaning down into Lucifer’s personal space. “She's the one who decided to start bossing me around! I just put my foot down.”

Lucifer shot him a disbelieving look. “She said otherwise.”

“Well it's the truth.” Adam huffed. “What, you think Lilith's some poor, innocent girl who can do no wrong? She wants to stay away from me, fine, but I can't believe she sent some short gremlin to fight her battles for her.”

“She didn't. I decided to come here myself.” Still, Lucifer looked thoughtful. Adam sneered at him and turned his back, still clutching his arm as he stormed off.

Lucifer appeared beside him, easily keeping pace. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Adam spit through grit teeth.

He eyed the limp arm. “You look hurt.”

“Will you fuck off already?” Adam tried to swat at him. “Why don't you go hang around Lilith if you like her so much?”

Lucifer stopped walking. Adam took advantage of this to quicken his pace with a huff, grimacing as he jostled his arm.

Then, Lucifer appeared right in front of him and Adam decided he'd had enough. “What do you want from me?!”

Lucifer reached out to touch his arm. In a moment the pain was gone and his arm was perfectly fine again. Adam blinked as he experimentally moved his arm and flexed his fingers.

“I've decided to hear your side of the story.” He continued, offering a smile. “You're my creation too, after all. Maybe I did jump to conclusions.”

“You're so fucking weird.” Adam muttered, stomping away. When Lucifer kept pace, he didn't swat at him again.

“Hey, Adam?”

“What.”

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry.”

Adam glared at him in confusion. Back then, Lucifer had never apologized and Adam had never thanked him. They were even.

Then, understanding crossed his features. He huffed, hiding a bitter smile.

“Little late for that, don't you think?”

“It's not like we ever had the chance to talk after it all happened.” Lucifer looked at the ground, the grass beneath his feet a green blur. Dreams never did well rendering details. “You, Eve, Lilith...none of you should have been punished for my mistake.”

He looked up again, staring Adam in his now golden eyes, donned in celestial robes. “I mean it. I'm sorry for everything, Adam.”

A closed fist made harsh contact with his cheek as Lucifer was sent tumbling through the grass. He groaned, cradling his aching cheek as Adam appeared beside him, lifting him up by the old celestial cloak the dream had put him in.

“Everything?!” Adam invaded his personal bubble again. Beneath the rage in those eyes, Lucifer could see all the pain. “Do you know what ‘everything’ even is? You ruined Eden. You ruined Lilith and Eve. You ruined all of fucking humanity. You messed up so badly you're the first thing anyone thinks of when they hear the word fuckup.”

Lucifer winced.

Adam sneered. “Was it all worth it in the end, Luce? Did you get everything you wanted? Does it make your shitty ego feel better that you ended up with both of my wives down there? Or are you mad I'm the only one who didn't?”

Lucifer squinted at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I hope you rot in the hell you made for yourself, you miserable disgrace.”

He braced himself for the second fist flying at his face.

When his eyes snapped open, Lucifer automatically threw a hand to his cheek. It ached.

Keekee watched him as Lucifer threw the covers back and got out of bed, filled with restless energy. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

With restless, disheveled desperation, Lucifer made a beeline for his workstation.

Chapter Text

“Well, this is a surprise.”

Candles guttered around a pentacle carved into the waterlogged floor of the shack. The space was tidy, if not stained from the corpse placed in the center of the ring; blood pooling outward and seeping into the diameter.

Alastor sat at its base, cross-legged as shadows prowled, lashing like tails and bearing jagged impressions of maws beneath hollowed eyes. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing behind spattered spectacles that sat above a pleasant smile.

“Good evening, Lady Lilith. I hope the timing of my summons finds you well.”

Her silhouette was about as opaque as a misty night rolling off the marsh; substantial, but translucent enough to see through her to the tools hung on the opposite wall that she was curiously inspecting. Peering back over her shoulder, she snorted.

“So polite, for a man.”

Alastor snorted easily back, “My mother raised me with manners, dear Lady.”

Interested, she turned to face him. Her hair moved like silk in water, slow and ethereal as creatures of darkness framed her at either side. They writhed against the undulating candle light illuminating the walls of the small workspace, rearing at her heels and held at bay by her fascination alone.

Violet irises bore down on him with full attention and Alastor couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so small. “She raised you well, then.”

“Of course,” He chirped back, shoulders relaxed where he peered up at her, “She’s the most spectacular woman I’ve ever known--Present company excluded, of course.”

“And what, exactly,” Lilith hummed, hand perching under her chin, “Do you know about me?”

Here, Alastor braced his palms against his thighs and pressed upward to stand. “Enough that I would like to offer a deal to you, if you felt inclined to hear me out.” He brushed off dirtied slacks and folded his arms behind his back.

Her laugh felt like the churn of a current in the air, chiming layered in a knolling bell and tapping amusement against his eardrums. “I’m not in the habit of dealing with men. What could you possibly have to offer me, little boy.”

“Ah, so not a man then?” He pointed out, stepping along the edge of the circle, “A boy, though? No.” He tutted, “But, what about a vessel?”

A low hum lulled in her throat, consideration flicking from him to the body crumpled at the center of the circle. “Is this a means of enticing me?”

“Perish the thought.” He gasped, stained hands reaching up to pull the sack looped around the head of a person hung by their feet in the corner. Their face was blackened and bruised, mouth gagged with a rag.

Fear ignited in their eyes the instant they saw her, scrutiny narrowed in hers.

“My offer,” Alastor drawled with a loose gesture to the whimpering man, “Is to act on your behalf to enforce the right that anyone may live as freely as they desire, by ridding the world of vile wretches like these.”

A sharp poke to the man's stomach made him cringe, body swaying in a motion that caused the rope to creak around his ankles. “Deplorable creatures that impose their entitled whims on those unable, or unwilling, to refuse due to threat of repercussions.”

Alastor then placed a hand at his chest, “All this, and my own soul, of course.”

Lilith arched a thin brow, “A lofty goal.” Her head tilted again, in the same manner of curiosity she had when observing the tools. “What is it you want so badly to offer me so much?”

His smile grew, creasing under his eyes when he folded his hands behind his back again and pipped, “Why, freedom, my dear Lady. Freedom for my soul within the confines of hell and power in return for my efforts here. If that is amenable to you, of course.”

“Of course?” She inquired, a humor alight in her tone as her visage circled to stand beside him. Not quite looming, but it was a near thing that made the hair on his nape prickle. “My, my. She did raise you with manners.”

Lilith's head cocked to the side, shadows roiling behind them. “Tell me why this one will appease what you think I require for such a deal.”

“Think of him as... an homage--” Alastor gave the man’s stomach a hearty thwap, grinning at the muffled wheeze. “This is Adam! Not the one you know, obviously, but very similar indeed. Though, I can't say whether I know the original to have stalked and beaten a woman to death for simply shopping alone...”

As Adam's body swayed, Alastor reached to his hip and flicked a knife out between them, delighting in the shuddering breath and squirm that only swung him like a pendulum toward its glinting tip.

With each consecutive swing Alastor changed the position; pointed up at the artery in the thigh, low to scrape the underside of a stubbled jaw. Tears trailed to blood matted hair as Adam struggled to remain frozen in a rictus of fear.

Finally, when angled toward the dip of the waist on his flank, a quick motion slid and sunk the blade deep between the ribs of his chest. Alastor crouched, hand releasing the hilt and staring into swollen, wide eyes. He felt more than he saw Lilith lean over his shoulder, face side-by-side with his own as she joined the observation.

Color drained in a steady drip, drip, drip to the floor and it was only when Adam's body gave a final jerk that the two figures stood. Turning to face her, he plucked a handkerchief from the pocket on his vest and cleaned his hand before holding it out in invitation.

Lilith didn't face him immediately, gaze fixed until the rock of the body stilled completely. When she did, arching horns sprouted from her head and darkness soaked into her silhouette, providing a density she previously lacked.

“One addendum:” She hummed, turning her focus back to Alastor in the flick of her eyes, “My name and blessing will not leave your lips and the power I give you is mine to meter. Until I state the finality of it, you will act on my behalf for your own.”

A lithe hand reached for his--there was only a moment where his fingers curled away from the approach. It was noted by both, but Alastor paid it little mind as he reached past and shook on it.

“Deal.”

Alastor lurched upright like the undead from a sealed coffin, his mouth aching and his chest cramping with a dull pang.

Again, the light filling the studio was too ambiguous to determine an actual time, but for the first time in ages Alastor could breathe.

A hand dragged across his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the daybed, his shadow swirling underfoot before settling at his side.

“How long?” His voice grated against his throat, frequencies adding a crackling to the hoarse scratch of a post-drunken stupor. A flicker of time crossed his mind's eye; hazy, but clear.

“Three more arduous days.” He clucked his tongue. Well over a week of hiding away like a rat and his patience for it was as dry as a desert basin.

It wasn't the revelation that was a surprise, but the recollection of what led to his present survival. A hand came to rest over the wound--less like festering rot, and more a bone deep bruise that beat incessantly against his ribs.

Knowing Lucifer hadn't returned slid through in the same manner as the concept of time and Alastor crooked a brow at the shadow. “I didn't ask.” And he stood, pain tucked away neatly beneath the buttoning of his shirt and the slide of his coat as it settled into place.

Brushing off a lapel, Alastor decidedly gave the parameters of his abilities a stretch: just a simple fixing of his hair and complexion. The resulting prickle was a small thing that he nodded in acceptance to.

Better.

But not perfect.

Annoyance dogged his heels, obvious in the flitting of his shadow as it eagerly leapt from one wall to another--no doubt restless after being weighed down for so long. It was tolerated in the same manner as his traveling by foot. Ideally, the little twit would've finished the deed then and there, or at least returned to complete his work before consciousness returned to him.

Now, because of Lucifer’s lack of integrity, Alastor was forced to seek him out.

Luckily, or by some twisted hand of fate, their towers sat on either end of the upper floor. One would have to span the entire width of the hotel to reach the other, but, again, it was the same floor.

As he strolled from his own corner of the corridor with darkened reds and themes of greenery it began to transition into gaudy cherry and white; circus acts and family portraiture. Alastor tipped over a little cherubic duck statue with the tap of his cane and chuckled when it cracked in two against the carpet.

Approaching the large engraved double doors, Alastor arched his eyebrows in disbelief at how obnoxious one could get with decor alone. A sharp wrap of his knuckles against the dark mahogany made his eye twitch.

What need was there for so much extravagance when not a single soul would dare tread this far up the hotel.

When there wasn’t an answer, he turned the handle and swung the door inward. At least he knocked.

He didn’t immediately enter. No, he was too far entranced by the sight of ducks.

Little rubber toys reached well past his own head in height and spread in haphazard heaps over furniture and flooring alike. Alastor was baffled, and mildly horrified on behalf of the king’s late wife.

“No, no, no...this won't do either.”

It took a few moments for him to reset his focus; a literal skip of static orienting his attention back towards his original goal of seeking Lucifer out--now parsing the space as though looking at one of those ‘where’s Waldo’ images.

Keekee, from her position perched high on a shelf, opened her eye as she observed him. Her tail swished steadily back and forth.

Ah, and there he was.

Just past a leaning tower of rubber poultry, Alastor spotted him hunched at a large work desk. Above it, mounted on the wall, were various tools and light fixtures to provide a spot of illumination for detail. His approach wasn’t even subtle, footsteps muffled against rug on carpet (excessive) but audible all the same.

A disconcerting creak of stereo followed his lean over Lucifer’s shoulder, eyes half lidded in passive observation of...yet another duck.

“Any particular reason this one is green? Or did it just take a bit of a tumble into a vat of nuclear waste.” Humming, he added in consideration, “I suppose that would explain the three extra eyes.”

For the first time ever, Lucifer’s fingers slipped. His thumbs dug through two eyes like putty, creating a cyclops of a duck as he whirled around to face Alastor. The action was so sudden it sent the small stool toppling over and the bucket of clay at his elbow on its side, which he hastily rectified.

Alastor leaned away with his hands folded behind him as he watched the king’s graceful fumbling. “You’re not very good at keeping your word, are you?”

“You-!?” The shock of being disturbed by none other than the demon he had only just witnessed on a permanent deathbed left him so disoriented Lucifer struggled for words. He blinked a few times, then looked down at the duck still in his hands. It blinked and hissed like an angry goose.

“Whoops,” He adjusted his hold to flatten the creature between his palms, heedless of its pained, angry hissing until it was nothing but clay again. “Didn't mean to give that one life. Oh well. I didn't like how it was coming out anyway.”

The clay returned to the bucket as if it had never been anything at all.

“What are you talking about?” He reached for a hand towel hanging by his work bench, wiping the clay from his fingers as he rolled his eyes. “I was just finishing up here before I went over. So impatient.”

“Impatient?” Alastor shook his head. The slow side to side was riddled with a faux disappointment. “Unless the nuance of the phrase ‘I’ll finish this tomorrow’ has changed in the last week and a half, ‘tomorrow’ was three days ago.”

Shock and concern were obvious on his features as Lucifer glanced at the windows towards the unhelpful Hellish glow of Pride. “You remember that?”

Looking back to the bucket, Alastor inquired rhetorically, “Is there a particular aim to--” His eyes flicked about to the various piles and the mic of his staff was used to vaguely gesture for emphasis, “This?”

Bracing his palms against the head of it, he drawled, “I’d ask if it were some sort of contrived midlife crisis, but I'm more inclined to believe it’s just the result of an obsessive, despondent, divorcee.” Cocking his head, Alastor’s eyes creased as his grin stretched, “And I’d be right, wouldn’t I?”

An ear twitched to the sound of a low, feline growl on the other side of the room and otherwise went ignored as he shrugged. “Not that it really matters. I’m simply here to ensure you finish the job you started, since you’re apparently incapable of holding yourself responsible.” He lifted his microphone but didn’t get very far before Lucifer blocked his path, completely oblivious.

“I wouldn't expect a sinner like you to understand,” The nasty jab elicited little more than another eyeroll, an excited glimmer to his eye that made Alastor regret asking. “But I'm trying to make the perfect rubber duck.”

He leaned back against his work bench to pull from one of the rubber ducks on the small shelves above it, which he held out for Alastor to inspect with a vacant, half lidded indulgence. “It's difficult to imbue a lot of magic into such a tiny vessel, so each duck is a new challenge. This one can do backflips, breathe fire, glow-in-the-dark, and parrot what it hears.”

“Parrot what it hears!” The little duck chirped, doing a backflip on Lucifer’s palm.

A single brow curled up at the example of attempted ‘perfection.’ He’d ask what perfection meant to a being as old as Lucifer was, but that would mean he actually cared.

“Creation is easier if you use the same base.” He smiled at the toy, which released a small burst of fire. “That's why the sexes of each species tend to resemble each other, creative liberties through sexual dimorphism aside. I was very careful about that.”

He scowled as he placed the duck back in its spot. “Unlike the forms of sinners, which vary so greatly you'd hardly believe they're all the same species. Like, a full on dragon? Are you kidding me? It's not even bipedal! I swear they do it just to taunt me.”

Personally, Alastor found the lack of creativity given to sinners' an example of their holy dismissal. What did it matter if one were a dragon? That actually seemed to be a decent fit, suitable to their most recent guest’s attitude. Even his own appearance was a mockery of efforts made in life and the subsequent result of his death.

And Alastor could appreciate a good twist of irony.

But he wasn’t here for the conversation. Hooking his mic against the leg of the stool Lucifer had knocked over, Alastor tugged it upright and promptly sat. Resting the staff against the table, he removed the coat, laying it over his lap, and unfastened the buttons of his shirt with a detached, clinical efficiency and left it open.

On one hand, the coolness of the room relieved some of the ache; on the other, his chest cramped at the exposure and discomfort was blatant in the rigidity of his shoulders. Allowing himself to consider the physicality of the situation more than he already had, beyond absolute necessity, would just rile his gut, and his mood was already sour with the ravenous bite of extended starvation.

Best to get it over with so he could pop over to the butchery and leave this mess complete and buried.

There was at least some satisfaction in seeing a near equal level of discomfort stall Lucifer’s ceaseless chattering as his piercing gaze zeroed in on the wound.

“You used your magic.” Lucifer crouched to inspect it, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted downward in a pout. “Typical. You only remember what I say when it's convenient for you.”

A second brow rose to match the first as he blinked. It wasn’t enough magic to actually do anything, so he hardly felt the weight of the reprimand as he shrugged.

His eyes had only closed for a moment during the motion, snapping open when a familiar weight pressed over the gash and affixed to the touch as every part of him locked into place. The golden glow was far less vibrant.

Where the alcohol and fugue state had managed to numb the sharper points of the sensation, now it was crystalline and serrated. Nerves were sheared free of that guttering golden hue cell by cell and Alastor’s jaw ground with a bone breaking force as he held his grin firmly in place and watched the procedure; Each. Slow. Breath. Measured.

A minute, if that, and Lucifer yanked himself away in frustration. As Alastor’s shoulders slumped, he did, in fact, smirk with the knowledge the entirety of the situation was unfortunate and bothered the king nearly as much as it did himself.

“Aghhh,” He stood up and stepped away, back facing Alastor as he mulled over what to do. Though he ran his claws through his hair in thought, his perfect haircut remained unchanged. “This...isn't working.”

After a moment, he turned back around, palms pressed together beneath his chin. “Okay. I have an idea. You may or may not like this idea. But I need you to trust me. We've made it this far, right? Right.”

His posture adjusted back to pin straight when Lucifer stepped closer to edge at a proposition. “I don’t like any of your ideas. Ever.” Alastor clarified, squinting at the mention of trust. He wouldn’t have to trust anything, they had a deal.

“Don't freak out.”

Still, the sparkly transition from standing before him to falling in a weighted rope around Alastor’s neck made him stiffen. He bared the unnerving feeling of Lucifer’s snake form stretching until it was draped directly over the wound before the feeling of parting flesh from angelic toxin resumed.

This time, however, it wasn’t nearly as painful and Alastor managed a surprised glance down at the placid expression overtaking Lucifer’s serpentine face. He hummed, uncertain on whether or not he wanted to dispel whatever comfort Lucifer was getting out of this.

Ultimately, he left it alone. It wouldn’t serve him to disrupt the process, but he would allow his lingering curiosity to get a bit of a stretch.

With a patience suitable to a predator, Alastor shifted slowly forward and plucked a drawing pad and pen from beside the bucket. A success upon checking to see that Lucifer was still in some state of dormancy.

Flipping through the pages of marked sketches, Alastor fell into a bit of a rabbit hole deciphering the scribbles and notes. Starting at the beginning revealed designs that leant towards the more morbid and macabre--the emaciated looking one with sharp teeth and skin that would aid in buoyancy was a particular treat, especially after noting the ferocity it was crossed out with the line 'terrified charlie. Burn it.’ written beside it.

He’d just reached a blank page, a doodle of his own filling the space when the building shook. Lucifer’s eyes snapped open as the glow abruptly cut off.

A thunderous roar followed, rattling the chandelier above and spurring Alastor to deposit the book back where it was found and standing. “Ah, the dragon.” He tsked, mouth twisting around his gums in displeasure at having forgotten so quickly after it’d just been mentioned.

Perhaps it’d been the assumption the creature wouldn’t have survived, but then he immediately scolded himself for entertaining the thought that Rosie’s work would have been for naught.

Snapping his fingers clipped the shirt and coat back into place and his staff was in hand without a second thought- “Hey.”- a quick step pivoting him back towards the door that in two strides fell away to the vanta black of void swallowing them whole.

Them.

“Will you cool it with the magic already?!”

Alastor realized the weight around his shoulders was still present as they slipped down below, emerging from the corner of the room he assumed Charlie had deposited the sinner into in his absence. Angel jolted where he and Husker were standing a little ways back, blinking in surprise at the abrupt appearance.

A quick pull of Lucifer's tail took him from his perch and Alastor dropped him like a loose noodle to be discarded, poofing back to his regular form (hat, staff, topcoat and all) before he ever hit the ground. He dusted himself off and adjusted his clothes.

“My, he certainly is loud.” Alastor chirped, the inflamed pulse of his chest falling away to the back of his mind as he strolled up to Charlie and Vaggie.

“Don't-” Invisible stitches pulled at his lips now that they weren't alone, making Lucifer frown as he hissed after Alastor. “Don't overdo it.”

Behind them, Husk raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Angel.

The room was completely destroyed, scorched to hell and back as the writhing, furious dragon made a complete and utter mess of things. Long claw marks now decorated the carpet and the walls, and what was once a bed was now smashed to pieces in the corner.

The bandages covering him were already starting to bleed through, accentuating the blood dribbling down snarling teeth.

At the dragon’s feet, fearless and bold, was Charlie. Vaggie stood nearby with her spear at the ready, posed to fight. She looked incredibly frustrated.

Charlie's focus remained solely trained on their patron.

“Mr. Dragon, please calm down!” She called, arms outstretched in an attempt to pacify. “You're not in danger anymore. We only want to help you. If you could just take a really deep breath and see-”

If not for Vaggie's tackle, Charlie would've been slammed by the thick, angry tail.

“That's it.” Vaggie got to her feet before helping a dazed Charlie back up, looking at the dragon with purpose. “I'm knocking him back out.”

“No!” Charlie forcibly lowered her spear, shooting her girlfriend a frown. “That's just going to make him angry!”

“Angry?! He's already angry! He's clearly a danger to us and himself! I'm doing us all a favor.”

It was about this time that Alastor approached. Charlie looked at him with such deeply unfounded, palpable joy that he could practically feel the king’s murderous glare.

“Alastor!” She greeted, relief short-lived as she looked worriedly back at the dragon. “I think he woke up, realized he had no idea where he was or what happened, and must have felt so scared and alone.”

The building shook with another primal roar.

“Well, that sounds like a dreadful time.” He hummed in glib agreement, gaze following the swat of a large vase sailing through the air and shattering against the far wall.

Vaggie scowled at him and he grinned pleasantly back.

“I’ve been trying to calm him down but he just won’t listen.” Her own frustration was starting to seep into her tone as Vaggie swore in Spanish.

Lucifer chose this moment to join the discussion, pleased when Charlie smiled at him in greeting. It wasn’t as excited as her greeting to Alastor, which he noted in the subtle way Lucifer’s grip on his staff tightened.

“How about a tranquilizer?” He nodded, making a tranquilizer gun appear in Charlie’s hands. “Much more...humane. Should’ve given you one of these ages ago, honestly. You never know when you’re going to run into a dangerous, unreasonable sinner like this one!”

After a quick glance at the dragon, he made the gun, and thus the tranquilizers within, bigger. Vaggie nodded her approval, but Charlie looked at the gun in her hands with discomfort.

“Uh...thanks...”

He preened at the gratitude.

Typical Lucifer just had to waltz in with another shortcut of a solution to a problem he just couldn’t seem to comprehend. Alastor would feel pity if the maneuver weren’t so expected; still, he sighed with a slow shake of the head even as Vaggie directed Charlie on where to aim.

“If you’re going to be a part of this staff,” Alastor explained in an acerbic croon, “It’d serve you well to learn that we here at the Hazbin Hotel believe in open form discussion when addressing interpersonal issues.”

With that, his mic gently tapped against the muzzle of the gun, lowering its aim, and he approached the dragon with leisure indifference. A side step shifted his direction out of the way of its tail, a wave of his arm manifested a row of tentacles that peeled from the floor in his wake. A snap of his fingers and they all slammed down on the sinner, buckling it into place as Alastor came to a pointed stop at its nose.

“Now-” The guttural churn of smoke and crackling flame geared up only to be snuffed as a final inky appendage looped around its snout and yanked its head down to rest on the floor. “Interrupting is quite rude, you know.”

“-Now, you, sir, are doing a fine job at wrecking all the effort my friend and I put into saving your miserable little life.” A groan of stereo and Alastor bent close to emphasize, “You agreed to come here, remember?” His mic thumped between the beast's brows, “Though, if you keep this up, I may just have to return you to Zestial. You don’t want that. I don’t want to put in that effort, myself. So let’s play nice, shall we?”

Popping upright, Alastor turned back to Charlie and called, “I believe he’ll listen to you now, dear.”

Lucifer dragged an exasperated hand down his face as Charlie beamed, foisting the tranquilizer gun into Vaggie’s arms before joining Alastor by the dragon’s head. Slitted, distrustful pupils eyed them both warily.

“Hey there!” Charlie crouched so she could talk to the dragon on a more equal, personable level. “My name is Charlie Morningstar and I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the Hazbin Hotel! Remember, the one Alastor told you about? Don’t worry about the mess, we understand how disoriented you must feel, especially with how long you've been unconscious. We’ll get all this cleaned up in no time.”

The dragon did not blink.

“What’s your name?” She paused, looking at the tendril keeping his mouth shut before looking up at Alastor.

On que, he snapped his fingers, inky coil receding back into the flooring.

The dragon’s snout twitched, experimentally opening his mouth once or twice. He glared at Alastor before focusing on Charlie. “Let me go.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as she smiled. “Are you going to stay calm?”

He refused to answer.

“Come on big guy!” She tried to encourage. “We can’t just call you ‘the dragon sinner’ forever!”

This time, he averted his gaze to glare at the wall.

“I believe my daughter asked you a question.” Lucifer popped into existence on Charlie’s other side, looking down at the dragon with disdain. The dragon tensed. “Are you going to answer her or am I going to have to make you?”

“Dad...”

“I’d like to see you try.” As he spoke, blue flames began to gather in his mouth. Lucifer tilted his head until he realized what he was trying to do, hurriedly teleporting a few feet away to avoid the blast of hot fire. Charlie’s eyes widened as she brought up her hands to shield her face.

“CHARLIE!”

As the stream of fire blazed across the room, Husk narrowly managed to fold in his wing as Angel picked up a furiously-taking-notes Niffty and stepped back, creating a sizable scorch mark on the hallway wall directly across.

A verdant semi circle of stitched energy whipped up in front of Charlie and Alastor, blue flame bowing over its curved edge and sputtering off the sides. Alastor’s eyes cut to the side, narrowing at Lucifer’s reappearance before focusing back on the dragon.

Black tendrils whipped back around the muzzle and brought the massive head back down to the floor; the shield lowered. “Keep that fire to yourself or we’re going to have to discuss limitations on mouth privileges.”

Angel snorted behind them.

Lucifer, realizing what he had done, looked to Charlie with immediate guilt, but she wasn’t looking at him. She lowered her arms with a stunned look, then got to her feet with a sigh. When she finally did look at Lucifer, it was with a deep frown.

“I think Mr. Dragon needs some space.” Lucifer shrunk back a little before she smiled at the others. “Could you guys step out of the room for a minute? Alastor and I can handle this.”

She looked to the radio demon standing at her side. Aside from Charlie, his smile was anything but a comfort to them. “Undoubtedly.”

“I don’t know, Charlie...” Vaggie tried to argue, grip tightening on the tranquilizer gun and drawing the sinner’s attention as well as spurring a buzzsaw snarl of warning.

It was Angel that stepped in, placing hands on her and Lucifer’s shoulders and orienting them towards the door. “C’mon. Let’er do her thing, guys. She ain’t in charge for nothin.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Husk left without a second glance.

“But-” Vaggie and Lucifer started in unison, just as quickly shushed when Angel dragged them out anyway and shut the door firmly behind them.

Considering for a moment longer, Alastor turned back to Charlie and waited for her to nod before releasing the sinner’s mouth once more. New tendrils kept his neck firmly pinned, though. “Now I believe she asked for your name, Mr. Dragon. If you’d indulge us.”

Charlie smiled, endlessly patient, as the dragon looked up at her. Eventually, he grumbled and sunk into the carpet.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters a lot!” Charlie crouched down again, exactly where she had been prior. The dragon scrutinized her as he noticed this, then glanced at Alastor before settling again. “Your name is how people know who you are! You probably don’t like everyone calling you Mr. Dragon, do you?”

The dragon paused. “You can drop the mister.”

“Is that what you want to be called, then? Dragon?” Charlie pressed as the dragon squirmed against his restraints.

“I don’t care.”

Alastor waved a hand, the tentacles rolling away from their binding and seeping back into the floor. “Personally,” He hummed, turning his hand to inspect his nails, “I think it’s obvious that you do.”

The dragon stretched at the gifted freedom, raising his head high to glower down at the two of them as Charlie stood up.

He made no move to attack or flee. Charlie and Alastor did not budge.

After another long pause, the dragon sighed in resignation. “You can call me Dabi.”

“Dabi!” Charlie gasped, expression lighting up as she clapped her hands in delight. “What a nice name!”

He gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

“Thank you for trusting us with that.” She continued, undeterred. The genuine gratitude of her tone had Dabi shifting uncomfortably again. “We really are so excited to have you stay with us. Before I go into details about the hotel, I wanted to ask if you had any questions for us?”

“Do you two ever stop smiling?”

Charlie laughed, pleasantly surprised. “Sometimes, of course!”

“No.”

“I think you’re really going to enjoy it here.” She continued as she pulled out a clipboard, clicking her pen. “Let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

As was becoming increasingly common, Lucifer was in a daze. He walked only because Angel pushed him along, looking to the floor with a far-off, distant gaze.

He couldn't believe it. He teleported out of harm’s way without Charlie. If not for Alastor’s shield, she would have been cooked.

Safe. Because of Alastor.

He felt physically ill as Angel herded them towards the bar, automatically taking the same stool he'd sat in before.

“So,” Angel appeared in his face, practically sprawled out on the bar in front of him. “You an Al, huh?”

“Get off my bar.” Husk grouched, pushing at an unaffected Angel. “I mean it.”

“Can you pull the bottle out of your ass about your bar for like five seconds while I get the dirt on the daddies?” Angel complained, shooting him a look before grinning at Lucifer. “Come on, short king. You can tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Lucifer blinked as Angel was shoved off the bar, which he responded with vehement Italian cursing before popping back up and leaning against the bar, smirking down at Lucifer.

“C’mon, Luci. Ya can’t play dumb with me. You two showin’ up together? Looked awfully cozy there, all curled up around his neck.” Angel waggled his eyebrows, making Lucifer’s eyes widen as he made the connection.

“What? No!” Invisible stitches pulled at his mouth again as Lucifer realized exactly how this deal was going to bite him in the ass, hands waving to repel the notion. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Finally some proper drama in this joint!” Angel laughed as Lucifer looked at him with growing distress and horror. “Please enlighten me as to what yous two could’a been gettin’ all snuggly over.”

There was absolutely nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound incriminating, especially if he kept it as vague as the deal demanded. “Nothing’s going on between us.” was a blatantly obvious lie. “I was just helping him with something.” may as well be accompanied with a wink. “He’s not even my type.” screamed denial.

Lucifer settled on gesturing wildly at his wedding ring. “I’m married.”

Angel's grin curled like the Cheshire cat. “Here, in the land of the virtuous?” He cackled. “Not like I’ve ever slept with a guy with a pretty ring on his finger before, sure. Besides, I’ve heard about you and your wife. Not exactly a closed marriage, eh Luci?”

“You’ve heard of that but not the stories about the radio demon?” Vaggie rolled her eyes as she caught the drink Husk slid over to her.

“Celebrity gossip’s different.” Angel waved her off, leering at Lucifer. “And boy have I heard some stories.”

To Lucifer’s dismay, it was all undeniably true. He made a last ditch attempt at salvaging his dignity with a, “You think I would sleep with him?”

“Why not?” Angel shrugged, winking his thanks at Husk as he was given a drink. “The sexual tension between you two is off the charts. It’s simple biology, baby. Either you fuck it out or you fight it out. I’m just glad my little field trip could help you two finally commit.”

“It’s not sexual.” Lucifer hissed, mortified.

“But you agree there's tension.” Angel continued on, flapping a hand in dismissal before perching his chin atop it. “Who topped? Were you a snake the whole time? Did he use those shadow tentacle things of his? Figures our resident powerhouses would be having the freakiest sex at the hotel.”

“Speak for yourself.” Vaggie murmured into her glass. Angel’s eyes immediately cut to her, squinted, and he made a point to say, ‘we’re gonna hash that out later.’ To which Vaggie scoffed, “Dream on.”

“Don’t answer any of that. I know way too much about all of your depraved sex lives as is, and I don’t want to know anything about that guy’s.” Husk grimaced, sliding a drink over to Lucifer. He took it gratefully and threw it back.

The empty glass cracked with the force he slammed it down, manic in the emphasis of, “We didn’t have sex!”

The three disbelieving, deadpan stares were proving his efforts to be less than fruitful.

Mercifully, there came a knock at the front door.

Vaggie gusted a sigh of relief and stood, grateful to step away with her drink still in hand as Angel and Lucifer’s back and forth fell away to the background.

With all the progress of reconstruction, the walk took a minute to get through the foyer alone. When she reached the door and swung it open, she was surprised to see...A griffon; Sat back on his haunches, a tail curled around his feet as he lowered the hand positioned to knock a second time.

“Uh-” Broad crimson wings folded tightly against his back as the motion to lean forward onto the more avian hands stalled; like he couldn’t decide if the natural inclination to do so was something he actually wanted to indulge. “The hotel is open, right?”

His confusion was emphasized as he double checked the goofy looking neon sign that blinked ‘OPEN!!’ in steady intervals.

Vaggie felt her own confusion make a full one-eighty into panic as she mentally scrambled together everything Charlie had ever done when discussing a guest’s voluntary check in. “Oh! Oh--Uh, let me just..” Vaggie shut the door, realized her mistake, and flung it open, “Sorry, yes, come in!”

The forced cheer was enough to draw the other’s attention. Angel’s head poked out from around the corner and immediately lit up, Lucifer’s appeared just below with squinted confusion, and Niffty last--Her immediate attempt to bolt up to them was halted by Angel snagging the back of her dress and pulling her and Lucifer back around the corner out of sight.

The griffon froze at the additional attention, took a breath, then tilted forward into the step in. “It's not as busy as last week, huh?” He offered, wanting to fill the dense silence as his talons tapped against the tiled flooring.

“Yeah, that was our big reopening--” Vaggie explained, shutting the door and feeling a little dazed that someone actually came back. “So, you were there?”

“Just for a minute. Couldn't stay long, I was on the clock. You know how it is.”

When she moved ahead to guide the way to the concierge desk aside the grand staircase, Husk was already there with a bottle to the side and switching between hats. “Welcome,” He recited with such flat enthusiasm Vaggie just barely withheld slapping a hand to her forehead. “To the Hazbin Hotel. My name is Husk and I will be checking you in today.”

A heavy ledger was dropped in front of them, the griffon’s wings giving a half flair as he leaned away from the dust that plumed out from it. When he waved off the cloud, Husk had already opened the book to the first page where three names were listed:

Angel Dust

Sir. Pentious

Mr. Dragon

Glancing up to Husk, he blinked at his guzzling of alcohol and Vaggie’s tensed, borderline militaristic posture and asked, “Not to sound like an ass, but... are these real people?”

She stepped up beside him to double check, fearing that it was altered in a prank, and snorted at the observation. “The first two are... We’re kind of figuring out that third one right now, actually.”

His brows knit together doubtfully, but he reached for the pen anyway, curling his talons around it with a frown, and hesitated over the blank line.

A half-lidded, tired snort and he carefully scrawled:

Hawks

Vaggie barely managed to read it as Husk slammed the ledger closed, tucking it back under the desk. When he straightened back up, it was with a clipboard in hand.

One look at the paper had Husk immediately holding it out to Vaggie. “I'm not paid enough for this shit.”

“Husk.” Exasperation dripped from her tone as she took the clipboard.

“He's checked in.” Bottle in hand, Husk nodded to their new resident, changed hats again, and returned to the bar. This time, Vaggie didn't hold back the facepalm.

“Sorry about that.” She stepped behind the concierge desk and tried to smile. “You're our first voluntary check-in, so...we're still figuring things out.”

“I can tell.” Thankfully, Hawks looked more amused than irritated. Vaggie took that as a good sign. “Should I be worried?”

“No, no, of course not. We've got everything under control.” This was going terribly. Without Charlie’s bright, charismatic personality, Vaggie feared her approach wasn't welcoming enough.

Their first voluntary check-in guest, seemingly out of genuine interest and without ulterior motives. The shock was still sending her reeling.

Hawks coughed, reminding Vaggie she had a job to do. One look at the clipboard in her hands immediately explained why Husk had given up. It was very colorful.

“Welcome to the Happy Hotel.” She read off, paused, then scribbled a correction. “Hazbin Hotel. Man, we really need to update these. Anyway. Introduce yourself. Please.”

A mixture of surprise and amusement seemed to relax him a bit as he settled. “You can call me Hawks.”

Vaggie made a few notes before abruptly stopping. “Wait, shit. That was an instruction, I was supposed to go first. Uh. Okay.” She tucked the clipboard under her arm so she could hold out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Hawks. I'm Vaggie, the...business partner of the hotel. Usually Charlie, the hotel owner, would be doing this, but she's a little...preoccupied, right now.”

“I was wondering where she was.” Vaggie had never shaken someone's talons before. It was weird. “Happy to be here.”

“From this moment on, we promise to stick with you every step of the way towards redemption.” She continued reading off the sheet, then winced as she lowered it. From behind Hawks, Husk shot her a smug look and mimed holding out the clipboard, away from her face. She scowled at him. “We're so happy to have you here. Before we let you check into the hotel, there's just a few things we need to know. Firstly, do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?”

“Seems empty for such a big hotel.” As Vaggie spoke, Hawks had been taking everything in. Without everyone gathered in the foyer as usual, it did feel extra empty and spacious.

Snickering came from around the corner as Vaggie rolled her eyes. “The others are around, not to worry.”

Hawks hummed, which Vaggie took as her cue to keep reading.

“What’s your occupation here in Hell? What have you been doing?”

“Something of a courier.” Hawks didn't elaborate; Vaggie didn't ask.

In the other room, Charlie was reading off the same questions to a bored, disinterested Dabi.

“Surviving.” The response was punctuated by a very pointed look at Alastor. The radio demon smiled pleasantly back.

“Tell me about the kind of person you were when you were alive. What kind of life did you live? Who were some of the people you were close to? Did you have any hopes and dreams, did you achieve them?”

“That's a lot of questions.”

“Yeah.” Vaggie smiled fondly at the rainbows and smiley faces around the question. “She likes being thorough. You can answer whatever you're comfortable with.”

After a moment of contemplation, the answer came short and simple. “I was a detective. I wanted to help people.”

“I fulfilled my goal.”

Charlie wrote the answer down, then looked up expectantly. “And that was...?”

“I tied up loose ends.”

She waited a moment longer. When it was clear Dabi had nothing more to add, she cleared her throat and moved on.

“You might’ve already mentioned it in the previous question, but it’s important you realize where you went wrong so you know how to redeem yourself. What sins have you committed that got you sent to Hell, do you think?”

Silence followed this particular question, a solemn cast shadowing his eyes as he looked to the side. “Pride, I guess. I wasn't as helpful as I tried to be and made things worse for a lot of people.” It was the longest answer he'd given and the discomfort that followed was just as quickly smoothed over.

“Probably the murder.”

“The murder?” Charlie clarified, raising an eyebrow. “Singular?”

“The only one that mattered, anyway.” Dabi scratched at the dry blood on his scales. “I was always bound for hell. That's just the one that actually landed me here.”

“Did you get caught?” Charlie looked at Alastor, surprised he was even interested.

A smoky huff of amusement. “Something like that.”

The room was filled with the sounds of furious scribbling.

“How do you feel about yourself right now? Are you happy with the kind of person you are?”

“I have bird feet for hands and am in hell, so no. Gotta say, I'm not really all that jazzed about this whole situation.”

“This place isn't what I expected.” Though it wasn't exactly an answer to her question, Charlie didn't interrupt. “The ground doesn't burn. The oni look strange. This feels like the reviving hell, but it's...wrong.”

“Oni?” She prompted, earning a look of distaste.

“You would call them demons.” He opened his mouth to say something more and then thought better of it, eyeing the claws he had for hands. “There are worse things to be than a dragon, though this body obviously mocks me.”

Taking advantage of Dabi’s sudden willingness to talk, Charlie continued prodding. “How so?”

“There's a proverb.”

He left it at that.

“Okay. Last question.” Vaggie breathed a sigh of relief. She lowered the clipboard completely so she could ask the question with the severity it deserved. “Do you want to be redeemed?”

“Sure? Honestly, I'm still surprised Christianity was the one that won out on the religious front.”

“Hell no.” Dabi snorted. “I'm here because my only other option was getting tortured.”

“Wonderful to know pain can be used for positive reinforcement. You should write that down.” Alastor commented with a pointed tap-tap of his cane to her clipboard, making Charlie give him a look.

“Great.” Vaggie made a final note before tucking the clipboard into the desk. Charlie would want to read it later. “Well, uh...let me introduce you to the gang.”

With a clearing of her throat she whirled around and adopted her typical drill sergeant voice. “Alright you shameless eavesdroppers, get out here and say hello properly before I go back there and make you.”

“Y'know for a hotel all about redemption and bein nice, you make an awful lot of threats, Vagina.” Angel snorted as Niffty darted forward, immediately clambering up Hawks and clinging to the tan feathers of his face.

“Ooh, we've got ourselves a pretty boy.” Niffty giggled, grinning widely. “I like your blood red feathers. Can I have them?”

“Niffty, don’t scare our new guest.” Vaggie grabbed her and put her down, watching as she scurried off once more. “Sorry about that. She's our housekeeper.”

“Don't worry newbie, just lock your door at night and you'll be fine.” Angel cocked a hand on his hip, using another to wave. “Fellow hotel patron Angel Dust at your service. For a price, anyway.” He winked and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “That's Luci. He spaces out a lot. He's the hotel’s sponsor and Charlie’s dad. He's also totally banging the hotelier.”

“Hm?” Lucifer blinked, realizing everyone was staring at him. “Oh, hello. Say, don't you all think Charlie’s been in there an awfully long time? Maybe someone should go check on her.”

“You better watch it.” Husk advised, coming out of the bar to retrieve empty glasses. “Let one of those jokes slip in front of him and it won't be pretty.”

As the foyer became lively with conversation once more, a door opened. Everyone simultaneously turned to look.

“Thank you for teaching me how to change bandages, Alastor. I had no idea there was an actual technique to it.” Charlie was saying, stepping out of the room with Alastor close behind.

“Of course, darling. Come to think of it, I should have taught you a lot sooner. You never know when you’re going to run into a poor, injured sinner like him.” Alastor spoke to Charlie but smiled smugly at Lucifer, who glared at him. Angel slowly leaned into his field of vision, grinning like a mischievous cat.

“Will you knock it off?” Lucifer swatted at him with his staff.

“Oh?!” Noticing an unfamiliar face in the mix, Charlie beamed. “Hello there, new friend! I remember you! You took one of my fliers!” She took a few steps forward, then realized she was not being followed. Alastor kept walking as she backtracked.

“Hmm.” Curious, unblinking red eyes bore into the new guest as Alastor’s smile widened. “What a delightful surprise.”

“Come on Dabi!” She called into the dark room, encouraging and patient as ever. Having been focused on Alastor, Hawks stiffened at the name and looked to Charlie. “Everyone’s so excited to meet you!”

“Don’t patronize me.” A dragon head emerged, grudgingly following Charlie as she led the way. Slowly, on shaky, ill-designed legs not really meant for walking, he followed.

Then, teal eyes met gold and immediately slitted with fury.

“You.”

“Fuck.” Hawks leapt into the air.

But, Dabi moved so quickly he was little more than a blurred streak of black and blue as he flew towards the griffin, knocking aside anyone unfortunate to be in his path. Snared mid-flight, Hawks was quickly captured in a tight, viper-like coil that was Dabi’s tail as his mouth glowed blue and began to smoke.

Charlie scrambled into action, pulling Angel from where he'd been sent sprawling against the floor and checking on the others. “Shoot, are you okay, Angel?” Already turning with growing panic when Vaggie brandished her spear and Lucifer eyed the two with the same consideration he had when manifesting a gun.

“Ow.” Angel scowled, rubbing his tailbone. Sarcastically, he added, “I’m so glad we invited this absolute nutjob to live with us.”

Charlie fought a grimace, “It's probably just a misunderstanding!” Forcing hope into her voice and projecting it loudly to stall the others, sparks of flame popped and snapped in Dabi’s throat.

Hawks was gouging talons into the thick hide, even going as far as to snap his beak over the end of the tail and laughing victoriously when the resulting shout of pain guttered the flame. Alastor observed the spat with amusement, which only lasted as long as it took for them to start damaging the structure of the Hotel with their thrashing about; a cracking thud to the wall sent the grand chandelier crashing down beside him.

Turning his head to watch the spray of shrapnel scatter around, he tutted, “I think you two need a little time out.” And in a great sweep of shadow Dabi, Hawks, and Alastor all vanished from the foyer and reappeared outside. The two sinners fell to the ground in shock at the shift. When they reeled on him, they balked.

Twisting antlers and stitched limbs stretched to monstrous proportions as Alastor rattled, “Sit.” while looming over them both.

Hawks flinched back, stumbling out of reach from Dabi first while eyeing the demon with tightly restrained terror. The dragon wasn’t as good of a listener and Alastor forced a binding that he was quickly losing the energy to maintain.

Best make it quick then.

To compensate, he drew in a slow breath and allowed his form to retract to its usual height and animosity. “Since you’re both properly checked in, I suppose the next step would be house rules.” Resting his palms atop his mic, Alastor leaned forward and warned, “First: No fighting within the premises. You’re both big boys, I assume you can control yourselves long enough to take it outside before starting up another tussle.”

Holding up two fingers, he continued, “Second: I don’t have patience for poor listeners, so I will not repeat myself. And you really don’t want to test me on the repercussions.” His grin twitched around blackened gums in a near snarl that silenced the burgeoning growl from Dabi.

“Third!” He bit, hand closing in a fist. “Our dear host, Charlie, has put a great deal of effort into this endeavor--as have I. If you choose to forgo our instruction and lessons here, you will leave. If not of your own volition, then mine.” Coating the tone in sinister serenity, he added, “I promise, you want as little of my involvement in your pursuits here as possible.”

His head cocked with a disconcerting crack of the neck, dials flickering in his eyes as he asked, “Am I clear?”

Hawks, feathers bristled and hunched off to the side, shifted his eyes between Alastor and Dabi before slowly nodding. They both focused on Dabi, rage as clear as the teal of his eyes. When the antlers began to grow again, he relented.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” And with a clap of his hands, the bindings withered away as Charlie rushed outside. Coming to a stop beside Alastor, she braced her palms against her knees and wheezed as she caught her breath.

“Are-hhh,” She coughed, straightening to visibly check the two, “Are you guys okay?”

“They’re just dandy, darling.” Alastor dusted off her shoulder and gave a light pat to her head, “We just covered a few rules on behavior for the establishment, and they’ve stated that they understand there will be no fighting whatsoever within the hotel. Isn’t that right, boys?”

Hawks readily moved closer to her, making a point to approach from the opposite side of Alastor to avoid him as much as possible. “Yeah, sorry about that. Won’t happen again.”

“Do you two know each other?” She asked, hand coming out to rest consolingly on Hawks back before she moved to approach Dabi.

“Is he still alive.”

Charlie paused a step, following Dabi’s glare to Hawks. He was looking back, expression vacant until he looked away and answered in a hardened voice. “I don’t know.”

She yelped when a burst of heated smoke plumed around her ankles, hopping out of the way. Dabi curled his lip, spared a sardonic glance to Alastor, and promptly swat Hawks across the courtyard with a whip of his tail.

Alastor gave a short, delighted, “Ha!” Watching the griffin tumble through the air like an errant pigeon caught in a gale. “Well played, that is allowed.”

“Alastor!” Charlie warned, throwing up her hands in frustration when he retorted with ‘A technicality, my dear!’ She groaned and dragged her palms down her face, begging whatever forces of the universe that listened to give her just a little more patience. “Fine! Fine.”

Focusing on Dabi while Hawks steadied and worked his way back, she asked, “What do you need right now to help mitigate...That.” She gestured pointedly to the wobbly landing Hawks made closer to the Hotel; out of range.

Dabi lashed his tail and fought off a growl to grit, “I’m going for a walk.”

“Oh, that’s-”

And he took off, coiled muscles bunched before launching him skyward. Hawks crouched instinctively, the tip of his own tail flicking erratically.

“...Okay.” Charlie sighed, face pinching when Alastor gave another pat to her shoulder. Closing her eyes, she focused on just breathing for a second before looking up at him. “Thanks for getting them out here.”

Scratching the back of her head, she turned to start the trek back to the hotel and continued, “Maybe we could start planning a workshop on conflict resolution?”

Following a step behind allowed him to measure a breath or two of his own, then hummed, “I think that sounds like a lovely idea. Perhaps an exercise in confessional style communication to open up tumultuous topics in a controlled environment?”

Charlie blinked in surprise at him, then brought a hand to her chin in thought, “That... actually sounds like a really good place to start!” With her focus rekindled, she offered a small smile to Hawks as they approached and asked, “Are you alright?”

He’d straightened up from the crouch during their walk over, haggard but otherwise unscathed. “Physically.” He confirmed. “There won’t be any more issues inside.”

It was so matter of fact and coolly said that Charlie had to force a laugh in an attempt to warm the mood a bit. “Don’t worry about it! Our second patron had a habit of blowing up our walls. It just takes a second to adjust to a safe space!”

Hawks raised his eyebrows but otherwise remained quiet.

Stepping through the front doors, no one would have guessed there had been such a violent, sudden tussle. Lucifer stood in the middle of the foyer, forked tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration as he magically lifted the fallen chandelier back into place, good as new.

Off to the side, Husk held open a trash bag as Angel, Niffty and Vaggie swept up the glass. The moment she spotted Charlie, Vaggie handed the broom off to Angel, who shrugged and used both brooms.

“Aw, you guys...” Charlie sniffled. “It looks great.”

“You okay babe?” Vaggie gripped her shoulders then her cheeks as Alastor rolled his eyes and sidestepped the couple. “You're not hurt?”

“I'm fine.” Charlie answered through pinched cheeks, making Vaggie smile. “He's really not that bad of a guy, once he feels safe.”

Hawks snorted loudly.

Vaggie, similarly doubtful, just raised her eyebrows and nodded. Then, she turned to Hawks. “You?”

“Peachy.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Lucifer approached, warily eyeing the doorway as if Dabi were lingering just out of sight. “Did he check out already?”

“No.” The cool edge to her tone was certainly enough to get his attention. “He just went for a walk.”

Before Lucifer could open his mouth to reply, Charlie was already turning to Hawks. “Let me show you to your new room! I'm sure you want to rest up. Sorry, I don't think I caught your name?”

“Charlie, wait.” Lucifer put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back as Vaggie took over leading Hawks. Though she heeded the request, Charlie was anything but happy about it. “Listen, about earlier. I wanted to say sorry for putting you in danger like that. I just wanted to-”

“Dad, stop. It's fine.” She held up a hand as if physically warding off the rambling apology. “Just...maybe leave dealing with sinners to Alastor and I from now on. They can tell you don't like them.”

She may as well have slapped him. Lucifer’s eyebrows pinched as she turned to leave. “But-!”

“I'm kind of busy right now. Can we talk about this later?” This time, Lucifer didn't try to stop her as she walked away. His outstretched hand lowered in defeat, the whole situation painfully familiar.

“Darn.” Alastor leaned over Lucifer’s shoulder, watching Charlie follow Vaggie and the sinner, “Seems you missed the mark once again, old chum.”

Lucifer’s eye twitched. “As for YOU-” He whirled around in time to see Alastor laugh as he disappeared into the shadows, likely off to lick his reopened wounds in his tower.

Whatever. Good riddance.

“Fine!” He yelled at his shadow, ignoring the invisible stitches pulling at his lips again. “Undo all my hard work! See if I care! Go fuck yourself!”

Angel raised an eyebrow and smirked.

To everyone's surprise, including Lucifer himself, he didn't leave. Instead, he snapped his fingers to get rid of all the trash and cleaning supplies. Then, he looked at Husk and pointed to the bar with his staff. “I need a drink.” 

Chapter Text

Husk raised an eyebrow, but obediently made his way back to the bar.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Lucifer was already waiting with his legs crossed in his self-assigned stool, foot bouncing impatiently even as Husk rounded the counter. Angel, equally hesitant but less obvious about it, slid into place next to the king with an arched brow.

“Make it two, Husky.” He added, rolling his eyes at the look and added with a lilt of sass, “Please.”

“I don't get it!” Lucifer began, snatching the prepared drink and gulping it down, carrying on in the next breath, “Why does she prefer His solutions over mine! Mine are faster, would cause less damage, and they get the job done! You think that dragon would’ve been able to even light a match if she let me handle it? Shadow magic isn’t even all that special. Look, I can do it too!”

The massive red tentacle that sprouted in the middle of the room, very much belonging to a kraken, writhed wildly before it was sliced off by the closing of the portal it was sprouted from. Niffty approached it with a knife and a maniacal giggle of, “Seafood...”

“Cook it, Nif!” Angel made sure to call out, even if it went ignored. He had only just received his first drink and eyed Lucifer with a subtlety the bartender couldn't be bothered to attempt at the sharp clicks of the king’s claw as he impatiently tapped his empty glass for a refill.

“He thinks he can waltz into her life with his stupid, creepy smile and his “”diplomacy”” and his “”fingers”” like he’s better than me.” He threw back the second drink just as quickly. “Who does he think he is?!”

Hooking his own around Lucifer's glass, Husker pulled it over and started another drink. A low huff ruffled the fur of his chest as he mixed. “Capable.” And the glass thunked softly against the little napkin he sat it on in front of the king.

A little swipe of his palm and the shorter tumbler was imperceptibly swapped with a pint glass: tall and frothy, visible apple slices floating within.

Angel choked on a swallow of his usual vodkatini. Thumping a fist to his chest in a cough, he croaked out, “Seriously?” And peered over to try and see how he managed the trick.

Husk shrugged, slinging the bar rag onto his shoulder and crossing his arms to brace in front of where Lucifer was sitting. “Alastor got here first and has six months of leg work compared to your couple of weeks.” Cocking a brow at the drink, he added, “A few magic tricks won't make up for that gap.”

Angel's snort was soft, finally finishing his own and reaching to set it on the other side of the bar with the rest of the dirty glasses.

“They’re not magic tricks.” The newly emptied pitcher slammed down with the force of Lucifer's scowl, which he made a half-hearted attempt to push towards Husk in a clear sign for ‘another.’ “I am the strongest being in hell! I made the seven rings of hell! You think that just- just- happened?! Naturally?!”

Angel blew a low whistle, watching the bob of Lucifer’s throat as the pint drained in a couple of gulps. Husk’s mouth twitched into a mildly impressed grimace and his sigh was that of a weathered bartender resigned to another misinterpreted piece of advice.

Still, he dutifully refilled the pitcher with watered down cider and pushed it back.

Wild, uncoordinated gestures accompanied his frantic explanation. “I can create life! I populated hell with its creatures! I’ve been alive so long I watched the birth of the stars- which you can’t even see down here! But I remember them!” He gestured to the ceiling before slumping onto the bar.

“I can do so much for her, and all she’s asked me to do is get her a meeting and fix up a table spread.” He demonstrated as much, a small gesture of his hand produced a miniature table decorated exactly as he’d imagined it for re-opening day, working fountain and all. There was also a certain little circular table decorated with a plate of fingers and other meats. “And even then she still took his side.”

“You can.” Husk confirmed, “But, you haven’t.”

Lucifer flicked the little table, sending it flying into the dark abyss in a corner of the foyer.

“I’ve known her the entire thousand years of her existence.” The little working fountain of Charlie was the only thing to remain when he waved away the miniature display. Cheek pressed to the cool wood of the bar, Lucifer looked at it sadly. “But I feel like I don’t know her at all.”

Angel made a cutting motion over his neck towards Husk, attempting to stall any further criticism as Lucifer lamented. Thankfully, the king was already so far gone into inebriation it didn’t seem to take. “I mean,” Angel started tentatively, leaning his cheek into his palm. “How many a those years did ya actually spend with her?” Uncertain if he was actually heard, he continued to broach the topic with, “Besides, Charlie doesn’t really care about all that fancy shit. Like Husk was sayin’, twirlin’ your daddy stick ain’t gonna make up for everythin’ ya missed.”

Though he was cleaning a glass and maintaining his usual detached observation, Angel still caught the small uptick at the corner of Husk’s mouth. “But!” He pressed on, throwing up a finger, “She does appreciate gettin’ into the process of things--really showin’ you’re dedicated to the time an’ effort.” Straightening Lucifer’s hat from where it tilted in his slump with one hand, Angel patted his arm with another, “You’ll get the hang of things eventually. Just...”

And here, Angel looked to Husker who lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, “Do better.”

“Dunno.” Lucifer mumbled into the table, only half paying attention to the conversation as Angel fixed his hat. “300, maybe? 250? I still remember when she was just a little baby. Can you even picture that? A baby! In hell! The whole process was so human and she was so small.”

He sniffled, emotional and very much inebriated, as he slapped the bar and made a Charlie baby picture appear, etched directly into the wood. She was in a duck onesie. “I need you guys to understand how important she was to us. It was part of her...her punishment, being down here. Lily had lotsa babies. Lots. Charlie was number 101. And she didn’t...she didn’t die? She was Lily’s first baby ever who didn’t die and she was mine.”

There was a growing puddle of tears where Lucifer kept his face glued to the bar. “So, like. I get it, you know? I know it was hard on her. She didn’t have any babies after Charlie because Charlie was our everything. N’, you know, when she started getting even more protective, and I started to see her less and less, I didn’t. Didn’t question it. It sucked. But I got it. S’not like I was the one who birthed her. Though I guess I could’ve, if I’d wanted to.”

He paused for a moment, distracted by the thought, before pushing himself into a sitting position. “Sorry, what were we talking about again?” The refilled pitcher caught his eye. He made a sound of delight before drinking it, none-the-wiser of its nonalcoholic contents.

Husker wiped absently at the puddle where it began to seep towards the inner bar, grimacing at the image incised into the surface. “That'll be a bitch to clean.”

“SHH!” Angel hissed, jutting hand out to hold a finger in front of Husk’s mouth as he snagged his phone and gently shifted Lucifer’s slump to get a proper picture of it. Satisfied, he allowed the king to mold back into place.

He was so enamored it took a second to actually register what else was said. “Wait, you can get knocked up?”

And before the fascination with that could occupy the rest of the conversation, Husk recentered the topic, “We were talking about how you can be better.”

Angel pursed his lips at him but sighed and resumed his perch with a cheek in hand. “Why don't ya start with recruitin’? I could even tag along an’ help ya scout.” Gesturing with a lower palm outward towards the hotel at large, he explained, “We had a whole song about fillin’ all the rooms, an’ you saw how excited she was about the two fuckheads that just signed up.”

Lucifer looked up at the two as if really seeing them for the first time. The metaphorical light bulb lit up.

“That’s it.” He got to his wobbly feet, unable to sit still any longer as he took in the majestic foyer. “Nothing is more important to Charlie than this hotel. She’s made that explicitly clear, including being willing to put her life on the line for it.”

There was a part of him that still balked at the thought. How close he had come to losing his little princess if he’d been just a second later, how serious she really was to put her life on the line for her dreams.

“If I want to support Charlie, I need to support the hotel.” He turned around, twirling his cane and adjusting his hat with a grin. “Thank you, both of you. Truly. I know exactly what I need to do.”

A flick of his hand opened up a portal. “Don’t worry, I know: it has to be a choice. Luckily, I know a thing or two about being persuasive.”

Laughing at his own joke, Lucifer stepped through and disappeared in a burst of red glitter.

Angel, having turned to lean back against the bar to watch Lucifer as he spoke and walked around, shook his head. “Why do I get the feelin’ he didn’t get a thing outta that?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Husk took the empty pitcher to clean it. “Most of the time people just need someone to listen. Immortal, inhuman beings included, apparently.”

Angel spun back around, propping himself at the bar. “Think it’ll work?”

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” Husk snorted. “In the history of the entire universe, not a single good decision ever came from being drunk.”

Chapter Text

“-I talked to Alastor about doing a workshop on communication, but we should work on trust building too. Pentious really taught us the importance of that. But I don’t want to overwhelm our new guests either... I guess you can’t really communicate honestly before you trust someone, so maybe we should focus on that first? But those two clearly have some bad history, so they can’t work on trusting each other until they talk. Hm...”

“Sweetie, can we talk?”

Charlie paused as she looked at Vaggie, finally noticing her tense body language. Her arms were crossed and she was angled away from Charlie- telltale signs something was bothering her. She came to a stop in the empty hallway; Vaggie followed.

“Please don't tell me you're going to apologize to me too.” Vaggie blinked, turning to face a suddenly very hesitant Charlie.

“What? No.” She paused. “Should I? Did I do something?”

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. “No, no. Sorry, I guess I'm kind of on edge. My dad tried to apologize to me earlier and I told him we could talk about it later. But... I don't really want to talk to him.”

She brought up her arms to hug herself, looking dejectedly at the carpet. Vaggie knew her well enough to give her a minute to gather her thoughts. “He always does this. He does all these things that he thinks I want, but he never actually asks me what I want. Then when I get mad at him for it, he apologizes but he never gets it.”

Vaggie rubbed the back of her neck. It wasn't the first time Charlie had complained about her father, but Vaggie always felt out of her depth. It wasn't like angels had fathers. Angels just followed orders.

Thankfully, Charlie was happiest just getting her feelings off her chest, and Vaggie was always happy to listen.

“Just once I'd love a real apology from him saying ‘Hey Charlie, sorry for always patronizing you and acting like I know best’ instead of ‘Sorry I almost got you barbecued.’ “ Charlie’s impression of Lucifer was pretty spot on, and she smiled as Vaggie snickered.

“Have you tried telling him that?”

“Obviously!” A pause. “Kind of?” A longer pause. “Okay, no. How could I, especially now? My dad is finally showing an interest in what I'm doing and being in my life. I don't want to...scare him away.”

Vaggie nodded. That was a fair concern. Lucifer had proven to be particularly flaky and prone to disappearing.

“You know how the conversation about starting the hotel went.” Charlie’s voice softened as Vaggie grimaced. Yep. She'd been there for the aftermath of the pitch. It was the first time she had ever seen Charlie truly and properly angry. “If I told my dad how I really felt, he wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore.”

“You know that's not true.” Charlie looked up as Vaggie squeezed her shoulders. “He's been here for...what, a month? And he's spent every second of it trying to make you happy. Well, every second not being a shut-in, anyway.”

“Yeah. It's a little suffocating.” She gave a watery laugh as Vaggie pulled her into a hug, combing steady fingers through blonde hair. “It would’ve meant so much to me as a kid, you know?”

“Oh baby, I know.” She thought about it, sometimes. How desperate Lucifer was for Charlie’s approval and attention, somehow unable to see she was desperate for the same thing. The disconnect between them was odd.

Vaggie didn’t think she’d ever understand families.

They hugged for a while longer before Vaggie pulled away, determined to say her piece.

“Charlie.” Large doe eyes blinked at her. “I’m worried you’re getting too close to Alastor.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t trust him, Charlie.” She didn’t try to stop her as Charlie took a step back to properly talk. “Did you forget he's one of the most violent and sadistic demons in hell and thinks everything we're doing is a joke?”

The question came out more accusatory than intended, but thankfully Charlie didn’t take offense to it. It was one of the things Vaggie loved most about her- she was the best listener.

“It's been seven months since we opened the hotel.” Vaggie snapped out of her thoughts as Charlie spoke, refocusing. “Seven whole months and he’s been nothing but helpful. If he’s trying to sabotage us, he’s doing an amazing job not doing that by helping fix the hotel, protect the hotel, and manage the hotel.”

Vaggie clicked her tongue, frustrated. Charlie was too trusting for her own good. “Alastor’s whole gimmick is making deals. He’s willing to wait as long as he needs to get what he wants. Seven months means absolutely nothing to a demon as old as he is.”

“What about the deal I made with him, then?” Vaggie froze. The deal was the one topic of conversation she dared not approach, choosing to let Charlie be the one to bring it up. The difficulty in maintaining eye contact spoke volumes to her guilt as Charlie continued, “To be completely honest with you, Vaggie? He could've asked for my soul and I would’ve given it to him.”

Hurt and shocked, all Vaggie could manage was a soft, “Charlie...”

“What choice did I have? We were running out of time. I was about to watch everyone I loved and everything I worked so hard for just get destroyed.” There was a fire to her eyes, equally inspiring and concerning. “Selling my soul was the least I was willing to do to prevent that from happening.”

“There were other things we could’ve tried.” Vaggie argued, and though she was well aware of Charlie's self-sacrificing tendencies, it still broke her heart to have them confirmed. “We could’ve run away, or set up a trap, or looked for allies elsewhere-”

“You know as well as I do those weren’t real options.” Charlie was glaring at the carpet. “It’s not like I could talk to you at the time, anyway.”

That hurt. Vaggie winced.

“My point is that Alastor didn’t ask me for my soul. He could’ve. I got the feeling he even wanted to. But he didn’t.” Charlie looked up. “That means something, doesn’t it?”

“What you gave him is almost worse!” Arms stretched out, begging Charlie to understand. “You gave him a blank check to cash in whenever he wants! For whatever he wants! You are a very powerful, very influential princess. Who knows what he’s going to ask from you?”

Charlie briefly looked away. “That’s just the ultimate test of trust then, isn’t it.” The earnesty in her eyes was almost physically painful. “We have to trust him, Vaggie.”

“We can’t. I just know he’s plotting something, Charlie. He’s not here to help, he wants something.”

Charlie shook her head. “Has a single person stepped into this hotel without their own personal agenda? Angel moved in for the free rent! Husk and Niffty are contractually obligated to be here! Even you came on-board with this just to support me. Who cares if Alastor has ulterior motives? He's here, he's done nothing but help, and he fought for the hotel as hard as anyone else did when we really needed him to. Without his shield, without the time he bought us by fighting Adam, would we even be here right now?”

She had nothing to say to that.

“Look,” Vaggie didn’t resist the gentle finger under her chin, guiding her to make eye contact. “I know you're just trying to look out for me, and I love you for that. But maybe it's time to see these guys as our friends and not as our enemies, you know? It’s not just you and I against the world anymore.”

Charlie leaned in for a kiss before resting their foreheads together.

“I’m going to go to bed.” She leaned back to grin knowingly and point upstairs, towards Alastor’s bedroom. “Go get some peace of mind so you can join me.”

Vaggie smiled, hopelessly enamored. “You know me too well.”

“Talk to him.” Charlie’s hands were warm as she squeezed Vaggie’s hands. With that, she continued down the hallway towards the elevator, leaving Vaggie to make her decision.

She went the opposite direction.

Unnoticed by either woman, the shadows flickered.

Chapter Text

Much like his return from Rosie's, Alastor felt his knees buckle the moment the shadows dripped away from him.

Curls of wood sprung up beneath his claws as his grip dug into the little table beside his bedroom door; his weight bowing toward its support as his other hand bunched in his coat.

A few rattling breaths and he stabilized enough to right his posture. Orienting towards the sitting area, he scraped the foot of his staff against the stone of the hearth and sent a shower of sparks over the readied logs. Dropping into a plush seat, Alastor allowed himself to sink into its comfort like a stone to a pond.

Perhaps he’d overdone it. Alastor wasn't an idiot and could understand where to remedy his faults. Pulling his hand from his coat, he absently observed the sheen of his own blood covering the palm.

He'd check it later; see if whatever healing Lucifer managed was able to bring the edges of the divide closer for more stitching.

When the ambiance of naturesque white noise petered to a hushed crackle; Alastor’s ear swiveled to the distant approach of footsteps.

When the knock came, he'd already thrown the coat into the fire and plucked his robe from the knob of his bed frame. Pinching the tie around his waist, he opened the door and peered down at the princess’ own guardian angel.

“Vaggie, what a pleasant surprise. I was just turning in for the night, but I suppose I could spare a moment.” Standing aside, he held the door aloft and gestured with an open palm to the sitting area. “Would you like something to drink? I personally wouldn't mind a little night cap.”

“Whoa.” Vaggie blinked. Despite the late hour, and thus being a perfectly reasonable time to find anyone wearing pajamas, she was still surprised. In the six months he’d been at the hotel, she had never seen him in anything but a suit.

“I, uh...didn’t know you had other clothes. Sure.” She nodded, stepping within the spacious hotel room. It was a nice suite, but not huge. The lighting was warmer than she’d expected, the colors matched nicely, and even the bones and taxidermied hell creatures around felt more tasteful than creepy. The bayou she had once seen in the back of the room was...still a bayou. A gaping maw of darkness now, not a single firefly to be seen, taking over most of the room.

Vaggie very purposefully chose the reading chair facing it. It continued to be pitch black and horrifying.

Alastor chuckled, tiny splashes of ice followed with the rattling clink of the drinks being stirred. His shadow lurked behind her seat, peering over the headrest and clipping back to his heels when he mosied over.

So engrossed with staring into the darkness, squinting at the shadows where she most definitely saw something move, she almost jumped out of her skin when a glass was held in front of her. “Hijo de tu maldita madre,” She hissed, pressing a hand to her chest as she used her free hand to accept the glass. “...Thanks.”

“You're very welcome, my dear.” He loosened the edges of his smile and allowed some of the exhaustion to lid his eyes in a slow blink as he sat across from her. Waving his glass, the liquid remained surprisingly still with the smoothness of the gesture.

It was an encouragement to continue, lifting to his lips for a sip. As he drank, a low hum grated against the tenderness of his chest.

Vaggie took a matching sip from her drink before cradling it in her lap. “Alright. I’m just going to get right to it.”

She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs. “I want to talk about the deal you made with Charlie. What do you want from her?”

Genuinely, it was a surprise the topic hadn't arisen sooner, but Alastor was nothing if not an opportunist.

“Want.” He rolled the word over his tongue, watching the flames in the hearth undulate in wild licks and pops along the wood. Behind him, the darkness of the bayou shifted with imperceptible mass, like a great beast rolling over in its sleep. “Hm. Nothing at the moment, if I'm to be frank.”

Turning his wrist swirled the liquor in the glass, thawing ice clicking softly within. “Unless you're inquiring about my means for requesting such a thing from Charlie.” He amended, “Then I'd have to point out that I am but a mere sinner within this hellscape--who wouldn't strike a deal with her if given the chance? Particularly if it would better the odds of prolonged survival.”

Flapping his other hand dismissively, he continued, “Besides! I will not ask her to infringe on her morals; as I'm sure you know, she specifically stated that she wouldn't harm anyone. I'm a bit of a stickler for the fine print, Vaggie darling, so I certainly won't be seeking to weasel around that explicitly stated detail.”

“I don’t believe you.” Vaggie narrowed her eyes, tone soaked in distrust. Nothing he added was reassuring in the slightest, nothing she could believe was the truth.

But she wasn’t seeking reassurance. She wanted answers.

“Does ‘anyone’ include Charlie herself?” The thought would have never even crossed Charlie’s mind. It was one of the reasons Vaggie had been adamant not to leave Charlie alone with Alastor (or much at all, but Vaggie was working on that). She was too focused on others, too focused on her dreams- which is why Vaggie took it upon herself to keep her grounded. Protected.

There was no changing the fact a deal was made. Vaggie had spent many restless nights beating herself up for it, wondering how she could have failed her partner so badly. But wallowing in self-loathing wasn’t constructive, and she still had a job to do.

“I can’t figure out what you could possibly want from her that you don’t already have and can’t get yourself.” She leaned back in her chair, eyeing Alastor coolly. “You don’t need her power- you have more than enough yourself. You don’t need her to boost your reputation- you already have one. You don’t need to take control of her project because she already values your input. If you wanted her to do something for you, you know full well you could just ask her for it and she’d help you without a second thought.”

Alastor flipped a hand and waved the expected dismissal away as though it were a gnat. Curling his fingers, he dropped his chin against the heel of his palm and watched.

The accusation that followed was as sharp and cutting as her angelic spear. “You made a deal with her because you needed insurance to ask her to do something for you she wouldn’t be able to refuse. So I’m going to ask you again, Alastor: what do you want from her?”

Ah, how had he forgotten the splendid decadence of Vaggie’s paranoia? There was just something so satisfying about the trickle of incessant questions visibly plaguing her; like a mad man at a corkboard. Playing along, he took another sip and raised his brows inquisitively. With each consecutive point, he tallied off in succinct nods of agreement. Why, It almost made up for the lackluster reunion with the overlords a while back. So engrossed in the unexpected delight, her guess managed to draw his direct focus in a fuzz of static. “What marvelous speculation!” Alastor cheered, lifting his glass, “I had no idea I haunted your thoughts so persistently, I’m flattered.” Alastor tipped his head in a mock bow of gratitude. “Missing the mark all the same, but your tenacity is admirable!” Not unlike another irritant he’d become unfortunately familiar with.

As much as the mocking praise made her want to punch him, Vaggie refused to lose focus. “I know I’m right.”

He tipped the rest of his drink back and set the glass aside on the stand next to him. “Did you consider that it is genuinely a simple favor between two friends?” Folding his hands against his stomach, he crossed an ankle over his knee and tilted his head, “In fact, I would go so far as to say it’s very similar to our deal in its depth, my dear.” Alastor arched his brow, pointing out in a parry, “Or did you forget that we’ve already made one?” Unbothered, he continued to muse, “So, if you have the ability to decide what you agree to, why can’t she? That certainly seems to be a theme around here for the poor girl.”

“If it were just a favor, you wouldn’t have needed to make a deal for it.” Her piercing, unimpressed gaze continued to wait for an explanation. “That was different. Our deal was very specific on both ends. That’s the only reason I even agreed to it, and why I continue to honor it. You understand why I’m not thrilled that the deal you made with Charlie was so vague on her end, and why I’m demanding clarification for it now.”

Each rebuttal was cold and logical; fitting for a former angelic commander. Notably, she made no comment on the topic of Charlie’s decision-making capacity.

“It was vague because it really wasn’t all that deep, darling.” He chuffed, unwavering on the point even with her relentless paranoia. That was the wonderful thing about skeptics and their anxieties: until given proof, they were nothing but smoke in the wind. He liked to think of it as his own little version of cloud watching while he stoked the flames. He clucked his tongue and offered a faux olive branch, “If it bothers you so much, why don’t we make another?” Placing a hand to his chest, he proposed, “My assurance that no harm will come to Charlie for a little of your trust.”

“Say what now.” Her shock was apparent in her deadpan tone, but she’d heard him loud and clear. For the first time since they started talking, Vaggie looked away and into the whiskey glass she was still holding. The ice cubes were mostly melted.

Her reflection stared pensively back. It was obvious what he was doing- a pacifying deflection playing on her paranoia so she would stop asking questions. His tone made it painstakingly clear he hadn’t even been serious about it.

Guaranteeing Charlie’s safety for the price of going against every sharpened instinct she’d ever had, the danger of committing to supporting Alastor without knowing what his true motivations were.

Alastor waved a hand and rolled his eyes, unwilling to repeat himself and very clearly expressing a silent ‘You heard me.’ When genuine consideration took hold, he stilled; her averted gaze immediately caught his attention and he closed the hand into a loose fist. To obtain the faith of an angel. Not just any angel, but the vanguard of the princess. Why, he was near gobsmacked that the jest stuck. The subtlety of his posture straightening went along with the white noise that gathered at the edges of the room. As fluid as a wild animal poised to strike, Alastor’s eyes tracked her quick motion of swallowing the drink in one go and creased at the edges. Her decision was made before she even spoke and the loose tethers within him began to writhe in anticipation. 

“Swear to me that you won’t hurt Charlie or let any harm come to her.” The fireplace had been persistently glowing an ominous green, but the rest of the room seemed to follow suit as Vaggie spoke. The tell-tale marker of his magic rose along with him, changing the hue of the room to a murky green and casting ambient light to the darkness behind him. Where his shadow had elongated into the bayou, hundreds of eyes glittered back. “That you will do everything in your power to keep her safe.”

She took a deep breath as if placing her own soul on the line. In a sense, she supposed she was. “Then, I’ll trust you.”

This time, she held out her hand first.

“Do we have a deal?”

“I swear,” He recited in the first step, cracks spidering outward underfoot, “With every iota of my being, that I will guard Charlie.” A second step and he was within reach, darkness burbling up from the ground around them. “And, my power will never be used against her.” When he took Vaggie’s hand, a fissure split through the wall above the fireplace and an eruption of buzzing energy beat through the air like a burst speaker. Stitches and dials stark in the ghastly light, his smile stretched as the binding between them took root and knit between their palms.

As terrible as the whole process had been, when Alastor released away, for the first time in a long time, something within her finally felt at ease. She pointedly chose not to read into it.

“Thank you for placing your trust in me.” He cooed, releasing her. With it things mended back to their usual state of reality, including his appearance as he absently wiped his hand on his robe. “I hope this provides some assurance for you in my presence here.” Reinvigorated, the smile he gave was categorized as ‘pleasant’ when he asked, “Was there anything else on your mind, my dear?”

Releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Vaggie nodded and allowed her hand to fall back to her side. “No.”

Alastor was disturbingly chipper about the whole thing, but for once Vaggie didn’t question it. She couldn’t, now. It was like that part of her brain just...accepted the odd observation and moved on. It was simultaneously deeply concerning and incredibly freeing.

She turned to leave, having had enough of spooky conversations and the apparent rewiring of her brain. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Whatever ‘it’ was.

She paused, doorknob twisted and pulling the door slightly ajar, to look at him one final time.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

The door closed behind her with a final, quiet ‘click.’

...

The room was dark when Vaggie opened the door to her shared room, but the bedsheets rustled as pale yellow eyes cracked open in the darkness. As Charlie shifted, sleeping faithfully at the foot of their bed as always, Razzle cracked open an eye as well. “Mm, Vaggie?”

“Hey,” Vaggie answered in a quiet whisper, quickly slipping into her nightgown so she could climb into bed. Charlie’s arms immediately pulled her in, to which Vaggie responded with a content sigh. “Did I wake you?”

“Wasn’ asleep.” Charlie murmured groggily, having very much been asleep. “How’d it go?”

“Good. Really good, actually.” Comfortable and with her eye closed, Vaggie missed the way Charlie looked down at her with slightly more awareness, intrigued. “I think we reached an understanding.”

“Really good?” Charlie echoed, ecstatic and wide awake. “Oh that’s wonderful, Vaggie. What a relief. At least some people are willing to put aside their differences and get along. Maybe you can give some pointers to my dad-”

“Less talk,” Moving as little as possible, Vaggie pressed her finger against Charlie’s lips. “More sleep.”

Charlie playfully nipped at her finger, but obediently settled back into bed and snuggled up close. “I’m glad you could sort things out.”

Though her newfound peace of mind readily agreed, there was still a small seed of doubt deep down.

“Wonderful.” Alastor chirped, folding his arms behind his back and watching the stress spool away into the ether. The sensation of her scrutiny fading to oblivion was a balm that he reveled in as the terms of their agreement settled along another; notes so similar that the toll was moot.

“You won’t.” Can’t, he delighted internally. He brought a hand up and twiddled his fingers in farewell, “Ta, dear. Sleep well.”

With the click, the hand came to rest over his chest. Turning, he stepped to the vanity he kept towards the bed and loosened the knot of his robe to pull aside and confirm his suspicion.

No fresh blood.

“Thank you indeed.” Alastor chuckled and tossed it over the back of the chair as he sat.

Further inspection revealed that, though it’d managed to clot, it hadn’t actually healed any further. Ah, well. He wasn’t too displeased considering the deal with her hadn’t even been preemptive.

Besides, Lucifer managed to push things along enough that Alastor could finish the strained line of sutures; raw and taut from barely containing the tear from splitting further. Pain hardly even registered amidst his lingering rush, a lilting tune floating through the air to follow his quiet hum and the steady weave of needle and thread.

Once things were tidied away a latent energy buzzed beneath his skin; it left little want to remain within the confines of his suite, and he was still famished.

Redressing, and with a pep to his step, Alastor parted from the roiling shadows of his room and mosied his way down towards the kitchens. Reaching the foot of the grand staircase, voices drew his attention to the side opposite the kitchen. Intrigued, he stepped over to linger at the edge of the entry to the bar, ear twitching.

So Lucifer was out for the night, hm?

Alastor spun his staff and pivoted back to his original goal.

Pressing the end of his staff against the double doors in his approach swung them open and exposed a sight; Niffty crouched atop a grotesquely colored tentacle that occupied the majority of the island at the center of the cafeteria. Cocking his head, he watched her yank at the massive knife buried into the meat and inquired, “Seafood, darling?”

“Yeah.” She seethed in manic glee, blade tearing away with a wet pop. “Angel said to cook it but I'm not gonna.” Giggling in the splatter of blood as she entered another round of hacking away at it.

“Good, follow your gut.” Alastor affirmed, reaching up to pat at her head in passing, leaving her to it as he wandered to the fridge and retrieved a portioned cut of venison. It wasn’t nearly as good as fresh off the bone, but it would do for now.

Mouth hinging back, the slab was deposited directly down his gullet and swallowed with ease. Taking a napkin from the counter, he dabbed at his lips and walked back towards the exit.

Niffty had already burrowed into the meat of the tentacle, not a care in the world. He would have wished her a good night, otherwise. Alastor was sure she wouldn’t mind, focused as she was.

What a gem.

As he took to each floor, he reveled in the simplicity of a walk-- even if it was only to the top floor of the hotel. It allowed him to stretch into the frequencies shared between all of his radios; placed in specific intervals in the corners of corridors and nestled into nooks between levels.

Given the current, general vacancy, they rarely had their uses beyond where the others normally resided. But, it was as close as he could manage without stirring up the dormant pang of the wound, so it would have to do.

For the second time in two days Alastor found himself strolling through Lucifer’s terrible color palettes and pushing through heavy wooden doors into the king’s duckish domain. “Honestly, with all that power one would think he’d have a better concept of organization.”

Tutting, Alastor twirled his staff like a baton before rolling into swinging it like a golf club.

A single rubber duck went soaring through the air and smacked into a family portrait, hitting the image of Lucifer with pinpoint accuracy. Alastor watched this with a hand shaded over his eyes and a braced elbow against his mic.

Idly, he mused that in their next visit he’d have to see if he could manage that again with the real one, aiming for the workbench. His eyes flicked from Lucifer to Lilith.

This led to a cursory glance around the space, having lacked the faculties to take in the finer details when so... low. The slow turn of his head froze on the single bookcase, grin twitching up beside his eyes. A few quick steps brought him up to its towering height, the majority of empty space packed with more pointless trinkets and novelty items.

“There ought to be something here.” He mused, tucking his staff under an arm as he brought a hand to his chin and scrutinized the first shelf at eye level. There were only a handful of books, and those were the first things he plucked to flip through.

Sequentially, and with no small amount of disappointment, it followed the relative pattern of categorized photo-albums; a new pesky color of fondness creeping through the freshly made deal with each picturesque moment of happiness. It was fleeting and a hollow shade of his original agreement. At least in knowing, it was far easier to parse as an intrusive thought.

Flipping another page, Alastor’s claw’s pinched a corner and paused mid-turn.

A photo of Lilith and Charlie on a walk; the princess just past the woman’s knee in height and looking up at her with the uncertain positivity Alastor had come to see as intrinsic to her character. But, it was laced with a smidge of surprise. Tracing the line of focus to Lilith, Alastor quirked a brow.

Throughout, there’d been some experimentation with outfits, but not so much her hair. Whether it was signature or a simple favoring, Lilith showed a blatant preference for the swooped bangs, feathered layers, and extravagant length.

Here, it was cut and curled. A clouded mass styled with a sunhat decorated in two simple black feathers. Where her expression had been doting and wholly invested, now it was bordering impatient and matching in the confusion.

Alastor tapped his thumb against the side of the page. “Hmm.” His gaze cut back to the portrait displayed on Lucifer's wall. Joy and bubbling adoration interwoven between the three.

He closed the book with a snap, the burst of air whisking a piece of cardstock off the shelf and to the floor as he set the album back into place. Curling a brow, Alastor bent and scoffed at the swooping lettering.

“You are cordially invited to this year's Satanic Centennial,” He drawled, “Fun, fire, and fantasies brought to life.”

Setting it back, he wiped his fingers off on his coat and tutted, “Well. Not the information I was hoping for, but information all the same, ay?” Alastor inquired towards the hotel’s resident pet. “Let’s keep this little investigation between us.”

Keekee’s singular eye was narrowed, long tail swishing in a passive kind of annoyance from where she was poised in the center of the king’s bed.

Alastor sent the cat a wink and twirled his staff as he wandered back towards the door. He’d make a point to spare another once over the next time he was in the room.

For now, patience.

After all, it was a virtue; what better to practice it on than a fallen angel?

Chapter Text

The (newly installed, yet unused) phone in the lobby began to ring.

Unwieldy claws barely managed to catch the bottle that fumbled in his grip at the sharp, grating sound. Husk glanced at it, then at the parlor where Charlie was busy talking to Dabi and Hawks, who were both seated as far away from each other as possible. The ‘How To Communicate Without Using Violence’ workshop was going surprisingly well.

The phone rang again. When Charlie made no move to get up and answer it, Husk heaved a heavy sigh and circled around the bar. It was an old-fashioned, bulky rotary phone, the design of it screaming Alastor’s choice, and Husk grimaced as he lifted the receiver to his ear.

“...Hello?”

“Husker, sweetheart, is that you?” A familiar, excitable voice answered. Though his expression didn’t change, his ears perked up a bit. “It’s been ages, Tomcat! How have you been? Is Alastor treating you well? Are you having a good time at the hotel?”

No one made him feel like a kid again quite like Rosie. “I’m fine.” He answered the typical barrage of questions, mouth quirking into a small smile. “Doubt you called the hotel just to check on an old man, though.”

“Old? Oh, please. You’re still a handsome spring chicken in my eyes!” Husk snorted softly. “Is Alastor around? I’d call him directly if he weren’t so ridiculous. You know how he is.”

‘Ridiculous’ was certainly a word for him. Husk didn’t even bother looking around the room, much less the hotel. “No.”

“Figures.” Rosie took the answer in stride. “Well, is our sweet princess Charlie around? I had this idea that I think she’s gonna love-”

“Yeah.” He cut off before she could go into one of her endless spiels, holding the receiver to his chest as he called out, “Princess, it’s for you.”

Charlie looked up, surprised. “Me? Oh, uh, of course! Vaggie, can you take over for a bit?”

She stepped away with a quick apology, completely oblivious to Vaggie brandishing her spear when Dabi sneered at Hawks the second her back was turned. Husk left the receiver on the table to return to the bar, which Charlie readily picked up.

“Charlie Morningstar here, hello?”

Meanwhile, in the roughest neighborhoods of Pentagram City, Lucifer was on the prowl.

“Charlie, sweetie, hello! It’s Auntie Rosie. How are you? Are you eating? You’re always so thin dear, I worry you’re not eating enough over there. Any new residents?”

A couple of sinners were taking a smoke break in front of a store, so Lucifer straightened his clothes and approached with a cheerful wave. The mere sight of him immediately filled the sinners with wide-eyed fear, throwing their personal belongings at his face before running for their lives.

“Rosie! Hey, it’s so nice to hear from you! I’m eating well, I promise. We have a couple of new patrons, so that’s pretty exciting! How are you?”

Lucifer reached up to remove the bag of cocaine from where it had gotten stuck on his shoulder pads, dropping it onto the sidewalk with a grimace. He looked at his reflection in the store window thoughtfully.

“Oh you’re such a doll. Happy to hear it. I’m doing great! Thought I’d call in to check on you all and pitch a little idea.”

A whirlwind of red glitter replaced Lucifer’s usual form with that of Daffy. He grinned at his reflection, quite proud of himself.

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

The next small group of sinners he approached did not run off in fear. But the second they spotted him, they burst out laughing. Lucifer waited for them to settle down with an unimpressed frown.

“Well, I was thinking. We over here at Cannibal Town love parties. Any excuse to eat, really. And we were just talking about having a bake sale to raise funds for a prosthetic for old Petunia’s husband, Gerald, since he donated his leg to the last bake sale, when it hit me- why don’t we host it at your hotel? Nothing quite brings everyone together like a party, dear! It’d be quite the PR boost.”

When the group finally quieted, Lucifer spoke to them. They burst into laughter again, but this time Lucifer did not have the patience for it. Daffy’s form shifted into something properly demonic and horrifying, which had the intended effect of making the group stop laughing.

“I think that sounds like an amazing idea! Absolutely!”

But it also had the unintended effect of making them throw their belongings at him again and run away screaming. The bag of heroin smacked him right between the eyes, where it had to be manually removed from his beak.

“When were you thinking of hosting it?”

The next sinner Lucifer approached was alone. This one did not scream, laugh, or flee, much to Lucifer’s delight.

“Would this Friday work? We could do next Friday if you want, but Gerald’s been complainin something awful about the pain and I’m afraid if he keeps it up Petunia’s going to chop off and cook up his lips next. Not that that would be a terrible thing, really- oh don’t give me that face Petunia, you know it’s true.”

Halfway through the pitch, the clearly stoned-out-of-their-mind sinner offered him a blunt.

“Friday works! We can totally get the hotel ready by then. I’ll let everyone know. Thank you for thinking of us, Rosie. Your continued support really does mean so much to us- well, me especially.”

Not one to call it quits once he put his mind to something, Lucifer kept trying.

“Oh sweetheart, of course. You can always count on me. Well hun, I really should hang up so I can get back to this meeting, but we’ll keep in touch about the bake sale. Also, if you see Alastor, could you tell him I called? I know better than to expect him to ever call me back, but just let him know I want to chat. Okay, bye!”

Sinner after sinner. Some alone, some in groups. Demons of all sorts, each form oddly and infuriatingly unique with no rhyme or reason. All of them very rude and deserving of being smitten, unworthy of his excellent pitch of the hotel.

“Sure thing. Bye, thanks again!”

Click.

...

Ring Ring.

“Charlie Morningstar speaking, thank you for calling the Hazbin Hotel. How can I help you?”

How many hours had it been? Days? Lucifer was too tired to even rule out the possibility, given his notoriously bad relationship with time. Somehow he’d ended up on the outskirts of the city again, though this area’s rocks were a lot sharper and darker in color- more like hardened lava than dead, cracked soil. It was here, sprawled amidst the rocks, that Lucifer (no longer Daffy) stared up at the distant glowing city of Heaven.

“Ooh, how professional.”

Out of the corner of his eye, a small, quadrupedal figure caught his attention.

“Wha- Uncle Ozzie?! Why are you calling the hotel? You know I have my own phone.”

Lucifer righted himself and pushed off the rocks, turning so he could get a better look at it.

“Where’s the fun in that? Maybe I wanted to hear my favorite niece on the job. By all means, keep talking to me like an interested patron- oh, my partner Fizzy says hi.”

Perched on a tall rock was a small, plump creature. Its fur was bright red with bloodshot eyes that seemed to pop out of its skull, though the black tipped ears and legs balanced the color palette nicely. It had a cute fluffy tail and tiny black horns, but by far its most defining feature was its sharp yellow smile.

“Hi? Um, listen Uncle Ozzie, this line really isn’t for calls like this. Give me a second and I can call you on my phone-”

Lucifer stared intensely at it. It wasn’t a hellbeast, that was for sure. It didn’t really feel like a sinner either, but then again neither had Dabi. It had to be one or the other, and Lucifer knew for a fact it wasn’t a hellbeast, so it had to be a sinner.

“Oh calm that beautiful blonde head of yours Charlie, I promise I’m calling to do more than just catch up this time. Remember when I told you I wanted to swing by to check out your hotel for myself? I was looking at my schedule and figured out this weekend would work perfectly for that. I didn’t want to show up and give your da- you a heart attack, so I thought you’d appreciate the heads up... Oh who am I kidding, we both know I mean your easily frightened father. Though maybe you shouldn’t tell him, now that I think about it. He might try to run off.”

It didn’t move as Lucifer approached. It continued to stay seated, its eyes boring into his soul. Even when he tried to address it, it did nothing.

“Dad lives here now, but...fair point. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days, now that you mention it. But he always reappears, so... um, anyway. That would be fine. We’re thinking of having a party on Friday, if you want to join us for that?”

Lucifer took this as a good sign. He continued to talk to the creature, though this pitch was more frantic and desperate than the others, a culmination of multiple rejections and growing exhaustion.

“Oh my Satan, a party?! We love parties. I, Asmodeus, the ruler of the Lust Ring, would be ecstatic to attend your quaint little Pride Party this Friday. With my plus one. Froggy, go get ready. We’re going shopping!”

By the time he finished the pitch, Lucifer was out of breath. He looked up at the creature, which did nothing to show it had even heard or understood the pitch. Accepting this as defeat, Lucifer sighed and turned to leave before he abruptly froze.

“O-”

Click.

“-kay. Sounds good. Bye.”

A matching, bemused click.

Lucifer slowly turned around, eyes wide. The moment he did, the little red monster jumped off the rock towards him. Lucifer held out his arms on instinct, flawlessly catching the surprisingly soft creature.

It reminded him of a cat. A weird, off putting cat-shaped thing, but a cat nonetheless.

"The pact is sealed."

It didn’t say anything further or respond to any questions, but the way its body trembled and the odd, static-like rattling that came out of its mouth almost resembled purring. Lucifer gave it a little scratch between the horns and accepted the much-needed victory without further thought.

Like dominoes organized neatly into a line, the pieces were all set in place.

Chapter Text

Waiting. Watching. Biding time with dials ticking like the hands of a clock.

After his little investigation, things had picked up a bit. The first lesson for their new residents went over with little fanfare, much to Alastor’s disappointment, but it was hardly the smear on his mood.

In fact, his availability and assistance--even just positioned silently in the background on standby with a book to pass the time-- was sugar to the cream of his interpersonal machinations within the hotel.

The same could not be said towards the relationship of his corporeal state and the sudden pacing of long plotted objectives aligning in quick succession. Something was coming and one very important cornerstone of the projected outcome was still... Inhibited.

Fingers absently glided over his suit coat, tracing the imperceptible line of inflamed stitching in a quick motion of brushing dust from the fabric. Once again, days had passed without additional healing for the persistently degrading wound.

Though, the recent deal and his own caution did well in preventing anything rapid. The reverse of feeling irritated at Lucifer’s absence and its irony was not lost on him.

Hence, the smear.

Claws tapped in a rolling count, starting at his pinky and ending with his pointer in sharp clicks against the edge of his microphone’s hood. Below, the readying of festivities were underway. His other arm folded tight behind his back as he observed from his tower’s window.

Mites were too trivial a comparison, despite the volume suiting just fine, so Alastor settled for ants.

In and out they cycled, toting tables and trays; bundles and baskets. Residing so high prevented any audible request for his aid; a strategically placed sliver of time where he’d devoted the majority of his preparatory efforts for the little soiree towards baking.

No magic in baking. Nothing arcane anyway.

After tidying up the sheet pans, icing the final cakes, and gussying up the presentation with a fresh squeezed artery, Alastor informed Charlie of his need to clean up before the event and off he went.

Niffty would handle the washing and this was far from Husker’s first time setting up the stand.

Still.

A flicker at his side and Alastor’s eyes twitched to the miming shadow. Its shoulders hunching sharply with a curly cue grin and pricked ears of palpable intrigue cocked his brow.

“Well, if she’s already here, best to get the show on the road before she comes hunting for me then, hm.” His chuckle was dry, tufted red and black twitching away the nerves in a tight flick. Turning on his heel, Alastor began the returning journey to the ground floor.

As usual, his timing was impeccable.

All around were stands boasting the confectioneries of the evening, decor and delight abound spread through the entirety of the ground floor. The moment his feet came to a standstill at that final step, Alastor watched the crowd part like the red sea before Moses, Rosie at the center of it all.

Or, perhaps a megalodon gliding towards a bleeding meal would be more apt. Her wide smile of knives met with one of his own as he called, “Rosie! Welcome, welcome, darling.”

Though they both beamed at each other, the moment was as pleasant as the one before a lunge.

Alastor held his hands out wide and cupped her elbows as he ghosted a peck against her cheek. “So sorry I missed you at the reopening, Charlie was a dear, I’m sure.”

“Alastor,” Her head tilted receptively as the name trilled off her rattlesnake's tail of a tongue. “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! I've been looking for you.”

“Have you?” He hummed, tilting his head and feeling his smile catch at the corners when her vise-like grip looped his proffered forearm. “Shall we peruse the goods before Susan gets her vile mitts on the best of the bunch?”

“Of course, of course.” She gave a quick pat to his arm, hand settling like a clamp against his elbow, “But first, a quick pit stop! There's a meatloaf I put in the oven that just needs a little peek.” A purposeful redirection set their trajectory away from the safety of the gathering and towards the kitchen.

Keeping his tone light, Alastor’s eyes caught her aim for the oncoming supply closet. “Odd to be serving meatloaf at a bake sale my dear, but technically speaking I suppose it counts.” Not allowing his steps to falter, he carried on with as much poise as one could when being reeled in like a hooked catfish.

“Right you are!” She chirped as Alastor was swept into the secluded space, hidden from prying eyes.

It was better to not struggle against Rosie. The woman wasn’t an overlord for nothing and even in prime condition he would hesitate to go hand to hand against her. He felt the hair behind his ears bristle as he fidgeted his coat back into place.

The moment the door closed, her smile dropped. Rosie crossed her arms and waited.

“Show me.”

Her demand stilled his fingers, blazing red shooting up to stare her down. Then, narrowing in consideration as his grin quivered around his fangs.

Alastor was fast, yes, but enough to squeeze by?

Nevermind what her fleet of gossips would do should anyone witness his fleeing Rosie of all people. A cinch at his flank dashed the consideration of resorting to his magic.

Rosie quirked an eyebrow in a silent dare, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

As if to affirm how bad of an idea it was, the wound clenched again; searing irate under the tension. Bah. His ear gave a sharp flick, dismissing the pain as he wrenched straight and groused, “Your concern is truly heartwarming.”

His concession was rewarded with a smile of her own and a loosening of her posture. “I’d wager anything major enough to have you running off like that and avoiding me is worth being concerned about.”

Rolling his eyes and turning his back to her was more for show as he removed his coat and draped it over a shelf. The bowtie went next and then his fingers hesitated over the buttons, cramping in detestation before deftly unhooking each one.

That too was folded and neatly sat aside.

With every parted layer the stitching itched and pinched, as though the very idea of exposure would rip them anew. It was almost worse than when he’d done it with Lucifer; at least then he’d been able to reason the discomfort neatly into medical necessity.

Closing his eyes, Alastor forced a sigh and swiveled on his heel. With hands splayed and arms held widely aloft, his brows arched in a very pointed, “Well?”

Turns out, it was worse. Rosie was a gem, the first tried and true that he’d discovered here, and it was solely by that knowledge that Alastor remained still even as both ears moved, nearly pressing flush to his skull as his lip curled at the hand lifting to her mouth, wide eyes, and hitch to her breath.

“Holy weapon?” She guessed, hand automatically moving to touch before she stopped herself.

Nerves flared all the same, rolling waves of prickling revolt and body tensing further at the proximity to his fevered skin. “A particularly gaudish piece, but yes.” They curled away on the sharp hiss of static, his eyes refusing to part even as her own traced the rigid plains of his face.

“How did you survive?”

Her question was something to focus on as he turned his eyes to lock onto the wall behind her. A wan chuckle crinkled in static and garbled bits of dead air, “Aside from the wielder having the coordination of a bumbling toddler, I'd like to commend my general constitution.”

The attempted levity was as sincere as this whole exercise; trust was a scarcity and affirming an ally when compromised was almost more precious than the certainty of a deal.

Even as the sincerity of her piercing gaze felt like it was carving right through him.

“Honey, you should be dead.”

Worse than the angelic steel.

“Spite and innate resourcefulness can take you very far, my dear.” He quickly answered, eyes centering back on her searching as phantom threads cinched the corners of his lips in a pinched smile. A snap of his wrist snagged the discarded shirt to hold in front of himself, leaning back to half sit against the mop sink.

Behind him, the shadow was a placid observer, far less reactive than its host as its attention remained solemnly on Rosie.

Loosely waving the notion of death away like the fugue state he’d existed in for a week, Alastor reasoned, “Besides, there have been plenty of times I should have been dead, and yet here I still am!” His other arm waved outward as his torso tilted in a mock bow, the ‘ta-da’ implied. “Don’t let the slim figure fool you, I’m actually very hardy.”

Just watching the demon's sharp movements, each one undoubtedly aggravating the wound, was enough to make her wince. A sharp frown pinched her mouth at the darker stains that tacked at the red fabric.

“I’ll give you that much.” She snorted fondly, blowing air through her cheeks in a puff. Casting another glance around the closet, a large bucket proved to make an excellent stool once it was emptied. The first aid box tucked away on the top shelf did not escape her notice.

Pleasantly surprised by the variety of its contents, she hummed, “As hardy and resilient as a cockroach.”

And just like that, she was a woman on a mission; cuffs unbuttoned and sleeves pinned above her elbows. There wasn't much in the way of an apron available, but a simple flip of fabric revealed a deep pocket sewn into the lining of her skirt and she pulled out a waist smock.

He adored her for it, shoulders laxing from their rigidity and hand easing the shirt away from the hard press. Watching the set up, Alastor's scrolling feed settled on a muted titter of piano and clarinet. Aside from a smile plucking the corner of her mouth, she simply hummed along.

The lack of direct attention settled his hackles. “Niffty did bestow me the title of ‘Roach King’.” He muttered, “So that’s a rather apt comparison, I think.”

“Good eye, that one.” Once she was satisfied with her impromptu little nurse’s office, she tapped the bucket invitingly. “Sit.”

As Alastor did with all challenges presented to him, he overcame. Stepping forward, he eyed the bucket and dropped onto it with the stiffness of a folding chair.

Tutting, her pointed nails carded through his hair in another motion of snipping the strings of tension, humming thoughtfully as she remarked on the need for a haircut. When he blinked, realizing he’d shut his eyes, a hand was patiently held out in front of him.

A glance between it, her face, then down to the shirt still positioned between them. “Ah. We’ll have to schedule something soon, then.” And handed it over, the depth of the vulnerability in that simple act lost to neither of them.

Refolding it to set back with the rest, she noted, “Some of your stitches came loose.” then produced a small, specialized sewing kit from that pocket as she propped open the first aid kit. “So let’s get you properly knit before we go back out there.” Threading the eye of a glinting needle, she pointed it at him, “I'm not leaving this hotel until I get a dance with you at this party, mister.”

It clicked into place on the small metal tray she sat on the shelf near his knee.

“Shame, I just fixed them up last week.” Alastor absently lamented, bracing the heels of his palms behind him. He shifted his position open to allow her more room as she twisted her skirt to the side and settled onto her knees. His gaze wandered to the cleaning supplies and an eye twitched at the first sting of antiseptic. “But, fret not, darling. A bit of your handiwork and we’ll be swinging the charleston licketysplit.”

A flat, amused look. “Been hanging around too many angels if you think I'm that good.” A snort and quick tap to his hip indicated which side she was starting at.

“Speaking of stitches...” Gently, soaked swabs dabbed at the puckered edge of the wound. It hadn't scabbed, and the telltale signs of infection were well underway in the congealed black. Rosie frowned in disapproving concern. “How’s our cranky patient? Did he pull through? Haven’t seen him around yet.”

The sharp smile creased in serration beneath his eyes in a small assurance, even as he grit his fangs against the tugs of sutures cut and pulled from inflamed skin. “Would you believe the repercussions of life came to haunt him? Took the fellow about a week to come to but once he did, it happened to be the very day another decided to check in with us.” He forced a sharp Ha at the recollection to smother the wince of the original stitching grating above his sternum.

“They had a bit of a spat, but nothing too major. Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised he hasn’t appeared. Bit of a recluse, that one.” When the final thread was pulled free, his hand automatically came to grip her wrist; both for a momentary reprieve and to steady the abrupt fuzz of gray clouding his vision.

The sudden iron grip on her wrist made her blink in surprise, but Rosie obediently stilled the hand as she waited. “Hell does love its irony, doesn’t it?” She smiled as her other hand took and deposited the ragged, caked thread into an empty tin. Softly, she continued, “Quite a coincidence. In my business, we’d call that fate. Star crossed, even.”

Once it passed, he took in a shallow, rattling breath and released her with a small nod. “The newer arrival is a bit more quiet--works for Carmilla, surprisingly.” Tilting his head back and closing his eyes helped to keep any lingering nausea at bay as he rambled on, “Next meeting I'll have to discuss the logistics of all that. Contracted sinners choosing to partake in the Hotel’s purpose, and such.”

Cracking open an eye to peer down at her plucking up the needle, he pointed out, “I haven’t heard your take on that either, by the by. There’s an awful lot of townies here today.”

She hummed, leaning purposefully towards his hip.

The first prick sundered against Alastor's nerves. His breathing stilled completely at the first pinch and pull of clean thread gliding through the divide of the wound, but a quick sequence driving forward with a speed that left little room to ruminate. With every tight, expert stitch, Alastor could tell Rosie was determined to do her damndest in welding him shut.

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t mind.”

So engrossed in the serpentine weave, he blinked down at her. Her focus remained affixed, “If it makes my people happy, who am I to try and stop them? They’ve wasted more than enough of their afterlives being told what to do.”

The gray returned with a force, static wasping dully around him and shadow spasming against the wall behind. Through the frizzing sound, a muted tune whispered through.

Rosie’s free hand released the soft press holding against his skin to squeeze Alastor’s knee. The dig of her nails successfully drew his glassy focus back to her, then she resumed.

“The bigger issue is getting any of them to even care. Mention anything about not eating flesh and you’ve lost ‘em.” She laughed. “They’re all still talking about how much they loved angel meat.”

“Hah. Good point.” He croaked in a pop of frequency, “It was delicious.”

The thread went briefly taut, muscle spasming through his shoulder at the starburst razing beneathing his skin, before being snipped free.

Like a puppet released, Alastor slumped to the side, shoulder pressed against the shelving. Rosie tidied up in a jiff, standing and brushing out her skirt in the same motion as tucking away the smock and kit.

He scrutinized this with amusement; always in a flourish, his Rosie.

When she turned back to him it was to cast a quick scan over her handiwork with a curt nod. “Much better. Not perfect, but a little less of a raggedy Anne, at least.”

He was just beginning to steady himself when her hand returned to his hair and ruffled it. “Have I ever told you I think longer hair would be real fetching on you? Maybe we should skip a few trims. I bet you’d be even more of a heartthrob than you already are.”

He squinted as she purposely added a disheveled look to her appearance and took the shirt as it was passed to him.

It managed to draw him back into himself, “Once or twice.” He hummed, standing and sliding his attire back into place with more care than he’d usually be bothered with. “Though, I’d rather ‘eat their hearts out’. In the literal sense, thank you.”

With everything tucked away, Rosie retrieved her hat from where she’d sat it aside and knocked it askew atop her head.

The moment Alastor’s wound was hidden, she swung open the door without so much as a glance back. Two overlords disappearing into a closet together was bound to have been noticed by someone, and she was pleased to see her suspicions proven correct with all the attention a simple opening of a door garnered.

It was as he was adjusting his bowtie that he froze, much like the creature he was cursed to embody as dozens of eyes turned on them.

“Rosie.” Now it was his turn to wield the tone of a rattlesnake, allowing his arm to be snared once more, “Our rumor mill does not need more fodder.”

All the way from the foyer, Angel spit out his drink.

“Nonsense, dearie.” Rosie righted her hat and straightened her clothes, grinning as she pulled him into her clutches like a lioness plucking her young cub by the scruff. “Any rumor worth its salt can never have enough fodder.”

Despite being the one to mess up his hair in the first place, Rosie couldn’t help but take a moment to fix it up again. “Better than everyone wondering what else we could be doing in a closet, right?” Deftly evading the snap of teeth when she dotingly pinched his cheek.

Under so much scrutiny, Alastor remained tempered, lips curling briefly over a fang in discomfort before stilling into a curved smile. “At this rate those incessant suitors will breed like rats in the plague.” But accepted his fate with grace, tilting his head into her tidying his hair.

She wasn’t wrong, and he could still lament the brief respite he’d acquired during Franklin’s time. In that same note, he too held his point; soft gasps and a chatter of muttering envy followed their path.

Rosie winked, ignoring all the curious looks as she guided them the rest of the way to the kitchen. The oven went off just in time.

She released him to tend to her lovingly made meatloaf. Perfectly heated to a fresh body. She helped herself to the ‘ketchup’ in the fridge and drew a little deer on it.

Freed, Alastor tucked his staff into the bend of his arm and leaned against the counter. A few cannibals milled around, prattling questions he hummed and hawed at.

“How long have you two been back together?”

“Are you gonna visit us more, Al?”

“Oh! Bert was talkin’ about how his new pepper crop is comin’ along. You should come over and judge it properly!”

It was just the last that he indulged, “Is it now? My, my, I hope it doesn’t disappoint like last year. Hardly itched my nose.”

Then, Rosie presented the decorated meatloaf. “You caught me, it’s not for the bake sale. This one’s just for you.”

The clunk of tin set and slid across the counter perked his ears as his eyes creased with delight. “Why, darling, you spoil me.”

“Aww.” Those about the kitchen cooed, including Charlie. She wandered over to investigate. “That looks incredible. You sure you don’t want to set that out?”

“Oh, no.” Rosie laughed, patting Charlie on the shoulder. “It's not for the faint of heart. This is an Alastor Special.”

The cannibals in the room nodded in understanding.

A single red claw pulled the tin closer to him before Charlie could make the mistake of touching it.

“It’s probably laced with something.” Vaggie grumbled in passing, toting a tray of Alastor’s previously made cupcakes out to his stand.

“Just baked with an eye or two and about a dozen of hell’s reapers minced into the mix.” Alastor explained with excitement, “Simple adjustments to her already pristine recipe, but they really do add that little kick.”

“Peppers,” one cannibal added to Charlie in passing, “hottest ones we’ve been able to grow down here and he pops em like candy.”

He cut into the head of the doodle and swallowed the first bite with a low growl of pleasure at the heat swaddling his tongue and the little burst of an eye between his fangs sliding down his throat like magma. “Perfection!” He proclaimed, snagging a roll of cling wrap to cover it and set the rest aside for later consumption. A scribble of his name in red marker labeled it plainly, a strong enough ward for any within the hotel as he placed it reverently within the fridge. “As much as I appreciate the gesture, darling, we still need to make our rounds!”

This time he snagged her, buckling their arms and toting her along as he gunned for the door, “If Susan bought out all the good bits, we’re going to have a chat about distractions.”

Throwing up a hand, he waved farewell to Charlie and the others and pulled her along, impassive to the eruption of intrigued ‘Oooo’s.'

Besides, if Vaggie was already restocking what he’d initially prepared for his stand, sales must be booming.

Well, they didn’t call them wet t-shirt contests for nothing, Angel reasoned as he stifled a grin into sultry surprise and puffed over his damp crop top. The girls that’d been hounding Husker turned with handkerchiefs and coos of sympathy while a good number of the men rerouted towards the stand, gawking and cash in hand.

“Okay, you saw that, right? I ain’t crazy?” Angel dabbed at his shirt with the rag Husker had passed him, the one he decidedly took instead of the guests’ after he’d spewed his drink in shock. “Cause I feel fuckin crazy. Luci was a surprise, sure, but I could’a sworn Smiles wasn’t this... y’know.”

Angel made a lewd gesture with his hands and Husk grimaced when he looked up after passing off a dozen cupcakes to Susan. “I didn't see anything and I don't want to see anything.”

Susan sneered at Angel and swatted him with her cane, “Nasty boy, watch your tongue or I'll rip it out, slice it like prosciutto and eat it on a Caprese sandwich.”

“Ow, I didn't say nothin!” He protested, flinching away from her reeling back again and quickly snapping, “Fine! Fine, ya got your cakes now move along, lady, sheesh.”

Susan made a noise like a badger and did so, cane still raised in warning even as she turned to Alastor and Rosie’s approach with a smile to match.

Alastor’s grin curled in a mirror of animosity, “Susan.”

“Hello, Rosie, sweetheart. Come to scout your marvelous organizational skills?”

Alastor’s eye twitched.

“Susan, hello!” Rosie leaned down for a greeting peck as the older demon turned her cheek expectantly. “Oh please, I'm hardly the focus tonight! We're here to scope out the goods.”

“Don't bother. Most of them are mediocre at best.” Still, Susan dug into her purse and produced a couple of tightly wrapped baked goods. “I saved you the best ones since I know you've been working so hard. This one’s got the perfect consistency. I guess Betty finally learned that apple crumble is supposed to crumble. Your lady fingers were flying off the shelves so I saved you one. My brain strudel was a huge hit, as always.”

Rosie graciously accepted the baked goods. “Thank you Susan, that was very sweet of you.” She paused, waiting for her to continue. She didn't. “...Just these three passed the test?”

“Too much salt. Not enough blood. Overbaked. Too dry. Soggy bottom. Tastes funny. Too many chunks. Way too much baking soda.” She pointed at each stall with her cane, then landed on Alastor’s, to which she commented directly to his face, “Your flavor profile is completely off. Do better.”

“Thank you, Susan!” Rosie cut in, verbally and physically as the atmosphere thickened with contempt. “You're not a judge at all our baking competitions for nothing! Does anything get by those keen taste buds of yours?”

“Not when you've been around as long as I have.” Susan finally lowered her cane to lean on it. “Enjoy yourself, girlie. You've earned it.”

Rosie nodded pleasantly, taking Alastor’s arm again so they could continue. Susan eyed this with a disapproving scowl as she continued walking past them, leaning over to say, “You can do better.”

“I hope you continue to enjoy the festivities, Susan.” Alastor bit through grit teeth, held at bay by Rosie’s firm hold, insistent tug and assuring pat to his forearm.

Susan sniffed, scrunching her face at the gesture and sneered, “Go eat the fuckin’ taint you decided to grate over these baked shits you call cupcakes.”

“Bye Susan!” Rosie declared as she flourished Alastor away from further antagonizing; similar to how one would a dog about to snap on its leash.

“Yeah, alright.” The old cannibal chuffed, cane waving them off as she scooted along, indifferent to the zipping snaps of static coalescing like a storm cloud.

Out of sight, out of mind. Alastor inhaled and the air equalized around them, “Now,” He huffed, “Where were we.” Looking over his stand, Alastor nodded at everything being in its place until his focus found a scantily clad Angel leaning against it. His eyes narrowed before clocking the attention it drew from passersby. “I don’t endorse this, but continue if you must.”

Angel gave a half-assed salute and replied, “Just gettin’ my community service in.”

“And lookin’ like a doll while at it!” Rosie cooed. Angel beamed and flapped a hand coyly farewell as the two overlords turned back towards the other stalls.

As they strolled along, Alastor provided an ambient background of lilting music filtering through the radios smattered around the building. It easily filled the room and fluffed the tone of the event. As they wandered by, he leaned toward Gretchen’s stall with its platters of gourmet, blood-red jello shots. It was as he was fervently scanning the menu stand to the side that three were slid towards him.

His gaze cut to the woman and she shrugged, pointing a long pair of skinny tongs at each as she listed, “Bourbon, Malt, Rye.”

“Hi, Gretch.” Rosie snorted and cocked her hip as she watched Alastor slap down a bill and gather all three in one hand. “How much have ya gone through?”

“‘Nough that Petunia’s gonna have a fit when I buy out Gerald’s leg on liquor sales. They’ve been abstainin, apparently.” She snickered, leaning close to whisper some juicy gossip passed from loose lips right as an explosion of light erupted in the middle of the foyer. The blast of air that followed gusted the shots from Alastor’s hold right as he was opening his mouth to swallow them all.

“TA-DA!” Came a boom of a voice, flickering plumage and garish patterns a beacon in the muted color scheme of the present crowd. A hoarse whisper cut through the silence, drawing the massive demon’s attention to his shoulder. “Oh, wait-”

A plume of iridescent, violet smoke and he was gone.

Alastor shut his mouth with a sharp click, head turning with a crack when a knock followed in a jaunty beat. Charlie had poked her head out of the kitchen at this point, eyebrows pinched high as she hurried to the front door.

“Unc-”

“TA-DA!” Came the same voice, another poof of smoke and the previously monstrous size was reduced to something a little more suited to the structure of the space. The demon swept in, scooping Charlie in a hug, “Oh you’ve gotten big, chickadee.”

“Y...ou’re squishing me.” Charlie wheezed, patting his arm fondly and pointedly to ease his grip.

“I love what you've done with the old place.” He continued, dragging her along as he surveyed the hotel approvingly. “Look at you! My little Choo Choo, a natural interior decorator!”

“It was a joint effort.” She corrected, rolling her eyes with a smile. “All of it is.”

“Awfully humble for royalty. ” Finally freeing herself from Asmodeus’ loving hug, Charlie could pay attention to his plus one. The last thing she expected to see was an imp, eyes lighting up with wonder as he took a bow with a mechanical whirl. “Fizzarolli at your service, Princess Choo Choo.”

“Oh, psh, it's Charlie.” She waved the nickname away, embarrassed. “I know you! Or, well, your robots. I had a Fizzbot for a while- at least until Dad realized it was a Mammon thing and got rid of it.”

“He didn't like the hidden cameras.” Vaggie added, joining the conversation. “Hey. I'm Vaggie. I'm-”

“You have a girlfriend?!” Asmodeus shook Charlie, distressed. “And you didn't tell me?!”

“You have a partner and you didn't tell me?!” Charlie shook him back. Vaggie spared them a deeply fond expression before pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek and returning to crowd control.

“Quite the commotion happenin’ over here!” Ever the busybody, Rosie shamelessly pulled Alastor into joining the little group. “Oh my, are you two matching? Isn't that the cutest! I've been trying to get Al here to switch up a color or two for our get togethers but the old dear is stubborn as a mule.”

A placating pat to his hand was all she offered as said sinner hummed in a buzz of tuning stations.

Preening at the compliment, the moment Asmodeus saw her he let out a soft gasp and exchanged a knowing look with Fizzarolli. Charlie turned with a bright smile and opened her mouth to start introductions.

“You are absolutely stunning.” Asmodeus appeared directly in front of her, taking her free hand to press a kiss to the back of it. Hiding a giggle, Charlie shimmied over and gave her uncle the room to interact.

Fizzarolli zipped up beside them, ghosting fingers over the ruff of her sleeve and cooing, “You gotta give us the name of your seamstress, this work is sinfully divine--Ozzie imagine the costuming.”

“Oh, I know.” The sin agreed, delighted at the prospect.

For the first time in a long time, Rosie found herself flustered as she lifted her hand from Ozzie’s hold to press to her cheek. “Oh, shucks. You boys sure know how to make a lady blush!” She stepped away from Alastor to lift her skirt and do a little twirl, further showing off her outfit. “I made it all myself!”

Closer now to the radio demon, Charlie tried to share a moment of fondness for loved ones having the opportunity to meet, but paused at the wasping static foaming around him.

“Beautiful and talented?” Asmodeus was completely enamored. “Honestly, some of you sinners...! Your talents are wasted up here. I'd invite you to the Lust Ring in a heartbeat if your corporeal form could take it.”

“It really can't!” Angel hollered from Alastor’s stall, waving at the two Lust residents when they looked over. Both readily waved back, Fizz stretching up to wolf whistle at the sinner’s outfit; the sound was joined by a large portion of cannibals cheering in agreement.

“Oh, don't worry about little old me, handsome.” Rosie winked, amused by their antics and cocking a hip, a dangerous glint in her pitch black eyes. “You'd be surprised what I can take.”

Asmodeus threw his head back and laughed, each of his faces creased with glee as he elbowed an equally amused Fizzarolli. “Ooh girl, you are funny.”

“We've gotta at least have her over for brunch, Ozzie.” Fizzarolli pleaded, grasping at the sin’s arm.

It didn’t even take him a moment to consider as he immediately agreed with a wink. “Oh, I think we could certainly manage something, Fizzy.”

“That’s darling.” Rosie gasped with a titter of a laugh, patting at the imp’s shoulder when he returned to his usual height, “Well, sweetheart, our outfits might not match, but our names sure do. You dears can call me Rosie.”

The trio fell into a soft burble of laughter, slowly overlapped with a grating staccato “Ha ha ha.” Alastor subtly bled into the space to hover at Rosie’s hip with a smile that immediately made Fizzarolli recoil and grimace. “That sounds like a marvelous time!” turning his head with the snap of bone, “Mind if I tag along?”

Mouths tilting in unimpressed smirks, Asmodeus folded an arm over his waist and gestured loosely to the whole of Alastor, “You’re exactly where you need to be, little ego baby.” Tossing that same hand in a wave of dismissal, he continued, “Speaking of, where is our resident Prince of Pride?”

Using this as a means to press a hand reassuringly to Alastor’s shoulder, Rosie having already looped their arms to quell the fuss, Charlie sighed, “We’re not sure.” pressing a hand to her nape, she cast her eyes to the side and shrugged, “He went out a few days ago, but... Well, you know.”

Asmodeus’s hair fluffed a deep azure, “Honestly, even with an invitation he’s just the worst with keeping track of things. Maybe I should-”

“Oz,” Fizz interrupted, patting soothingly at his elbow, “We’re here for miss Choo-choo, remember? Besides, he lives here right?” When the imp looked at her Charlie perked in surprise, touched as she nodded emphatically. “He’ll pop up eventually, let’s just enjoy ourselves and check out the place you’ve been talking about nonstop after finding out about it, huh?”

A bit abashed, Asmodus flushed and relented with a hard sigh and a small puff of flame. He turned his focus back to Charlie and dawned a renewed cheer, “You’re absolutely right, Froggy.” Reaching a hand to beckon her close, he asked, “How about you give us a tour?”

Smiling, Charlie nodded again and said, “I’d love to.”

As the trio began to step away, Alastor moved to follow, eyes narrowed and snapping wide when he was jerked to a stop by an immobile Rosie. “Ah ah,” Rosie tutted, that same glint returning to her eye. “I believe we discussed a dance, mister.”

On cue, though still tense in the shoulders and poorly concealing his glower, Alastor complied with music returning through the radios and a reluctantly pacified chuckle when he was whisked off to the dance floor.

Not an actual one; the schematics of the hotel meant that the largest open space was the foyer, but the residents of cannibal town were more than accustomed to their overlord’s penchant for throwing balls. In time to the swell of music, stalls shifted back and towards the walls as though Rosie were cutting through water; eagerly pulling Alastor along.

Their feet paused at the center, connected arms extending as Alastor folded his other behind his back and tilted towards his leading foot in a shallow bow. Rosie, having already pinched the edge of her layered skirt, pulled it out to the side and dipped in a curtsy to him.

In the next beat, they began to circle one another, Rosie’s hand lightly folded over the curled palm of her partner before his grip guided her smoothly into position for a waltz.

“Y’know,” She hummed, fingers lifting from where they’d found his shoulder to smooth a loose tuft of hair, “This song is incredibly depressing.”

A click of stations pricked at his ears, then he laughed. Low and bright as he turned them in a slow spin, “Oh, I don’t know. More nostalgic, I’d say.” And joining in on a hum, Alastor carried along, “So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know, Tell them I won't be long...”

Rosie snorted, her smile incredibly fond as she tilted her head at him, “Honey, you died before this ever came out.” Pursing her lips, she reconsidered, “Though, I guess there was a war when you were a boy.”

Endeared by her attempt at reasoning, he tutted, “Was there nothing else that happened in ‘39?”

Around and around they went, only turning twice more before Rosie gasped and swatted his shoulder. “You sap, it’s nearly been ninety years. That was just after we met, wasn’t it?” She shook her head with a delighted laugh and bent Alastor in a sudden dip; the coos of onlookers green with envy and admiration alike.

He beamed up at her and crooned with amended lyrics in time to the song, “And we sure did meet again, some sunny day.”

They shared a laugh, flowing into the next song with jovial grace, a view of dazzling sparkles just missed in their blending into the growing group of dancers. “Your smile is coming back, Al.” She thumbed at the tiny crease of crow’s feet and carded her fingers through the hair at his temple, “It’s good to see it, ‘bout damn time.”

Alastor rumbled a low tone in his throat, head cocking into her hand with a curled brow. “Whatever could you mean, my dear.” Ticking up the corners in a pointed show of its ever present state he corrected. “It’s never left.”

“Mm-hm.” She countered, brow curving up right back at him. “Sure, sure, spout your nonsense like there isn’t a whole dialect to be mastered in that face of yours. You’re never goin’ to fool me.”

He opened his mouth, ready to counter, when the sound of screaming cut through the atmosphere.

Chapter Text

Dancing couples twirled, steps keeping in perfect rhythm. The melody of the waltz lilted through the building like an airy breeze, the essence of Cannibal Town settling nicely into the hotel- joyful and macabre.

It was right smack in the middle of it all that a whirlwind of red and gold glitter formed.

Those that noticed stopped what they were doing to watch, moving seamlessly from the paths of others as Lucifer stepped out, head held high and a triumphant smile on his face. In one hand, he held his trusty cane. In the other, a small red creature.

“Charlie!” He called out. “I’m here with a- what the heck is all this?”

Had anyone been paying attention to the creature, they would have noticed its glassy red eyes widen and its black pupils dart wildly around the room.

The sudden obstruction on the dance floor went unnoticed by the majority of cycling dancers. A particularly enthusiastic couple were making their rounds when one of them bumped into Lucifer, who was blatantly not paying attention.

The creature- which had begun to shake- leapt out of his arms the moment it felt his hold loosen and tore, literally, into the crowd.

Screaming and bloodshed ensued.

“...Shit.” Lucifer cringed as the situation rapidly unfolded, watching half the guests pull out weapons while the other half clambered up stalls and furniture to avoid the thing. Ankles had been bitten; chunks of flesh were missing.

There was a trail of blood tracing out its trajectory.

“What the hell is that thing?!” Husk demanded from his spot on top of Alastor’s stall, snatching his tail when the creature made a running jump for it.

“A hotel patron!” Lucifer tried, doing his best to locate the creature so he could catch it. It was very fast, little more than a bloody, vicious red blur. “Err, at least he was supposed to be. I don’t know what happened, he was so calm up until this point-”

“That ain’t no sinner!” Angel managed to whack it with a folding chair, but it didn't even flinch; maw tearing through metal like paper.

“Of course he is!”

“Less chatting, more killing!” Vaggie snapped, throwing her spear like a javelin in a desperate attempt to slow it down. Though it was aimed with deadly precision, she watched its body morph like clay just enough the spear only sliced off its ear before it ran off. Several cannibals immediately gravitated towards the ear.

“Not exactly our friendliest hotel welcome wagon, I have to say.” Lucifer drawled. “So he's a little excited. Now we have to kill him?”

“Just get that thing out of here!”

Curled up in a corner, doing a great job blending into the hotel decor, Dabi was fast asleep. He’d been doing so for the entirety of the party, as evidenced by the many cups, plates and coats left precariously balanced all over him.

Then, the creature jumped up and chomped on his snout. Blood gushed forth like a geyser as Dabi’s eyes snapped open and zeroed in on the creature, lips peeling back in a snarl.

The enraged roar and vicious thrashing was to be expected. Blue fire now decorated the blood-splattered room, burning away demons and quaint decorations alike.

The screaming and bloodshed intensified. Also, everything was now on fire.

“Will you hold still?!” Lucifer snapped, one eye closed as he tried to aim a finger at the creature holding steadfast to Dabi's nose.

A gunshot rang out, nailing the creature directly in the leg and startling Lucifer into firing a shot of magic. It neatly bound Dabi’s snout, but the creature continued to run free.

“Whoops.” Lucifer waved a hand, dissolving the bindings. “I told you to stop moving.”

He received a scathing glare for his efforts.

“Damn I’m good.” A triumphant Angel proclaimed, freezing at the sharp cry of pain from behind him. Lucifer winced as he watched Husk yank the creature off his face and slam it against the wall.

Blood seeped through his claws as Husk gripped his eye, ears flattened in pain. “Don't worry about me,” He grit, hiding his face. A wing curled automatically, but he refused to let it shield him.

Poised strategically off to the side of the dance floor, Rosie leaned on her parasol and waited patiently. Looking for all the world completely nonchalant and at ease, she seemed like just another helpless target as the creature ran towards her.

It leapt at her, unhinging its jaw and exposing several rows of sharp teeth. Rosie smiled as she reeled her parasol back like a baseball bat and hit it with all her might, sending it flying across the room.

It slammed into a large pot in Niffty’s hands, who immediately put a lid on it as Alastor lowered her back to the floor. It was easy enough to magically seal the pot shut, perfectly withstanding the creature's violent attempts at escape.

Niffty grinned as she pressed her eye to the glass lid, watching the gnashing of teeth with morbid fascination. “I can’t wait to include you in my story.”

“Alright everybody, show’s over!” Standing in the corner by Dabi, Rosie waved her parasol to get everyone's attention and cupped her mouth. “Let's get all the wounded over here and the bodies over there by Alastor!”

Lucifer was baffled at the speed and efficiency with which everything happened. Unsure how to help or what to do, he remained in the way as everyone moved around him like a rock in a river.

In the sea of movement, he spotted a familiar face.

“What the fuck.”

Charlie walked into the foyer in a disbelieving haze, eyeing the chaos and carnage with growing horror. Broken stalls and baked goods lay scattered across the floor, remnants of a successful bake sale. There was a concerning amount of blood from various wounds being patched up in Rosie’s corner. Blue fire still burned in bright patches here and there.

Then, to add insult to injury, the beautiful chandelier came crashing to the floor yet again.

Her eyes lingered on the couple of bodies before she spotted the wounded, rushing over to see what she could do.

Rosie was busy patching up a cranky Dabi as Charlie crouched beside Husk, whose eye was being bandaged by Angel. “Husk! Are you okay?!”

Anyone else would have received a deadpan look and a pointed gesture at his wound. Since it was Charlie, Husk just grunted.

“What...what happened? I just stepped out for twenty minutes, how did this...”

“You should ask him.” Husk didn't usually speak with such vitriol about anyone but Alastor, but there wasn't an ounce of warmth as he pointed a single accusatory claw at Lucifer.

Having been watching the entire encounter, Lucifer straightened at the attention and offered a weak smile.

As if on cue, one of the stalls fell apart behind him.

Charlie stood up slowly, looking at Husk one last time before checking on Dabi.

“Are you-?”

“Where is that little fucker?” When Dabi tried to move, Rosie whacked him and brought his snout back down. “I'm going to incinerate it.”

“Yes, yes, we know, you're still a big bad dragon.” Rosie smiled at Charlie. “He'll be alright, sweetie.” She glanced at Lucifer, then back at Charlie with concern. “Will you?”

Charlie didn't answer. She approached Lucifer and stood across from him like an opponent in an arena, everyone else forming in a crowded wall around them.

“Charlie! Hey!” The enthusiasm was very, very forced. “You threw a party! That's pretty...swell! It looked fun!”

Charlie crossed her arms and frowned. “What happened, dad?”

“Oh, nothing major.” He flapped a hand as someone wailed in agony. “Your friends had it covered. Surprisingly competent, this bunch! I hardly needed to lift a finger myself.”

“What happened, dad?”

“I don't really know?” Charlie was outright glaring at him, now. “I, well- Okay. I've been out trying to find a new guest for your hotel! Which was no easy feat. Getting people to listen to you without force, manipulation or coercion--Ha!-- is really hard, let me tell you. But I did it!”

He snapped his fingers, summoning Niffty and the pot she was still holding. Initially confused at her sudden shift of surroundings, once she spotted Charlie she grinned and held the pot high over her head. “Doesn't he look like Alastor? They have the same smile.” She cackled. “I'm gonna call him Smiles. Or Alastor Junior. Maybe Carl.”

Charlie peered into the pot with disbelief. ‘Smiles’ was gnawing on his own injured leg.

“Did you bring a wild animal in here?” He couldn't read her tone at all. It sounded incredulous? Definitely incredulous.

“What? No, no. That's crazy! Who would do something that crazy?” He forced a laugh. “Didn't you hear me? I brought you a new guest! For the hotel. Who is currently being planned into a recipe by your friends.”

He pointed awkwardly behind her, where Rosie had parted from her patients to discuss with Alastor on how best to prepare the creature while he honed a skinning knife. Charlie didn't take her eyes off him.

Lucifer hummed, tapping his chin before shrugging. “But maybe that’s fine. For the better, actually! I don't know how much you'd want a feral guest living here anyway. I mean, you've already got your hands full with the other one!” He chuckled as he jerked a thumb at Dabi.

She didn't say anything. Why wasn't she saying anything? The silence ate away at him worse than anything else could have.

“Twice the bedrooms, we're slowly filling,” He tried singing. Charlie loved singing. “Just a couple more to fulfill your dream-”

From behind Charlie, unnoticed by Lucifer, Asmodeus was furiously making a ‘knock it off’ gesture with one hand while lifting the debris of a fallen stand off a collapsed sinner.

“Stop!”

Lucifer stopped.

“Just...!” She gestured at all of him, too frustrated to even articulate. “Stop it! Can't you see you're just embarrassing yourself? Embarrassing me?”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but Charlie beat him to it.

“Ugh! Where do I even begin with you? Do you even have the slightest idea of what you did wrong?”

Lucifer waited for her to continue, but she just stared at him expectantly. Not a rhetorical question, then. He gave the vagueness of it some thought. “I... was very careful to follow your criteria,” He mused aloud, fingers at his chin as he furrowed his brows. “It has to be a completely voluntary choice. Which it was! He said so himself. I don't know why he's choosing to act like an animal, but I guess that behavior isn't all that uncommon amongst sinners after all.”

He tapped on the pot with his staff, getting the creature's attention. “Hey, you. What's wrong with you? Behave.”

“Dad!” Charlie was exasperated. “This isn't just a disobedient pet! You brought a wild, violent animal into the hotel and it hurt people.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” It was Lucifer’s turn to be exasperated. “I made every single hellbeast! I did not make this.” He tapped on the pot with his staff again and the creature lunged at the lid with a harsh thwack. “Ergo, it has to be a sinner.”

“That's not the fucking point, dad!” Lucifer blinked at her a few times. Never, in her entire life, had she ever sworn at him. “You hurt people! You have no idea what we're even doing or how important this was to the hotel! You just waltzed in here with another one of your hair brained schemes without a single thought for how that might affect anyone else, didn't you?!”

“I was just-”

“Just once I wanted something to go according to plan.” Charlie carried on, angrily shrugging off Vaggie’s hand when she tried to place a hold on her shoulder. “Just once I thought finally, finally something would go right with the hotel.”

With each word she spoke, the chasm between them split ever larger. Lucifer felt like he was standing at the precipice of it, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

“I was just trying to help.” He tried to repeat, hand open and beseeching understanding.

“Do you even know what that word means?!” Charlie’s eyes were red with fury; her horns began to sprout and Lucifer closed the gesture in surprise. “You haven't done anything but try to tell me what to do since you moved in here! You do all these things you assume I want, and you can't even do the things I ask you to do. All you ever end up doing is making everything worse!”

Lucifer could do nothing but look at her, devastated, as he remembered his ex-wife telling him the exact same thing.

She pointed a shaking finger at the door. “If you really want to help me, then get out of my hotel.”

Charlie was crying. Lucifer wondered when she started. Before he could so much as raise a hand to try and comfort her, she turned around and ran up the grand staircase.

Vaggie immediately tried to follow, but Asmodeus caught her by the shoulder and shook his head.

The silence in the foyer was thick and awkward. With Charlie gone, the whispers began and all eyes looked to Lucifer. The rumor mill churned.

Asmodeus stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Luci, babe...”

There was no reaction to show Lucifer had even heard. He kept looking up the staircase before his eyebrows pinched and he looked down. A flurry of sparkles took him away.

The silence that settled again was broken only by the sound of someone sneezing.

“Good riddance.” Dabi huffed.

Out of his good eye, Husk watched Charlie run up the stairs with a pensive frown as Angel finished tying the bandage behind his head.

“You should go to her.” He turned, meeting Angel's startled expression.

“Me?” Angel snorted. “What the hell am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing. Charlie doesn't need comfort.” He nodded to Vaggie, who was quietly talking to Asmodeus. “You know a thing or two about daddy issues. Sometimes that's all it takes.”

“...I'd ask which aspect of my life yer referin' too, but that just emphasizes your point.” Angel stood up with a sigh. “Fine. Think a musical number'll do it?” He smirked at Husk’s soft huff of amusement.

“With that one? Absolutely.”

“Don't run into any walls while I'm gone.” In the midst of the confusion, Angel easily made his way to the stairs, but just slow enough to hear Husk snort,

“Fuck off.”

Two hands held up middle fingers as he rounded the banister to the second floor and pressed on towards the penthouse.

Chapter Text

There was a big, new, beautiful balcony attached to the penthouse of the Hazbin Hotel overlooking Pentagram City.

It was perfect for a sad song. Maybe a soliloquy or two.

Leaning on the railing, the owner of the hotel and princess of Hell herself, Charlie began to sing.

“When you look at me,” Her voice carried on the wind, as heavy as her heart currently felt. “I know you only see a child.”

From beside the balcony doors, though Razzle was alone, he still faithfully provided backup vocals as he played the piano.

“Memories of a time long past,” Her eyes slid shut. “A person I will never be again.”

When she opened them again, it was to look at the vast pentagram in the sky. “I wish you could see me as I am,” A hand reached out, grasping at something far out of her reach. “Would you still love me?”

Quieter, she added. “I still love you.”

The piano melody was comforting; the song a welcome outlet. Deeply engrossed, they both completely missed the sound of the bedroom door opening.

“A family can still be made with two.”

She hugged herself, staring morosely into the distance.

Razzle eventually noticed Angel, hooves continuing to press the keys as he glanced solemnly at Charlie.

Angel nodded to the little goat demon and continued his approach, “Hey, sista, I hope it's okay that I'm comin’ in...”

Walking past the balcony doors, he pointed out, “Cause it sounds like you might need a win.”

Angel stepped up beside her and joined in leaning against the railing, “Jus’ so ya know, this place you were happy to show...” He gestured to the hotel around them and the faint sound of Alastor’s music resuming below.

And when he bumped their shoulders, it was with a reassuring smile as he sang, “Yeah, the one you brought me to,” The smile turned to a grin that Charlie mirrored, “Kid, this family is more than a few.”

Propping a chin in his hand Angel asked, breaking from the tune but waving at Razzle to keep up the quiet ambiance, “So. Daddy issues, am I right?

Realization struck as Charlie grabbed her cheeks, the smile wiped off her face.

“Ohh no,” Her fingers dragged down in horror. “You all saw that. You heard that.”

She threw herself on the railing, dramatic and despondent. “Not again.” She groaned. “We were finally starting to be taken seriously! Now we're going to be hounded by the press as the hot-spot for Morningstar family drama!”

Her fist hit the golden railing repeatedly. “Why does this keep happening?!”

Though her fist paused after a final hit, Charlie did not lift her head. She stayed that way, silent, for a long moment.

Angel took the opportunity to laugh. “What’cha talkin’ about, Charlie? What press? This was a private party. An’ I don’t think Rosie will let her crew gab about ya to the presses--not without some serious repercussions.”

“Someone always gabs. Watch, it'll be all over V by tomorrow.” She murmured in depressed resignation as Angel patted her head.

“So what if it is?” Shifting around her, he stood at her back and explained, “Do ya even see half the shit that gets posted on V? News gets old real fast.”

He tugged off the ties holding her hair back and started a thick braid going down the center. “We'd be lucky to get that kind a’ attention anyway. Anythin’ that gets ya trendin’ is worth the clout. Ya ever heard a’ the term "there's no such thing as bad publicity?”

Charlie sniffled, which Angel took to mean “no.”

He snorted, “Well it's pretty self explanatory.” Threading his fingers through the hair at her temple, he started a thin crown braid that connected with the other side and tied off in a swirled bun above the one that fell down her back. “But I think we both know that's not what this is really all about.”

He dusted off her shoulder before tugging her up and turning her around, offering a sympathetic smile. “Right?”

Her eyes were glossy as Charlie threw herself at him in a hug, which Angel was more than prepared to catch.

When she spoke up again, it was soft and vulnerable. “He always makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong.”

Angel winced. “I get that.”

Charlie released him to pace around with restless energy, leaving Angel to lean against the railing to watch her. “It's so dumb! You know my dad. He's super impulsive and he makes tons of mistakes all the time! If I did half the things he wanted me to do, well...the hotel wouldn't even exist in the first place!”

“Hell yeah. The fuck is livin’ even for if ya don't say ‘screw you!’ and do the shit ya wanna do instead? Especially if it gets ya disowned, makes it more of a thrill.” Angel nodded, and though Charlie paused to give him an odd look she opted to keep going.

“And then he has the audacity to be upset?! He brought a weird, ugly little monster into my hotel! I'm the one who gets to be upset!”

“It was pretty ugly.”

“So why...!” She stopped pacing to grip the railing. “Why do I...”

When she didn't continue, he put a hand on her shoulder and supplied, “Feel bad?”

She nodded.

“Ain't that just the core of all those gnarly mommy an’ daddy issues?” He withdrew his hand, using all four to pat himself down until he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After he lit one for himself, he held the box out to Charlie, who accepted one after a moment of hesitation. “Would anyone give a shit about these fuckers and their opinions if we weren't wired to?”

Charlie sighed deeply, holding the cigarette out to be lit. She took a slow draw where Angel pulled in a long, heavy drag.

“I didn't have a good dad.” He offered, gruff and stilted as smoke puffed around the words. “Or...really much of one at all. Cut him out of my life real fast. Well, tried to, anyway. Siblings make shit complicated. Anyway. Maybe what I say doesn' mean jack shit, but you are in control here.”

Charlie huffed, coughing a little on the smoke and waving it away from her face as she groused, “I sure don't feel in control.” Hiccuping a short laugh, she sniffed, “And I definitely have no control when it comes to what he decides to do.”

Angel snickered, “Ain’t that the whole reason hell was made in the first place, ‘cause nobody up there could either?” Flicking his thumb against the butt of the stick, Angel watched ash flit away on a damp breeze, “Nah, ya can't control him, but ya can control what he gets t’be a part of.”

“It's not that simple.” She eyed the lit cigarette between her fingers, lost in thought. “I want my dad to be a part of my life. I want him to live here and be a part of the hotel, and he clearly wants to, too. I just...want him to stop trying to parent me, I guess?”

“Too little too late?” Angel wagered, rewarded with a little nod. He mulled this over, attempting to imagine himself in the same situation. “I'll be real, toots. When it comes to parents, I think it's always worth cutting your losses. But... Have ya tried tellin’ him that?”

That got a laugh out of her. “You sound just like Vaggie.”

Angel scoffed. “More like she sounds like me.”

“I don't really know how? He just makes things so difficult.” A sharp gesture outwards accidentally sent the cigarette flying from her hand, plummeting in a tiny pinwheel until it hit a shrub below and instantly set it alight.

They watched the fire for a moment before Charlie threw back her head in a loud groan and gripped the rail in frustration while Angel hacked on a guffaw, “See! I can't even smoke a cigarette right!”

Finding it easier to talk if she wasn't looking at him directly, she sighed and stared past the thin plume as he collected himself. “It just feels like...the stakes are really high, and not just with my dad. Every choice I make, everything I do for the hotel, has the potential to go terribly wrong and hurt everyone in my care. I feel like I keep getting too personally invested and I'm not able to do what I need to do... I mean, even now! If I hadn’t let my dad live here, none of this would’ve happened.”

This time, Angel was the one giving her an odd look. At Charlie's questioning head tilt, he shook his head.

“An maybe I coulda won the lotto if I'd spent more money on scratch tickets than drugs.” Angel rolled his eyes. “Thinkin’ like that is a great way to drive yourself crazy, and you don’t need your dad’s help for that one.”

Charlie pouted at him, but there was no real hurt.

Shooting her a wink, he tacked on, “‘Sides, ya just kicked him out. Boom, no more disruptive daddy!” Clapping her shoulder, he beamed as dawning horror widened Charlie's eyes.

“OhmygodIkickedhimout--” Panic lit faster than her stint with the shrub, hands immediately going to grip at her hair and frizzing the braids. “What have I done? I forced my dad to live on the streets- wait, what am I talking about, he still has the mansion- where he lives all alone.” She was chewing on her lip by the end of it, lamenting, “He's going to become a recluse again and it'll be because of me. He was finally talking to people again.”

Angel's eyebrows had steadily risen to his hairline before buckling down in a sharp furrow, hands grabbing her shoulders to break the spiral, “Damn, Husk wasn’ kiddin’, you really do try to fix every problem you see.” giving her a gentle shake, he commanded with a poke to her chest, “Stop that.”

Charlie's eyes searched his, mouth opening to utter a single, “But-” only to be staunched with that same finger pressing over her lips.

“Ah-ah, look.” the final hand gestured down to the smoldering pile of ash that was once the shrub, “See. Some fires can put themselves out, so stop stickin’ your nose in all of ‘em.”

She reached up and pulled his wrist, freeing her mouth as she argued, “I'm all he has, Angel.”

Throwing up his hands and propping his other arms akimbo at his hips, Angel took his turn to groan, “Damn, I wish we had a shrink down here.” At her surprised blink he doubled down, “Yeah, seriously, cause honestly? You're not. He's got other people in his life that care about im’, like the Lust guy. It's not your fault he doesn't reach out.”

Charlie went quiet until Angel focused her attention back to him with a little shoulder pat. “Right now, I think ya need to focus on what Charlie needs. Without dad in the equation, just Charlie.”

Grimacing at the idea of a therapist in hell, and musing it'd probably be the icepick guy, he missed Charlie's active consideration.

“...I don't know.” She eventually murmured. “I'll have to think about it.”

She looked out to the city beyond, then back at her star resident with a smile. “You've really grown a lot, Angel. Thank you.”

“Ehh,” He waved off the gratitude. “Just my two cents as someone who's kinda been in your shoes.”

Then, a proverbial light bulb flashed behind her eyes, and she leaned to him with balled fists of excitement. “I may not know what I need right now, but I do know exactly what the hotel needs!”

“Oh...?” He couldn't help but lean back a bit, all too familiar (as every resident was by this point) with the sight of Charlie and an Idea. “That's a start, I guess. Should I ask or--”

This time she gripped his arms, beaming from ear to ear, “To be completely honest with you, I've been thinking about this a lot for the past couple of weeks. I talked it over with Vaggie and she's on board, but I didn't want you to feel overwhelmed or obligated so I’ve been hoping the right time would come up and I- oh, I'm getting ahead of myself.”

Both eyebrows were raised high in wary anticipation.

“We need a PR representative. Someone who can take care of the hotel's image, who’s been down here for a while and knows exactly how to cater to sinners, and who has the charisma and quick wit to speak on behalf of the hotel should any press come around!!” Her excitement only grew as she spoke, shaking him with increasing ferocity.

“O-kay,” Angel got out, holding his arms aloft for balance when she released him to pace again. “That's good? You gonna hire someone or like--”

“Actually,” Charlie paused, pivoting so fast her braid whipped around and smacked her in the mouth. Puttering and pulling away some of the hair that snagged, she cleared her throat and took a breath. “Actually, I'd really like to offer the position to you.”

There was a pause before Angel laughed, pressing a hand to his head and scrunching his face in bemusement, “Sorry, think ya shook a few screws loose cause it sounded like ya jus’ said ya want me to rep the hotel.” Both sets of arms crossed, eyebrows pinched as the shock faded to uncertainty in the light of her resilient eagerness, “Charlie there was a whole thing about my image not bein’ the right pull for this place, and now ya want me to handle newsie shit?”

The light didn't waver, confidence punctuating her step as she came to stand in front of him again, “Sure, back when we opened the hotel seven months ago. And since then you've shown significant progress as a hotel patron, you've brought in fifty percent of our new guests--”

“One guy, an’ technically Alastor--”

“Fifty percent.” Charley repeated firmly, “It was your idea, and you were their chaperone! You fought for this hotel, you helped rebuild, and you haven't restocked any of your drug stashes in a whole month!”

“You were the one raiding my stashes!?” He accused, “I gave Niffty hell cause I thought she was throwin’ em out!”

“My point,” Charlie emphasized, only slightly abashed, “Is that you know this hotel, everyone in it, and are committed to our goal! Not only that but, yes, your job and public persona have given you the skills to navigate interviews! I truly can't think of anyone better suited for it.”

Grimacing, and still clearly nervous about the prospect, Angel grumbled, “Ya really need to meet more people.”

“Angel,” Charlie placed a hand atop his crossed arms, assuring and far more collected now that she'd voiced the thought, “You don't have to answer now. I just wanted you to know you're the first person I thought of, okay? Let me know what you think after giving it some time.”

He gave a non-committal grunt.

“I also want you to know that it's okay to say no.” She squeezed his arm. “I really mean it when I say I think you're perfect for the job, and obviously you’d be paid for it and we’d work something out so you wouldn’t be overworked by both your jobs, but if you'd rather just stay as a patron here, we'll find someone else. No pressure.”

“You give people way too many outs.” He grumbled, but gave Charlie a grateful, lopsided smile. “...I'll think about it.”

She beamed at him, giving him another hug before turning back towards her bedroom, head held high. “Okay. I'm good now. I'm ready to go back downstairs, clean things up, and not think about my dad.”

“Thatta girl.” Angel moved to follow, hiding a snort under his hand. “But maybe we should do somethin’ about the birds nest on your head, first.”

Chapter Text

“It's stringy,” Alastor commented after swallowing an unpleasant bite, the meat as bright red as the creature it came from despite being cooked. Rosie hummed in agreement, frowning around her mouthful. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin when she swallowed before pushing her plate away.

“Not much flavor.” She sighed in disappointment. “What a shame. It was so plump I really thought it would have more fat.”

“A surprising lack of bone, too.” Alastor agreed. They both nodded thoughtfully at each other, reaching the same conclusion: “I've never tasted anything like it and, frankly, I never want to again.”

“What an odd little thing.” Rosie tutted, picking up her tea instead. “Call me crazy, but I think his majesty might have a point. It's not a hellbeast. Not sinner meat, though. It's neither, really, like...”

Alastor wrinkled his nose. “Something vegan?”

“That's it!” She laughed as Alastor smiled, completely missing the way he abruptly stiffened as she continued to muse, “It's got all the right texture, but the flavor’s horribly bland. Didn't take any of the seasoning we used--must be like cookin’ a tongue.”

She stopped only when Alastor hastily pushed away from the table with a “Pardon me for a moment.” and made a quick escape as Rosie gave him a knowing look. “Let me know if you need some ginger, hun!”

There was an absence of a trailing shadow even as he melded into the darkness of the hallway.

Alastor reappeared in the safe, remote seclusion of his tower; the pang in his chest an afterthought as his heels clicked when he stepped out. On the floorboards, a writhing inky mass awaited him.

“Funny,” He eyed the shadow warily as it morphed from his silhouette to a woman's; tall and imposing with curled horns. “Not once can I recall a time you decided to call upon me.”

“Bring him back.” The shadow’s lilac eyes opened into slits, the command coming down like a mallet to the skull.

Alastor’s smile twitched in futile defiance, her order pulling in the flash of a violet shackle around his neck; glinting a searing green. “After all this time,” He grit through his teeth, tone laden with a forced lightness despite the churning irritation, “Why the sudden interest?”

“Now, Alastor.” And he jerked at the tether. Eyes ablaze, his horns creaked in length and wasping static as he stared her down.

Alastor didn't bother with further questions. Not that it would have mattered since she was already gone, a whirl of black shifting to link back to his feet and wavered in a quelled mirror of his own rigid posture.

A step, turn and screech of stations swung in the motion of Alastor’s punch connecting with the wall nearest to him. Wood splintered and buckled under the force, a sizable hole crumbling at the edges when he removed his fist and shook off the debris as he snatched his staff from the ether and left the tower.

It would be the second time in a month he’d be parting without notice; unfortunate, but inevitable and something he was sure Rosie would hound him for later. Luckily, the disarray of the event was still properly occupying the majority of the staff and attendee’s attention.

Ah, well. The faster he got back, the better. He ignored the inevitable pang as he stepped through the shadows to the other side of the hotel's front door, looking out at the city in irritation. Where would a pitiful imbecile run off to lick his wounds?

As he was contemplating his next move, a familiar griffin landed nearby. Alastor found a kernel of delight in the cautious look he received when Hawks noticed him, clearly debating if he should take the roof entrance instead.

Inspiration struck.

“Welcome back,” He smiled with all the charm of an eel. “I bet you see an awful lot of the city flying around up there, don't you.”

Hawks gave him an odd look. “I didn’t think you’d be one to state the obvious, but sure.”

A twitch of the eye and Alastor decidedly ignored the sass, instead inquiring, “Lucifer. The short, bumbling idiot in the white suit with the tacky hat. Have you seen him?”

Hawks narrowed his eyes warily. “The circus guy that lives here? Really into tranquilizer guns?”

“That'd be just the one.”

Hawks thought about it, peering back over his shoulder as though parsing through his recent flight before turning back with a lopsided shrug. “Nope.”

Alastor squinted at him, annoyed but accepting of the disappointment all the same. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. “Hm, pity.”

With an ominous wave of dismissal, Alastor started walking. Might as well start with the most obvious place he could be- or that was the aim until the faint hum of a drone drew his attention upward.

How convenient.

Hawks watched the demon’s departure, grimacing when Alastor fuzzed into a stream of static and shot up into the surveillance drone. The machine wobbled, sparks lancing around it before it steadied and went on with its perverse observation of hell.

Normally, this mode of travel was least preferred as it pushed at the dissonance between corporeal and not; invisible chains and tethers rattling against his atoms in a sandpaper vibration.

But, Alastor was nothing if not well versed in a little discomfort.

Traversing the space of frequencies and electrical currents, he poured from the speakers within the Hub of V towers; a careening, crackling putter and whiff of smoke left in his wake as he stepped along the grating and over the serpentine cords woven neatly underfoot. Placing a hand atop the back of Vox’s broad chair, claws dug into the cushion and rent deep gouges into the padded headrest.

Honestly, with a television for a skull Alastor hardly saw the benefit of such luxury anyway. Turning it to the side, Alastor swept back the tail of his coat and sat primly before the excessive wall of monitors.

“Now,” He drawled, a hand coming to his chin as he inspected the wrap-around board of keys and dials. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

Manifesting his staff, Alastor held it aloft and swept it over the board; ears pricking at the changes in tone until a low keen echoed through the feedback in irate layers of indiscernible chattering. Leaning forward he jabbed at a few of the buttons and cranked a small dial, watching as stations clipped over to surveillance footage in a wave across the monitors.

During his idle inspection of the footage, the clash of metal doors being kicked open interrupted the little ditty Alastor had been playing for ambiance.

“YOU-!”

“Ah-ah!” Alastor shushed, eyes fixed to the screens as a hand wrapped in roiling black lifted to quiet the other demon. “I’m busy.”

“What,” Vox’s audio sharpened with fury. “Are you doing in my fucking chair?

“That’s horrendously unsanitary.” Alastor quipped, unbothered as his eyes flicked to the next image.

Vox stomped across the walkway, almost reaching out to grab the chair’s headrest before thinking better of it. Instead, with a very purposeful several feet of distance left between them, he pointed at the door. “Get out.”

Spotting the figure he’d been seeking pictured on the upper right most screen, Alastor hummed a buzz of amusement; audio creaking menacingly around them from agonized speakers. As the chair spun to face Vox, screens popped and frizzed along the turn until he stilled. Behind his silhouette was a sea of fractaled plasma. A damning, jittering red glow cast over them both as the crisp scent of burnt wiring wafted like steam underfoot.

Alastor cocked his head and shrugged, nonchalant, “Fair enough.”

The glitching monitors pulled him out of his hateful glower long enough for Vox to realize his technology was frying, forgetting Alastor as he dove for the keyboard. “No, no, no- what did you do?!”

Standing, Alastor brushed out his coat and strode past with a parting pat to Vox's shoulder. “It seems you do have your uses. Ta’, old chum, It's been a pleasure.” And wiped his palm against his side before zipping back into the single functioning speaker that remained.

It blew after his exit.

The bellowed stream of curses and swears shook the Entertainment District yet again.

Chapter Text

Despite its considerable size, most of Pride was uninhabitable. One needed only to step outside of bustling Pentagram City to see the vast stretches of dead, desolate land. There were no plants or animals around, the ring's only residents those cursed to reside there.

It was as empty and terrible as a nuclear apocalypse.

Lucifer had always despised it.

One of the worst parts of his punishment being bound to Hell was the effect on his creation abilities: anything he created in Pride became horribly mutated, doomed to never match his vision. Every attempt resulted in the hellbeasts that ran rampant throughout the rings.

Thousands of years of experimenting had taught him the further from Heaven, the more successful his abilities- hence why Sloth, the deepest ring, thrived with the most plants and animals.

It was such a lovely place. He'd tried countless times to get Lilith to move down there, but she claimed Pride was the best strategic location for them to be in, always wary of Heaven. That, and the loyal army of pride-bound sinners at her command, meant that of course she had no reason to leave.

As Lucifer lay back, looking up at the distant star of Heaven, he wondered if maybe it was time to move there alone. Retire, even. Charlie clearly made a better ruler than he ever had.

There was nothing left for him, here.

With a deep, heavy sigh, Lucifer sat up. His legs dangled over the edge of a large crater, blood-red water bubbling ominously within, its heat suffocating and unbearable.

It was surrounded by six smaller craters, each filled with its own burbling water attributed to a color of sin. Any creature unfortunate enough to fall in would meet a deadly fate, boiled alive by the roiling pits.

Even a fallen angel likely wouldn't walk away unscathed.

Unblinking, unseeing eyes stared into the bloody depths as six wings unfurled from his back.

.

“We call this one a banana!”

Lucifer made a vague sound of acknowledgement as he boredly looked at the banana tree. He wondered what Adam and Lilith were doing.

“It's sweet and yellow- but it comes in other colors too! The yellow ones are the best, though. I’ll go get you one.”

They were both avid in encouraging him to spend time with Eve. Adam because Eve was so curious about him she wouldn't stop asking questions; Lilith because she felt sorry Eve had no one else but Adam to talk to.

Having quickly learned there was nothing he wouldn't do for his beloved humans, Lucifer had been all too happy to comply.

But Eve...

“You don't like it, do you?”

Lucifer blinked, snapping out of his thoughts to look at Eve as she lowered the banana in her hands in defeat. Her expression was crestfallen, face so expressive he was positive Emily played a bigger role in designing her.

“No, no.” Lucifer took the banana, forcing a smile. “I love it! What a lovely, ah- what did you name it again? Nana?” He took a bite of it, peel and all, and gave a thumbs up.

Eve watched this with wide eyes before she burst into laughter. It was not as melodious as Lilith's. “What are you doing, silly? You have to peel it!”

She put her hands over his, demonstrating. When she made no move to withdraw her hands, Lucifer gave a gentle tug to dislodge her.

She didn't budge.

“Ah.” His smile wavered under her expectant gaze. After a moment, he leaned down to take a bite out of the banana again, humming in surprise. “Oh, wow. That's pretty good.”

“Isn't it?” Eve was standing very close, face inches away as her gaze flicked to his lips. “It's one of my favorites.”

“I can see-”

She kissed him. It was such an insistent and sudden kiss Lucifer almost lost his balance, but he stayed afoot and pushed her off.

The banana fell to the grass, forgotten.

“Eve.” He gasped, breathing heavily as he held her at arm's length. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?” She pouted. “I know you've kissed Adam and Lilith.”

“That was-” Lucifer flushed a deep, embarrassed gold. “That was different.”

“How?”

Personality wise, Eve and Lilith could not be more opposite. Eve was bubbly, agreeable, and asked endless inane questions. She liked picking flowers, eating fruit, and holding hands. Simple. Safe. Everything about her screamed a predestined angelic design and that made her, in Lucifer’s honest and blunt opinion, very plain and boring. It was obvious Heaven was not willing to take any chances with their new human.

Adam and Lilith were filled with fire and spirit. Lucifer had designed them to be able to learn and grow from the start. They asked questions he would never think to ask. They took chances. They got hurt. They got angry with him sometimes. They were his creations, developed and shaped into their own unique beings from their time on Earth, and he loved them both with his entire self.

Eve was very much not his.

“I...uh...well...”

Physically, though, Eve and Lilith looked very similar. Heaven had undoubtedly used his blueprints as Eve looked at him with the intense stare she inherited from her predecessor. He could not look her in the eye.

“Nothing I ever did was good enough for you.”

Lucifer's gaze snapped back to her face, startled by her tone. The edges of his vision blurred.

Back then, the pressure made him blurt out the truth, which made Eve burst into tears and run off. Lilith scolded him to be more gentle where Adam assured him Eve cried about random things all the time. Later, he would go look for her and apologize, and she would readily forgive him.

There were no tears in her eyes now. She glared at him through the shadows cast by her bangs with such burning hatred he took a step back, yelping as she grabbed his wrist in an iron grip.

“Did you think I was blind?” The fingers digging into his wrist stung. “Or did you think I was just stupid?”

“Eve, what are you doing? Let go.” Lucifer looked at her with growing fear as he tried to free his wrist.

“I knew you never loved me as much as you loved them. Of course I did. You never even tried to hide it. Even though I loved you.” She twisted his wrist, making Lucifer cry out as he fell to his knees. His magic wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? “It's pathetic how happy I was when you paid attention to me. Like a dog begging for scraps. And yet you still used me.”

“That's not true.” Lucifer looked up at her, pleading and completely at her mercy. A bright red apple appeared in his palm, the one being held tightly by Eve. “Knowledge is a gift, not a punishment. We talked about it extensively, remember? I-”

She twisted his arm sharply, breaking it with a snap and sending the apple flying. Lucifer cried out with a pain he hadn't experienced so acutely since the Fall.

“Don't act like what you did was an act of kindness.” Eve hissed, gripping his wings next as he folded over in agony. She tore them off one by one, like petals from a flower. “You have no idea what you took from me, what suffering you inflicted on us.”

“I didn't mean to,” Golden tears rolled down his cheeks, arm still tightly clutched to his chest. “I didn't mean for any of that to happen, I-”

“But you know what, Luci?” Though her tone lost the hard, angry edge, there was something sickly sweet and sinister to it as she kicked him onto his bleeding back, forcing him to look up at her towering silhouette. Her purple eyes glowered down at him as her lips twisted upwards in a smirk. “Now I get to take everything from you.”

Her hand grabbed the front of his celestial robe, pulling him up and off the ground.

“I'm-” He clawed desperately at the hand, legs dangling over the great pit that opened below him. Golden blood dripped steadily into the darkness like a sacrifice. “I'm sorry.”

Her smile curled, inhuman and cruel. When she spoke, he heard a chorus of Eve, Lilith and Adam say, “You should be.”

She loosened her grip and allowed him to Fall.

He kept looking up as he plummeted, arms outstretched as his tears carried upwards. He fell like a shooting star.

It burned, it burned, it burned.

.

Beside the spring, a curled up ball of feathery wings began to singe from the heat, unaware of the figure strolling through the rolling steam.

Chapter Text

Lucifer had taken the brunt of the Fall.

The decision to pull Lilith close, using his own body as a buffer between her and the unforgiving terrain of Hell, was completely instinctual.

The Fall was a punishment in and of itself, endless yet terribly fast. Wings and magic were completely useless. There was nothing but the hopeless, inevitable succumber of despair.

Memory of impact evaded him, a voided blip in his expansive existence. Phantom agony was vivid after though, barely able to crack open his eyes to look at Lilith’s sobbing, battered expression. At her most miserable, she was still beautiful. The pain in lifting his arm to cup her cheek hardly registered.

“Lilith,” He murmured in a reedy, broken whisper, spine cracking in the haggard hitch of his lungs. “Lily, I...”

“Oh, you foolish, foolish angel.” She lamented as Lucifer squinted, noticing the pair of horns she now sprouted. His back throbbed again. “Why did you do such a stupid thing?”

“Couldn’t let you get hurt.” The throbbing was more persistent, now. It was quickly becoming more annoying than painful. “I...”

She put a finger to his lips, looking down at him with an exasperated, fond smile that didn’t fit the memory at all. “Stop wallowing in the past, won’t you? There’s so much you don’t even realize you’re missing. It’s time to wake up.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, a particularly concentrated jolt had him crying out with an-

“Ow!” The wing dome cracked open as Lucifer jolted into consciousness, automatically checking his wing before realizing he wasn’t alone. “You-?!”

Alastor lifted his microphone as if surprised by the successful thwack, looking to the staff then squinting to the side suspiciously.

Then, “Me!” he answered with equal vigor, folding his arms behind his back and watching the mass of feathers fully unfurl.The reveal was a puffy eyed, wet faced Lucifer. When they tucked away it was seamless, fading into nothing as if they’d never existed.

“You...” Lucifer tiredly repeated, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Repetition is a banal practice and I hardly have the patience for it.” Came the irritated answer, then waved his hand as though beckoning a dog. “Come on, now.”

A yawn and a middle finger accompanied a groggy, “What are you talking about?”

Tapping a finger in a staccato beat against the hood of his mic, Alastor bit, “We're going back to the hotel. Up.” And prodded the foot of his staff at the king’s side again. “You can wallow in that wretched rubber zoo of a tower.”

The jab was received with a scowl and an irate swat. “Will you stop that?!” An explosion of glitter transported Lucifer to the other side of the crater, safely out of reach. He stuck out his forked tongue. “This is my crater and I will wallow here as long as I want to.”

He sighed, brief ire deflating with his shoulders slumping. “Besides, you heard Charlie. I can’t go back.”

Alastor flitted through the mist in a black line of shadow just to manifest behind him, earning a dirty look.

Leaning down to level their heads, he scoffed, “For having a child that’s a thousand years of age, you are incredibly inept at handling a simple misunderstanding.”

He stood upright, eyes cutting to the side to stare down at him, “There is such a thing as offering an apology for your blunder. Ah,” Alastor lifted his fingertips to his lips, clarifying, “Blunders. Pardon the slip, I forgot there were multiple and it wasn’t just a singular string of prolonged idiocy.”

Setting the same hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his grip on the staff behind him creaked, “That said, my good fellow, humility is one of the virtues.” Hard lines creased under his eyes, expression shadowed by his bangs and gaze a glowing, molten red; not unlike the well beside them. “What better way to reconnect with your estranged child than to challenge the very sin you represent? That is what her whole project is about.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows as he turned to look, the gesture more disconcerting than reassuring. In the glow of the crater, Alastor’s expression looked completely deranged. There was clearly nothing altruistic or kind in any of this.

Still, Lucifer humored him.

“An apology isn’t good enough.” He shook his head. “She was right. I haven’t been helping. If I’ve learned anything from living at the hotel, it’s that she’s a fully grown adult capable of making her own decisions, and all I’ve been doing is just...standing in her way.”

The allowance of his hand remaining in place lasted as long as Lucifer’s ability to withhold deprecating excuses. Each finger peeled away like the jointed legs of an insect, curling up in poorly concealed repulsion as his eyes lidded with annoyance.

“The best thing I can do for her is leave her alone.” He glanced away from the crater to give Alastor a wry look. “I’m surprised you, of all people, even care. I thought you’d be overjoyed. Did she send you out to look for me or something?”

He snorted as he settled into his spot to continue his sad wallowing, assuming the conversation over. “Well, you can tell her I’m fine. She can call me if she needs something. I’ll always answer.”

At the very least, the devil wasn't blind.

Alastor didn’t care, but there were so many maddening strings tangled around Lucifer that his absence really would be more of a detriment than not. Still, with the resumption of petulant despair, he felt his eye seize in a twitch.

The staff was brought before him, his hold shifting low as he turned the hood to protect the mic from any blunt force damage. Tensing to swing while Lucifer crooned his own stupidity, Alastor felt a serrated fritz of lilac irritation zap to the base of his skull; eyes shuttering between black and red as sparks of green flitted around.

Sucking in a breath through grit fangs, Alastor pressed the sound as a relenting sigh and collected himself enough to glower down instead. Bracing the staff against the ground to initially steady the raw pulse of his nerves, he lowered himself to sit beside Lucifer.

“She didn’t.” Alastor offered after a moment of silence, his focus on the burbling surface of the crater as he recalculated. Lines of dialog carded through his mind with their respective ramifications until an appropriate angle was found. “You have a place at the Hotel, regardless of my or Charlie’s feelings on the matter; as I said, this was simply a misunderstanding, was it not?”

An eyebrow cocked inquisitively, eyes sliding to the side to peer at him and intending it to be rhetorical. “It wasn’t a hellbeast or sinner, by the way. Your initial assumption was wrong, unsurprisingly, but when the odds seem fifty-fifty we hardly ever realize there may be a third option altogether.”

“Impossible.” A hand waved, dismissing the notion immediately. “There is no ‘third option.’ That’s all there is down here, sinners and hellbeasts. Oh... Uh, hellborn too.” A pause. “And fallen angels I guess, but there aren’t that many of us and that thing certainly isn’t one.”

After a pause, he scowled. “...Fine. But it's not something I made and it definitely wasn't created here.”

The flat look he received went pointedly ignored as Lucifer stared intensely at the water.

Undeterred, Alastor drawled, “This seems to be a trend of you Morningstars: getting in your own way. Charlie was similar when faced with Adam and his posse. But things are hardly ever black and white, particularly regarding that little devil of yours and her dreams.”

For a moment, blessed silence as Lucifer mulled over his words, tension slacking to a small crease between his thick brows. Then, his features twisted back to a scowl, stubborn.

“I’m doing the right thing.” He dug in his heels. “Charlie built everything she has from scratch. She rallied her own allies and followed her dreams, and look how far she’s come! I’m just holding her back. You know I am.” A sharp, deprecating ha preceded, “You said it yourself, you've been there from the start.”

A noncommittal hum traced the ambient white noise that surrounded the radio demon, hand coming up to glide his claws through a cloud of steam. Alastor allowed his mind to wander to situations far more pleasant than this.

Trudging through a bog in slippers, perhaps.

In turn, Lucifer’s focus on Alastor managed to pull him from his rumination by proximity alone. Gesturing at him in frustration, Lucifer continued, “Which makes all of this so much more confusing! I don’t understand you at all! You don’t like me! I don’t like you! Why are you still here?! Go back to the hotel, tell Charlie you tried, and we can all move on! Why won’t you give up on me like-!”

Lucifer froze.

Watching him puff into glitter on a snuffed admittance curled Alastor’s claws into a fist.

“Just...just leave me alone.”

“No.” The staff whipped to the side with an audible zing and snap as it connected with the back of Lucifer's knees. Alastor shaded a palm over his eyes to watch him pitch into the tacky dirt like a felled tree.

It was only when he was properly grounded that the radio demon stood and brushed the loose sediment from his pants and coat. “I have no plans to do that.” Stepping up beside his crumpled form, Alastor extended a hand. “Besides, what was it you said? You can't quit now, hell you owe it, there's still damage to be undone.”

It wrenched at something deep within him to contort his leer into something amiable. Alastor loosened the tension behind his ears and released the twinge at the corner of his smile. “I didn't take you for a hypocrite, your majesty.”

Lucifer’s expression pinched with anger where Alastor’s loosened with faux kindness as he slapped the outstretched hand and got to his feet.

“What do you take me for, then?” Gone was the slumped posture and miserable furrow of his brow, replaced by ramrod straight defiance. Here, finally, he carried himself like the proper ruler of Hell.

Alastor's ruse went with the smacked hand, fangs glinting in the curve of a snarl quivering around his blackened gums as he shook off the prickling itch of Lucifer’s touch from his palm. “An oblivious fool.”

“I’ve had enough of this.”

Alastor opened his mouth to retort, malice dripping from his tongue and ready to flay when a pinpoint starburst imploded over his ribs and his audio split a record screech between stations.

The brief blow of air razing past didn’t even register until the back of his shoulders plowed into desolate sand and rock. Alastor’s legs bowled back in the momentum and there was another strike to the spine as he flipped over himself before his body finally skidded through a rolling stop.

Through the steam, a hovering, burning silhouette now properly donned his demonic horns, wings, and tail. Red eyes narrowed, ball of flame licking flares in the fog with snapped patience as he ordered,

“Leave.”

The agony torn asunder through Alastor’s torso was nothing compared to the insurmountable fury that peeled him from the ground.

Regardless of the chains cinching around his contorting limbs, Alastor still would have spat, “No.”

Dials clicked and seared an acidic gold as gnarled horns branched outward to claw at the air. The fabric of space around him decayed into viscous pits, opening to the chattering horde of cretins roiling up around the swaths of tentacles lashing in the wake of his approach.

The reaction that Alastor’s single, defiant “no” triggered in the king was so visceral he’d almost forgotten what true anger felt like until it rang through him like a gong.

For so long, Lucifer was cavernous and hollow. Depression steeped into every crevice of his being. The people that meant the most wanted nothing to do with him and everything he tried only made things worse.

Thousands of years running through the cycle eroded a well of despair so deep it felt like he would never see the top again.

Rage was a geyser.

At that moment, none of it mattered. There was only the all-consuming desire to hurt. And for once, with absolutely zero fondness or obligation to this detestable demon that had it out for him from the moment he stepped into the hotel, Lucifer gave in.

The next foot forward engulfed Alastor in bestial shadow, darting across the stretch between them in a blink.

This time, when he struck the king it was fueled by the split of electricity tearing through his neurons.

A garish bark of a laugh echoed the crunch of his fist against Lucifer's cheek, inducing mania laced delight from a maw of knives when it sent the king through a pillar of rock until he spread his wings to stop the momentum.

A hard flap sent Lucifer rocketing right back with a returning punch to the face, fists engulfed in flame.

“You think you’re so scary and powerful,” He snarled in multiphonic disdain, hands flaring out in a vicious mockery as Alastor went pinging off like a newton ball. Any tentacle or stitched shadow creature that dared to touch him instantly vaporized. “Did you forget who I am?”

Lucifer didn’t give him the opportunity to recover, darting after with such speed he beat Alastor’s flying trajectory by a few seconds just to punch him straight into the ground. An entirely new crater crumpled the surface like paper. “You don’t have the SLIGHTEST idea who you've been playing with.”

Diving down, Lucifer balled a fistful of Alastor’s coat and tossed him up just so he could spin a kick into his chest.

Breaking physics, his hand snatched Alastor's leg before the energy of the kick could even move him, reeling over the force to repeatedly slam the demon against the ground like a ragdoll. Each beat sharpened his words as he snarled, “I’ve only tolerated you for as long as I have because of my daughter, but mark my words you insolent, insufferable sinner: if I wanted you gone, not even your ashes would remain.”

So blinded by fury, it didn’t even register that Alastor had shriveled back to his normal size, bedraggled and completely limp.

So he threw him again, sending the body rolling harshly along the ground until, in an ironic twist of fate, it stilled at the edge of Lucifer’s burbling crater.

The king appeared before him, arms raised to create a massive, roiling ball of fire, for all intents and purposes about to incinerate Alastor and send the dust into the pit below.

A spark of lilac shot out from the unconscious body and directly into Lucifer’s chest.

He gasped at the shock, blinking in startled surprise as the ball of fire imploded in a puff of smoke and his claws went to his shirt. Then, his eyes rolled back as his body folded over Alastor’s, both of them perched precariously by the crater’s edge.

“You’re both such idiots.” He heard a melodious voice sigh before consciousness escaped him once more.

Chapter Text

This was not Eden.

This didn’t even feel like a memory. Lucifer took in his surroundings- the parlor room in the palace- before he noticed the cup of tea in his hands, and thus the prim figure sitting across from him drinking her own tea.

What a sight for sore eyes. Lucifer’s expression softened as Lilith put her tea back on the circular table when she noticed his gaze, every movement radiating power and grace. She was nothing but elegant as she got to her feet and glided to the other side of the table towards him, and though she was not smiling those stunning lilac eyes were trained solely on him-

She slapped him. Lucifer reeled, looking up at her in distress as he cupped his own cheek, properly registering the fury on her face. “Li-?”

“Don’t you dare Lily me.” Lucifer’s mouth obediently clicked shut. “I can’t believe you, Lucifer Morningstar. Why in the seven rings of Hell are you throwing a tantrum?”

The sound of a chuckle drew Lucifer’s attention to a third presence in the dream as none other than Alastor sat adjacent to the table. He took a leisurely sip of his tea, leg crossed over his knee and enjoying the show just a little too much for Lucifer’s liking.

“What are you doing here?” A delicate hand cupped his chin like iron and forced his attention back to Lilith, who was still very much glowering down at him.

“Pay no mind to him. I’m speaking to you.” Lucifer gave a humble nod. “When you wake up, you are going to go back to that hotel and you are going to set things right with our daughter.”

“But-”

“No. No buts. When are you going to realize that Charlie needs you, you self-absorbed, miserable little angel?” Lilith sighed, her hold on his chin finally loosening so she could properly cup his cheeks. He leaned into her touch, starved for it always even as she proceeded to say, “Alastor was right.”

Lucifer frowned.

“You need to go back there and apologize.”

“I can't-” She gave him a look as Lucifer quickly corrected. “I mean, I could, but I don't think it'll change anything.” It was incredible, how Lilith’s hands gave him such comfort despite his still-throbbing cheek, allowing him to confess, “I don’t know how to help her fulfill her dream.”

“Here’s what you’re going to do.” Lucifer instantly perked up when she refocused his attention on her, hanging on her every word. “When you get to the hotel, you are going to say: Charlie, I’m sorry.”

She looked at him expectantly until Lucifer repeated the words.

“I shouldn’t have tried to tell you how to run your hotel or make decisions about it without consulting you.”

Repeat.

“But I’m here now. I’m ready to start listening. What do you need me to do?”

Once Lucifer was finished, Lilith nodded in satisfaction. “Then, you’re going to actually do that. Don’t offer her any suggestions unless she asks for it. Don’t try to solve her problems for her. In fact, don’t do anything unless she directly tells you to. The only thing you need to do is be there. And for Satan’s sake Lucifer, make yourself a watch.”

With that, she gave his cheeks a gentle squeeze before releasing him to return to her chair. He watched her in a daze, feeling as enlightened as if it were the answers to the universe itself she offered him.

“Was that so hard?” She asked the oddly quiet demon beside her, picking up her teacup as he placed his empty cup down.

“How arduous to need every little detail spelled out.” Alastor remarked, hands folding in his lap as he spared Lucifer a side-eye. “But, duly noted.”

“What is this?” Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows as he gestured between the two of them, snapping out of it. “What is happening right now. Are you friends or something? How do you two even know each other?”

“Come now, funny bunny. You have a job to do.” Lilith smiled at him with the affection coloring her reminder, instantly melting his heart. “No more distractions.”

“Of course.” He reached out to grab her hand just so he could press a kiss to the back of it, adoring. “Thank you, Lily.”

Shadows crept up to engulf him even as he smiled, questions swayed as he left the two to their own devices.

“Not difficult to please, is he?” Alastor idly mused as Lilith eyed the empty chair fondly.

“Not really, no.” Lilith hummed. “You’d be surprised how much he’d do for you if you just gave him a bit of positive attention, you know.”

“I’d rather step in a beartrap, my lady.” Alastor turned to face her. “Now that that’s over with, would you care to indulge a few questions of my own?”

“You may try.” Lilith smiled cryptically, taking another sip from her cup. “You have until I finish my tea.”

“It’s been decades, why now?”

“Too vague.” She tutted. “Come now, Alastor. You know better.”

His smile strained at the edges, hands clasping atop the table before him. “Why couldn’t you do this yourself?”

“I can’t.” She answered simply, taking a sip. The surrounding shadows converged a little. “Good thing I have you, hm?”

“Are you in Hell?”

“Our punishment does not allow us to leave it.” The dark encroached like their very presence were a dimming candle as she finished the tea, void consuming everything but the table, chairs and their poised attention on one another.

“I’m going to find you.”

Lilith chuckled, soft and amused. “That’s not a question.”

“Astute.” He confirmed, unwavering as he clarified for posterity, “It’s a promise.” Writhing shadows ate away at their bodies like the decay of crumbling ash. “Wherever you’re hiding, I will find you.”

Lilith’s titter bubbled to laughter. She laughed and laughed, leering as they were both consumed.

“Good luck, little boy.”

Chapter Text

When Lucifer awoke, it was with a groggy, disoriented feeling.

Despite his tendency to sleep a lot, he never felt well rested. But this was a special kind of disorientation he only felt after a vivid dream, unpleasant and likely to plague him for the rest of the day.

He put a hand to his head with a groan as he realized he was laying on top of something uncomfortable.

Someone uncomfortable.

The shriek he let out was not particularly dignified, but luckily his only witnesses were the craters.

Alastor’s body looked more like a corpse. It was beaten to the seven hells and back, as if someone had put him in a blender then ran him over with a steamroller. Also tossed around a bit in a frying pan, given the burns.

Lucifer observed all this as he made his way back to the body, still on its side with Alastor’s arm dangling over the edge. After a moment of consideration, Lucifer rolled him onto his back and slightly away from the crater.

“May have gone a bit overboard...”

The body did not respond.

“But you brought this upon yourself.” He scolded without an ounce of remorse. “I’ve never met a sinner as annoying and persistent as you. It would almost be impressive if you didn’t constantly decide to make that my problem.”

Lucifer paused only when he noticed the red discoloration on Alastor’s already obnoxiously red suit. The red stayed on his claw when he poked it, proving it was blood.

He stared at it for a moment as his memories caught up with the situation.

“Ohhh...” That certainly explained Alastor’s refusal to leave. “Did I never finish healing this?”

A snap of his fingers rid the sinner of his shirt and coat, revealing the very bruised, very bloody wound exactly where Lucifer had flicked him.

“...Whoops.”

At least now he could work without any distractions. Lucifer peeled off his gloves to press his palms against the wound, but struggled to find a comfortable enough position. Glancing at Alastor to assure himself he was still very much knocked out, he withdrew so he could poof into a snake directly on the wound.

“Ughh,” He made a face as his body coiled to properly cover the wound. “This is so gross. Why are you so gross? I desperately need a shower after this.”

Still, allowing his eyes to slip placidly closed, he began to glow gold alongside the wound. The holy poison had spread with continued, reckless magic usage, but it wasn’t anything Lucifer couldn’t handle. He dutifully absorbed the rest of it, and once the final dredges were gone the wound closed up in a neat scar.

Since Lucifer wasn’t really paying attention, lost in a meditative trance, the rest of Alastor’s wounds began to heal as well.

Very warm and comfortable, falling back asleep was inevitable.

Alastor wasn’t sure what to expect when the lilac gems of Lilith’s eyes winked out like stars in the darkness.

Consciousness was the initial expectation, just as quickly rationalized to futility when he recalled the moments before the parlor.

Falling to hell pitched with a bullet to the skull, the flaying of stations through his mind amped on electricity, not even the snap of his staff or slash to his chest were as devastating as the thrashing Lucifer put him through.

He fought the devil and lost. Not that winning had ever been in the cards- not physically, anyway. Granted, Lilith’s intervention had been a lucky gamble, Alastor still considered that to be a technicality that leant in his favor.

Perhaps some would experience fear, dismay--a form of groveling at the prospect of rolling the dice with death. But, Alastor wasn’t dead. He'd won each round at every cast.

Not meant to die yet again.

Though, this was the closest he’d ever been to that imperceptible oblivion. She had taken her sweet time, hadn’t she? So, It was more an impression of his hand that lifted to the sheer obsidian veil fencing the precipice of his mind.

Fingers pressed back.

Alastor wasn’t smiling, impassive to the flare of light that split through his skull and evaporated the liminal space like mist in the rising sun.

Morningstar indeed.

When his eyes peeled open, Alastor was acutely reminded of the days that followed his mortal benders with Mimzy; rocks digging into his bare back with a throbbing headache to boot.

It was the recognition that, beyond those minor irritants, he was fine that made him blink again. Perfect, in fact--nary an ache or bone deep pang in sight as his hand immediately went to his chest to check. Claws froze a centimeter from touching scales.

A brief consideration and Alastor shut his eyes to wait, lifting the hand smoothly back without disturbing Lucifer’s sleep. After another minute or so, the headache washed away with the rest of any lingering ailments. Then he closed a loose hold around the thick middle of the serpent and deposited him onto the ground before resuming the motion of pressing at the pearled skin of the scar beneath the dried blood.

Gentle first, then firm as he traced the divot from one end to the other. He even stretched his arm up and to the side in a turn to test mobility. “Ha!” A zap of green and he was standing, apparel back in place. Damage to the fabric and general disarray corrected in jagged ropes of static as he adjusted his cuffs, pivoting to the serpent with jubilant music ringing through the air around him and a visibly delighted shadow arching physically up and over his shoulder.

Alastor bent at an alarming angle to beam in his tiny face, silhouette arching around to do the same at the opposite side. “Our deal is complete.” Righting his posture, he inquired with a vague air of condescension as he swept his staff from the ether and gestured back towards the distant hill of the hotel, “May we go?”

For the first time in hundreds of years, Lucifer did not dream.

It was such a new, jarring sensation that it took a moment to recognize the sensation of waking up. There was no deep emotion hanging over him, only the normal grogginess of being woken up before his body was ready to. The sound of loud, annoying music registered.

He cracked his eyes open to the sight of Alastor’s grossly cheerful and terrifyingly ginormous face on one side, and the creepy, jagged grin of his shadow on the other. “Nnngh,” He groaned, burrowing his head deeper into the coils of his body. “Five more minutes...”

The shoes right by his face did not walk away, but they did shift. Lucifer’s eyebrows pinched in growing annoyance as he stuck his tongue out to taste the air, eyes snapping open and body poofing just in time to avoid the hearty swing of the mic-turned-golf-club.

“I'm up, I'm up!” Fallen Angel-form Lucifer protested, a flap of his wings depositing him safely a few feet away. He dusted himself off and adjusted his hat, outfit completely pristine. “You have a funny way of showing gratitude.”

He plucked his own staff out of the ether as he summoned a floating full length mirror to look himself over. “Hm...”

“You know what?” He spoke aloud, but it wasn't really to Alastor. His eyes drifted to the wedding ring in his reflection. “If I'm going to make a proper debut at the hotel... I've had this form for a thousand years. I think it's time for a change.”

His physical appearance didn't shift, but his outfit certainly did. Instead of a pure white with red accenting, his topcoat now had dark overtones with three bends in the lapels, a thick border of black tracing the red fold. A feathery trim sprouted from the underside of red topped shoulderpads. The interior of his coat was a brilliant gold, inlaid with laced designs mimicking thick feathers that far better represented his actual wings. His pants were black now, too, stopping above a thin line of red rolled atop knee-high white boot cuffs. The accessory was secured with shiny black buttons lining up his calf.

Clicking his heels together, Lucifer smiled at the reflection off the polished leather toe of his boot.

“I don’t think it’s too much...” He murmured to himself, twisting about and turning around to look at himself from various angles. “Less angelic, I suppose. Lilith would be proud. She always did say black would look good on me.”

“Yes.” Alastor wasn't even looking at him, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “Positively peacockish.” Lucifer pouted at him and ignored the comment, choosing instead to refocus on the mirror.

The hat was next. The snake faded and stretched to a crested black band instead of gold, the crown melding into the material in an embroidered emblem. Lucifer smiled at himself as he adjusted it on his head.

Now Alastor had turned to look at him, eyes narrowing in a flicker of scrutiny, “I didn’t realize you required a dress rehearsal.”

Lucifer snorted, unphased as he brushed out his sleeve. Next, of course, was the staff, lifting it to roll loosely in his palm. The head was still an apple, but the staff itself was now black with a golden snake atop it, body looping around in a tapered spiral. Lucifer was outright grinning at himself now.

He leaned closer, experimenting with different colors for his eyeshadow when a tentacle encircled the mirror in a crunching vise and lobbed it into the crater.

“Oh no.” Alastor deadpanned, smile fixed at Lucifer’s glare. “Done already, are you.” Alastor folded the arm with his staff behind his back and held an open palm aloft to the distance. “Hotel?”

“...I still like the purple.” He conceded, adjusting accordingly as he joined a pleased, albeit incredibly impatient, Alastor. “Oh wait, almost forgot!” An apple watch- specifically a watch shaped like a bright red apple- appeared on his wrist.

They made it a few steps before Alastor realized he was walking by himself. He made no effort to hide his incredibly put-upon, irritated sigh as he cast a beseeching glance to the sky. “What now?”

“She's never yelled at me like that before.” Lucifer muttered doubtfully, eyeing the ground. “What if she doesn't even want to see me?”

The whack to the back of his head had his hat sliding over his eyes and stars flashing in his vision.

“None of that.” Alastor sounded incredibly pleased with himself as he stepped just out of range of Lucifer's answering swing as it whiffed through the air. “We already did that song and dance. You know exactly what you need to do.”

“Ow.” Lucifer scowled at him, pointedly gesturing to his head then back out in a sweep of exasperation. “That's easy for you to say! I have to do all the hard work.”

Alastor visibly wasn't listening. Instead, a claw tapped his chin in thought as his gaze cut to the side.

“Of course.” With a snap of his fingers Alastor's ambient jazz abruptly cut off, the tilt of his head cuing the sound of scrolling radio stations. “You're a Morningstar.”

Lucifer squinted up at him. “What's that supposed to mean.”

Alastor perked when he found a tune he was satisfied with, eventually swiveling to Lucifer with a little shooing ‘go on' gesture. “Sing.”

Lucifer wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended. “You think I'm just going to sing for you on command like some sort of pet parrot?”

“Yes.” Alastor retorted and took a couple of steps forward, then peered over his shoulder expectantly.

The scales were favoring offense. But even as he glared at Alastor, rebuttal at the tip of his tongue, he found himself pausing to softly sing, “I saw the sun begin to dim, And felt that winter wind blow cold.”

As was typical in Hell during a musical number, the environment adjusted accordingly. The general ambiance of the craters dimmed until only a spotlight remained on Lucifer. “A man learns who is there for him, When the glitter fades and the walls won't hold.”

He pivoted on his heel to return to his crater and Alastor's eye twitched, following like a portable speaker and resenting the thought immediately.

“'Cause from the rubble, What remains,” Lucifer looked down at the burbling bloody spring. The mirror was still slowly sinking. “Can only be what's true.”

His hand closed in a fist, eyeing his wedding ring and brand new watch. “If all was lost, there's more I gained,” He finally turned away from the crater, looking towards the hotel. “'Cause it led me back... to you.”

The music began to pick up. The craters, in all their different colors, began to pulse with light to the beat.

Head held high, Lucifer started walking back towards the hotel.

“Living in the past was easy, My ghosts fondly called my name.” There was a skip to his step that hadn't been there in a while. “But that was someone else’s life, the shadows of the king I became.”

“For years and years, I wiped my tears, stuck in always asking why.” As they finally left the area, the very peak of the hotel became visible. Lucifer smiled as he carried the last note. “But when I stop and see you there, I remember who all this was for.”

The music reached a crescendo as they entered Pentagram City in all its dirty, grimy glory. Lucifer was properly dancing now, voice carrying with hope and cheer that didn’t fit his surroundings in the slightest.

“From now on, these eyes will not be blinded by the light.” At this, he flipped both middle fingers up at the distant star of Heaven. “From now on, what’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight,”

“It starts tonight.” His claws hooked onto a lamppost, aiding in a theatrical spin. “Let this promise in me start, Like an anthem in my heart.”

“From now on,” A glittery whirlwind of magic put him atop a truck, broken, beaten, and very much on fire. “From now on,” He looked out at his warring subjects, bullets and molotov cocktails soaring through the air. Despite it all, he was still smiling. “From now on!”

His arms stretched out and his eyes closed, putting his all in the final note. Miniature versions of himself manifested to sing as backup singers, half of them donning wigs that looked an awful lot like Charlie’s hair to provide male and female accompaniment.

Because it was Lucifer, there were also fireworks.

“And we will come back home, And we will come back home, Home again.”

“From now on, oh yeah!” Lucifer hopped onto the hood of the truck, then to the ground. A mail truck came careening down the street, heedless of any unfortunate demon in its path. Lucifer extended an arm and caught the back of it, whisking him away towards the hotel.

“And we will come back home, And we will come back home, Home again.” Lucifer joined the ensemble, letting go of the truck after it crashed into the beautiful, purposefully indestructible, memorial statue of Dazzle. He looked up at the grand hotel as if seeing it for the first time. “And we will come back home, And we will come back home, Home again.”

The music died down to the simple piano medley it began with, the miniature versions of himself disappearing. Only Lucifer’s voice remained as he ended the song as softly as it began, running his hand along the stone of Dazzle’s memorial, “And we will come back home, And we will come back home, Home again...”

Alastor manifested expectantly beside the door as if he’d never left, but Lucifer’s focus remained solely on preparing himself. He stared at the door, quiet and pensive.

Then, he turned the handle.

Chapter Text

The foyer looked perfect. Not a speck of blood, not a crumb of debris- even the chandelier was hanging exactly where it was supposed to be.

It was like the bake sale had never happened, much less the bloody carnage that followed.

All of the hotel's residents were gathered in the parlor. Charlie was in the middle of saying something when she spotted him, eyes widening in surprise as she took in his presence and new appearance.

Everyone's heads followed to look.

“Dad...” Charlie stepped around couches and residents alike to meet him in the middle beneath the chandelier, their positions opposite of their argument.

Lucifer, who had been wringing his hands around his staff nervously, held up a hand. “Can I go first?”

Slowly, and somewhat warily, Charlie nodded.

Taking a deep breath, he began with a sincere, “Charlie, I'm sorry.”

She blinked at him.

“I shouldn’t have tried to tell you how to run your hotel or make decisions about it without consulting you.”

From his spot on the couch, Angel raised an impressed eyebrow.

“But I’m here now. I’m ready to start listening. What do you need me to do?”

“Oh, dad.” Charlie began to tear up as he spoke, and the tears flowed as she threw herself at him and began to cry freely.

Lucifer readily caught her, hugging just as tight. It was a touching moment.

“Ugh.” Dabi rolled his eyes. If he had the capacity for it, he definitely would've gagged.

“Problem, Dabs?” Hawks snorted from across the room. “All the familial affection giving you heartburn?”

“Eager to die again?” He bit back.

“Play nice.” Vaggie warned, earning her a glare from Dabi. “Do you want another round of conversationally constructive role-play? I'm not above doing the same exercises until I'm sure you’re not going to eat him.” She jerked a thumb at an amused Hawks.

“I wouldn't eat him.” Dabi huffed in offense. “He'd taste terrible.”

“Speak for yourself.” Hawks retorted in total deadpan. “I'm a snack.”

Angel barked a laugh and snickered as he elbowed Husk. “Don't they remind ya’ a little of us back at the start?”

“Get your feet off my lap.” The grouchy complaint had Angel laughing- at least until Husk shoved his legs, and thus Angel, off the couch.

Niffty parted from the group to approach Lucifer and Charlie, holding a very familiar little creature by his front legs. His mouth was frothing as she lifted him up towards Lucifer. “Hey, sad boy! Alastor Junior says he missed you!”

“Pick a different name.”

“...Who?” Lucifer pulled away from Charlie to look at the monstrosity. “Oh, you. Weren't you eaten?”

“Actually, we've all decided to call him Smiles!” Missing Alastor grumbling, ‘That’s hardly any better.’ Charlie intercepted and gathered the thing in her arms like a cat, allowing Niffty to scamper off. “He just kind of appeared once everyone else left. Vaggie keeps putting him outside but he somehow finds a way back in. Think she stabbed him once too, but he's a tough little guy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Vaggie snapped from her armchair. “It came back?”

“Gonna have to start boarding up the windows and doors next, Vagina.” Angel jeered.

“Well,” Lucifer took it from Charlie and held it by its torso at arms length. “I could-” He paused, rethinking his words. “Do you want me to get rid of it?”

Charlie smiled warmly as she recognized the effort he was putting in. “No, it's okay. I think he's growing on everyone, and he hasn't really done anything violent since the party...maybe he just doesn't do well with crowds.” She cooed at Smiles. “Someone just got a little too excited, right?”

“Heh, alright.” Lucifer smiled back and adjusted his hold to give Smiles a scratch between the horns. “You're lucky you're kind of cute.”

It vibrated in a close approximation of a nightmarish purr, the sound careening like a dying radio.

Alastor leaned in close, eyes narrowed and irritation snapping static around them. “You are borrowing one too many traits, you character design stealing little thief.”

Smiles smiled at him.

Charlie cleared her throat, getting Lucifer’s attention as she tilted her head towards the parlor. “I don't think I'm the only one you should apologize to, dad.”

Lucifer stared at her like a fish out of water. “Uhhh.”

That hadn't been in the script.

“Yep, okay,” He handed Smiles back to her, stiffly making his way towards the amicable chattering in the parlor. “Can do.”

He took Charlie's former spot in front of the hotel’s residents to address them. “Ehem. Everyone?”

They turned to him with varying degrees of interest, amusement, and blase stares. “I'm sorry for bringing a violent creature into the hotel and getting some of you hurt.”

When he glanced at Charlie, she gave him a thumbs up. Relieved, Lucifer moved to step away.

“Oh, is that all?” He was really starting to hate the sound of that radio-filtered voice. Lucifer frowned as Alastor appeared beside the couch to prod at Husk’s bandaged wound. “Poor Husker here almost lost an eye. I think your apology could use a little more... oomph.”

Husk sneered as he batted Alastor’s claw away just for him to prop his elbow against the sinner’s shoulder. “I don't care.”

“Do you want me to heal it?” Lucifer took a step closer, peering at Husk’s bandage as if he could see the wound itself. “I'm pretty good at closing up wounds.”

“Fuck no.” Husk grimaced. “Keep that magic shit away from me. I'll be fine.”

“Maybe there's something else Dad could do to make it up to you, Husk?” Charlie chose that moment to step in, ever the mediator.

Husk scowled at all the attention, hunkering further into the couch. He glanced up at Alastor, who simply smiled and tilted his head, before grunting and looking back at Lucifer in consideration.

“Help me out at the bar until my eye heals.” Husk decided, discomfort turning to a wry smirk at Lucifer’s obvious surprise. “No powers. No tricks, nothing fancy.”

“This again?” Lucifer grimaced at a chuckling Angel.

“You could stand to learn a thing or two about working with people.” Husk concluded with stony finality. “Then we're even.”

“Alright, fine.” Lucifer swiveled to face Dabi, who had gotten bored of the conversation and had his eyes closed. “I suppose you want something too?”

He did not open them as he answered, “Stay the hell away from me.”

“...Maybe we could try a slightly nicer request, Dabi.” Charlie’s voice had him grudgingly opening an eye and looking at Lucifer with an unreadable expression. He was clearly mulling it over until he settled on,

“You know everyone in Hell?”

Lucifer lifted his free hand in a half swivel and gave an ‘ehh.’ “Mostly?” At the stares he received, he got defensive. “What? There's a lot of you! And that's not even counting all the other rings. It was a vague question!”

“Enji Todoroki.” The name made Hawks tense, who had been carefully watching the whole encounter. “Is he down here?”

Lucifer hummed. “Is that the full, real name?”

“What else would it be.”

A wave of his hand manifested a huge black tome, very similar to the white one St. Peter possessed. This one was extremely dusty and full of cobwebs; the binding groaned when he opened it. Lucifer repeated the name to himself, flipping through pages and scouring over the names.

“I'm not seeing that name anywhere here.” His claw tapped the book thoughtfully before he slammed it closed and made it disappear. “Hm. If it isn’t listed in mine, then it's gotta be in Peter’s book. Up in Heaven.” He pointed to the ceiling when Dabi looked confused.

“Orrr still alive on Earth, but that's a whole other book. ‘Fraid the only realm I can confidently tell you he's not in is this one.” Lucifer shrugged. “So...are we good now?”

Dabi grunted and shut his eye again, which Lucifer decided he could take as a definitive yes.

The tripped line of dominoes, one by one, were painstakingly righted. Wrongs were corrected and pieces were set back into place.

Confidence and stability secured the frame for an even brighter future.

But the thing about dominoes was that with one little push...

From the foyer, the sound of the front doors thudding shut echoed through the building.

...They pour into an entirely bigger picture.

Chapter Text

Charlie gasped, stepping up to the imposing silhouette that rounded the entry to the parlor with her hands lifted, partially outstretched, “Mom?” When Lilith crossed into the light, she repeated with delight, “Mom!”

Charlie rushed up to buckle around her in a tight hug even as Lucifer visibly churned through a slew of emotions and landed on a quiet exhale of “Lily?”

“You’re back! And you came!” She gasped again, pulling away with a loose hold still in place, “This is your first time seeing the Hotel--ohmygosh I-”

She was immediately hushed by the hand placed atop her head as Lilith coolly eyed the populated room. “I’d like a moment with my daughter, if you all wouldn’t mind.” Her tone wasn’t a question.

Husker tsk’d and stood, “Need to open the bar anyway.” He snagged Angel by the scruff of his jacket when he moved to take Husk’s place on the couch.

“Awe, but-”

“You guys should go get ready for the exercise later.” Vaggie added overtop Angel’s complaint, surprised to see Hawks already on his way out and frowning in exasperation at Dabi. Presumably asleep, she prodded him with the butt of her spear before giving up. Facing Lilith and Charlie, she added as Niffty skittered past, “If you don’t mind, Ma’am, the staff here is a bit cautious of impromptu... Parental intervention.”

She stayed put and crossed her arms to hide the spark of nerves, making no comment for Lucifer or Alastor to join the others.

Charlie’s head whipped around, eyes wide with surprise and immediate embarrassment coloring her cheeks as Lucifer averted his eyes to the ground. From the shadow of bangs, dark violet narrowed a sliver before Lilith gave a shrug that detached herself from Charlie, who watched with a flicker of confusion.

She shook it off to follow her mother’s glide across to the couch. A small wince escaped them both when Lilith passed Vaggie with a low, “If you must.” before she flowed into a comfortable perch on the couch.

Lucifer’s eyes flicked back up to stare after her, removing his hat to hold to his chest just as Alastor stepped around the couch.

Red eyes were lidded and pinned to Lilith with a close lipped smile as he stopped behind the armchair Charlie wound up dropping into. Vaggie stood beside the second chair with a hand braced on its back and Lucifer approached the group from where he’d been left askew by the arrival.

“Lily, where did you-”

“Why didn’t you c-”

Charlie and Lucifer began simultaneously, body’s leant towards Lilith’s presence like flowers to the sun, and were just as quickly cut off by a sharp, “Shut up. Both of you.”

Mouths audibly clicked shut and Vaggie bristled. Crossing a leg over her knee and delicately brushing out the fold of her dress, Lilith continued with a serene kind of malice that leached away any of the initial warmth. “I’m here because you’ve both managed to throw this mess around like apes with their own shit. Heaven is pestering me to clean it up like I’m somehow meant to be your keeper.”

Her gaze sliced up to Lucifer, then to Charlie, chin tilting up as her lip curled, “Well, playtime is over.”

“She isn’t playing!” Lucifer, surprising even himself, interjected. His hands bunched the brim of his hat as he pressed forward, “I mean-- Heaven, yeah, pfft! Real hot mess, but when aren’t they, right?” Lilith’s hard stare at the flippant toss of his hand spurred a nervous laugh.

When silence cinched around him he blurted, “This is important to her.” Lucifer turned his focus to Charlie, brows pinched up encouragingly over an anxious, lopsided smile before switching back to Lilith, “And she’s been doing so many amazing things! Connecting with sinners, following a dream.”

He opened up his arms, presenting it as the very thing that had motivated them so long ago.

“Dreams end.” Lilith replied coolly, eyes flicking from his arms to his face in a way that made him flinch. “It’s time for her to close this little dollhouse.”

“I don’t believe you have that authority, actually.” Alastor piped in, the sound of his voice jarring without any of the usual ambient tracks floating around him. White noise fuzzed into focus at the edges when he stepped beside the chair to place a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, eyes having never once left Lilith even as the others stared in shock. “This is an independently sponsored business. So, that decision falls on Charlie, or myself in her absence.”

The hand lifted from her shoulder and pressed his fingertips to his chest, challenging, “In the case of which, I would then say I’d like to see you try. Because I certainly see no future in which this establishment isn’t the prime destination of hell for millenia to come. The doors will remain open.”

It wasn’t shadow so much as a seeping of color that wilted the area around her, rage palpable as her voice seethed, “How dare you-”

“Mom!” Charlie tried, voice tight as she reasoned, “They're right. Okay? They’re...” A sniff pulled Lucifer and Vaggie’s attention to her as she rallied her wobbling enthusiasm, “We’ve all worked so hard and come so far! I know there's tension right now, but we’re making a difference!”

Lilith laughed; a sharp, mocking sound. “You think you're making a difference? Oh, you sweet, naive child. You don't even wear the crown yet. No, Charlie. You're not doing anything but making a fool out of yourself.”

Every word dug in like a knife through the heart, all too visible in the pain on Charlie’s face. Vaggie narrowed her eyes as even Lucifer looked at Lilith in bewilderment.

“What do you think will happen if you continue this misguided venture?” Lilith posed, eyes pinned to Charlie. “Your little friends killed Adam and countless angels. You think an act like that won't be punished with retribution tenfold? Haven't you caused enough pain and death?”

“The fight was over a month ago and we’ve heard nothing from the embassy since.” Vaggie chose that moment to intervene, inching ever closer to Charlie as she eyed Lilith suspiciously. “Why come now? Why use you as a courier, especially since Charlie hasn’t heard from you in years?”

“I am here because Heaven needed someone to be a voice of reason to Charlie. An attempt to de-escalate a needlessly tense situation, I imagine.” Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose with an irritated sigh and a mutter of, “Such a difficult child.”

“She's not, though.” Lucifer donned a deep frown, which had creased ever deeper the longer Lilith spoke. “Difficult, or a child. Since when has Heaven ever been reasonable anyway?” He was so taken aback and insulted he didn't even try to soften his question of, “What the hell are you talking about, Lilith?”

“You don't understand.” All eyes turned back to Charlie, who was trying desperately to smile at her mother. “That's where this is all coming from, right? You don't understand what we're doing here! I think if you heard about how all this works and how important the work we're doing is, you would understand why we can't stop now! So let me explain how-”

“I don't care for hypotheticals.” Lilith cut off coldly. “This experiment has gone on long enough. You tried, Charlie. But you need to learn to recognize when you’ve failed.”

“That's a rather bold claim for someone unable to sit through a rather succinct synopsis.” Alastor hummed, earning a seething glare. “Awfully quick to jump to conclusions, aren't we?”

Charlie glanced up at him, then turned to her mother with far more confidence. “The hotel is not a failure, mom. I'm not going to close it.” Her hands had balled into fists that she shook with hopeful emphasis.

“Charlie.” Lilith snapped, making Charlie wince. But she did not back down. “Be sensible.”

“I don't know what you were expecting.” More so than when anyone else spoke, nothing made Lilith more viscerally angry than when Alastor opened his mouth. “Did you really think you could just walk in here uninvited, command your child to act like a puppet without listening to a word she has to say, and expect to be afforded any respect?”

“Watch your tongue, you filthy sinner. This doesn't even concern you.” She hissed, ignoring the amused peaked eyebrows as she whirled to her ex-husband.

“Lucifer,” Lilith demanded with the force of an ax, eyes blazing, “Get your disobedient little hellspawn under control.” Lucifer’s mouth went taut, eyes flaring a deep crimson as his brows furrowed.

“I think it's clear to everyone our daughter isn't the one out of line here.”

“It's almost like you're in a bit of a hurry to get this over with, your majesty.” Alastor chomped at the proverbial bit, eagerness creasing under his eyes as he inquired, “Feeling out of sorts, perhaps?”

Lilith stiffened.

“Eager to get back to safety?”

It was an odd thing to say. Though everyone else looked confused, Lilith stood up, her long strands of hair whipping about in furious lashing. “You forget your place, Alastor.”

Alastor, clearly having the time of his life, crooned, “I suppose you’ll have to remind me of it then.”

It was at this point that the Lilith Lucifer so fondly remembered would have done so without a second thought. She had zero tolerance for disrespect, and though she might have been tolerant of Alastor steadily pushing his luck, such a bold dare would not have gone unanswered.

The woman in front of him just glared.

Lucifer, torn between intervening and watching the back and forth, settled on Lilith. “Why are you letting him goad you?”

Beneath the rage, there was a very obvious undercurrent of growing nerves.

“Mom?” Even Charlie was starting to pick up on it as she joined the others in standing. “What's going on?”

Lilith looked disgusted and frustrated, increasingly cornered.

“What indeed.” Alastor gestured mockingly to the couch. “Maybe you should sit back down? You're looking a little tepid.”

“Do you know something we don't?” Vaggie finally bit the bullet and asked, much to Alastor’s delight.

“Me? Oh, plenty. Her, though?” Alastor's smirk stretched around his gums. “So much to say, then suddenly quiet when it's convenient. Cat got your tongue?”

“Stop detracting from the issue.” Lilith finally managed, turning back to her daughter. “Listen to me, Charlie. I'm not going to say this again. If you don't shut down this hotel you're going to face consequences even I won’t be able to protect you from.”

“You're really just...going to let that go?” Lucifer sounded genuinely unnerved. “None of this is making any sense.”

“The queen does seem to be all over the place, doesn't she?” Alastor finally looked away from her to roll his head to peer at Lucifer. “How odd.”

Lucifer squinted in confusion, a slow realization dawning as his focus cut back to Lilith.

“Guys, I think we should all back off a bit and let her talk.” Charlie tried, turning to stand by Lilith so she would feel less on the receiving end of a firing squad. “I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.”

Throughout the conversation, Vaggie's frown was pensive. Alastor’s suspicious behavior pinged quietly in the background of her mind, but the resonant parameters of the deal within her chest compelled her to trust him and focus on the actual threat.

“Is there?” Vaggie crossed her arms. “I hate to say it, but Alastor’s right. This is all feeling more like some kind of vague threat. She doesn’t actually have any power here and she knows it, so she’s been doing nothing but trying to redirect our attention. She’s clearly bluffing. Everything about this is just really...off.”

Charlie stared at her in shock. “Vaggie-” Her voice wavered in a desperate press for reason even as Lucifer cut in with, “What was the first thing you ate in Eden?”

Quiet filled the room, so he repeated, “When you woke up, what was the first thing you saw that made you go ‘I want to try that’? You asked me about it constantly, who came up with it, how long it took to grow--” His arms were at his sides now, hands balling. “What was it, Lilith?”

Everyone looked at her with baited breath. Seeing no escape, she huffed in irritation as she clipped, “Plums.”

The answer made Lucifer’s lip curl and fury sprout horns from his head.

“Get out.” His staff manifested with a sharp wave of his arm to the exit, “You’re not my wife, nor the queen of hell.”

‘Lilith’ scowled, fury of her own making the tapers of her hair writhe in the monochrome rolling off of her. “You’re making a grave mistake refusing to listen, but,” She leered down at him as she strode past, “That’s hardly new.”

As she crossed through the doorway, her form evaporated in a wisp of smoke. Alastor twiddled his fingers in a cheery farewell.

“That was a shit show.” Dabi spoke up from the corner, fully awake and rising to leave.

Vaggie threw her hands up in exasperation, “Get out already.” She grumbled an annoyance before bridging the gap and going to Charlie's side, “Are you okay?”

But she wasn't looking at her. Instead, a hand was covering her mouth as she stared at Lucifer. “Dad, who was that?”

His sigh was low and hard as he blew it into a whistle, a hand pushing into his hair as he glanced to the side, “I... don’t know.”

The silence hung over them like a guillotine.

“Well!” Alastor clapped sharply, shattering the tension, “Today’s been rather long, hasn’t it! How about a little late night gumbo? Nothing quite warms the soul like some good old comfort food! It’s sinfully delicious.”

“Another recipe from your mother?” Charlie asked, managing a small smile.

“But of course.”

As Alastor led the way to the kitchen, Vaggie took Charlie’s hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

*Lucifer remained in the foyer, caught adrift in the replenishing current of color left in the imposter’s absence. Lifting his cane to clutch with both hands, he let out a trembling sigh and pulled his eyes from the door only for them to slide to the floor.

“Fine,” The room remained silent, “Fine. You want to dance with the devil?” A wry smile tugged at his mouth, another inhale released on a much more collected breath as he looked up and beyond.

“Then let's dance.”

Chapter Text

Nothing held quite as much satisfaction as ticking off boxes on a list; the gap between start and finish growing ever closer. All at a rate he’d dare say was ahead of schedule!

Alastor was positively chuffed, flipping through shadows with ease and finding merriment in the inevitable spooks of his impromptu appearances. Niffty’s manic scramble of glee to catch him even spurred a game of chase that he indulged off and on over the course of a couple days in leisure.

Following the imposter’s departure, the atmosphere of the hotel remained civil and quaint. Any question that budded in regards to their resident ruminator Alastor deftly snipped with the assurance Lucifer was still on the premises.

It quelled the tide just enough for him to properly enjoy the sliver of peace, somewhat in detriment to the others-- what with the jumpscares and all. His reprieve even offered a few silent, repetitive slaughters of the pest haunting his halls.

It continuously sprung back up like a weed rooted beneath pavement. But, that just meant he got to exercise a little creativity with each extermination.

In fact, it was after leaving it a sizzling smear at the end of the third floor corridor that Alastor stepped from the shadows near the radio in the corner of the bar.

Husker’s ears twitched as he looked up, raising a silent inquisitive eyebrow as he went about pouring a glass of rye without needing to be asked.

A loose palm glided over polished wood in a crackled tuning as he strolled to his seat. The glass slid smoothly into the curl of his palm, a simple nod of greeting tipped to Husker with the lift of his drink.

Drawing a sip and rolling the liquid over his tongue, Alastor hummed a contented sigh and leaned his side against the bartop. “It’s never fun coming out of the murk, is it?” Tilting his head he drawled, “I’d ask which stage of grief you’ve reached, but the depression is palpable.”

Lifting the shaft of his mic, Alastor tapped it across Lucifer’s slumped back in a quick pat of encouragement. “Buck up, old chum.”

Husk’s quiet huff was permitted as Alastor took another sip and set down his glass.

“Unless you’ve finally reached the long awaited acceptance and the depression is simply a byproduct of you existing. Which,” Tapping a finger to his chin, he chuckled, “Now that I say it aloud, that's exactly it, isn't it. Regardless of any conclusions you’ll just wallow over it.”

Silence.

Eventually, his claws twitched. Lucifer drew back, slowly peeling himself off the bar to pin Alastor with his best deadpan look. His cheeks were redder than usual, a tired squint to his eyes that betrayed his current inebriation. A napkin remained glued to his cheek before it fluttered back down to the bar. “Do you just...have nothing better to do?”

He gestured to all of Alastor with the theatrics expected of a drunk devil. “Do you see me doing my own thing and think ‘wow, I need to go bother Lucifer right now?’”

“You're implying that you do anything.” Alastor hummed, swirling his liquor in its glass before downing it all in a smooth swallow. The empty glass was set directly towards Husker with a tap of his claw to its rim.

“Join the fucking club.” Husker muttered as he followed the order.

“I think,” Lucifer delivered a single sharp poke to Alastor’s chest and scrunched his non-existent nose at him as his smile clicked a degree around yellowed fangs. “I have every right to wallow after finding out my wife of six thousand years was a fake.”

Still, Alastor merely plucked his replenished drink when it was returned, giving a vague sound of interest as Lucifer stated each blatantly obvious point of address.

He swiveled back to the bar to bury his face in his hands with a long-suffering groan. “Do you have any idea how much this changes things? How many questions this brings up?!”

When he ran his fingers through his hair, it became as frazzled as his mind currently felt. “Who the hell was that? How long has this been going on? Why would anyone do this? How would anyone do this?” And of course, the biggest question of all: “If she was an impostor, then where the fuck is the real Lilith?”

He slumped back onto the bar, utterly miserable.

“I miss my wife, Al. I miss her a lot.”

Enjoying the warmth of the second round, Alastor relished in the king's disarray as if it were a chaser. “What a treat! You’re all caught up. Good job.” And raised his glass to the miserable lump of a creature.

“Though, I think you've done a fine job of missing her already; why not try being a little more...” Alastor flared his fingers, “Productive with these questions.”

Tipping close, he bumped his shoulder against Lucifer’s to dislodge the horrid posture with menacing enthusiasm. “‘Who was that’ indeed. Someone fit to impose the image of your wife with ease, obviously. I know you're old, but your memory can't be that fickle.”

The shoulder bump was nearly strong enough to send Lucifer tumbling off the stool, but he caught himself on the bar just in time. He would’ve given Alastor a lot more than a dirty look had his attention not been so smoothly redirected.

“Did you just call me old?”

Gesturing broadly with his drink, Alastor continued, “The question then becomes, ‘Who do you know that could do that?’ There the answer to Lilith’s whereabouts will lie, with the impostor or their proprietor.”

He sipped at his drink, content as a cat with cream as he supplied, “You noticed differences, did you not? Focus on those inconsistencies and trace them back to the point where they possibly began. That would be a far better start than whatever,” Another gesture, this time to the entirety of Lucifer in a loose motion of the wrist, "you usually do.”

They moved on, faster than Lucifer’s drunken mind’s ability to linger. He propped his cheek in his palm as he leaned back against the bar, this time in deep thought. “S’not that complicated.” The palm pressing up on his jaw slurred his words. “Changing your appearance s’ about as hard as changing clothes. We do it all the time.”

“Oh?” Alastor chirped curiously, the elbow braced against the bartop and open posture of attention making Husker’s face cramp.

He pushed off the bar to count fingers. “Y’know. The Seven Sins? Me. Oz. Bee. Mam. Bel. Levi.” He squinted at his fingers, wiggling the seventh in deep thought. “Sss...”

Husk, content to mostly listen, took pity and supplied, “Satan?”

“SATAN!” Lucifer repeated, loud and proud as he held out all seven fingers. “That guy. Yeah. I totally didn’t forget him! Haha.”

The thought was dismissed with a flippant wave of his hand. “But that wasn’t any of them. I would definitely be able to tell.” He snorted. “Even if I couldn’t, that’d be an extraordinarily stupid thing to do. Lily’d kick their ass. Then I’d kick their ass. N’ then Hell would go to war. Or something. Probably. We’ve gotten into fights before for much less.”

The internal list shined with wet ink as Alastor began the tally. Presumptions deemed correct one by one; the Sins were a given, but, as anticipated, the audacity to front a coup against their laughable leader wasn’t worth the effort. Though, the intrigue of fickle tension was dutifully noted with a humming nod.

His hand, which was still in mid air, dove back down to repeatedly stab the bar with an index claw at each point. “Which is why all of this doesn’t make a lick of sense. My Lily’s powerful. Real powerful. I can't come up with a single being who could do this, much less one who would be daring enough to try. They’d have to be as powerful as me, or...”

Lucifer went very quiet. A troubled look crossed his features, inebriation draining from him like the color in his cheeks.

A trickling pour of Alastor's drink topped off the conversation as it swept into a tangible drop.

Oh, that was very interesting.

Something that unsettled Lucifer Morningstar himself.

What a limited number, indeed.

The moment was gone as quick as it had come. Remembering his current audience, Lucifer forced a laugh and the inebriation returned as if he had willed it there himself. “But uh, that's a very limited number of people! Most of them I just listed out.”

Husk raised an eyebrow, but he wasn't looking at Lucifer.

“Now that I think of it,” Lucifer continued, oblivious to any of it. “I don't see how any of this is your concern? You seem weirdly invested in all this.”

Leaning closer, his squint turned suspicious. “Why are you acting weird again?”

Alastor snorted into a full swig of his third round, “It’s only now that you think? Poor thing, you should stretch it out more before taxing it with more pointless paranoia.” Frequencies sizzled at the edges, eyes lidded impassively at Lucifer’s scrutiny.

The squint narrowed further, this time in annoyance. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you.”

“It's really not that difficult. All I have to do is be present and the senseless drivel begins. You're a bit of a glutton for punishment, honestly.”

“Lilith,” Lucifer reminded, pressing and impatient. “Your angle?”

“Let’s call them residuals from life.” He drawled, swirling the glass to punctuate the answer. “Your wife was renowned beyond hell, much like yourself. Is it really all that surprising?” Alastor clicked his tongue with a slow shake of his head.

“You are infuriating.” Lucifer threw his hands up, nearly hitting the countertop as he swiveled back towards the bar and groped for his apple martini pitcher. “You know what! I don’t even care. Cool story, bro. I’m going to go back to drinking my problems away.”

Most people would have simply slid to the next stool, but with Lucifer everything always involved glitter and magic. “You're going to have to ask your prying questions to someone else.”

Alastor took all of it in stride. The self-righteous, stubborn tirade reminded him of Vaggie, always needing the last word. Must be an angelic thing.

“If you insist.” Prey in sight, trap prepared, the crocodile made himself comfortable by the lake shore. “I suppose I'll have to ask Charlie for her help, then.”

“Don't you dare.” The gazelle took a sip, its thirst outweighing its survival instincts. “She's going through enough without you bothering her. She doesn't know anything about this anyway.”

“But I'll bet our temperamental imposter friend knows something.” Patience, patience. “The only person she seemed even remotely interested in was Charlie.”

Lucifer looked at him, suspicion renewed. “So? Charlie's the hotel owner.”

“She didn't speak to Charlie like a person in power. She spoke to her like a parent trying to, albeit poorly, manipulate her child.” His camouflage was impeccable. “She probably thinks herself above manipulation.”

Lucifer bristled, each word putting him further on edge. “Charlie would never agree to that.”

“Well, Charlie does owe me a favor.” The crocodile lunged. “I'm sure she wouldn't mind playing bait to catch the person responsible since you have no interest in this pursuit.”

“She owes you a favor?” Lucifer was instantly sober; angry, protective, and painfully predictable. “What did you do?”

“Just a simple deal.” A death grip on the gazelle’s leg. No matter how much it thrashed, it wasn’t going anywhere. “A favor of my choosing that won't hurt anyone.”

“Why would she ever agree to something that vague?” Livid with fury, Lucifer pinned Alastor against the bar. “You’re bluffing.”

Husk wisely inched away. Several shadow tentacles emerged to roughly shove Lucifer as Alastor dusted off his suit.

"Bluffing is for fools ill prepared for the stakes at hand." The gazelle was dragged into the water, trapped in its death throes. “I had what she needed.”

Clearly resisting the urge to strangle him, Lucifer demanded, “Tell me why you're really looking for her.”

Alastor’s smile widened, basking in the feeling of having the King of Hell exactly where he wanted him. The atmosphere, previously a warm orange, now glowed an ominous green.

“Tell me what you know and I will.”

The crocodile successfully dragged its prey into the murky depths.

Realization dawned with all the annoyance and self-flagellation that came with walking directly into a trap. “You and your damn deals.”

“Weren't you the one who invented deals?” Alastor drawled, but Lucifer wasn't listening.

Such a powerful deal with a sinner as untrustworthy and conniving as Alastor? On all accounts, this seemed like a terrible, dangerous idea. A favor from Lucifer was nothing to sneeze at.

But...

It was a good thing he was good with details.

“If we do this, I have some terms.”

A flick of his wrist manifested a white quill in his hand as he pulled a napkin towards him with the other. The ink was the shimmering gold of angelic blood, his handwriting an elegant cursive as he outlined the contents of their contract.

“Oh,” He paused mid-stroke, looking up to watch Husk silently already cleaning his empty glass. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”

Before Husk could respond, Alastor interrupted with the sharp smack of his empty glass against the counter. Husk’s ears flattened at the sound as he shot him a dirty look. “Actually, I'm not done drinking.”

Husk glanced at him, expression unreadable, before grudgingly refilling the glass.

“Don't mind old Husker,” Alastor chuckled into his drink. “He's aware of the parameters for these sorts of discussions.”

Husk responded with a glower.

“...Sure.” He didn't have the mental energy for this. Lucifer moved on.

“First, we search for Lilith by working together. Enough secrets. Tell me everything you know, and I'll tell you everything I know.” He pointed at Alastor meaningfully with the pen. “That said, you can't share anything that I tell you.”

When Lucifer didn't continue, Alastor added, “Only if you offer me the same courtesy.”

Lucifer grunted his assent and wrote the addendum.

“Second, transfer your deal with Charlie over to me. It's my job to deal with sinners and I don't want her to get her hands dirty with whatever shady scheme you want to involve her in.” Alastor looked far too pleased with himself at the proposal for Lucifer’s liking. “Meaning I will fulfill a single favor for you that is within my power. With my own obvious stipulation, of course: I won't do anything that will harm Charlie, her friends, or the hotel- physically or psychologically, since apparently that's where your twisted mind goes.”

Alastor shrugged, nonchalant as he lifted his glass and swirled the contents loosely. “Fine by me.”

“Finally, not a word of any of this to Charlie.” Lucifer sighed, frowning at the raised eyebrow that got him. “I don't want her worrying.”

“How noble.” Alastor commended, smile glinting.

Lucifer finished writing. The napkin floated in the air before stretching into a proper magical scroll, which he neatly signed at the bottom. Then, he waved it, and the fountain pen, over to Alastor. “If that's all fine with you, then sign.”

Alastor read over the agreement once more. He took his sweet time with it, deliberately drawing it out even when Lucifer’s claws began to drum impatiently on the counter.

Then, he signed. Both signatures glowed red, then green, before the scroll cloned itself. Lucifer waved his own copy out of existence.

“Do I need to sacrifice the other goat to summon you for my favor?” Alastor neatly rolled up his own copy, the question such an obvious jab that Lucifer rolled his eyes even as he answered,

“Don't even think about it. I'll know.” He blinked at Alastor’s extended hand. “Huh?”

“Every deal has to be sealed with a handshake.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Lucifer almost believed him. “It's not properly binding until we do.”

“What are you talking about? We literally wrote our signatures in blood. It doesn't get more binding than that.”

Alastor’s hand remained, unwavering, body leaning forward with a creak of stations. “Shake on it.”

With a heavy, put-upon sigh, Lucifer grasped the outstretched hand.

The moment they clasped together a burst of magic released, far more powerful than their prior handshake. Thick smoke trails snaked up his arm like heavy chains before seeping into his skin. The room around them darkened further as symbols he couldn't understand appeared in the air, accompanied by eyes and skulls and other unpleasant things.

Alastor looked grotesque. His body twisted and cracked, his antlers grew, and as Lucifer raised his eyebrows and looked up at him he couldn't help but think this was all very unnecessarily dramatic.

In the penthouse, snuggled comfortably against her girlfriend, green magic seeped out of Charlie. When it had finished dissipating in the air, her eyes snapped open as she sat up.

Vaggie stirred at the disturbance, sitting up herself with a yawn. “Babe?”

“Sorry,” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, shivering at the goosebumps that tingled up her arms. “Just- something felt off.”

Vaggie was wide awake and reaching for her spear. “Off?”

“Wait, no, not like ‘we're in danger’ off. Like...” Charlie grabbed her arm before she could reach the spear, making a face as she tried to find the words. “It's hard to explain.”

Vaggie’s expression softened. “Bad dream?”

“Kinda?” Charlie put a hand against her chest. “Something’s... missing.”

“Hm.” Vaggie lay back down, tugging Charlie with her. “Like what?”

She thought about it before shaking her head, snuggling back into a comfortable position. “Nevermind. I don't know, it was probably something in my dream.”

“Well I hope you find it.” Vaggie groggily replied, already half-asleep.

“Mm.”

The moment was over as quickly as it started. Lucifer shook his hand out with a small grimace.

Alastor finished his drink with the smile of someone who'd just won the lottery. “Now then. On to business?”

Lucifer held up a finger as he pinched his brows. “I am way too tired to think about any of that right now. Let's talk tomorrow.”

That was enough to elicit an eye twitch, but not enough to dampen his mood. Another pointed tap of his glass and a tap of his claw on the counter in front of Lucifer had two glasses of rye being served. “A drink, then.”

Lucifer snorted, but accepted the drink. “Another way to seal the deal?”

“Only the major ones.” Alastor lifted his glass in invitation.

After a moment, Lucifer raised his glass to clink them together.

They stayed up for a while longer, but eventually Lucifer declared he really was tired and disappeared off to his tower.

Finally alone, Husk side-eyed Alastor doubtfully. “You sure about this?”

"Buck up, old pal.” Alastor smirked. “Things are about to get real interesting around here.”