Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Just slip this into his drink every night. I don't care how or what you need to do, but get it done."

In his hands, Alastor held the bottle of pills Lilith had tossed at him. You would think that as the Queen of Hell and proclaimed hero of sinners, she would have at least had the decency to pass it to him gently after pulling him from his bed at 2 a.m. and summoning him to a beach in the middle of nowhere, but apparently not. Fiddling with the bottle, he glanced up at the only other occupant in the room—his target.

Lucifer. The annoying, tiny little man who had wormed his way into the group of hotel residents. The depressed king of hell who had done anything but rule in the past centuries. The socially inept father who had neglected his child until now. And most recently, to add to all his sins, he'd forced himself on Alastor to heal a wound Alastor definitely did not need help with.

He still remembered it vividly as if it had just happened, even though weeks had passed. The balcony he'd found himself on to get some fresh air, a distraction from the pounding pain in his chest. The flap of wings as the fallen angel landed beside him. The words caught in his throat as golden chains wound themselves around his limbs and forced him to his knees. The unreadable expression on Lucifer's face as Alastor struggled against his bonds, his wings retreating to wherever they disappeared when not in use.

"This is for Charlie, for defending her when I couldn't. Nothing more."

Hot hands—almost as if they burned with the flames of hell beneath flesh—pressed against his chest. Blinding pain coursed through his nerves, and he screamed silently, his mouth still forced into a smile. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The wound that had plagued him ever since the battle was gone in a flash. The angelic energy that had been searing his soul now hovered harmlessly as an orb in Lucifer's hands. He felt his skin knit back together where Adam's strike had scarred him, the chains dissolve into nothingness, and the wind brush his face as Lucifer extended his wings and flew away without another word—as if he hadn't just shattered the pathetic father image Alastor had carved out for him since their first meeting.

"Hey, what are you staring at?"

Shocked back into reality, Alastor blinked at the monarch, who had turned to face him from his seat at the bar, still nursing a cup of whiskey.

"Nothing at all, Your Majesty! Can't a hotelier check on the well-being of one of his most prestigious guests?"

Silence.

Then laughter. Alastor felt an unfamiliar sensation surfacing in his chest as he watched the king guffaw, tension seeping from his body, his smile softening.

"Ha! As if you would ever care about my well-being."

"Well, personal feelings aside, sire, I am still a professional."

"Sure. Very professional of you to pick a fight with me on the first day."

Alastor refused to dignify that statement with a reply—not because he couldn't think of a comeback, but because he was reminded of Lilith's orders and the pill burning a hole in his pocket.

On Earth, he had killed men like this—those who used drugs to manipulate others. He had played the role of vigilante, dealing justice to anyone who dared to slip something into another's drink. And now, here he was, about to do the very same thing.

His bond with Lilith left him no choice. Whether or not he resisted, the bond would override his conscious thoughts and force him to obey. Was it better to just let it happen? If the act was out of his hands, was it really a sin?

"Okay...you're really creeping me out now, Bambi. What's wrong with you? Another angelic wound I need to sort out?"

Alastor jumped back as Lucifer suddenly appeared before him, teleporting into his space with no regard for boundaries.

"My goodness, sire, do you not know personal space?"

"Oh, shut up, as if you do either, Mr. 'I'm going to pop up behind everyone and whisper in their ear.'"

"Ha! At least I do it to socialize, Your Majesty. You, on the other hand, are clearly lacking in that ability."

He couldn't do it. That crushing helplessness, watching his body move out of his control as the bond forced him to act...the severed connection to his powers, his deals, his very essence. The suffocating, crushing weight on his soul without his body's protection. He couldn't relive it.

Surely the Devil was immune to poison—or whatever this drug was. Surely nothing in hell could harm him.

And yet, Alastor knew those were just excuses. Lilith, with her centuries of shared history with Lucifer, would know exactly what would affect him.

And yet, Alastor still summoned his shadow, commanded it to slip the pill into the neglected glass of whiskey, still kept up his playful bickering as he led Lucifer back to the bar.

The words felt like autopilot now—replays of old arguments. He watched, with a strange sense of foreboding, as Lucifer downed the drink in one gulp.

He watched the king's throat bob, could almost feel the pill settle in his stomach. For one of the few times, he felt the sharp sting of regret. But the smile on his face widened in response to Lucifer's remarks, a mask he wore so easily.

With the bottle tucked into his shadow for safekeeping, Alastor found himself hoping for once that this wouldnt be the last argument they had.

Chapter Text

That night, Alastor didn’t sleep a wink. Staring at the ceiling, he could only replay the argument after Lucifer had downed the drink—the drink he’d spiked with that mysterious drug. There wasn’t any visible effect; Lucifer looked as composed as acid rain as he eventually gave up on the argument and vanished back to his own room.

The same could not be said for Alastor. He couldn’t deny the uneasiness churning in his chest, a mockery of the burning pain that Lucifer had cured him of.

He knew nothing could be done other than to wait and see what effects would surface in the morning. Yet he still couldn’t will himself to think about anything other than the little nuisance who probably didn’t deserve whatever horrors the drug might unleash.

Even as he walked down to the kitchen—much later than he normally would have, since he couldn’t bring himself to face the consequences just yet—his mind was still swimming with endless possibilities. Regret wasn’t a feeling Alastor was accustomed to. Yet here he was, stewing in it like a sinner in boiling tar. And all because he’d slipped Lucifer a little something. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve tested it on Angel first—he’d survive anything, surely.

“Hey, big guy, whatcha thinking about?”

Just his luck that the one who caught him pondering his life choices was Angel Dust. It appeared the saying ‘speak of the devil and the devil shall appear’ did not just apply to the devil himself.

“Nothing at all, my effeminate fellow! How are you this fine morning?”

Quite obviously, Angel did not believe him, judging by the suspicious glance he threw Alastor’s way. Fortunately, the spider chose not to pursue the subject, although the words that came out of his mouth weren’t much better at easing his unease.

“Eh, could’ve been better. Val was being a real piece of shit yesterday. And short king’s acting really weird today too, so...”

A loud shriek of feedback had Angel wincing and backing away from the now-frozen form of Alastor.

“Uh, you alright there, Smiles?”

“Perfectly fine, my good fellow! Now, what’s this about our little majesty acting peculiar?”

With all the experience of someone who had been living in the hotel alongside Alastor for months, Angel chose to steadfastly ignore the way Alastor’s neck twitched and cracked at a sharp angle, instead pointing toward the foyer.

“Just see for yourself.”

He should have known that anything described as weird by Angel Dust would definitely be extremely shocking. After all, the spider had such a high tolerance for the peculiar that he would stare at Cthulhu himself and only go, “kinky.” Alastor found himself staring, dumbfounded, as a scene so out of character unfolded right before his very eyes.

“Trust falls are great, Char Char, but I think they might be a bit too much for newcomers.”

“Oh... then what do you suggest, Dad?”

“How about Minefield? That’s a classic. Also, I think you could try Two Truths and a Lie for team bonding activities. Sinners are always hungry to know of potential weaknesses.”

“Um, interesting point, Dad, but thanks! Those sound pretty fun!”

Alastor did not know what to think. It wasn’t uncommon to see Lucifer do anything to help or bond with his daughter—pathetic him always trying to make it up to Charlie—but to see them discussing the bonding activities that Lucifer had always run away from was definitely rare. Not just that, but he was also playing gin rummy with Husk at the same time, and if Husk’s stressed expression was anything to go by, the one getting wrecked wasn’t the distracted Lucifer. Which was a bit strange since Alastor did not remember the little king being that skilled with cards, at least not enough to go up against Husk who was pretty much an expert at all card games.

“As you can see, weird.”

“Indeed, I see your point, my good fellow.”

As they approached the kitchen, Alastor also noticed stacks of different types of sandwiches. Seeing as it was Lucifer’s turn to cook today, it appeared that he had spared them the pancakes for once.

“Hey, toots, how’s it hanging?”

“Hey, Angel. Alastor.”

It had also appeared that dear Vaggie had decided he was much less a concern than the new Lucifer, seeing as she didn’t turn to face him even as he slipped past her for a cup of coffee, still staring at the king who was now giving Charlie life advice while making Husk question his life decisions.

“By any chance, Angel, do you know what’s up with His Majesty?”

“I really don’t see why you would think I know jackshit, toots. Sure, this fluff can get people on their knees and spilling their sins, but it sure has no effect on our short king.”

Groaning, Vaggie quickly turned away from Angel, who was helpfully pushing up his chest fluff to emphasize his point.

“That was extremely unnecessary, Angel.”

“Well, whatever it is, at least someone’s enjoying herself.”

Gesturing vaguely in Charlie’s direction, Angel snatched up a couple of sandwiches himself, heading over to comfort the increasingly stressed Husk, who was all but pulling his fur out as he contemplated how he was losing to a guy who wasn’t even looking at the cards.

“Oh, Al, bit late today, aren’t you?”

Alastor completely understood Vaggie’s feelings, his skin crawling at the use of the overly familiar nickname that he had only allowed Charlie to use because he needed to earn her trust and didn’t see a need to push for formality.

“Well, I certainly must apologize for my tardiness. I must admit I went to bed rather late last night doing my duties to help dear Charlie over here. Running a hotel is rather difficult, don’t you know, Your Highness?”

Yes, taunts. That was definitely something Lucifer would react to. Nothing in whatever drug Lilith gave could take his short and hot temper away—

“Oh dear, I do know. Hope you got enough sleep then.”

Another loud shriek of feedback had all the residents save for the cause of it flinching and covering their ears. Alastor, however, ignored Vaggie’s shouting about not screeching their ears off in favor of staring at the king like he had grown a second head. Not that he was the only one, since Husk had dropped his cards in shock, and the sandwich Angel was chewing had slipped from his mouth with his jaw-dropped expression. An understandable reaction, truly, because...

Lucifer not flying off the handle? Lucifer not rising to his taunts?? Lucifer being nice??? What was next—Lucifer becoming a real functioning individual not composed entirely of sugar? Or worse, a hugger?!

As he stared wordlessly at the king, who was now soaking up praise from Charlie about keeping his cool and not fighting with Alastor, Alastor found himself regretting his actions again, but now for a much different reason.

Oh, what in the name of his maman had Alastor unleashed? And, more importantly, what if Lucifer started emulating his daughter and hugging everyone in sight?!

It was not the first time Alastor had cursed out Lilith for her outrageous orders, but this was perhaps the first time he had wished her dead and gone for putting him through the terror of this new Lucifer.

Chapter Text

Lucifer had no idea what was going on. Which, frankly, was rare. Being pretty damn old usually came with knowing what was up. But anyway—

At first, nothing really seemed off. Maybe he slept a bit better last night, without much thought about how he needed to try harder as Charlie's father, how he was a shitty ruler who didn’t even handle his own court cases... the list went on. Basically, he’d had a pretty good slumber.

That in itself wasn’t too weird, because hey, we all have good days—or nights, in this case—right?

Except things started to get weirder.

When was the last time he’d agreed to play a card game without worrying that showing off his true skills would scare the other person away from playing again? When had he last dared to talk to his daughter about her hotel without fearing Heaven would come down with spears blazing, screaming for their deaths? In fact, when was the last time he could hold a conversation with his daughter without becoming a nervous, stuttering mess, obsessing over every word and any potential underlying meanings?

Obviously, the answer was: not in a damn long time.

Now here he was, dressing to attend a Sin meeting—something he hadn’t done since... well, since Lilith left. Actually, even before that, back when their relationship had started falling apart after, well... that incident.

As he looked in the mirror, it hit him—he wasn’t trembling. Not even a little. When was the last time he’d buttoned his shirt without overthinking the embarrassment of missing the hole? And since when had his reflection lacked those telltale worry lines etched deep into his brow? For once, there wasn’t a voice in his head pointing out how out of place he’d look, or how pathetic it was to even try showing up. That alone felt... strange.

The little voices in his head screeching about everything that could go wrong were almost muffled. Muted. Oh, he could still hear one of them clearly enough—the little Michael voice, still busy pointing out every mistake he’d made across millennia—but even that felt distant.

As he pulled on his socks, he noticed something else. He actually felt the fibers beneath his fingertips. When was the last time he paid attention to that kind of thing? And his thoughts—for once—weren’t locked on catastrophes. He wasn’t spiraling about the cosmic consequences of failing to tie his shoelaces properly.

This was beyond strange. So strange, in fact, that Lucifer had the fleeting, ridiculous thought that maybe he ought to start praying to his Father.

But no. That was insane. It’s not like drugs or toxins even worked on him anyway, so really, it was probably fine. Especially since Charlie was happy!

His dear Char-Char! Lucifer could swear she hadn’t laughed or smiled with him as much as she had this morning since she was a kid.

So whatever this weird thing was, it couldn’t possibly be bad if it made his Char-Char happy. Right?

(Wrong. Everyone but you, Lucifer. Everyone else gives a damn.)

——————————————————-

Honestly, Bee hated Sin meetings. Not because she didn’t like the rest of her family—even though Mammon always pissed her off, and she was still angry with Satan about what he did during Blitzo’s trial—but because the empty throne at the head of the table was a constant reminder of how she had failed her most beloved brother. Despite her empath powers, she constantly made excuses to herself, saying that Luci just needed space and wouldn’t want her butting into his business with Lilith. The truth, however, was she simply couldn’t handle the bitter, acrid emotions she always felt around Lulu. Deep down, she knew she was just a coward, unable to bear even half the weight he always carried. And look where that had gotten them. She hadn’t even seen him since Charlie’s seventh birthday, and he hadn’t replied to any of her texts for the past five decades.

Oz hadn’t had much luck getting through to Luci either—none of the others had, really. Bel probably got the closest to making Lulu open up, but honestly, for such a little man, he was damn near impossible to break when he didn’t want to speak a word.

Scratching at the collar, she tried not to look at the empty throne. When even was the last time she saw it occupied? Instead, she focused on the discussion between Oz and Bel. It was mostly one-sided, though, as Bel was already nodding off. Not that Oz cared—Bel was still listening, even if she was slumped over the table.

“And now fizz is acting all weird! I know he understands why I couldn’t do anything, but he probably still blames me for not trying harder.”

Oz broke into sobs before he’d even finished the sentence, his two spectral heads crying alongside him. Bee patted his back gently, quickly pulling out some strawberry juice—his favorite comfort drink. As expected, he downed it in one gulp after a teary “thank you.”

Bee bit her lip, resisting the urge to gag at the salt-and-sour emotions emanating from him. She wanted nothing more than to get away and leave the room, but she had to be there for Oz, she already failed once and she would not fail again damn it.

“Honestly, Asmodeus, I believe your lover may not blame you at all.” Bel slurred, her words heavy with drowsiness.

“He may just be worried about his friend, and doesn’t know how to express his concern to him without appearing too clingy.”

“So…so he doesn’thate me?”

“I believe that’s the case. But you could help him by reaching out to his friend on his behalf. Perhaps schedule a meeting. It might ease Fizzarolli’s worries—and give you a chance to check on the Goetia prince.”

Sighing in relief as the salt gave way to the sweet taste of hope, Bee sat back down in her chair, smiling reassuringly at Oz who was now drying off his tears. Bel quickly fell asleep, seeing as her services were no longer needed.

She was pretty damn relieved that both mammon and Satan were late, because she would definitely not enjoy what she would have to do if they started making fun of Ozzie, which was pretty much an inevitable outcome. It was just a bonus Levi hasn’t turned up yet. For all Bee admired her fashion sense, Levi wasn’t someone you trusted with vulnerabilities.

“So um, how’s your boyfriend?” Looking up at Ozzie, who was now trying to pretend he hadn’t just broken down over fears that his lover hated him for something beyond his control, Bee felt a pang of guilt. How could she have even thought about running away when her brother so clearly needed her? Still, she pushed those bitter feelings aside and plastered on a big smile, letting herself bask in the sweet, blooming joy that now radiated in the air. It made it so much easier to laugh at Oz’s jokes, keeping the conversation light and giving him room to find his balance again.

Their conversation was cut short, however, by the creak of the double doors. Bee froze mid-laugh, turning toward the entrance. Even Bel cracked one sleepy eye open to see which sibling had finally arrived.

It wasn’t Satan’s hulking, storm-cloud presence. Nor Mammon’s gaudy, jingling figure. Not even Levi’s slinking double heads. Instead, a familiar top hat peeked through the doorway.

“Luci!”

Oz was out of his seat in an instant, bounding across the room to sweep the much smaller king into his arms. His joyful laugh echoed off the walls as he spun Lucifer around, spinning fast enough that Bee had to hover midair to avoid getting knocked over.

“Put me down, you oversized peacock!” Lucifer protested with no real heat, though laughter bubbled under his words.

“Oh, no chance, Lulu!” Ozzie grinned, squeezing him tighter.

Bee flitted around them like an orbiting moon, her wings buzzing in excitement. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Lucifer, whose laugh sounded far too genuine to be the one she remembered. She blinked rapidly, fighting the welling tears as she drank in the sheer absence of guilt and self-hatred in him. Well, it wasn’t completely absent, she could still sense traces lingering around, but it was like a small puddle compared to the giant sea it had been before. Additionally, for once, his emotions radiated confidence and satisfaction—a steady warmth she hadn’t felt from him in centuries.

Even Bel’s ever-drowsy face softened into a rare smile, her chin resting in her palm as she watched the reunion unfold.

“How have you been, honey?” Bee finally chimed, her voice light but probing.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one constantly drinking honey, Bee.”

“Indeed, Lulu,” Ozzie teased, still holding him close. “You are what you eat. So by that logic, the real honey here is Bee herself.”

“Haha, very funny,” Bee shot back, forcing a grin. “Sugar strawberry.”

The laughter that followed should have put her at ease, but it didn’t. Something still prickled at the back of her mind—a question she couldn’t shake. What had changed Lucifer so drastically? What had brought this new lightness to him? Don’t get Bee wrong, she loved seeing her brother happy but one does not shake off millenias worth of baggage in 5 decades, lesser than that if she were to count all the meetings Luci had missed.

She darted a quick glance at Bel, who gave the faintest of shrugs as if to say, Don’t ask me. But Bee was already filing the thought away for later. She loved seeing Lucifer like this—laughing, light, alive—but she wasn’t about to ignore the nagging sense that there was more to it. And judging by the questioning look Oz’s spectral heads were giving when it was clear Lu wasn’t looking at them, they weren’t alone in that sentiment.

For now, she let herself laugh along with her brothers, but in the back of her mind, the questions were already forming. What was going on here? 

Chapter Text

The meeting proceed as per normal. Well as normal as it could be when their eldest brother was finally out of his palace and with them once again. Satan's look of pure shock and subsequent anxiety when he entered the room almost had Bee feeling bad for him, until she remembered all the court cases where Satan had just thrown them under the axe just because they weren't nobility, and any sympathy was quickly burnt away. Mammon's was way funnier though, for his immediate attempts of ass kissing were immediately shut down once Luci brought up Loo Loo Land. Unfortunately, Levi didn't even appear surprised, only sweeping up to Luci to give him a hug and a 'Welcome back little guy'. Which wasn't unexpected -- they still had a running challenge of who could shock Levi, not literally of course ---but Bee was still disappointed.

Afterwards though, it was pretty much normal. Bel skipped her turn of going over what was happening in sloth, choosing instead to just toss papers at them to read themselves, Bee was pretty sure it was her assistant that wrote out the papers, and Oz didn't even start his part before the arguments started. Sighing exasperatedly, Bee rolled her eyes as Satan started going on about how they were above the lower class demons and shouldn't be frolicking about with them, and naturally Oz reacted defensively, only for Mammon to start the goading and taunting, and now both Oz and Mam were leaning over the table and shouting at each other's faces. Not to mention Satan was still giving his unwanted input about Oz's relationship -- hypocrite, bee was pretty sure he and the little candle demon had feelings for each other if the adoration she sensed from both of them during their interactions had anything to say about it. Looking over at the head of the table, she watched Levi gossiping with Luci about whatever was going on in her ring, both heads taking turns in spilling the tea, and smiled. At least someone was enjoying himself.

"Oh come on now ozzie, you literally stole him from me!"

"You exploited him first!"

"He was literally mine! He was under contract! I am fully allowed to do whatever I want with him!"

"Indeed, Asmodeus. Mammon is correct, he is most certainly legally allowed to do whatever he wants with his property."

"Fizz is not a property!"

Groaning, Bee slumped in her chair, rubbing her paws down her face, wishing she had Bel's ability to sleep through even the 10 plagues. Normally she would be supporting Ozzie in this argument, but one bottle of beelzejuice was decidedly not enough to be getting her through the spiciness of both sides, literal spice. Wondering if she could just leave the room and come back later when the trio had run out of energy, she nearly kicked down the orange bottle that had suddenly popped into existence under her chair.

Beelzejuice. Glancing at Luci who gave her a sly wink, bee decided that she was so going to get him a real duck even if she had to crawl up to earth to get it. Gulping down the concoction she resisted the urge to sigh with relief as almost immediately the overwhelming sensations numbed into a much more manageable taste.

"In the first place, what even is your problem, Satan? We all know you're having loads of fun with that little guy always flitting about your head."

"Wait. What?"

Bee did not know why she was surprised Oz knew about it. He was literally the Sin of Lust, though that probably meant adoration was not the only thing on the table between Satan and the candle demon—what was his name again? Yoghurt? Yago? Something like that. Anyway, she stifled a giggle at Mammon's shocked face as he turned toward Satan, almost in slow motion. If the silence wasn't proof enough that Oz was speaking the truth, Satan quickly turned a darker shade of red—a remarkable feat, really, since he was already red.

"Satan, are you actually—"

"That… that was extremely uncalled for, Asmodeus."

Ozzie's cackling laughter echoed in the room, while Mammon gaped like a fish, trying to wrap his head around the fact that who he thought was his biggest ally in class discrimination was probably involved with a lower-class demon himself.

"Actually, I think that was quite called for."

Almost immediately, the shade of red darkened even more as Luci joined the party, and this time Bee couldn’t hold back her laughter. Hell, even Levi was giggling—both heads at that! Maybe it was a little mean to be having so much fun at Satan’s expense, but, well, it was completely deserved.

"What I do think is uncalled for was how you treated that imp during the trial, though."

Bee's laughter died in her throat. The room went silent, and Satan quickly sat up ramrod straight, a drop of sweat trailing down his face. Bee took another swig of Beelzejuice as she felt the tangible, and unfortunately real, taste of fear radiating from Satan and nervousness from everyone else. Even Bel had woken up from her nap, staring at the unfolding scene with a startling level of awareness.

"The prince was clearly lying, Satan. I wonder why you didn’t do anything about it."

Despite the blunt words, Luci’s voice was calm—gentle, even—and there was no malice in his tone. Bee couldn’t sense any anger, either. In which case, why was he pursuing this topic? She couldn’t remember the last time he had confronted any of them, or anyone really, about something that hadn’t **infuriated him—**there had been an earthquake involved the last time—so why was he doing it now?

"I… I knew he was lying."

"Then why?"

Bee gently gripped Oz’s hand as he sat back down, noticing the larger Sin trembling slightly. Naturally so. Apart from her, who could sense Luci wasn’t actually angry, and probably Bel, who knew Luci well enough, everyone else likely thought someone was about to get skewered today.

"To teach them a lesson. All of Hellkind must learn there are consequences to breaking the laws."

"But instead, you’re teaching them that the nobles can get away with anything—even lying in court."

"Well…"

"I put you in charge of Hell's laws because I believed you would give karma where it’s needed. You were to use wrath righteously, to ensure integrity and justice no matter the cost. Was that not what you promised me in exchange for control of the justice system?"

As strange as this was—Luci normally let them do whatever they wanted as long as it didn’t cause a civil war or threaten Charlie—this was probably a lecture long overdue. Most of them, Mammon excluded, had felt Satan was abusing his power in some way, even if they hadn’t pinpointed exactly how. The last fair trial had probably been centuries ago, back when Lilith still hung around and wasn’t caught up in whatever thing she had going on with Luci.

"…Easy for you to say."

"What?"

Satan towered over the table, his body shifting and growing larger with rage. "That’s easy for you to say!" he roared, the room trembling under the weight of his voice. “You command respect as the king, the creator of Hell! I—” His voice caught, and for a moment, there was a flicker of vulnerability beneath the towering anger. “I don’t get that luxury.”

Lu remained seated, his calm demeanor unwavering. The others exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to intervene. Oz subtly edged her chair closer to Bee, gripping her hand tightly as if bracing for a storm. Bel simply watched, her gaze unreadable but intense.

“Do you think that respect comes freely to me?” Luci asked softly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Do you think it’s handed over simply because I wear the crown?”

Satan faltered, his breath hitching, but his anger didn’t fully abate. “You don’t have to deal with what I do! They mock me, Lu. My workouts, my advice—they call me a brawn with no brain. Even that imp dared to mouth off before me! How am I supposed to get respect if I’m not vicious?”

Lu finally stood, approaching Satan without fear nor hesitation. “Is this why you lied during the trial?” he asked, pausing before the gigantic dragon. “Because you thought fear would give you the respect you think you deserve?”

The room went utterly silent. For a moment, it seemed as though Satan might explode again, an explosion of spice upon her taste buds, but instead, he visibly deflated, his massive form shrinking back to its usual size, the spice abating into something bitter and salty. “I… yes,” he admitted begrudgingly, his voice low. “They need to know there are consequences.”

“And do they respect you more now?” He pressed. “Or do they simply fear you?”

Satan hesitated. He didn’t answer, but the way his fists clenched at his sides spoke volumes.

He stepped closer, his voice softening. “Respect isn’t born of fear, Satan. It’s earned through fairness, through showing your strength lies in justice, not cruelty.” He paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Do you think everyone respects me? Truly?”

The other sins froze, exchanging incredulous looks. Mammon was the first to blurt out, “Who the hell would be dumb enough to disrespect you?”

Lu chuckled, the sound light but laced with exasperation. “Oh, there are plenty. Alastor, for one. That nuisance seems to find endless ways to undermine me.”

“Who even is that?” “The Radio Demon, Mammon, what too filled with your own ego to notice others?” “Shut it, Ozzie.” Thankfully for all of them, Luci cut back in before the argument could escalate

“He’s a thorn in my side, but he’s also... useful, as much as I have wanted to kill him where he stands at times. Disrespect isn’t always a bad thing, Satan. It forces us to confront our flaws, our blind spots. It makes us better—if we’re willing to listen.”

Satan frowned, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “You’re saying I should just let them mouth off?”

“I’m saying you should listen,” Lu said firmly. “Disrespect often reveals mistakes, opportunities to improve. Take your workouts, for instance. After whatever criticism they sent your way, you tried to improve them didn’t you?”

Satan blinked, surprised. “I—well, yes, but that’s different.”

“It’s not, your workouts have improved, they’ve become more versatile, more inclusive of different types of demons. The same principle applies to ruling. If you take your anger out on relatively innocent imps and let the nobility get away with lying, what are you teaching Hellkind? That the strong can manipulate the law? That you’re gullible enough to let them?”

Satan’s shoulders sagged, the fire in his eyes dimming. He looked away, muttering, “I hate feeling disrespected.”

Luci stepped forward and, to everyone’s surprise, wrapped Satan in a firm but gentle hug. “I know. I hate it too,” he said quietly. “But you can’t let that hatred consume you. Use it to grow, not to destroy.”

The tension in the room eased as Satan’s massive frame relaxed slightly. Bee let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Even Mammon stopped fidgeting, though he still looked mildly stunned by the turn of events.

“…I’ll call for a retrial.”

“You want me to come?”

“Sure, anything for you Lulu.”

Exchanging smiles, Luci stepped back, releasing Satan. “Well um, golly this meeting has been... intense,” he said with a faint smile. “Take some time to cool off, all of you. We’ll reconvene later to discuss how to move forward.”

No one argued. As the sins began to shuffle out, Bee cast one last glance at Luci. His calm exterior hadn’t cracked, but something about his recent demeanor lingered in her mind. Beside her, Ozzy’s thoughtful gaze mirrored her unease. She made a mental note to speak with him—and perhaps Bel too—about visiting Charlie’s hotel. It was the only variable he had added to his routine in centuries. If this change in him stemmed from there, perhaps they needed to see it firsthand.

Chapter Text

Charlie was worried. No, scratch that — very worried. Don’t get her wrong; she loves her father, and seeing him trying his best and supporting her — joining her activities, giving advice, helping around the hotel — made her heart feel full and warm. It’s just that his sudden shift in behavior was so far removed from the father she had known all her life that she couldn’t help but feel suspicious.

Not of him, of course. She knew he loved her but wasn’t the best at expressing it. Rather, she was suspicious of the situation itself. As much as she loved seeing him so enthusiastic and confident, she felt bad for missing the normal version of her dad — the one who would quietly sit in the background, observing but not engaging much. This hyperactive version of him was not only unexpected but borderline unsettling. Even now, he was on live TV, giving an interview with Vox. Charlie had her phone propped up against a coffee cup, the screen displaying her father laughing and speaking animatedly to the host. The mere sight of him doing this — and doing it well — was enough to make her break into a cold sweat.

Her father, who historically avoided public speaking like the plague, was suddenly shining under the spotlight? If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d think someone had swapped him with an imposter. “I don’t know, Vaggie,” Charlie sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I just feel like this isn’t... normal.”

Vaggie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s strange, but maybe he’s just trying to change for the better? You’ve always said you wanted him to be more involved.”

“I do,” Charlie admitted, her voice muffled by her hands.

“But it’s not just that. It’s how sudden it is. Change doesn’t happen overnight, and he’s been doing this non-stop for two weeks now.”

Vaggie gently guided her to sit down at the table, where the other residents of the hotel were already gathered. “That’s why we’re here, right? Let’s figure this out together.”

Pulling out her phone, Charlie took a deep breath and addressed the group. “Thank you all for coming. I know this is sudden, but... I’m worried about my dad. I don’t think this behavior is normal, and I need your help to figure out what’s going on.”

Nifty immediately perked up. “Oh! Oh! I’ve got something to share! He gave me a new feather duster!” She held up the enchanted duster like a trophy, her eyes gleaming with manic excitement. “It burns the dirt away! Isn’t that amazing? It’s like a tiny incinerator!” Before anyone could respond, she scuttled off, muttering something about hunting down a rogue dust bunny.

The room fell silent for a moment. “Well, that was... something,” Husk drawled, sipping from his flask. “But yeah, I’ve got a thing. He’s been playing cards with me every day. Gotta admit, the guy’s got skill. I’ve learned more tricks from him in a week than I have in a decade.”

Angel leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Oh yeah? That’s nothing. The big guy’s been sharing nightcaps with me, letting me vent about my day. Hell, he even asked me if I wanted to break my contract with Val.”

The room collectively froze. Even Charlie’s jaw dropped, not for the same reason as the rest of them though. Even her typing paused as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that her dad even offered.

"Wait he can do that?"

Angel shrugged. "Apparently so. Said he normally doesn’t mess with stuff like that ‘cause free will and all, gotta suffer the consequences for your actions. But he mentioned that since he could see that I'm all in on the redemption thingy, he figured it wasn’t really free will if my contract was chaining me down.”

“And you said no?” Husk asked, giving Angel a rare look of approval.

“Damn right I said no. I aint gonna take the easy way out. But... it was nice of him to offer, y’know?” Angel looked away, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Cherri Bomb, who had been unusually quiet until now, chimed in. “Okay, y’all are sappy as hell, but I’ve got my own shit. Yesterday, I went looking for Frankie and found the little egg crying on the short king. Turns out, he wanted to know more about Pentious. Frank told him a bunch of stories, and in the end, well,” Gesturing in the direction of the sofa, Charlie spotted the small egg boy curled up with a snake-shaped plushie and several small figurines of some of his egg friends. Despite the apathetic tone, Cherri's body language and eyes said enough for charlie to guess that it wasnt just frank whos grateful for her dad's kindness.

“Well, that explains where those came from,” Husk muttered.

"How about you, babe? Do you have anything to share?” Charlie turned to Vaggie, giving a supportive smile.

"Um, yeah I guess. He gave me some of his preening supplies. High-quality stuff. He also offered to helped me with flying practice. I’ve been rusty since... well, you know.”

Angel grinned. “Damn, sounds like he’s playing favorites. What about you, toots? He's your pops. Got any tea to spill?”

Charlie sighed. “Not much, honestly. Most of what he’s been doing with me is stuff you all can see — helping out around the hotel, joining activities, that kind of thing. We haven’t had much one-on-one time.”

Vaggie placed a reassuring hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll get your moment.” Charlie smiled weakly and covered Vaggie’s hand with her own. “Thanks, Vaggie.”

"Hey isn't Smiles supposed to be here too?"

Charlie shook her head, keeping her phone after she sent off the notes she made. “I called him, but he said he was busy. Guess I’ll just ask him about this later."

-------------------------

Striding through the winding streets of Cannibal Town with an air of casual indifference, Alastor adjusted his crimson coat, muttering to himself. “How did it come to this?”

Sighing, he glanced down at the wrapped package of fresh duck meat he had just acquired. The butcher—delighted by the rare appearance of the infamous Radio Demon—had insisted on offering him the highest quality cuts. “Fetching groceries. For the King of Hell. Who could’ve predicted this plot twist?”

The memory of the earlier scene in the hotel garden came rushing back, unbidden. Alastor had been heading out through the hotel courtyard when he stumbled across a bizarre sight: Lucifer, the mighty ruler of Hell, crouched by the garden pond, arms flailing in a futile attempt to separate two very aggressive ducks from tearing each other apart.

"My your majesty, what an elegant sight!"

Lucifer looked up, his golden eyes flashing with a mix of embarrassment and exasperation. “Don’t just stand there, Alastor. These blasted birds are going to kill each other!”

Alastor smirked but stepped forward, arms crossed. “And what exactly do you expect me to do? Lecture them on the virtues of coexistence?”

Lucifer grumbled, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. “No, but you could help me keep them from turning into feathered murderers while I figure something out. Bee’s already going to give me an earful if she hears about this.”

"Bee?"

"Beelzebub. This is her idea of a gift. Said she couldn't get real ducks so she tried one of the famous duck breeders. yet she forgot to mention they were from wrath and these ducks are cannibalistic."

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, do you plan to do with them?”

“I was hoping fresh duck meat might keep them from killing each other,” Lucifer admitted. “Think you could get some? You know the best places in Cannibal Town. I'll pay you back.”

He was half tempted to refuse out of spite, then again Lucifer had done nothing to deserve that. Seeing the small monarch clearly distressed about the two ducks that were now trying to naw through his hands to get at the other, Alastor conjured a pair of shadow minions with a theatrical snap of his fingers. They materialized beside the pond, their dark forms twitching as if eager for orders.

Lucifer blinked, puzzled. “What are you doing?”

Alastor gestured lazily to the shadowy figures. “I’m assigning babysitters. These two will keep your darling little ducks from adding to Hell’s body count while you... I don’t know, go prepare for your interview with...Vox.” He spat the name like it was a curse.

Lucifer tilted his head, clearly taken aback. “You’re... helping me?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Your Highness,” Alastor said smoothly. “It’s not for you. It’s for the poor ducks that have the misfortune of being caught in your domain.” He paused, his grin faltering slightly. “And perhaps because I pity the fool trying to wrangle them without proper experience.” And definitely not because Alastor was still wrestling with the moral aspects of drugging someone daily without their knowledge or consent, even if it appeared to have only beneficial effects.

Lucifer studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, much to Alastor’s shock, he stepped forward and wrapped him in a quick but sincere hug.

“Thank you, Alastor,” Lucifer whispered, his voice quiet but filled with genuine warmth. Alastor froze, his crimson eyes wide. The hug ended as abruptly as it began, with Lucifer pulling back and offering a rare, sheepish smile. “I’m counting on you, big guy,” Lucifer said with a playful salute before hurrying off, leaving Alastor rooted to the spot.

The Radio Demon’s grin twitched as he processed what had just happened. “Oh no,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s spreading. The hugging. The sentimentality. This is the end.” Despite his words though, Alastor couldn't help but note the absence of any real disgust at the physical touch, and he couldn't deny that the king was very warm, a comfortable contrast to his colder body temperature.

Back in the present, Alastor shook his head as if trying to clear the memory from his mind. “All this for some ducks,” he muttered, glancing at the package in his hand again. He quickened his pace, eager to deliver the goods and disappear before the king's interview ended. He most certainly did not want to risk being hugged again, totally not because he didnt want to risk his minions being unable to keep the two ducks apart and having to see Lucifer's disappointment.