Chapter Text
He never thought he would feel as homesick as he did. He missed the noise of the house, the constant buzz of life pulsing through the halls. Mammon sneaking out at midnight, Asmodeus stumbling in at three a.m. Leviathan preparing a meal before his slumber at six only to meet Lucifer preparing his breakfast. The day was as busy as the night. It was guaranteed that any hour Satan chose, he’d find someone awake.
The Demon Lord’s Castle slept quietly. During the night, whenever the mattress felt too hard, his pillow too worn, he’d walk the halls. It was dead.
It did not help the fact that, whilst he was still under house arrest, Diavolo and Barbatos still had their royal duties to attend, leaving him alone for the majority of the day. He had walked the length of the house maybe a thousand times within the first week. He’d entered every room, turned every page, opened every cupboard. Nothing changed. Everything was as it should be.
And he hated the predictability. Hated the routine.
It was nice whenever the brothers would call round and keep him company for a short while. After his… rather heated conversation with Belphegor, he had not shown his face again. Asmodeus carried his nail polish and beauty products in the small cat-shaped bag Satan bought him for his birthday the year prior and Leviathan would show up with his D.D.D. opened on his favourite fan-site to showcase his precious anime’s new releases.
The small tastes of home lingered in his mouth. No matter how hard he tried to cleanse his palate of this new, awkward life, he couldn’t forget the sweet taste he had grown to miss. He’d catch a fleeting scent of home as Barbatos waltzed by after spending hours in the House of Lamentation, sitting next to Lucifer, caring for him.
He was so close to home, yet so far.
Boredom would be the death of him, this he was sure. He could not stand the sight of the pretty, pristine books in Diavolo’s library, he had no appetite for someone else’s words. He wanted the comfort of his own books. The strangers in the shelves waiting for his touch.
Not to mention the lack of cats prowling the castle gardens.
He sat himself under a blossoming tree, the petals weeping by his side. It was hot that day, even with the moon high in the forever dark sky. The streetlamps were lit, glowing throughout the gardens. A picturesque sight, one he was forever jealous of, cursing Diavolo and his royal name.
The grass beneath him was cool. It helped with the heat.
Today, he was alone again. Diavolo wanted to be by Lucifer’s side and that meant Barbatos had to pick up his slack, visiting countless offices throughout the Devildom. Bar from the Little D’s running about, cleaning what needed cleaned and brushing up on small house chores, Satan was alone.
He sank back, shoulders slouching against the bark. He wished this would end already.
A thought struck him. What if Lucifer never remembered?
Would he be forever a stranger, barred from house and home? Would they introduce Satan as a new roommate?
Would he ever have his father back?
Drowning in the depths, the voice of an angel pulled him out.
“Satan?”
He opened his eyes to find blue eyes staring back. Luke watched him, hands behind his back, rocking on his feet. He waited for an answer.
“Luke.”
With no further confirmation, Luke lowered himself to the ground, arms wrapped around his knees as he balanced on his heel.
“Why are you here?” he asked the boy, crossing his legs.
Luke pondered, lips twitching as he thought. “Simeon’s busy.” He answered, never looking away.
“I see.”
It was terribly awkward between the two. All he could think about was how much Luke was the root of his problems. It was not fair, he knew it, but he had to blame someone for making him feel this way.
Fate played dirty tricks. There was no one else for Satan to seek, everyone too busy in their own normal lives. They couldn’t live off a different routine for too long before things started going awry- even for Simeon. He had work to do, connections to make, relationships to forge. To leave little Luke in Purgatory Hall alone was too much for him to handle.
“Did Simeon drop you off?” he asked. Maybe he could chat with the angel before he was too far away.
Luke shook his head. “I came here myself.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think he’ll get better soon?”
There it was. Why did he even care about a demon? Luke hated demons, he made that much clear. But it niggled at the back of his mind, Luke was the one to make Lucifer smile. The bridge between angels and demons wasn’t that broken, it only took a little push to repair.
Satan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Satan…”
“What?” he snapped. Luke frowned at him, his small hands plucking a flower from the grass.
“I think I understand.” He furrowed his brows at the boy, confused. Luke plucked the white petals from the flower. “Ezekiel’s Eagle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember when Simeon dropped me off at the House of Lamentation a while back?” How could he forget? That’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Satan nodded dumbly. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Diavolo and him were investigating the disappearance of it. That’s why I wasn’t allowed to know. It was too dangerous. They said it was stolen from home. No one knew where it went so Simeon contacted Diavolo for his help.”
“It was kept secret from Lucifer.”
Luke nodded. “Simeon said he was afraid what something as powerful as Ezekiel’s Eagle could do to a fallen angel. It hates demons, but it knew Lucifer personally and Lucifer’s a demon now so we didn’t know what would happen.”
And now they knew.
“Why did you have Ezekiel’s Eagle?”
Satan met his eye. Luke expected a confession, free of sin and condemnation. He was an angel, one to not judge. Satan could not hold the stare any longer, he dropped his gaze to the grass, the thousands of flowers waiting to be beheaded. He held back. “It wasn’t meant to be the eagle.”
“You found it by accident?”
He gave a slight nod. “Bought the wrong thing.”
“Why?”
“I wanted a strong curse.” How pathetic, confessing to a child. Luke listened intently, slowly inching closer to him as he puked up his guilt. “I was angry.”
“At Lucifer?”
“Yes.” He answered tight.
“Why were you angry?”
“I-”
It wasn’t really anger, was it? He had known this entire time. Sure, he was angry, but wrath did not fuel his actions. No. It was something else. A childish desire to be wanted. To watch someone live the life you never had. To be liked with no compromise.
He was…
Jealous.
From the look upon Luke’s face, he too had come to the same conclusion. From the way he watched Luke, how Lucifer treated him like a son, the gentle smiles, soft stares, pride swelling as Luke delivered those cupcakes. For a moment, he wanted to be him and have Lucifer treat him like he was normal.
He wanted to go home.
It had only been an hour since he sent the message yet his room at the palace was full, even with Mammon still to arrive. The brothers lingered around the room, engaging in meandering conversations petering off after a few minutes. It was too awkward to hold anything meaningful.
Satan’s foot wobbled, tapping his toes against the carpet, nerves getting the better of him. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.
He opened his mouth, desperate for something to say to stave of the silence, but nothing came out. Glancing around the room, he realised no one had noticed. They were waiting for him to start on his own terms.
How would he even begin? Plain out confess his crimes? Subtly imply how great his role in Lucifer’s injuries were? No matter what he did, he was not looking forwards to the aftermath. While he waited for their arrivals, he came up with a hundred and one ways they’d react. None of them were good. Now that he sat there, one brother remaining, he was not sure if any one of the outcomes were right. Waiting for Mammon to show was killing him.
Can you guys come to the castle? All of you.
Nothing else was written. He ignored the questions thrown his way, leaving them in the dark longer than they wanted. He had to do it in person. It was only fair. He deserved to see their raw reactions.
“If ya missed yer big bro that much, you coulda just said,” Mammon announced, kicking open the door, arms full of baskets of baked goods. He dumped the presents to the side of the room and sauntered in.
Leviathan regarded the food. “Where’d you get that?” he said, eyeing Beelzebub who had already began his prowl towards the food.
Mammon shrugged, “won it,” he said casually.
“That’s why you were late?” Belphegor pierced a glare in his direction.
“We were waiting forever for you!” Asmodeus sighed, flipping his hand over to check his nails.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Enough.” It was the first he had spoken since the brothers arrived. Eyes fell on him, watching him. Suddenly he felt awkward commanding them in such a way. Satan cleared his throat with his fist, distilling the heavy air. “I called you here for a reason.”
“You miss home?” Beelzebub said over crumbs.
Satan paused. “I do. I miss you guys. But that’s not it. It’s about Lucifer.”
“He’s doin’ well,” Mammon slung his arm around Satan on the edge of the bed. He yanked him close. “Stop worryin’, he’s Lucifer; he’ll get over this soon enough.”
He bit his cheek hard, pain for believing he could get out of this unscathed. “No. It’s not that… exactly…” it was awkward! Too awkward! How hard was it for him to say it? He swallowed hard, a tough lump refusing to go down. “It’s my fault.”
Belphegor snapped upright, as if electrocuted. “Satan-”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Beelzebub said calmly.
Leviathan nodded, “yeah, you’re only saying that cuz-”
“No! Stop it! Let me speak!” He snapped, tired of everyone rushing to prove his innocence. He wasn’t a child anymore. Satan made the conscious decision to harm someone and he was sick of people not listening to him. Diavolo, Barbatos, the brothers. No one cared to hear his side of the story without swooping in and justifying his false actions. “You don’t need to protect me.”
Belphegor shot him a glance, a silent confirmation to continue. Before anyone had the chance to butt in, Satan shook his head.
“I knew what I was doing. I wanted to hurt Lucifer. I wanted… I wanted to get back at him.”
“What are you saying?” Asmodeus’ singsong of a voice was flat, ripped from the melody he usually possessed.
“I was jealous. I took it out on him. It was a childish act of revenge. He annoyed me so I wanted to annoy him back. I planned to ruin his day. It wasn’t meant to end up like this.”
“I picked up the wrong curse.”
The bothers turned their attention to Belphegor. Mammon took lead, “Belphie, yer involved too?”
“No, he wasn’t. Stop talking, Belphegor. It was me. Don’t blame him for what I got him to do. It was meant to be a prank.”
“Pranks don’t put people in comas,” Asmodeus said.
“It wasn’t my intention.”
“But you still did it,” came Leviathan, slipping his hands into his pockets to fidget with his controller. “Couldn’t you have put salt in his coffee?”
“It was foolish of me, I know. I’m not proud of what I did.”
Mammon retracted his arm form him. The final straw. “Satan…”
“I’m sorry.” A plead for anyone to hear. Mammon raised from the bed to stand. Satan grabbed his wrist. “He was with Luke.” Mammon met his eye. He remembered. “And I acted before I thought. If I could go back and change-”
“You can’t change though! You hurt him!” Leviathan yelled. He turned to Belphegor, “and you shouldn’t have helped him!”
Beelzebub dropped his food, fists replacing what he was holding, “don’t yell at him.” He moved to stand in front of his twin.
“He’s not involved,” Satan stood. “Leave him out of this.”
“We should have known…” Asmodeus sighed into his hands, “you’re still a child…”
Satan whipped his head to Asmodeus, blood boiling under his skin. “I’m not a child! Don’t blame this on immaturity. Stop finding excuses! I knew what I was doing! Me! It was nothing else but me!”
This was not how he expected this to go. For one, Belphegor taking a brunt of the blame was not planned. Beelzebub remained protecting him from Leviathan’s words. Asmodeus refused to accept Satan as a functioning adult who could sin. And Mammon…
Satan still held his wrist between his fingers. He looked down, his claws piercing through Mammon’s skin. At once he released him. Satan blinked at him. Ready for assault.
Mammon regarded him. “It’s hard t’control. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
“Mammon-”
Mammon grabbed him by the neck and pulled him for a hug. “Yer stupid, ya know that? Yer so damn stupid. Don’t ever think of doin’ some shit like that again.” Mammon stuffed Satan’s face to his shoulder. “I know it’s tough but ya gotta come to someone before ya act out on yer own and hurt someone.”
“I thought-”
“Ya thought wrong whatever ya thought. We’re here for you. Doesn’t matter if ya thought it was stupid or silly. We don’t care. What we care about is each other and ya hurt one of us.” Mammon spoke clear, hand rubbing the back of his head. “I know ya didn’t mean for it to go this far, but ya gotta accept what ya did was wrong.”
“I know.”
“It was stupid.”
“I know.”
“I understand why ya thought to do what ya did, but I don’t condone what ya did.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mammon pulled back. “It ain’t me you oughta be apologisin’ to.”
Satan nodded. With that, Mammon patted his shoulder. Looking around, Mammon gave a silent gesture to the door, sign that it was time to leave. Tensions still high, the brothers were more than happy to leave. They gave their farewells under their breaths, unwilling to engage more than they had to. Satan didn’t blame them.
“Give them time,” said Mammon, “it’s a lot to take in.” Satan gazed upon his socks. Ashamed to even look Mammon in the eye. “Hey, jealousy’s a bitch, and Lucifer’s a dick. Next time, be better than them.”
A hand in his hair, Satan looked up. Mammon gave a cheeky smile. “I’ll see ya round kid.”
And before long, Satan was alone again.
The House of Lamentation, as alive as it usually was, was quiet. He didn’t blame the brothers, however. Still mourning the news that it was in fact Satan and Satan alone to screw up Lucifer’s week was taking a toll on them. Mammon was probably out gambling, Leviathan in some arcade, Asmodeus familiarising himself with a stranger, and Beelzebub and Belphegor out were doing whatever twin brothers do. Whatever helped them cope.
In a sense, he was thankful that he was alone in the house. With no brothers prowling the halls, he could sneak in and out, catch a glimpse of Lucifer on the way as he plucked some books from his room. He knew what he should do but he wasn’t sure Lucifer was even ready to hear him out.
Where the brothers reacted accordingly, Luke let him go with a small hug. The young angel’s reaction sat in the pit of his stomach, hurting him more than it should. He was at the centre of Satan’s problem. It was undeserved, Luke did nothing to warrant the spite Satan gave him. It was, at its core, Satan’s own feelings to get in the way.
If he were to direct his energy to someone, it should have been Lucifer.
Lucifer who rejected him as a child. Lucifer who walked away whenever Satan cried. Lucifer who never read him a book.
Lucifer who never loved him.
It was strange to walk in the dark. It was common practice for one of the brother’s to light the candles every day, or even switch on a light. But Satan found himself swimming in darkness.
Why had he come to the house in the first place? Satan told himself it was for purely selfish reasons for he is a selfish person. He wanted a taste of home. It was to be a quick visit, nothing more, nothing less. Lucifer lying in that bed, pained and alone, struggling to remember the faces of the present, it flashed by his eyes. He should check in on him.
A detour from the original route, Satan made his way to Lucifer’s cold room. The door was half open, unsettling to Satan knowing the man, his father, to be someone cautious and deliberate. There was no need for a door to lie open with no real cause. Satan shimmied towards it, a peek of his head through the gap to check on the man. He was nowhere to be found.
Perhaps it was in sickness that Lucifer arose and wandered the halls. Anywhere and nowhere, Lucifer could be within the perimeter of the house. Satan left the door quickly. There was no time to waste. The last thing he wanted was to run into Lucifer in the halls and declared an intruder.
His bedroom was the objective of the impromptu visit. Dish up some books and fill the next few days of his isolation in familiar peace.
He walked the halls with purpose, heels thumping on the wooden floor as he turned the corner to his room. He stopped as he found his door lying ajar.
Rage bubbled within him. Someone was in his room. His sanctuary.
Who knows what could have been stolen from there. His stupid, scummy family probably were taking advantage of his disappearance to get their grubby hands on his stuff.
Duty to protect his territory, Satan moved in to inspect the damage.
Until he heard the sobs.
“I’m sorry,” whispered a voice. “I’m sorry.” Over and over, they apologised.
In an instant, his rage subsided. Frozen, the only thing Satan could do was listen.
He did not know how long he stood there, listening to the cries of his room. He broke from his trance, shakily moving to the door to peer inside.
Hunched over his bed, gripping the sheets, Lucifer sat. His head suffocating against the duvet.
A dagger stabbed his heart. Satan had never seen Lucifer cry.
Why was he in here?
His hands trembled by his side as he watched. He couldn’t understand. There was no reason for Lucifer to be in his room.
Willing his voice took more effort than he wanted to admit. Shaky and strained, he whispered, “Lucifer?”
Lucifer froze. Slowly he pulled his head from the bed. Ears deceiving him.
Was this right? Interfering with Lucifer’s recovery like this? Satan watched as Lucifer craned his neck around, eyes settling on him.
He swallowed hard. It took everything not to beg for him to remember him. “You should be resting.” He said, impassive. No, he had to remain impartial, a stranger.
Lucifer trembled as he stood. “Satan?”
The call of his name sent electricity rocketing through his veins. It burnt. He stood, suffocating, the air sucked from his body.
Lucifer stumbled over the piled books as he fought his way towards him.
Cold hands grabbed his face. Stunned, Satan could not move as Lucifer clutched his cheeks, caressing him. “You’re alive?” he gasped, tears streaking his skin. It was unbelievable. Lucifer trembled as he held him.
Satan met his eyes, glistening with fresh tears threatening to spill. “Lucifer-” he choked.
Lucifer pulled Satan’s face close to his chest, wrapping his arms around the blond, grasping at any and every part of him, scared to let go. “I thought you died.”
Satan sank into the warmth. Eyes stinging. “I’m alive.” Croaked he, throat raw.
“They never mentioned you. I thought- I thought I failed to save you. They were unable to bring themselves to admit it to me. My inabilities. I wasn’t fast enough to save you and I let you die. Satan, I thought I killed you.”
Satan buried his face deeper into Lucifer.
“I didn’t know how I’d carry on knowing I had lived whilst you died. I- I couldn’t. I couldn’t go on.”
Satan shook his head, “don’t say that.”
“Where were you?” he begged.
“The Demon Lord’s Castle. They said- you’d forgotten me. I had to leave. For you.”
“With Diavolo?”
“You remember him?”
“I remember everything. When I saw Diavolo and my brothers, everything came back. But you weren’t there. I feared the worst when no one even dared mention you to me.”
He sniffled, grabbing the back of Lucifer’s shirt. Wobbling, Satan breathed, “you remember me.”
“I’m sorry for forgetting.”
He pulled back, staring at Lucifer’s face. Faint wrinkles etched under his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” Lucifer looked old. Tired. Worn out. Like he had been sleepless for the past few nights. “I saw you and Luke in the library, you were helping him with a book.”
Lucifer nodded. “He could not grasp the language,” he supplemented. He remembered the day. Satan frowned. “But I don’t understand how this makes it your fault.”
“I was… you never read to me when I was younger and I- ugh, this is stupid.” He backed up, the sleeve of his shirt soaking up the pathetic tears in his eyes. His actions were a total over exaggeration. It was embarrassing admitting to his crimes. “I was jealous. I got jealous because you were treating Luke the way I wanted to be treated when I was younger and I took it out on you.”
He expected a laugh, Lucifer to pat his head and agree, yes, it was stupid.
Lucifer would not let him weasel away. Firm hands planted on his shoulders and locked him in place. “I was a bad father.”
“Huh?”
“I have… many regrets… regarding how I raised you,” he strained out, like the words were hurting him to say, but he continued through the pain, “or rather, how I failed to raise you. That wasn’t fault on your part, you were young. You needed someone to protect you. Yet, I sacrificed your childhood for pride.”
Satan did not expect Lucifer to confess his ails to him. “I hurt you.” He said, a plea.
“I don’t blame you.” He threaded Satan’s blond hair through his fingers, careful to not tug too hard. “Considering my actions, I must have confused you terribly. I cannot begin to understand what I put you through.”
“No, wait- I acted rashly,” he said, attempting to flip the blame on him. It didn’t feel right to be relieved of his acts so quickly. “Let me apologise. I want you to forgive me.”
Lucifer laughed lightly, “of course. It was foolish of you to keep these thoughts to yourself. You should have talked to me about how you were feeling. I’m sure Luke would not be happy to hear what you did with the cupcake he made you.” Satan flushed red, he thought Lucifer had forgotten that childish protest too.
“That’s not-”
“I cannot lie and say I did not expect retribution, especially after what happened between Luke and I. Seeing that, knowing what you missed out on because of me, it was only time before something happened. I suppose I treated Luke as repentance. I used him to make up for the time I lost with you.”
Tears welled again. Acknowledgement of his pain proved too much for him to handle. He gripped Lucifer’s shirt, balling his fists. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted…
“It’s okay,” soothed Lucifer, navigating his head to his shoulder, stroking his hair. “Let it out.”
He wanted…
Lucifer hummed softly, allowing him peace to cry. Quietly, he whispered, “I’m sorry, son.”
He wanted his dad.