Chapter Text
As the days passed and summer waned, Takuma tried to soak up every last warm moment at the hotel. He knew time was ticking—felt it in the way Charlie kept hugging him a little longer, the way Lucifer’s jokes landed with tired smiles, not laughter. Even Alastor, ever theatrical, had quiet spells where he simply watched him paint. No one said it aloud, but something was coming. He could feel the tension in the air about the hotel and something about Heaven. No one would tell him what was going on though, especially not Charlie and Lucifer, who were at odds again.
He’d find them places they thought no one—read Takuma—would find them and well, not really arguing. He’d never seen Lucifer raise his voice against Charlie even if he was frustrated or done with her pushing whatever pressing issue the hotel was dealing with.
Charlie didn’t like to argue at all, she said if you couldn’t say your “piece in peace” then it was better to walk away and come back with a clearer mind.
But they were arguing, despite what they said when Takuma found them, despite their words that everything was alright, it wasn’t. He pressed too, feeling embolden since his talk with Charlie all those weeks ago, reminding them if he didn’t hear it from them, he’d just figure it out on his own.
Charlie and Lucifer always just smiled and either his curls were mussed, or his face was kissed, and the subject was changed as they discussed maybe going on another vacation when his birthday came around.
The tension remained though.
Alastor—and sorry if this surprises you because it shouldn’t—never gave a straight answer. It was always ‘ah just a princess and king with a silly tiff, nothing for a future prince to worry about’.
Takuma was always thrown off when the prince talk came up, because that never really felt right. His adoption still felt unreal and adding in a royal title made him uncomfortable. Alastor knew this, they’d talked about it several times, and he used it to twist the conversation away or else he’d shovel more dirt on the pile of what was expected of a prince and Takuma felt his chest tighten at just the thought and agreed to let it go.
“We’re Americans, we don’t do royalty.” Takuma snipped once.
Alastor had laughed so hard, he had to grab the back of his chair to hold himself up. “Oh, the things that you think up! American or not, Hell doesn’t much care where you came from, you’ll learn soon enough, my darling.”
So, you can imagine that Alastor was probably the least helpful person to ask about this.
Vaggie was very stressed about the whole thing, but whenever he tried to gently steer into a conversation about how he could lend an ear—manipulate? Noo, just very helpful! —Vaggie would just give him this sad little smile and hug him tight, another kiss to his face and told he didn’t need to worry about adult problems, just enjoy being a cute kid.
This cute kid is fucking done with annoying adults.
And before you ask, no Angel Dust did not help either, before he could even bring up the subject, he was told not to bring it up because Angel was already warn not to fall for any of his cute tricks.
Husk said Alastor forbid him from talking about it, Pen fell into the party of “Little Prince’s need not worry about the state of affairs of his Kingdom until he’s come of age.”
Niffty knew jack shit and just kept trying to put a princess tiara of roaches on his head.
Takuma had to find a spot in the hotel without prying eyes to have a crash out. Which was a very disorganized supply closet. He kicked a box and bit his thumb as he tried to go through everything he already knew and try to put the pieces together.
- Heaven very obviously did not believe in redemption of a sinner in Hell
- Lucifer and Alastor also did not believe this
- He’d seen a countdown on Angel Dust’s phone several times, he wouldn’t talk about it but the thought of it stressed him out
- Charlie had spoken with Adam. That had gone very poorly.
- Yes, he knew who Adam was, keep up!
- When he’d eavesdropped on Lucifer and Charlie arguing, before being caught, she’d been asking for a real talk with the counsel of Heaven, something Lucifer shot down multiple times in that “I don’t want you to get hurt” way he did.
Obviously, Heaven was doing something distressing, but Takuma was never going to find out what it was in the hotel. Maybe if he snuck out and just took a look around...
However, Alastor seemed to have an alarm for this, because just looking at the front doors or getting too close made him appear with talks of Takuma finishing up that shrine painting or perhaps, he’d enjoy hearing about another one of his victims.
Takuma always cursed his weakness for hearing about the murders, his curiosity was going to get him one day. And Alastor dangled the juicy stories like a treat whenever it was convenient to him.
To be clear here, I don’t condone the murders! But colleges really like thesis papers about deep thoughts. What was better than an unknown serial killer and putting together his murders and how his psyche had worked? It’s NOT CHEATING when I’m asking the source!
This brings us to a frustrating part, going back to school when in two weeks he’d be a living resident of Hell and never have to come back here.
He had to stay at the foster parent’s home, they’d never noticed his absence and he didn’t care to engage with them passed eating the food they left for him.
The house was quiet when Takuma got back from school. He didn’t bother to kick off his shoes, he would be calling on Lucifer to take him back to the hotel anyways.
He shoulders his backpack higher as he walked past the darkened living room and was making his way towards his bedroom when the house phone rang.
Takuma frowned. It was the house line, not his own. He was supposed to ignore that, but something twisted in his gut.
He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Takuma?” It was his case worker, her voice clipped and business-like, as always. “Good. I caught you before dinner. I wanted to let you know a family’s come forward. You’ll need to pack tonight. They’re picking you up tomorrow morning.”
Takuma felt like he could hear Alastor’s record scratch in his own head.
Then a small, stunned, “What?”
“They’re a little out of state, but fully vetted, and they’re really excited to meet you. This is great news, Takuma! You’re going to have your own room, your own space—and a family who’s already reviewed your file and—”
“I don’t want them.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to go.”
A pause. “Takuma, I know this is scary—”
“I don’t want to go!” His voice pitched higher, shriller, like something deep inside him had been torn open. “Please don’t make me go—I already have a family, I already—”
The words caught in his throat.
He dropped the phone.
He ran.
He didn’t think—just slammed into his room, locked the door, pressed his back to it, trembling. His vision blurred, chest heaving. Every breath rattled like glass.
He had just two weeks until his thirteenth birthday. Two weeks before the deal expired. Two weeks before everything was supposed to be settled—and instead, it felt like everything was unraveling.
“Lucifer,” he whispered, voice cracking as he sank to the floor. “Lucifer, please—please, I need you—Dad—”
The shadows rippled.
And then he was there.
Not in a blaze of brimstone, not with trumpet fanfare. Just there, kneeling beside him with glowing red eyes wide in alarm.
Takuma launched forward, grabbing fistfuls of the King’s shirt like it was the only thing anchoring him to Earth.
“They—they’re taking me. Tomorrow. Some family. I—I don’t want them, I didn’t ask for them—please don’t let them take me, please—”
Lucifer caught him, wrapping strong arms around his trembling form, wings curling forward protectively. “I’m here, I’m here, I’ve got you—” he murmured, voice low and desperate.
“You promised!” Takuma sobbed. “You promised, if no one wanted me, you’d keep me—you said I could stay with you!”
“I did,” Lucifer said, voice hoarse. “And I meant every word—”
“Then just make it go away!” he wailed. “Why can’t you just—just—fix it!”
Lucifer tightened his hold. “Because we made a deal, Takuma. I gave my word. If a family stepped forward who saw you for who you are… I can’t interfere.”
“I don’t care about them! I want you!” Takuma cried, his whole body shaking. “I don’t want new people, I don’t want to start over—I finally have something good and you’re just—letting it go—letting me go—!”
Lucifer closed his eyes. “No, never. I would never let you go. Listen to me,” he pulled back, holding Takuma’s tear-streaked face in both hands, gently but firmly. “I can’t undo what was done. But I can amend it. If this family backs out—if they return you to the system—then the deal is void. I can adopt you immediately.”
“That’s not fair!” Takuma sobbed. “Why don’t I get to choose?”
“Because I wanted to give you a choice, and a chance,” Lucifer whispered. “A chance to be loved in the human world, without me damning you by association.”
“I already chose you,” Takuma whispered brokenly. “And they’re going to throw me away, I know it.”
He crushed Takuma to his chest. “Then let them. And the moment they do, I’ll be there. I’ll sign the papers right in front of you. You’ll never go back. You’ll never leave my side again.”
Takuma clung to him, breath ragged.
“Promise?”
Lucifer’s eyes blazed crimson with divine wrath and aching sorrow. “On my throne in Hell, on my blood, and on every star in the sky—I promise.”
Takuma nodded weakly, curling in on himself, fists still clenched in Lucifer’s coat.
They stayed that way for a long time—child and devil, curled into each other as if trying to stop the world from turning.
Because for Takuma, it had just shifted off its axis again.
Takuma sat on the edge of his bed, the suitcase half-packed at his feet. His hands trembled in his lap, and the air in the room felt thick and too still. The silence pressed in on him, suffocating. Lucifer had vanished—he’d promised, sworn he would fix it if it came to that.
But what if it didn’t?
What if this was just it?
He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to think or want to hope anymore.
The shadows shifted in the corner of the room.
Takuma jerked up, breath caught in his throat.
And then—“Hello, darling.”
Alastor stepped out of the dark like it was a curtain, not a moment of hesitation in his stride. His smile, so often terrifying, was pulled taught—off, wrong. A ghost of itself. His eyes were locked on Takuma, red and searching.
Takuma looked confused. “I didn’t call you.”
“I wasn’t invited, no,” Alastor said quietly, voice far more subdued than usual. “But your distress was quite loud.”
Takuma blinked. “I’m not hurt.”
Alastor tilted his head, the smile twitching. “No? Then perhaps my shadow lied. But they seemed quite insistent that something was wrong.”
Takuma’s lips parted, throat thick. He tried to say it. Tried to explain.
But it all burst out at once: “I want to make a deal with you.”
Alastor froze.
The air in the room dropped. The shadows pulsed like a heartbeat.
“Take my soul. Please,” Takuma rushed on. “Just—just take it, right now. Make it yours. I’ll stay with you. You can keep me, right? That’s what you do, isn’t it? You make deals, and then people belong to you. I want to belong to you, please—please just don’t let them take me—”
Alastor’s expression shattered, the stitches on his mouth pulled his grin taut.
“No.”
It wasn’t sharp or commanding. It came out soft and horrified.
Takuma blinked at him, confused, hands still outstretched in offering. “Wh—what?”
Alastor took a shaky step back, one hand pressed to his chest. “No,” he repeated, louder. “I will not take your soul.”
“But—why—” Takuma’s voice trembled. “Why not? Is it not enough? Am I not enough?”
Alastor surged forward so fast the lights flickered. “Don’t you dare.”
Takuma flinched, but didn’t retreat.
“I am not rejecting you,” Alastor hissed, voice breaking on the last word. “I’m rejecting what that would mean. I will not own you. I will not trap you. Not you.”
Tears spilled again down Takuma’s cheeks, and his hands fell. “But if you don’t take me, I won’t ever see you again.”
“You are already mine,” Alastor said, eyes wide, terrified, furious at something he couldn’t name. “You are already mine, Takuma. Soul or not. I don’t want your soul. I want you safe.”
Takuma crumbled.
“No one ever wants me,” he choked. “They just pass me around. Like I’m a problem to fix, or a dog they didn’t mean to get. And I thought—I thought you did, but now you’re leaving too—”
“I’m not!” Alastor shouted, the word ripping out of him. “I’m not going anywhere!”
His hands found Takuma’s shoulders, trembling but steady. “Listen to me, darling—listen closely: I will fix this. I will talk to Lucifer. I don’t care what he says. This is not happening.”
Takuma’s eyes were too wide, too wet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.
Alastor’s voice cracked for the first time in years. “You won’t.”
But Takuma kept shaking, crying, words spilling like a dam that had long since broken. “I don’t want to be somewhere new. I don’t want to start over again. I don’t want to be on my best behavior so I don’t get sent away again—I can’t do that again. Please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be quiet, just don’t go—”
Alastor couldn’t take it.
He wrapped the boy into his chest and held him tight, rocking slightly on his heels.
“You’re already good. You’re already mine,” he repeated against Takuma’s hair. “And you’re not going anywhere. I’ll make sure of it.”
Takuma clung to him, fists knotted in Alastor’s coat. His sobs were soundless but wrecking.
Alastor held on a second longer.
Then he straightened, shadows crawling up his spine.
“I’m going to speak to the King,” he said, voice low and absolute. “You wait here. You are not alone in this. Not anymore.”
Takuma didn’t reply, unable to meet his eyes, because his stomach sank with dread.
Alastor vanished into the shadows, fury and desperation following him like a storm.
Takuma didn’t see anyone else until the next morning, when it was his case worker.
The door to Lucifer’s workshop blew open with a crack of splitting wood.
Lucifer sat at his worktable, sleeves rolled up, head in his hands and hair in disarray.
“Alastor.”
The Radio Demon didn’t respond at first. His shoulders were taut, his red eyes ablaze—not with mirth, not with mischief—but something ancient and cornered and furious.
“You can’t let this happen,” Alastor said, his voice sharp with conviction, but trembling at the edges. “You know what this will do to him.”
Lucifer pulled away from his misery and finally looked up. His face was unreadable—an old mask that had seen centuries of war and heartbreak. But the ache in his eyes gave him away.
“I can’t stop it,” he said.
“You’re the King of Hell,” Alastor snarled, stalking closer. “You can burn cities to ash with a thought. You tell time to kneel. And you’re telling me you can’t keep one little boy from being ripped away from us?”
“It’s not about power,” Lucifer said wearily. “It’s about the deal. You, of all demons, should understand.”
Alastor’s jaw clenched, teeth bared. “Don’t you dare use that logic on me. I don’t make deals that tear children away from their homes.”
Lucifer's voice was steady, but quiet. “You’ve made worse.”
Alastor went still. The air dropped ten degrees.
Lucifer powered through. “I amended the deal. If the family backs out, the contract with Takuma reactivates, and I’ll be able to adopt him immediately. But I can’t override what he agreed to. He made the choice. The rules are clear. You know they are.”
“You amended the deal?” Alastor echoed, incredulous. “You amended the deal and still didn’t stop this from happening?”
“I’m not allowed to interfere further. And neither are you.” Lucifer’s gaze hardened now. “You’re forbidden from entering the mortal realm. Until this plays out, your shadows won’t take you to the mortal realm.”
That did it.
Alastor’s laugh came sharp and wild, the kind that scraped the edges of sanity. “You’ve grounded me?”
“You made a contract with me, Alastor. You belong to me. You are my servant—and you will not defy me on this.”
With a roar of rage, Alastor slammed his fist into the stone wall of the workshop, cracking the marble with a sickening crunch. The hole bloomed outward, a jagged reminder of his fury.
Lucifer didn’t move.
“You don’t even want to stop this,” Alastor seethed, his voice raw and cracking. “You say you care—but this? This is nothing but cowardice.”
Lucifer's wings bristled faintly under his skin, fire beginning to curl beneath his breath.
Alastor wasn’t done.
“You call yourself a father? I’ve seen how you look at him. You chose him. You called him your son—and now you’re just letting him go. Just like you did with Charlie.”
Lucifer took a slow breath, but didn’t deny it.
Alastor’s eyes burned like coals. “You want to know the truth? You really want to know what I think?”
Lucifer didn’t answer.
“I don’t want you. Not this version. Not this ghost of a King who hides away in his workshop, who lets a little boy pack his bags for strangers and cries into his plush instead of doing something. I want the Morningstar who fights for his children. The one who makes the world tremble when his family is threatened.”
Lucifer finally stepped forward, quiet fire licking up from his mouth. “You think I haven’t fought for him? You think I didn’t scream to the heavens and the depths both? You think I don’t feel like I’m breaking apart because of this?”
Alastor didn’t answer. His hands were shaking now, claws twitching in fists at his sides.
“You’re not the only one who loves him,” Lucifer said, voice a growl.
Alastor looked at him, and for a moment—just a moment—Lucifer saw something terrifying.
Not rage.
Not pain.
But resolve.
Without another word, Alastor turned and stepped into the shadows. He would find a way back. One that didn’t belong to Lucifer.
Lucifer stood alone in the ruined quiet, wings tucked tight under his skin, the wall behind him weeping dust from the cracked marble.
He hadn’t told Charlie.
He didn’t know how.
And now he was losing both of them.
Alastor paced.
For once, his usual showmanship had vanished. Just sharp footsteps across the metal flooring of his radio tower. A place rarely visited by others, cloaked in static and echoes of music no longer playing.
Angel sat in the only chair, arms crossed, watching him like he might combust.
“So, what’s the plan, Smiles?” Angel asked, his tone was quiet but urgent. “Getting passed the literal King of Hell is gunna need somethin’ sneaky and underhanded.”
“I know,” Alastor muttered, racking his claws through his hair and down his neck. “I have contacts but none with the reach I need. Not without owing favors I won’t risk. Not for this.”
“You sure you’re not just scared of what the King’ll do if you try?”
“I don’t care what Lucifer does,” Alastor snapped, eyes flaring red as the lights flickered. “Let him chain me to the deepest pit. I will not abandon my boy.”
Angel sighed and his shoulders slumped, and he glanced at the door. “Y’know… Charlie’s gunna find out eventually.”
“She already knows something is wrong,” Alastor muttered, turning back to a wall filled with old maps and arcane symbols. “She’s too clever for her own good.”
The hatch door slammed open.
“Then stop treating me like I’m stupid.”
Both demons froze. Charlie pulled herself up through the hatch, breath shallow. Her eyes were wide but blazing.
Angel stood up from the chair, holding up his hands. “Whoa—hey, princess—”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me it’s fine. Where is Takuma?”
The room went still, and Alastor didn’t turn around. There wasn’t anything he could say to her.
Charlie took a shaky step forward. “I tried to call him. The line's dead. He's gone—isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Alastor said softly. “He’s been placed. The deal was fulfilled.”
Charlie stared at him. “So, you’re just—what? Giving up?”
Alastor’s jaw clenched. “I am trying to find a way to get to him.”
Angel said what Alastor couldn’t. “Short King owns Smiles’ soul, he was given strict orders that he can’t use his own powers ta get back ta Radio Baby.”
Charlie took all this information with no small amount of grace, compartmentalizing and staying focused.
“I’m helping you,” Charlie said.
Alastor blinked and turned to her. “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t get to make that choice,” Charlie snapped, stepping into his space. “He’s my brother. And I don’t care what deals were made. He’s family. We don’t leave family behind.”
The conviction in her voice sent a ripple through the room. Alastor studied her face for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he nodded once. “Whatever way we find, your father can’t be in the know of.”
Charlie nodded back, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’ll handle my dad, you find a way to the mortal realm and we both bring him home.”