Chapter Text
It had started out as any normal Saturday night.
Husk was tending to the bar as Angel Dust sat conversing with him rather enthusiastically. Alastor sneers, lip curled up in a dangerous smile as he watches the two get along. Husk was brought here to work, not to get all buddy-buddy with the hotel guests. Ah, but he supposes he shouldn’t ruin the fun. After all, it was the weekend and he was feeling rather generous.
Dear Charlie and Vagatha are sitting on the couch. Vaggie has her arm wrapped around Charlie’s shoulder while the blonde talks animatedly about the hotel. There is a certain shine in her eyes as she discusses the recent renovations made to the hotel after the last extermination day. Vaggie is silent as she listens to her girlfriend speak, staring at her with a loving smile.
Even their great majesty, the King, has decided to grace them with his presence. The short-stack is sitting opposite the bar from Husk and Angel, nursing a bottle of what appears to be Beelzejuice. Which is fitting, Alastor assumes it’s the only kind of alcohol that could touch a higher being of Hell.
Alastor’s eyes narrow as he takes on a mischievous smile. That little prick thinks he can just have a relaxing evening at the bar by himself, well, not if the Radio Demon can help it!
His physical form dissolves into black shadows as he melts through the floor, instantly appearing beside the blond king. Lucifer doesn’t immediately notice him, gaze too focused on the alcohol in front of him.
“Spending the night drinking alone, hm? Rather depressing for the great King of Hell,” Alastor taunts, mouth split into a vicious grin.
Lucifer flinches at the sudden noise, whipping around to face the Radio Demon. Recognition flashes across the angel’s face as he rolls his eyes in annoyance. Instead of responding, he simply turns back around and draws his attention back to his drink.
The demon’s eye twitches in slight annoyance at being ignored. Alastor was supposed to be large and imposing, not just someone to be thrown off to the side.
“Ahem,” Alastor speaks a little louder as he takes a step closer to the angel. “I’m just surprised you’re not conversing with dear Charlie. I’m sure your beloved daughter could use the help with the renovations to the hotel. Or are you still set on being a deadbeat?”
Lucifer makes no comment, much to the demon’s dismay. The King purposefully doesn’t take his eyes off the Beelzejuice, but acknowledges the demon with a blatant middle finger in the air.
“Oh how crass, your majesty!” Alastor puts his hand over his chest in mock-offense. Truthfully, he was grinning from ear to ear. Nothing felt better than being able to pull such a strong reaction from a powerful being like Lucifer. It goes to show that even the strongest of beings have their weaknesses that he could exploit.
“Not feeling very talkative today I presume?” He grins, thoroughly pleased that he was able to get under the fallen angel’s skin.
This time Lucifer ignores him completely, choosing to take a long swig of his drink. Now that Alastor looks at him closer, he notices the King doesn’t seem like his usual self. He looks tired, with large dark circles under his eyes. The angel’s hat is noticeably missing, with his normally well-kept blond hair now being a tangled mess.
Not that Alastor had any sympathy, of course, but it had the demon rather curious. What’s got the King all worked up? And more importantly, how can he take advantage of it?
The next ten minutes were about the same. With Alastor’s insistent attempts to annoy the King and Lucifer’s rather shocking lack of response.
Eventually, when the demon was about ready to give up, he finally got his response. Lucifer turns to look between the smiling demon and his still rather-full bottle of alcohol. He growls in anger, throws the drink back, and quickly downs the whole bottle in one gulp. He slams the drink down on the counter with enough force that it causes the whole bar to shake, attracting the attention of everyone in the room who look on with wide eyes.
“I’m going to my room,” he spits. While his tone was rather angry, it also sounded very meek and dejected, as if he was too exhausted to properly speak.
Before Alastor is able to quip back, the angel disappears in a puff of glittery red smoke. Husk and Angel wave their arms to dispel the smoke as they cough. Alastor glances over at Charlie to find the Princess staring back at him with a questioning expression.
“Now now Charlie, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Alastor walks over to her and pats her on the head. “I’m sure your dear old dad is just in a “mood” as they say.”
“But is he okay? He seemed rather upset when he left,” Charlie pouts as she looks on with a worried expression.
Alastor has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes at the Princess. After all, it is rather endearing how much she cares for her father. Not that he would admit that out loud, of course.
“I’m sure-“
“Do you think you could check up on him?” She cuts him off.
He laughs, “Charlie, dear, your father is the most powerful being in Hell. I’m sure he’s just fine.”
However this doesn’t seem to reassure the demon belle. She continues to look on with pleading eyes as her pouting intensifies.
His eye twitches when she suddenly grabs onto his sleeve and starts to tug. “Please Alastor? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” she flutters her eyelashes and flashes him puppy-dog eyes.
Alastor simply sighs in resignation, already accepting his fate. If this had been any other demon, he would have had their head on a skewer for even daring to ask. The Princess is lucky that he’s grown rather fond of her.
Past Alastor would be absolutely appalled with this recent development. After all, it wasn’t too long ago that he considered caring for others to be a sign of weakness. And anyone working their way up the power ladder knew not to let a silly thing like emotions cloud their judgements. Lately though, he’s found himself indulging more in his softer side. Spending more time in this hotel has shown him that maybe- just maybe- it’s possible that even the cruelest of demons can have a heart. This godforsaken hotel must have corrupted him. Surely that’s the only possible explanation.
“Oh all right, since you asked so nicely,” he relents, patting her on the head again.
“Oh thank you Alastor! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she says as she pulls him into a crushing hug. Charlie may not look like it, but the Princess was actually incredibly strong. The hug in question is so constricting that it knocks the breath out of the Radio Demon.
He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to check on the short King. After all, he was rather curious to see what was getting under the angel’s skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Alastor waits until everyone has gone off to bed. Hopefully if the demon is lucky enough, Lucifer will already be fast asleep and they could skip this whole “interrogation” thing. Or it could open the opportunity for some snooping, which Alastor wasn’t above doing.
The Radio Demon manifests in a cloud of black smoke to teleport by the door to the fallen angel’s room. He raises his staff to the door and raps once, twice, three times. Of course he could just invite himself in if he really wanted to. While Alastor considers himself to be many things: cruel, heartless, unforgiving, to name a few. However If there’s one thing the overlord prides himself on, is his manners. After all, what would the Radio Demon be without that charismatic charm?
He pauses in silence as he waits by the door. After a minute goes by, he raps on the door yet again. The door was long enough that Alastor couldn’t tell if the lights inside were on or not. No sound was emitting from the room either. The demon simply shrugs in defeat when the door remains firmly shut. Well, no one could blame him for not trying to be courteous.
“Alright then, I guess we’re choosing the hard way,” Alastor chuckles to himself as his body once again melts through the floor in a pile of black ink.
Upon reappearing on the other side of the door, Alastor is immediately struck with an intensely sweet and citrus-like smell. The demon is almost knocked by the overpowering smell invading his nostrils. The delicious scent oddly enough reminds him of the battle on extermination day. Almost like it was… angel blood? How strange.
The lights are noticeably on, meaning that the King was likely awake. One look around the room shows that the King wasn’t as neat and clean as he lets on. The room is an absolute dump, which is actually rather impressive considering how recent the renovations are. Rubber ducks of all shapes and sizes litter the floor. Various articles of clothing litter the ground, as if the King was too lazy to fold and put up his clothes properly.
Looking even closer, Alastor suddenly stops in his tracks when he spys droplets of golden ichor on the ground. The sweet smell somehow grew even stronger.
“How curious,” he hums to himself as follows the trail of golden blood. The Radio Demon gingerly steps forward as his eyes follow the trail. The scene just gets messier the higher up he goes. Large splotches of blood liter the ground. There were even some droplets on the wall, suggesting the injuries so severe that the blood sprayed everywhere.
“GET. OUT.” Alastor’s ear twitches at the sound of pure malice in Lucifer’s voice.
The overlord follows the source of the noise, leading to the bed in the far right side of the room. Now, let it be known that the demon is no stranger to violence and gore. He couldn’t even count on his hands the number of people he’s murdered in cold blood. However, the sight in front of him causes even his cold, undead heart to skip a beat.
The white sheets are covered in golden ichor. The King in the bed somehow seems even smaller than usual; his chest rapidly rising and falling as if he was struggling to breathe. Lucifer locks eyes with the demon, pure hatred and malice radiating in his eyes. However Alastor also notices a smaller hint of vulnerability in his gaze. The fallen angel is underdressed, with his once-white skin exposed to the air. His skin was completely mauled, with new and old injuries alike. Large cuts and gashes liter his arms; some so deep that he can see the subcutaneous tissue underneath. The angel is noticeably in his demon form, with the ends of his clawed fingertips sporting the same golden blood, being the likely culprit of his injuries.
Alastor stands wide eyed in shock, unable to tear his eyes away from the gorey scene. Radio static fills the air as his vision goes blurry, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He feels himself growing numb; unpleasant memories from the past threatening to rise to the surface.
“Hey, I said get out of here,” Lucifer’s voice breaks him from the sudden spell. His voice is defensive but unable to hide the exhaustion and panic in the tone.
Alastor shakes his head, shaking off the last traces from the spell and instead focuses on the injured King in front of him. Lucifer looks at him with wild eyes, almost like a cornered animal ready to pounce.
He can’t help himself from blurting out, “Well, this is quite a sight.”
Lucifer simply growls in anger. The fallen angel reaches his hand out, pointing at Alastor as a glowing ball of magic begins to form from his palm. However, the magic quickly dissipates as the great King hunches over, too exhausted to continue.
“Y’know, this certainly wasn’t what I was expecting to walk in on when Charlie asked me to check up on you,” Alastor says.
There’s the look he expected: the look of pure fear in the King’s eyes. Normally this would have delighted the deer demon. Being able to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies, especially one as powerful as Lucifer, filled him with a sense of power. However right now he just felt numb and he couldn’t figure out why.
“Please don’t tell Charlie about this,” he begs, desperate and vulnerable. He looks so unlike himself, a pathetic sad shell of a once great King. He is shaking with fear, curling in on himself as much as possible.
“Oh don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, your majesty,” The Radio Demon smiles, though he really doesn’t feel like smiling right now.
It was the truth though, he certainly wasn’t planning on telling Charlie about this. It’s not like the fallen angel could die anyway and it would just cause an unnecessary burden on Charlotte’s shoulders. Something she really doesn’t need right now; especially after the recent death of Sir Pentious.
Lucifer lets out a pathetic laugh, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then what are you planning to do? Come to smite the great King while he’s down?”
Alastor feels a pang in his chest that he convinces himself is simply out of shock. Never in a million years would he have expected to see the King this vulnerable.
“Heavens no, that would be too easy! I would want a real challenge,” Alastor waves his hand dismissively. “Plus you are rather important to Charlie and I’d hate to break her heart.”
“Charlie…” Lucifer’s voice trails off guiltily as his eyes grow distant. He is, however, quickly shaken out of his stupor with a grunt of pain, clutching his left arm that was still bleeding quite profusely.
The Radio Demon’s head tilts questioningly as he assesses the injuries. While his knowledge of heaven was quite limited (for obvious reasons), he was under the impression that angels could only be hurt with angelic weapons. Now, if his angelic knowledge served him well enough, he also knew that Lucifer used to be one of the archangels, who were virtually indestructible. Archangels couldn’t be killed or even harmed; something that would kill a normal human would be nothing to an Archangel, who could heal instantly. But that certainly wasn’t happening here.
Alastor takes a bold step forward and grabs the King's right arm, lifting it up closer to eye-level for a better view. Lucifer growls in protest but is too weak to pull his arm back.
The King has obviously been injuring himself for many years from the looks of things. There wasn’t a single space on his arm that wasn’t covered in scars. Some were older and more faded over the years, while others were newer, being carved over older scars. There was a nice mixture of thin scarring and thick keloids, which Alastor figures weren't very comfortable. No wonder he always wears those black gloves.
“I’m surprised these haven’t healed yet. And here I thought you were a mighty archangel or something,” Alastor taunts, though it read more as a question than anything.
“Yeah, well, guess I’ve always been a bit different from the others,” Lucifer huffs. His eyes are distant in a faraway memory, as if the mention of his former brothers and sisters triggered something in his mind.
Alastor’s mind whirls, trying to comprehend the rush of new information. Lucifer, almighty King of Hell, was not as indestructible as once thought. Instead, he was a sad, pathetic man who struggled with mental illness. Something Alastor figured was only a human emotion, something well beneath a powerful being such as him. Oh how dangerous it would be if Hell’s residents knew the King was actually this vulnerable. Imagine the kind of target that would be on his back. Alastor thinks about just how easy it would be to kill him now and take over the throne. And yet he doesn’t.
Instead, he’s suddenly overcome with a rush of… empathy? No, that can’t be right. Lucifer was his sworn enemy, they hated each other. So why is it that all he wants to do right now is fix the broken look on that man’s face?
The deer demon snaps his fingers and a roll of gauze and antiseptic spray suddenly appears in his hand. Alastor hums to himself as he climbs onto the blood-soaked bed, completely invading Lucifer’s personal space. He once again snatches the King’s right arm, causing the fallen angel to yelp in pain at the sudden movement.
“H-hey! Get your fucking hands off me you old-timey freak!” Lucifer quite literally spits at him.
Some stray spit manages to land on the deer demon’s face. So this is the thanks he gets for doing the right thing, it seems. His eyes narrow in frustration as he wipes off the offending moisture.
Instead of quipping back at the childish response, Alastor simply gets to work on repairing Lucifer’s bloody arms. He starts by applying the antiseptic spray over the various cuts.
The antiseptic begins to work its magic; the sound of fizzling in the air as the wounds bubble with white liquid. Lucifer screams in pure agony and Alastor has to quickly slap his hand over the King’s mouth to muffle the sound, lest they want to draw attention from everyone in the hotel.
Fresh tears run down the angel’s pale cheeks and drip onto his hand, yet Alastor refuses to relent. His eyes wander over the blood-soaked sheets while waiting for the antiseptic to dry. The bed used to be a nice, pure white with red accents. Quite befitting of a King. However, now the sheets are stained a bright yellow and he finds that he’s not quite a fan. The sheets are rumpled and unkempt, as if the bed hasn’t been made for some time. Crusted blood in the sheets indicate that he’s been sleeping like this for some time. Well, that will certainly have to be fixed.
His attention is brought back to the fallen angel when razor-sharp teeth suddenly sink into Alastor’s palm.
Alastor lets out a string of expletives as he yanks his hand away, beads of red blood decorating his palm. Radio static fills the air as his horns begin to grow. He breathes heavily through his nostrils, willing his anger to dissipate before he gives into his violent tendencies.
His ears are drawn back in anger, there is a dangerous glint in the demon’s eyes. “You know, you are making it quite difficult to help,” he smiles dangerously.
“I never asked for your help,” Lucifer snarls back, red blood in the corner of his mouth.
Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, willing the dark urges to go away. He was honest to goodness, really trying his best here. For Charlie’s sake, of course. But this short-stack was making things increasingly difficult for no reason. How someone could suffer in silence for so long and then throw away help when it’s offered, he’ll never know why.
A sudden flash of a curly-haired woman's silhouette fills his vision. Her laugh is light and airy, sickeningly sweet and yet oh so familiar. The voice instantly relaxes him and his mind is taken back to days from the long past.
And suddenly without warning, the figure disappears just as soon as it had come.
Alastor is left smiling, a soft, genuine smile on his face. All the tension leaves his shoulders and if a single stray tear ran down his cheek? He’d never tell.
Lucifer gives the demon an incredulous look, no doubt confused at the sudden switch up in the demon’s attitude.
Alastor simply ignores this, humming a familiar tune to himself as he leans back in. He invades Lucifer’s personal space yet again and begins to gently wrap the King’s arms with rolls of gauze.
The king blinks rapidly, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Though for the most part he seems to be keeping still, much to Alastor’s approval.
The two sit in comfortable silence as Alastor finishes his work. Sometimes Lucifer flinches when he wraps too tightly and Alastor will quickly amend the issue. They fall into this sort of rhythm as he finishes the last of the dressings.
“Andddddd done,” Alastor says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. There is a huge grin on his face, as if thoroughly pleased with himself.
Lucifer looks down at his bandaged arms, surveying the overlords' work. There is a conflicted expression on his face as he begins to gnaw on his bottom lip, seemingly out of anxiety. Yet no words decide to fall from the angel’s mouth.
Alastor simply shrugs his shoulders, surprisingly at peace with it.
“Well then!” Alastor breaks the silence as he energetically stands up from the bed. “This was rather fun, but I must be going now. See you next time, your majesty.”
The Radio Demon could have just teleported to his room, however he decides to take the old fashioned way. After all, he is rather exhausted after this whole ordeal and would prefer not to use his powers. His hand is on the front door to leave when Lucifer stops him.
“Wait!”
Alastor instantly stops in his tracks at the front door, neck snapping as he faces the King.
“Thank you, Alastor, for- uh- what you did back there,” he anxiously scratches his neck, though there is a sense of earnestness in his gaze. “I’m sorry I was being so stubborn when you were just trying to help. I don’t really know why you did, but I am grateful. So, uh, thanks?” He gives the demon an awkward thumbs up.
“A pleasure, your highness,” Alastor extends a bow before finally exiting the room, shutting the door behind him.
As soon as the door fully shuts, the Radio Demon sighs in exhaustion as he leans his back against the door and slowly slides down into a sitting position. His mind was filled with turmoil over what just went down. Lucifer had raised a good question. Why exactly did he help the fallen angel? It would have been so much easier to just watch him bleed out. Or better yet, ending the King’s suffering with his own two hands. Yet Alastor, of all people, chose mercy .
He tells himself it’s simply for Charlie’s sake. She would be absolutely devastated at the loss of her father. He was just simply there for damage control, surely. However the more he tries to convince himself, the less he feels so sure.
And that thought
scares
him.