Chapter Text
The silence in the study stretched, broken only by the soft hum of the warded walls.
Alastor stood still, shoulders taut, but the tension was beginning to ebb. Slowly, breath by breath, the trembling in his fingers stilled. The shadowy flicker of his magic faded, curling back beneath his skin like an animal retreating to its den.
Lucifer waited; calm, steady, and quiet.
Alastor finally spoke, voice just a shade too bright.
“Well. That was dramatic.”
Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
Alastor offered a chuckle, brittle around the edges. “You’d think I’d have a better grip on my theatrics by now. A moment of poor taste, nothing more.”
“You froze,” Lucifer said gently, not accusing, just stating a fact.
Alastor’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes slid away. “An old… reflex. Ghosts in the attic, nothing to worry about.”
Lucifer took a step closer, careful not to crowd him.
“I’m not asking,” he said. “Not unless you want me to.”
Alastor finally looked at him again. His expression unreadable. Something flickered there, wariness maybe or shame.
“I appreciate the discretion,” Alastor murmured, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from his vest. “And the teleportation. Certainly, more dignified than collapsing in front of a crowd.”
Lucifer’s mouth quirked upward. “You’re welcome. Though Angel looked like he was two seconds from making it a spectacle.”
“Ugh.” Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’ll never let me live it down.”
Lucifer’s smile softened. “Let them talk. I’ll make sure they don’t say anything that matters.”
A beat of quiet.
Alastor let out a slow breath. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment.”
Lucifer nodded. “Take your time.”
And with that, he stepped away, giving Alastor the space he needed and the choice to return when he was ready.
Back at the field, the crowd was absolutely buzzing.
The match between Lucifer and Alastor had already reached legendary status and it hadn’t even been five minutes since it ended. Weapons were forgotten, training drills abandoned, everyone gathered where the two had vanished in a shimmer of golden flame.
Angel Dust practically vibrated with excitement as he reenacted the clash, arms flailing wildly and voice climbing several unnecessary octaves.
“Did you see that? It was like BOOM, and then KRSSHHH lights, explosions, flying feathers, sexy dramatic growling—ugh, it was everything!”
A few cannibals nodded sagely, impressed. One whispered, “I think I heard the Radio Demon laugh for real.”
Then Angel leaned in, dropping his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “And then, poof! They vanish, like that, no explanation. You know what that means, right?”
Husk groaned. “Here we go.”
Angel grinned. “The sexual tension finally got to 'em. They’re probably making out in a broom closet right now.”
There was a pause. Several demons actually considered the possibility.
Vaggie rubbed her temple.
Charlie didn’t laugh. She stood just a little apart, arms crossed tightly, her smile long gone. Her gaze stayed fixed on the scorched earth where the sparring match had ended.
Vaggie, beside her, didn’t say anything but her eyes narrowed just slightly.
That had been fear. She’d seen it before, in others, in herself. That distant look, the way the body freezes like it isn’t yours anymore.
Charlie glanced at her. Their eyes met. No words passed between them but they understood each other.
Whatever had happened out there between Alastor and Lucifer… it wasn’t just a show.
The hotel’s ‘war room’ had been quieted for the night.
The schematics were rolled up, the training dummies stashed away, and the courtyard lights dimmed to a low, steady glow. In a smaller room off the main hall, Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer where gathered, waiting.
Alastor hadn’t returned.
A few hours ago, Lucifer had called Rosie, the concern in his voice unmistakable as he asked, "Has Alastor come to you?"
Rosie’s response had been quick. "No, he hasn’t. Why? What’s going on?"
Lucifer had kept the details vague. "We had a small fight. He hasn’t come back yet." The tension in his voice was hard to mask.
Rosie had sounded worried, but she hadn’t pressed for more information. "I’ll keep an eye out for him, your majesty. Just… let me know if you hear anything."
Lucifer had thanked her and ended the call, the weight of the silence after it sitting heavy on him.
Now, Lucifer stood near the window, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched the glow of the lamps flicker in the field where the spar had taken place. His coat hung open; his collar loosened.
“He hasn’t come back,” Charlie said softly, seated on the couch, knees pulled to her chest. “Do you think he’s okay?”
Vaggie sat beside her, arms resting on her thighs, eyes dark and serious. “That wasn’t normal, what happened out there. I saw it in his face. That wasn’t a tactical freeze… it was a flashback. I’d bet my life on it.”
Lucifer didn’t look at them, but his jaw twitched. “I know. I saw it too.”
“Did he say anything to you?” Charlie asked.
He shook his head. “He brushed it off. Called it theatrics.” A pause. “But he didn’t look me in the eye when he said it.”
Charlie was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly: “You really care about him.”
Lucifer’s gaze dropped. He didn’t deny it.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally. “At first, he was just… irritating. Dramatic. Borderline offensive.” He cracked a wry smile. “But then he kept showing up. Helping. Watching over you. Challenging me.”
Charlie smiled faintly, curling her fingers around the edge of a throw pillow. “He grows on you.”
Lucifer chuckled under his breath. “Like mold.”
Vaggie snorted.
But then his face sobered again. “I didn’t think I’d feel this again,” he said. “Not after Lilith.”
His gaze drifted downward, almost reluctantly, to the wedding band still circling his finger.
The ring had once meant something more than vows. It had been a promise between two souls who had dared to dream; of rebellion, of freedom, of enlightenment for those cast out or kept in the dark. Together, they had built a kingdom from ash and wrath, had forged Hell itself as a sanctuary for the fallen. It had been a shared dream; fragile, divine, defiant. That ring had sealed their love, their purpose, their future.
And in time, it had brought Charlie into the world.
But that dream had cracked, then splintered and eventually, shattered.
Lucifer turned it slowly between his fingers, the gesture quiet but full of friction. Once, it had been a symbol of something vast and untouchable, love, yes, but also purpose. It had bound two fallen beings together in a dream they believed could change the world.
Now, it was just metal. Cold. Heavy.
A reminder of how far she’d drifted. How empty things had become between them before the end. He had held on, even as she pulled away. Even when she stopped seeing him.
And then she was gone.
He’d worn the ring ever since, clinging to a promise that had died long before she left, hoping, maybe, that if he kept it close, the love would return.
But all it had ever done was remind him of what he’d lost. Of how deeply he could be abandoned.
Charlie’s voice was quiet. “It’s okay, you know.”
Lucifer stilled, blinking; drawn from his thoughts like surfacing from deep water. He turned, surprised. “What is?”
“That you’re moving on.” Her eyes shone, but they didn’t waver. “She didn’t just leave you, Dad. She left me, too.”
Lucifer’s shoulders lowered. “I know.”
“I don’t hate her,” Charlie continued, “but I stopped waiting for her a long time ago. And I’m glad you're moving on. You deserve someone who sees you, not just the crown you wear.”
Lucifer stared at her for a long moment, his little girl, grown and grounded in ways he still struggled to be.
“You’re too good for this world,” he said softly.
Charlie smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Lucky for you, I’m in this one anyway.”
Vaggie smirked. “You know she gets all her emotional wisdom from me.”
Lucifer rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered, softer now.
As the laughter faded, a hush settled between them. Charlie leaned her head against Vaggie’s shoulder, and the warmth of the moment wrapped around them like a blanket.
Lucifer’s gaze drifted back to the window, but he wasn’t seeing the lamplit fields anymore.
He was remembering.
The first time he met Alastor, the deer-demon had stood tall in the hotel like it belonged to him. Arrogant. Smirking. Practically daring Lucifer to smite him where he stood. There hadn’t been an ounce of fear in his eyes. No groveling. No reverence. Just that wicked grin and a voice like a vinyl record spinning beneath a needle.
Lucifer had hated him instantly.
And yet… not really.
There was something refreshing about it. After centuries of solitude, of being treated like a god or a ghost, here was someone who looked him in the eye and pushed back. Who poked and prodded at his patience with clever barbs and sly winks. Who spoke to him like a man, not a myth.
And beneath the bravado, Lucifer had noticed the quiet things, too. The kindnesses Alastor thought no one saw. The way he looked after Charlie in the shadows. The soft humming when he thought he was alone.
Lucifer found himself smiling again, quietly this time. Just the faintest curve of his mouth.
Because he realized now that what he wanted wasn’t in the past it wasn’t some faded dream or golden memory.
It was out there right now. He glanced down at the ring once more. It caught the light, small and hollow in its weight. Slowly, he slipped it from his finger.
He stepped forward and placed it on the table beside Charlie’s chair, and as his fingers parted from the warm metal, his smile faltered.
Because Alastor wasn’t here.
The smile drained from his face as the weight returned, thick and gnawing. The ache that had been lodged beneath his ribs for hours crept back in like cold wind under the door. He could still feel it: the moment Alastor had gone still on the field, sucked into a distant memory. Something old and raw that had ripped through him and sent him fleeing.
Lucifer turned his eyes to the window again, gaze trailing beyond the grounds, past the distant lamps and cracked roads, to where the edge of the city shimmered under the haze of Hell’s perpetual twilight.
He was out there. Alone.
What if I scared him away? What if I ruined this already, just like I did with Lilith.
Charlie’s gaze followed her father as he stepped away, the soft clink of metal on wood drawing her attention down to the table beside her.
She reached for the ring slowly, almost reverently, her fingers brushing the cool gold. It was simple, elegant… and heavy in a way no metal should be. Lifting it into her palm, she turned it once, then again, watching the way the low light caught in the subtle curve of it.
A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips.
Vaggie shifted beside her, saying nothing. She just wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulders and pulled her in a little tighter.
Charlie leaned into her for a moment, grateful.
Then, with delicate care, she traced the edge of the ring with one fingertip, gentle, thoughtful. There was no magic in it, not anymore. No lingering warmth. But still… it had once meant something beautiful. It had meant everything.
She glanced up at her father.
He was standing at the window again, his shoulders tight, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the city beyond. His expression was unreadable, but the worry was there in the way he stood too still. The way his hand rested tensely on the sill like he needed something to anchor him.
Charlie’s smile softened, eyes warm with quiet pride.
He was letting go. Maybe not of the grief. But of the hurt that had kept him frozen. And more than that, he was trying again. Opening his heart. Choosing someone new.
And that meant something.
Charlie looked back at the ring one last time, then slipped it into her pocket, not because she hoped her mother would return, or because she couldn’t move on, but because some part of her still cherished the love that had created her. The dream her parents once shared.
She didn’t need to hold onto the past.
But she wasn’t ready to throw it away either.
Charlie looked down at her lap, her fingers brushing the curve of the ring tucked in her pocket. But her eyes soon lifted again, drawn to the silhouette of her father standing rigidly at the window.
Lucifer hadn’t moved in several minutes. Not since he’d set the ring down. Not since he’d looked out toward the city and found nothing but silence in return.
At first, he was just still.
Then his hands, braced on the windowsill, began to tighten. As his worried thoughts continued to spiral.
Wood cracked softly beneath his grip, splintering under fingers that could crush stars.
“It shouldn’t be taking this long,” he said, his voice low and trembling under the weight of restraint. “He said he just needed space. He said he was fine.”
Vaggie sat up straighter, tension creeping into her spine.
Lucifer’s shoulders twitched and his wings appeared.
All six of them sliding from the air behind him like living light torn from nothingness. They flared out in a rush of feathers and force before folding in tight around his body, a cocoon of divine protection clinging to a heart cracking beneath the surface.
His tail manifested next, lashing sharply once behind him, a clear sign of panic he was trying, and failing, to contain.
“I saw the moment it happened,” he muttered. “During the spar. His whole body locked up. I thought he was acting, he always acts, but then… his eyes. I’ve seen fear before. I’ve inspired it for eons.”
He turned sharply from the window, pacing a few jagged steps before stopping and raking his hands through his hair.
“But this, this wasn’t fear of pain or defeat. This was something older. Something I touched without meaning to.”
He looked at Charlie, helpless for once. “So I pulled us out. I backed off. Didn’t push. And he, he came back to himself. Told me he was fine. Told me not to worry.”
He scoffed. Bitter. Hollow.
“But he lied. And I let him go. And now he’s just gone.”
His wings trembled, the feathers along their edges bristling as that final word fell, thick with guilt and dread.
“I think I scared him,” Lucifer whispered. “I think he saw me, and not as I am with him or you, not as I’ve tried to be, but as the monster I am. And now he’s out there thinking I’m no different from whoever hurt him before.”
His tail lashed again, sharp and restless behind him.
And then, without warning, his fists slammed into the window frame. The glass shuddered. The wood beneath splintered deeper, groaning under the pressure of divine strength wrapped in fragile despair.
“If I’ve lost him,” he breathed, voice catching, “because of what I am…”
His wings trembled.
The rage bled out all at once, leaving only the weight. His tail curled tightly around his legs as his knees buckled, and he sank slowly to the floor in front of the window. His wings folded inward, wrapping around his body like a shield, six vast plumes of crimson and white drawing in close as if trying to hold him together.
He hid behind them, not from judgment, but from pain.
From the thought that Alastor might be afraid of him now.
Charlie sat frozen for a heartbeat.
Then she moved. Quietly, she knelt beside him, careful not to startle. Her voice was soft, but sure.
“Dad.”
The feathers around his shoulders shifted slightly, just enough for her to see the lines of his face, drawn and stricken.
“If Alastor didn’t care about your power, your title, any of that, when you first met,” she said, “one sparring match isn’t going to be what scares him away.”
Lucifer looked at her, eyes shining with grief and something deeper. Guilt.
“He was scared, Charlie,” he rasped. “I saw it.”
“I believe you,” she said. “But maybe it wasn’t you he was scared of.”
He frowned, uncertain.
“Maybe he’s afraid of what’s inside himself,” she continued. “Of what it means to be seen in that moment. To be vulnerable. Maybe he doesn’t know how to ask for help when he needs it. Or maybe… maybe no one’s ever waited long enough to offer.”
She reached up and brushed her hand gently over his.
“But you can. If he lets you in, you can be that support for him. He needs someone strong enough to stay. Someone who sees him and doesn’t flinch.”
She smiled, small but certain.
“You’re not a monster Dad. I know it and I’m sure Alastor knows it too.”
Lucifer swallowed hard, throat burning.
His wings shifted slightly loosening, unfurling just enough to let her warmth in.
He didn’t speak again. But some of the tightness in his shoulders eased. Just enough to keep hope breathing.
Lucifer stayed still for a moment longer, wings curved protectively around him, Charlie’s hand still resting over his.
Then he shifted, the feathers slowly drew back, just enough for her to see the man beneath them begin to steady. His arms opened, and without a word, he pulled her into a fierce embrace, arms and wings alike wrapping around her with a depth of feeling that said everything words couldn’t.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low but steadier now. “Truly, duckling.”
Charlie smiled into his shoulder, hugging him tightly. “Always.”
When they pulled apart, there was a new light in his eyes; fragile still, but no longer drowning. He rose with her, wings fanning out behind him in a slow, regal sweep.
“I’m going after him.”
Charlie nodded, her hands still in his. “Good.”
She hesitated, just for a second, then added, “But remember who you’re dealing with. This is Alastor. If he doesn’t want to be found…”
Lucifer chuckled, just under his breath, and for the first time in hours, it wasn’t bitter.
“Oh, I know,” he said. “But I’m not exactly easy to hide from either.”
And with that, he turned, striding to the window. With one sharp motion, he flung it open, letting in the hot wind and eerie stillness of Hell’s twilight sky.
He looked out, wings flexing behind him like sails catching the current.
Then he leapt.
His form soared into the sky, a blur of white and red streaking across the smoky horizon.
Charlie stepped to the window, watching as his silhouette vanished into the distance.
She placed a hand on the windowsill, the wood still cracked from earlier, and smiled softly.
“I hope you find him,” she whispered. “And I hope when you do… you’re both still whole enough to come home.”