Chapter Text
[Alastor’s POV]
The Devil was the most beautiful creature.
Alastor knew God’s favorite could be nothing less. But when Alastor first summoned him, he hadn’t expected the radiance of that glory to seep inside of him, melting his frozen heart till it burned hotter than the flames of Hell. As he grew, the closest Alastor had come to replicating that feeling was the warmth blooming in his chest from a sip of the finest rye, but even then it was like comparing a single petal to a meadow in full bloom.
The moment he’d met the Devil, Alastor no longer feared Hell. He expected there would still be eternal pain and suffering, but that was no different than on Earth. Their only notable difference was that Hell had one thing that Earth didn’t. Lucifer Morningstar.
Hell couldn’t be so bad if Lucifer was there, and even in all the Radio Demon’s years simmering in rage and burning in damnation, he’d never dared to imagine what it would be like if Lucifer was no longer there.
Not until now.
“What happened?” Vaggi said, on edge but steady for Charlie’s sake.
“I-I don’t know.” Charlie foundered. “I don’t know. I just found him like this.”
Charlie looked up at Alastor, tears in her eyes. She was kneeling on the ground, Lucifer’s head in her lap while his body lay limp on the ground.
Alastor willed his limps not to shake as he crouched beside the pair. He’d rush here the moment he’d heard Charlie’s distressed call, only to find Lucifer unconscious in the hotel’s corridor and far too still.
“Is he… he’s not…” Charlie choked on her own words before they could come out.
“Of course not.” Alastor spoke sharper than he’d intended, like he was chastising himself for a similar thought.
Lucifer was still breathing. Barely. His heart was still beating. Lightly. Alastor placed his palm on the Devil’s forehead and it nearly scalded him.
“This is all my fault.” Charlie whispered. “It’s those summonings. I should have stopped him.”
Alastor shook his head. “No, my dear. The blame is not on you.”
There was plenty of blame to go around, but it was all between Lucifer and himself. Lucifer for not protecting himself better and Alastor for letting his feelings control him in life and death. If Alastor had acted differently, then… then what? It had already happened before either of the pair knew what was going on, some kind of time-twisted fate.
Alastor slipped his hands under Lucifer’s back and knees, lifting him into his arms for the second time in as many days. He thought back to how he’d made an ass of himself before carrying the sleeping form with his tear-streaked face back to Lucifer’s room last night, finally feeling him in his arms after so long. After so much anger. After so much longing. Lucifer was right, he really was surprisingly heavy for his size, but Alastor still cradled him to his chest like he’d carry him through the next century or two.
Maybe if Alastor had kept him by his side last night and into the morning, he could have stopped Lucifer from answering the summoning of his younger self. Would time have obeyed him, stripping the memories of his last night with Lucifer as a trade to keep him by his side and safe?
The only thing Alastor knew for sure, was that he wouldn’t let the Devil leave him like that again.
“I’m taking him to my room.” Alastor spoke with such finality that not even Vaggi dared to question him. “Charlie. Bring hot water, towels, and something for him to eat when he wakes. Something easy to digest.”
What any of that would be good for, Alastor didn’t know, but he needed to give the girl something to do before she devolved into hysterics or anxiously vibrated a hole into the floor.
“Right, ok.” Charlie looked at him with large, tear-stained eyes before darting off with Vaggi in tow.
When Alastor set Lucifer in his bed, he removed everything save his pants to make him more comfortable, then tucking the blankets around him.
If Alastor needed any more proof of where Lucifer had been or the way time had been toying with them, it was right there on Lucifer’s neck.
On their last night, Alastor had memorized every feature when they’d laid together under the moonlight, every curve on his face, every mark Alastor had greedily left on the Devil’s skin.
Those love bites on Lucifer’s neck were the exact same markings Alastor had left on the Devil the last time Alastor had seen him. The last time before Alastor’s death. The last time before his heart had been completely and utterly destroyed—or so he’d thought.
It didn’t seem to matter how many times Alastor tried to summon him again after that night, or how many bodies he sacrificed, the Devil never answered his call again. Now Alastor finally knew why.
He took the king’s hand and stroked his fingers across his knuckles, then he bent to kiss it as he’d done too few times while he was still alive. He was surprised to find Lucifer’s ring was gone. When had he removed it? Alastor hadn’t noticed Lucifer wearing any ring in his past, especially when Lucifer had treated Alastor as his lover. But Alastor had most certainly noticed it the first time they’d met in Hell—at that point Alastor had long since known about Lilith and he’d let it eat him up inside. Thinking the Devil had danced all over his heart—played with his soul—while married to another, he’d wanted to rip Lucifer apart. Now he only wished to piece him back together.
Alastor leaned down and kissed his king’s forehead. There were far more lines etched into the skin of his face than Alastor remembered, along with heavy bags under his eyes that certainly hadn’t been there before. Alastor suspected Lucifer had used some kind of magic to hide the fatigue from his past self.
“Damned fool.” Alastor groused, but there was no heat behind it. “What were you thinking putting yourself in this state?”
He knew what this feeling was. As much as he hated it and didn’t want to give it a name, he knew. He’d had it for most of his life and it had persisted after his death. Alastor had planted it inside of himself like the seed of a dark rose and its barbs grew deep and tore at his skin. If he could reach into his chest and rip it out, well… he wasn’t even sure if he would. Instead, he would use its vines to ensnare his king and never let him go.