Chapter Text
The battle was over. Everyone was safe and alive. Aside from that snake guy who is probably double dead now or wherever sinners go after being killed by the exorcists. They’d spent hours collecting all the angelic steel and gifting it back to the people who lent it to them as a thank you, but also to make sure no-one could get ahold of it and use it for nefarious intentions.
Imagine that if someone managed to get their hands on enough angelic steel, by I don’t know blackmailing the owner and building some giant angelic weapon. That would be a good story and exactly why they collected every scrap they could find so that it can be melted down and reused.
Hours had gone past and it was late into the night everyone in the main part of the hotel drinking, chatting, bathing in the afterglow of victory, whilst celebrating those who they had lost at the hands of war.
Smiles had retired early in the evening which while so devastatingly sad for Lucifer -not- which meant he could do whatever he wanted without having to run into him or have him getting all up in his business looking to annoy him or stir the pot to crate even more drama.
Finally more and more people start leaving till it’s just a random guest who he’s pretty sure had only just arrived conked out on the couch, and him sitting in the dimly lit hotel lounge.
About to walk up to his room he senses angelic magic not a lot of it, but enough to cause destruction. It’s not from Vaggie’s usual store of weapons (which he pretty much ignored now whenever his senses flared) but from the complete opposite side of the hotel.
Lucifer walks through the halls silently treading as lightly as possible as to not be heard by anyone who might still be awake. He can sense the magic getting stronger in every step of that goddamn deer’s direction.
Of course it would be Alastor who took some of the spare weaponry, trying to use it to do his nefarious activities. The magic he can sense is strong magic of a specific signature. This isn’t no simple angelic spear it’s pure clearly something left by Adam or that random exorcist girl he was most definitely cheating on his wife with.
He makes it to the room knocking on the door first not wanting to be impolite, before picking the lock with his magic and opening the door ready to confront a pile of stolen weaponry only to find a Radioapple demon fast asleep on his bed.
He’s about to admit defeat and turn back to his room, but he can definitely sense the magic practically radiating off this room. Pulling open draws and looking in cupboards silently trying to locate the source before spotting something gold peaking out of Alastor’s shirt.
He's about to yell for joy that he caught Alastor and can prove to Charlie that he’s just an evil, good for nothing, no-body plotting the hotel’s downfall before he freezes. He looks more carefully at the golden image before realising that this was no secret magical steel, but in fact a severe wound, created by an angel.
“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself quietly looking down at the large gash covering his chest. If this was any other far less powerful regular sinner they would have died from something like this.
It would take weeks, months, maybe even years for the magic to wear off and heal naturally. The poor sinner -when did he start feeling pity for Alastor- was probably in agony and couldn’t do anything due to the powerful magic preventing the natural healing or him using his magic to heal it.
He can’t just leave him with an angelic injury that could cause so many problems, let alone the fact that it’s causing him pain. Carefully reaching out he exposes more of the wound seeing how it takes up almost all of Alastor’s chest held together by a few meagre magic stitches.
With a wave of his hand the stitches are pulled from the skin without the deer even realising. He holds out his hand and feels the invisible tug of the angelic injury connecting with his. He starts pulling on the non-existent rope of magic till he’s got enough of a grasp on it to pull it fully out of the sinners body.
He watches as the strings of gold dance around his hand illuminating the room slowly dispersing light to whatever it comes across. He watches in awe at this innocent powerful magic dancing so peacefully in a place so dangerous. He clenched his fist crushing it from existence -watching as it dissolves into nothingness- before anyone can get their hands on it.
Alastor’s still asleep completely unaware of this almost angelic ritual which would help him heal from something he clearly doesn’t want anyone knowing about. He starts pulling together strings imitating the feel of Alastor’s magic from earlier crafting a fresh set of stitches which should look and feel the same as his own to close the wound.
He waves his hand summoning a water bottle leaving it on the side table, before trying to figure out what else to leave. He knows nothing about the sinner and what he might like. Sure, he’s seen him eat deer but no way in heaven is he going to go kill a deer, instead settling for dried deer jerky.
He creates a portal in his own room just big enough that he can grab a set of pills from the drawer. Sure Bel might be a little bit mad that he needs a top up on his pain killers already, but what’s she gonna do about it. Refuse.
He waves his hand slightly changing the chemistry of the pills to have more than one property to be able to help the sinner to the best of his abilities. Knowing Alastor being the asshole he is, if he knew Lucifer was helping him all this much, well let’s just say he would no longer be staying in hell.
He searches through Alastor’s drawer till he finally comes across a pen and the back of an old tailoring receipt. Scribbling down a note he tucks it underneath the bottle of pills which has been left of the side next to the water bottle and beef jerky.
He’s unsure of what to do with himself. If he left he’d feel like he was abandoning the poor creature. If he stayed then he would be squashed like a bug in the morning by him. Choosing to leave in this instance to preserve his life and sanity he walks to the door opening and with one last look at the sleeping demon he closes it softly.