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Within his broken radio tower, Alastor’s breathing came raggedly. In his retreat, he’d needed somewhere to go, but the destruction surrounding him was devastating. The power he’d so carefully infused into this structure over the past six months had been torn to shreds in the crossfire of divine blows and blasts. It was useless to him now, all broken glass, warped metal, and fried wires. His sanctum was gone. He couldn’t recover here anymore. Beyond that, he couldn’t stay here. It was nothing more than mundane space, and he would absolutely be found when they searched the wreckage.
He could not–WOULD not–be seen in this state. Not by Charlie, not by anyone from the hotel. He had to leave, had to go SOMEWHERE. But…
His Friends? No, not to Them. He already owed Them a small army’s worth of souls in payment for the power he’d wielded this day. For all the good it ended up doing, he thought bitterly, utterly disregarding the value of the time he’d bought the others in their own battles. But no, he couldn’t afford to ask Their help further. Not now.
So…where? Where to shelter? Where to be healed? Was there any other path before him?
Alastor grimaced, knowing the only real answer. There. Oh, this was the downfall that hubris wrought. His tattered state would have to be witnessed by at least one other being, it seemed. But what better choice did he have? Heaving a shaky sigh, he shifted the destination of the portal within the tower’s trap door and carefully lowered himself through.
He was never going to hear the end of it.
—
The repairs were done for the day, and Lucifer was thrilled with the progress. At this rate, the hotel would be back, better than ever, in record time. The pride he felt for his daughter and her companions was unparalleled, and he joyfully waved back to them as he passed through the portal back to the palace. Ah, back to his empty home. For now, at least. He was planning to add a special area for himself into the design of the hotel’s rebuild. He wasn’t quite sure where yet, but now that he’d seen the true potential of Charlie’s dream, he wanted to make a habit of extended stays to help in her incredible accomplishment. As he opened the door to his lonely bedroom, he did so feeling truly happier than he had in over seven years.
The devil paused. He wasn’t alone.
The room was dark, but from the far side, something was emitting a dim red glow from his bed. Familiar, lightly crackling white noise filtered through the space, so soft it was barely perceptible in the silence. Lucifer stepped forward, and as he approached, the crumpled figure that lay on the bedcovers became unmistakeable.
The red light brightened slightly, and a strained, yellow grin glinted at him through the darkness, catching the glow from the twice-red eyes above. “So sorry…to intrude…Your Majesty…” a voice breathed, staticky and smiling.
Lucifer exhaled, placing his cane before him and resting his hands across the apple atop it. “Alastor…” He took a slow, deep breath and gave a serpent-like flick of his tongue as he clicked it. Internally, his emotions were clashing, both relieved and displeased at the sight before him. “While I can’t say this is unexpected, I’ll freely admit I didn’t expect it so soon.”
“Ah…yes, well…all avenues considered, this seemed the most…reasonable solution…” Alastor replied, his voice edged in a pained groan.
“I can imagine,” Lucifer sighed. With a deliberate motion of his cane, the bedside lamps illuminated, casting just enough light that he could see clearly. Setting the cane aside, Lucifer climbed onto the bed next to Alastor and set to unfastening his torn jacket. “Alright, let’s see how badly he got you.”
“You could use a less humiliating choice of words…” Alastor murmured, biting back the sting of stuck, bloody fabric being pulled free from his wound.
“Yes, well, when I think you deserve them, I will.”
—
Even with Lucifer’s angelic power, treating and dressing the wound took some time. It was a dreadful sight, torn into his flesh as much as it had been slashed. His hands had moved carefully over Alastor, golden wisps of light emanating from them as he worked, magicking away the dried blood, attempting to stifle the flow, helping stitch the gash closed, and finally wrapping his torso in clean gauze. The wound would not heal easily. Wounds inflicted by divine weaponry upon demons weren’t meant to heal. Lucifer’s treatment would certainly help, but it would take a long time, if it ever fully healed at all.
The deer demon’s torso was already heavily-scarred. This would just be another line on the lattice when this was over, albeit quite a thick one.
Now, Lucifer sat on the side of the bed, putting the leftover gauze back into a seldom-needed medical kit. Alastor laid next to him quietly, visibly fatigued. His reception was poorer than usual, but his static had changed to a self-soothing, soft jazz. He was altogether glad to have the painful ordeal behind him.
As Lucifer finished closing the kit, he said, “I was rather direct with you when I first saw you lying there; I want you to know that I am truly relieved you’re alright. Well, as alright as you are, all things considered.”
Alastor smiled, half-lidding his eyes. “I…appreciate the concern, Sire…” he tiredly breathed.
“They started a new tower for you, you know. At the hotel.”
At this, Alastor’s music stopped, changing instead to the sound of a record spinning on a blank track. He was silent, blinking several times. The news came with a soft pang to his chest, altogether unexpected. “Oh?” he said at last. Lucifer chuckled softly, vanishing the kit, and looked over at Alastor.
“I tried to tell them not to bother, but…they were quite adamant,” he smiled.
“Is that so…?” Alastor responded quietly. “How strange… I would have assumed they…thought me perished...”
Again, Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, you have your old friend to thank for that,” he replied coyly.
“‘My old’…?”
“Oh yes. The VoxTech drone cameras–” the sound of a sudden record scratch emitted from Alastor, making Lucifer have to fight back a large smirk, “–caught everything,” he explained, to which Alastor audibly scowled. “The footage has been all over the news,” he went on. “Shots of you melding into shadow, clearly not dead, but altogether…unaccounted for.”
“I see…” Alastor replied, grimacing deeply.
“Beyond that, your dear bar-cat and incredible little cycloptic gremlin claimed that they could ‘just tell’ that you weren't completely gone.” At this, Alastor's expression relaxed a bit. Of course. Husk and Niffty could doubtlessly still feel their continued connection, even as weakened as he was. “Though, after what happened last time, they don’t know how long it’s going to be until you return,” Lucifer added, smirking more pointedly. “Why, it might be years until anyone sees you again!” This brought a more honest, amused smile from Alastor. “But, however long it is, it seems they want to ensure that it’s ready for you when you come back.”
When I come back… They want…
Another pang, this time with a brief tightness in his throat. He swallowed it away, exhaling. “Ohh, they are an infuriatingly endearing lot, aren’t they…”
“Alastor,” Lucifer addressed, his tone suddenly quite serious.
“Yes, Sire…?” he looked over.
“What the fuck were you thinking.”
A beat, then Alastor seemed to laugh, but winced from the pain it caused. Adjusting his head, he saw the stern expression on Lucifer’s face looking down at him.
“That IS quite the puzzler, isn’t it…?” he answered light-heartedly.
“No backup. No angelic weapons. No armor. No protection whatsoever. Facing him utterly alone.” Lucifer cut through the attempted levity, keeping his gaze fixed on Alastor. “I watched my favorite jester nearly perish today due to his own poorly thought-out routine, and almost lost my most valued servant forever. Now tell me. What the fuck were you THINKING??”
Alastor closed his eyes, easing himself into a less painful position. “I…” But no further words came. What was he supposed to say? That he’d thought he could handle it? That he’d been trying to put on a good show? What he’d done was reckless and inexcusable. There was NO reason that he shouldn’t have armed himself more appropriately, and in his heart of hearts, he knew that. Even if it proved he COULD have handled the fight without them, why throw away tactics which would ensure victory? Especially when the stakes were that high?? Because he wanted to do it on his own power. Because it hadn't even been a question as to whether or not he could. Because it was the leader of Heaven’s army versus the right hand of the Devil, himself! What a setup! What fantastic, unmatchable drama!! No. He knew very well. It had been ego and overconfidence, through and through. And he’d quite nearly paid the ultimate price for it.
When Alastor remained silent, Lucifer sighed and shook his head.
“Utter, absolute foolishness,” he chastised, “You know I appreciate showmanship as much as the next man–if not a great deal more!–but Alastor, with all the authority I have as the King of Hell and holder of your soul, I out and out forbid you from doing something that fucking stupid again.”
“Oh well now, that’s going to be a difficult one to follow!”
“‘THAT stupid’, I said.”
“Welllll…” A quiet laugh track echoed.
“Alastor.”
“–Fair enough!”
Another sigh, another head shake, and then Lucifer turned to more fully face him. “If you’ll permit an old man his sentiment,” he prompted, to which Alastor sobered, “there is no show so spectacular, no performance so grand, in all the limitless splendor of Heaven, Hell, and Earth in-between…” he gently rested a hand over Alastor’s, “...that is worth the cost of losing you.”
Alastor’s smile softened, and a sudden warmth flooded his chest, comforting enough to almost overcome the tremendous pain stinging through it. Oh, he hadn’t felt that in a while. He turned his hand beneath Lucifer’s, clasping it gently. “Well…you did pay a pretty penny to have me, I suppose…”
Lucifer’s expression grew fonder, and he reached to stroke the base of Alastor’s antlers with his free hand. “I did, indeed,” he smiled. “Now. You’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future, I expect?”
“If you see fit to allow it, Sire.”
“And shall I confirm to your dear coworkers your not-yet-deceased status?”
“No,” Alastor shook his head, “I want no one to know where I am, nor the condition I’m in. The last thing I need is for word to get out and have any of my–” he cleared his throat, “–SECOND job’s coworkers…get any bright ideas about my being an easy target,” he scowled. “I don’t doubt several of them are going to try and take as much advantage of my brief absence as it is…”
“Of course, of course. Our little secret then, until you feel it time for your grand re-entrance.” Lucifer loosened his bowtie and began to undress. Soon, he had donned a familiar pair of striped pajamas and was settling into the other side of his large bed. A few of his most-beloved rubber ducks had graduated to the role of sleeping buddies a long time ago, but now, he lovingly moved them aside and doused the lights. At first, it seemed he was going to keep his distance, but then, with great care, he moved closer to where Alastor laid. Gently, he slipped a hand upward to resume scratching around the base of his ears, and tenderly laid the other on his collarbone. “You know, it isn’t lost on me that, after so long of having this dreadfully empty bed, it WOULD be you that I find myself finally sharing it with again,” he remarked, smirking.
Alastor made a sound of amusement, flicking one of his ears under the attention, and felt a soft purr building in his throat. It was certainly nostalgic, even with the more melancholy feeling that someone was still missing. “It’s good to be back,” he smiled. “In the future, let us hope it will be under better circumstances!”
As he closed his eyes, Lucifer again briefly thought of the addition he had planned for the hotel. Alastor’s new tower would be in the same place as his old one, topping the front corner. For a moment, he envisioned the possibility of a fun, apple-shaped suite on the opposite corner, mirroring it. An apple and a radio tower, framing the hotel, proudly sitting atop it, standing guard.
Together.
In the darkness, Lucifer smiled. Listening to Alastor’s comforting white noise, he realized just how much he’d missed it. “Oh, my darling jester…” he said softly, “...I think it will be.”