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When the day of the final battle with Heaven dawned, Alastor awoke alone.
Lucifer’s side of the bed had long since gone cold, the sheets and blanket left crumpled and pulled back and barren .
And the sight had left the Radio Demon feeling frigid. Empty .
Right down to the bone.
His insides coiled nervously as he wrapped his arms around himself, staring longingly to his side, his ears drooping sadly, his usual smile…gone, erased from his face.
There was nothing to be happy about today, he knew.
They had fought the night before.
The King had wanted him to go. To run, so that if things went south, someone would still be around to pick up the pieces after the battle. To rebuild Hell, in the event of his permanent absence.
But the sinner had refused emphatically. He was no coward; he wanted to fight . To protect his home, and all those he held dear. To protect… him .
“If anyone should go,” the Radio Demon had argued back. “It should be you . Where would we all be without our King?”
The angel had tried to reason with him—had nearly begged him—that he needed to be on the battlefield. He was the strongest being in Hell, and how could he possibly entertain the idea of abandoning his people on the day they needed him most?
“I can’t—,” Lucifer had cried desperately, breaking down in front of his partner. “I can’t lose you .”
“And you think…that I could go on living without you ?” He had bit back, his voice bitter, his eyes burning with tears of his own.
But both of their pleas had ultimately fallen on deaf ears and, unable to find an impasse—a compromise— they had both gone to sleep angry—something they had never done before. Had promised never to do.
And what should have been a night of desperate kisses and close embraces…was instead full of empty arms and lonely, angry sobs.
Alastor got ready for the day in silence, sporting his usual red suit, picking up his usual weapon of choice—his trusty microphone, now lined with angelic steel, no matter how useless it would be to him.
When he had managed to find his way downstairs, everyone had gathered in the kitchen, not a single one of them speaking a word as they went about the motions, the only sounds between them the clinking and scraping of silverware on plates as they pushed their breakfast around, not really eating.
The demon took his usual place at the table next to Lucifer. He noticed the angel's eyes were red and puffy, the skin under them bruised a dark purple.
Had he…not slept at all?
Alastor slid his arm over, wrapping his hand around the King’s free one, wanting to provide…a ceasefire. A white flag. An olive branch.
At least…a little comfort, even after the fight they’d had. Today would be hard for everyone .
But Lucifer froze, staring down at their joined hands for several moments before pursing his lips. His chin trembled, his eyes becoming glassy and he pointedly looked away as he pulled out of the demon’s grasp. He dropped his fork onto the plate with a loud clang that had everyone else in the kitchen jumping in their seats, then stood from his chair and deposited his still-full plate into the sink.
Then he was gone, mumbling something with a wavering voice about checking in with the Sins and their armies one final time.
Alastor’s hand curled into a fist, his jaw clenching.
An hour later, they were ready for the fight, standing at the fore, squadrons upon squadrons of demons at their backs.
An eerie quiet had fallen over the battlefield as the legions of Hell awaited the portal, all of them holding their breath.
They had prepared, of course they had. They had done the impossible; they had brought together all the rings of Hell—the imps, the Overlords. The Ars Goetia, the hellhounds. Even the Sins had joined the fray.
They had all wanted to protect their home from complete annihilation.
One united front, for the first…and last time.
But when the portal opened, and the hordes of Heaven poured into Hell, Alastor knew .
They were fucked .
Every single one of them stared up in horror at the sheer number their enemy had managed to create.
But, they did their best.
With the help of Carmilla and her angelic steel, it severely evened out the playing field, and the denizens of Hell were able to hold their line for a time, Lucifer stepping in wherever he was needed to offer a much-needed push-back.
Alastor stuck close to the princess and her crew, promising himself that he would, along with Vaggie, protect her from harm.
She would hold the crown, after all, if her father were to fall.
But the fight went on and on , and the sinner grew tired. Sloppy .
He didn’t see—couldn’t sense —the spear directed at his back, the archangel in the air smiling maniacally at the chance to take out the famed Radio Demon once and for all.
And it was like…time slowed.
From yards away, Charlie shouted his name, fear coating her voice as she pointed to the air behind him.
As fast as he could, he turned, but he was too late— far too late—as the angel brought down its vengeance upon him and his life flashed before his eyes.
Suddenly, there was a gust of wind.
And in the blink of an eye, Lucifer appeared before him, a blaze of hellfire and wings, his eyes gazing at the sinner lovingly, sadly as the spear pierced his back, straight through his heart .
Time caught back up and Alastor tried to yell, tried to shout but the tip of the weapon cut through him, too.
Frozen in place, he stared wide-eyed down at the angel.
“Alastor…” he whispered, but a moment later the weapon was wrenched out of the both of them, the pain forcing them to their knees.
Golden blood began pouring out of the angel’s mouth, out of both sides of his wound and the Radio Demon could only watch in horror as he coughed, the shining, sparkling ichor splattering across his red coat.
No, no, no, NO!
And with one last smile at the man he loved, the King of Hell collapsed to the ground.
Alastor joined him moments later, lying face-down on the ground as red blood leaked out in a pool under him. He could feel it soaking his jacket, his shirt, his pants.
Was it… his blood? It had to be, right?
He smeared it around with the tips of his fingers, feeling the warmth, the thickness, the stickiness.
Normally, he would savor it. Watch it stream out of his victims’ bodies and into his proverbial wine glass, ripe for devouring.
But when it was his blood…well, it was far less satisfying to witness.
He lifted his eyes.
Lucifer lay across from him, eyes closed. Even in death, he was the most beautiful being the sinner had ever laid eyes on.
Sparkling golden blood stained his waistcoat, shining so brightly in the sun it cast a halo around his body.
A saint, just as it should have always been.
He had always been too good for this world.
The scene brought tears to the demon’s eyes.
He hadn’t deserved the angel. He hadn’t deserved the light that the King had brought into his life.
There were so many things he hadn’t said to him, and so many things he regretted saying.
He had loved him, in his own way.
He should have told him but…he hadn’t.
And now…now, he never would.
The water overflowed and spilled out of the demon’s eyes, sliding over the bridge of his nose and down to the dirt beneath him, mixing with the ever-growing puddle of blood that just kept flowing, and flowing, and flowing .
Soon, he would be gone, he knew.
But he couldn’t be angry…because…
At least…he wouldn’t have to live on…in a world…without him .
Alastor’s arm shook with exertion as he lifted it, one hand reaching across the gap for the angel.
His …angel.
His vision became fuzzy, static filling his head. He was fading.
But just…just one last touch…
His fingers brushed Lucifer’s hand and the demon relaxed, letting his arm drop.
A soft, weak smile spread across his lips as he exhaled the last of his breath.
Now…he could die happy, he thought as he closed his eyes.
But as he allowed the darkness to claim him, a shout echoed in the back of his mind
“There they are!”
And then, everything went black .
True death was…cold, Alastor thought. Not that he had expected anything less. He had burned in Hell, but what was left after that?
Nothing. There was nothing left.
Honestly, he was surprised he still retained the ability to think , given how… final it was all supposed to be.
And for complete nothingness , death seemed…rather noisy ?
In the back of his head, he could hear a quiet buzzing.
Curious.
The sound of muffled voices filled his mind, a steady, repeating beep followed, the beat of his heart syncing up to the annoying noise.
Light flooded his eyelids then and he furrowed his brow.
Slowly, he slid his eyes open, only to be met with bright, fluorescent lights. He squinted, and tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes, but it was…caught?
“Alastor?” A voice next to him said, and the demon turned his head to find Lucifer as he stood from his chair, his hair a mess , clad only in a hospital gown, a cable-knit sweater resting across his shoulders. His hand was clamped around the demon’s in a grip so tight, it would have broken mortal bones.
The sinner stared back at the angel, wide-eyed and confused.
He—he didn’t understand.
They had died . He had seen the angel die .
So how—
“Oh, thank fuck ,” the King groaned, releasing the sinner’s hand before throwing his arms around him.
And it was that moment that Alastor realized— everything hurt .
He wasn’t sure what kind of sound he made, but almost immediately Lucifer pulled back, a remorseful, sheepish look on his face.
“Sorry,” he said shyly as he sat down on the side of the bed, laying his hands overtop of the Radio Demon’s.
Alastor continued staring back at the angel in wonder, his eyes scanning—memorizing—every feature, everything he thought he would never get to see again.
They had survived , he thought. The realization took hold, sank in. They had survived and…and Lucifer was here and—
The sinner grabbed ahold of the King’s wrists and, before he was able to protest, pulled the other man against him, grunting in pain that he was grateful for.
“I love you,” the demon said to the angel, water rising to his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the angel tightly, refusing to let him go for anything, despite any protests he may have had, clinging to him as if his life depended on it.
Tears began to flow down his cheeks freely as he buried his face in Lucifer’s neck, repeating the words over and over and over again like a fervent, desperate prayer.
“I love you,” he said again between sobs. “I love you.”
He felt warm arms slide around him, one hand threading into the matted, tangled excuse that was his hair, cradling his head, holding Alastor firmly against him as he cried. Lucifer pressed his cheek to the demon’s temple and released a wavering breath of his own.
The words weren’t enough, the Radio Demon knew.
They were nowhere near enough to make up for all of the words that were left unsaid.
But…they have survived. Against all odds, they were still here .
And now…he would make sure that the angel knew , Alastor promised himself. That he knew every day, every single day, the depth of his feelings for him.
And here…seemed like a good place to start.
“I love you too, Alastor.”
Oh, a thousand words