Chapter Text
Lucifer woke from the deepest sleep he’d had in a week.
From the quality of the light, he suspected it was well past noon, not an hour for which he could be faulted given the night he’d had. Even so, as host, he should have really been awake early enough to see to his guest.
Assuming his guest cared to see him.
Despite the guilt nipping his heels — or perhaps because of it — Lucifer took his sweet time in sitting up in his large and rather opulent bed. Large enough and opulent enough in fact to sleep two easily with plenty of space to spare. They’d need never even touch if that was their preference.
He couldn’t blame Alastor for not wanting to use it.
Lucifer sighed and rubbed the grit from his eyes before hauling himself to his feet and wrapping himself in a robe. After a moment’s thought, he added a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms.
He didn’t feel up to being too exposed.
“Hey,” he said, stepping into the sitting area. “About last night...”
The room was empty.
It had been used, that much was certain. The scattered cushions, washing bowl, and nearly empty bottle of rye remained, but Alastor had vanished from the day bed where he had set up camp.
He’d taken the blanket too.
That didn’t matter to Lucifer, he could conjure another blanket if he wanted. Alastor’s absence shouldn’t have mattered much either. He certainly wasn’t a prisoner. Skulking around in the shadows was one of his better known traits, and if he felt more comfortable resting and recovering in his own bed, who was Lucifer to tell him otherwise? Even the king of Hell only wielded so much authority.
And yet, Alastor’s absence made him uneasy.
He found his phone and sent his daughter a text.
Sweetie, can you stop by my room when you have a moment?
He didn’t expect an immediate reply, so when Charlie texted back that she would be right there, Lucifer decided there was little point in trying to clean up in time and settled for quickly dressing in something more presentable. He supposed he could have done both by magic, but, as addled as he felt, he couldn’t trust himself not to dress in a sheet and hang his clothing on the towel rack.
He had only just convinced himself to pick up a few items and grabbed the rye bottle when he heard a knock at the door and opened it to see his daughter standing there.
“Hi, dad,” Charlie said, her brow creased with worry. “Is everything all right?” Catching sight of the bottle, she added, “Rough night?”
“Something like that,” Lucifer muttered, ushering Charlie in so he could close the door. “Have you seen Alastor?”
“No. You texted me last night not to bother him about your... dilemma anymore.”
“I did,” Lucifer replied, “but after that, he came by my room...”
He cringed internally as a smile of pure joy and excitement lit Charlie’s face.
“So he’s okay?” she said, almost giddy with relief.
“Well...”
Lucifer tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was never very good at hiding his emotions. Sometimes they came out incorrectly, but they always came out.
“Dad, what happened?” Charlie said, clearly concerned.
“We agreed not to talk about it,” Lucifer told her. “Or at least not to talk about each other. I suppose I’m free to talk about my own thoughts on the matter.”
“And?”
“It was... not good,” Lucifer admitted. “I mean, physically, it wasn’t difficult, but... I hate to say it, but I was almost relieved to think Alastor preferred to fight himself to the death. It kept me from having to make a decision or from seeing how few decisions I could actually make. What good is the gift of free will if it allows people to create a weapon that takes it away? I... tried to give him every choice, but what does that matter when the final result is always death?”
“But I thought...”
“There's more than one kind of death, Charlie.”
Lucifer sighed and let the comment hang in the air for a moment.
“I thought he should be convinced for his own sake and yours, but I’d probably have had less trouble dealing with the guilt of letting him die by his own bullheadedness than following through with this.”
He looked at the nearly empty bottle in his hand and took a swig.
“He was sleeping when I turned in, but gone when I woke up. I doubt he wants to see me, but if you know where to find him, can you make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid?”
“Of course,” Charlie said, her eyes filled with immense warmth and compassion, “but this isn’t your fault, dad. Just remember that.”
“Maybe not,” Lucifer allowed, mostly to please her.
“Do you want me to tell him anything when I find him?”
Lucifer lifted the bottle, label side out, and took another drink.
“Yeah. Tell him he’s right. This stuff’s pretty good.”