Chapter Text
The night was growing old. Shadows stretched far across the wooden walls of the one room cabin, the flickering candlelight giving the room a more macabre ambiance; the blood soaking into the floor might have added to that, as well. He had worked for hours on this summoning circle, blood slathered across the floor in intricate runes.
As he sat back on his haunches to examine his work, Alastor felt the first stirrings of trepidation. What if this didn’t work?
No.
It had to work.
It had to.
Alastor took one final deep breath before raising his hands in the air. A little showmanship never killed anyone! And if it did, well… “Spirits of the afterlife, I call on you! I wish to make a deal!”
His skin prickled in anticipation in the rapidly cooling room. The sparks of flame surrounding him flared for a moment, calming after a moment. He squinted at the candles, wondering if it had just been his imagination, or if they really had reacted to whatever was in the air.
There was something there, something heavy and oppressive that made his breath stall in his throat. A strange sense of panic shot through him, his heart racing and mind stalling as the radio he had placed as a centerpiece for this ritual screamed to life, the speakers lighting up from some strange internal shine.
“Mortal,” a deep, polyphonic voice reverberated through the room, emanating from the radio. The sound rattled his bones, stole his breath, stalled his thoughts.
It worked.
It worked!
The existential fear the voice conjured was almost immediately brushed aside by Alastor’s utter lack of self-preservation. He was a dead man walking, anyhow. It was only a matter of time before he ended up on the other side of that radio.
Taking another hard swallow, Alastor stretched his trademarked smile wide across his face, throwing on his best showman’s façade. This was the most important pitch of his life (and afterlife); he had to make this count!
“Ah, my dear demon! Thank you for so promptly answering my call. I went to quite the trouble, you see. And don’t worry, I promise to make it worth your while…,” he trailed off, momentarily distracted by his own splintered thoughts, giggling a little manically to himself before he was able to gather his wits. “Ah, apologies,” he continued a little awkwardly, running a bloodied hand over his face without a second thought, only realizing what he had done when the blood dripped down his cheek and into his mouth. “I do get so carried away. I’m just so ecstatic that my call has been answered at long last!”
The silence that followed was both heavy and expectant. Eventually, the demon let out a decidedly unimpressed hum, which left Alastor feeling wrong-footed and unsure, his smile slipping slightly as he realized perhaps the demons of Hell might be more discerning than he had originally planned.
Before he could think of something else to entice the demon with, it continued, as if Alastor weren’t floundering for a way to salvage this negotiation. “So, what were you aiming for here, kid?” the demon growled, voice deepening the more it spoke, the words boring their way into Alastor’s soul. “Money, power, love? Come on, hit me, I’ve heard them all before.”
The breath Alastor sucked in was shaky and shallow, but he pushed on; this was his one and only chance! Surely a demon would understand his desire to continue his work once he passed on. “Yes, I do desire power, I suppose. I know where I’m going when I leave this mortal plane, and I don’t plan on being a lowly little demon. No! I wish to be among the strongest, the best, the most feared and respected! The strongest sinner in Hell! I want to be able to continue my work, my fun! Unimpeded!”
The silence that followed was full of tension as the demon seemed to mull that proposal over. And then the radio crackled, static sparking around it as the shadows surrounding the circle began to dance and jump around him. Alastor stumbled back a step in surprise, eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other, only to nearly jump out of his skin when a cloud of red sparkling dust shimmered out of the radio, coalescing into the form of a white clad man in an obnoxiously tall top hat.
He was dressed head to toe in white and red, golden buttons shining on his jacket. His top hat was a little ostentatious, making him nearly another head taller. His skin was a luminous white, red circles reminiscent of a doll dotting his cheeks. Altogether, he looked like a circus ringleader, a fool and a joke.
This was the demon he was bartering his soul to?
A little let down at this revelation, Alastor took another step back, his smile strained and gaze half lidded. The demon before him clicked his cane down into the wooden boards beneath him, settling his black hands over the top and tilting his head to the side like a predator sizing up its prey, gold and red eyes studying him critically.
Though the demon initially presented himself as nothing but a joke, the longer Alastor stood there, flayed alive beneath that calculating gaze, the more unsure he became of his knee-jerk assessment. He nearly squirmed beneath the demon’s undivided attention. The atmosphere in the room became nearly unbearable the longer they stood there, a fiery weight bearing down on Alastor’s body and mind. He blinked hard, trying and failing to brush the shadows from his vision.
Between one struggling blink and the next, Alastor found himself kneeling on the floor, gasping for breath as the demon now towered over him, piercing eyes staring down at his shaking form with something close to curiosity. Alastor could barely move, barely think, so instead he stared back at the demon, studying his pale, porcelain face. His body refused to react in time to even think about flinching when a black clawed hand moved forward to cup Alastor’s jaw. The demon’s hand was cold and soft. The reds and golds of the demon’s eyes began to swirl together, slowly merging until they coalesced into two impossible shining constellations, something timeless and endless and unbearable to look away from shining forth from their depths.
Alastor was entranced.
The demon hummed again, something inquisitive and musing. The unassuming sound seemed to break the spell, Alastor jerking away to gasp for breath, staring from the floor at the demon he now realized was more dangerous than he had originally thought. The demon smiled slowly, gracing Alastor with a crooked grin, full of sharp teeth.
“Alright, kid. Let’s make a deal, then. You want power? I can give you power. You want prestige? I can do that, too. In return, upon your death, you will remain with me. I will take your soul and mold it to my desires. And in return, you will have power beyond your comprehension. More power than anyone else in Hell, besides the already-established royal family. Sound like a deal?”
Alastor blinked slowly, uncurling slightly from his protective hunch on the floor. “Honestly? That sounds too good to be true,” he admitted, watching the demon warily from his knees. “What do you get out of this? Companionship? Hardly seems like a fair trade.”
The demon’s gaze softened slightly, the stars in his eyes slowly returning to their previous reds and yellows. “Hmm. You have no idea how isolating Hell can be, little sinner. I seek companionship, yes. Family, eventually. Hopefully. You’ll fit right in down there, probably even flourish! But Hell? It’s a lot of backstabbing, deals, and murder. It gets exhausting after a while, always watching your back, wondering when your friends are going to turn on you for their own gain. It’d be nice, to have someone around that won’t be able to turn against me. And your soul is just the right mix of darkness and light to make my plans work.”
Alastor sat back, digesting that ridiculous amount of information. Truly, Hell didn’t sound much different from the living world. And, well, the demon didn’t seem to be horrible company. If he were to be saddled with him for the rest of his afterlife, he supposed there could be worse options. And he was offering everything Alastor asked for on a silver platter.
“Alright,” Alastor said, holding his hand out to seal their arrangement. “It’s a deal, then.” The demon smiled again, reaching out to meet his outstretched hand. As their skin met, a wave of magic burst from their joined grip, sending a thrill of strength and power through Alastor’s body. He let out a delirious giggle, uncontrollable as the intoxicating energy thrummed through him.
“I suppose I’ll see you on the other side,” the demon said softly, reaching out one more time to cradle his face, smile soft and longing. Alastor blinked up at him, once again spellbound.
“What’s your name? So I can find you,” he asked, reaching up to wrap his long fingers around the demon’s wrist, suddenly desperate to know he could find this demon when the time came.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” he said with a carefree laugh. “Like I said, little sinner, I’ll catch you as you fall. You’ll wake up in Hell with me by your side. Until then,” he said, playfully tapping Alastor on the nose, before stepping back, his form disappearing into red mist and sparkles.
The flames died down, the radio’s signal faded, the shadows calmed, and the room was left in sudden darkness. Alastor still felt the lingering cold of the demon’s hand on his face, the simmering power left behind surrounding him still. He glanced around the empty room, eyes skipping over the burnt-out candles and rotting bodies in the corner.
He sighed as real life slowly crept back in. He needed to get rid of the bodies. He needed to clean the cabin of any evidence of this summoning. There was so much to do!
With a new pep in his step, he moved towards the bodies, already planning out where he would dump them. Things were looking up! What could possibly go wrong from here?
Chapter Text
Lucifer sat at his desk, hands steepled over the papers he was staring at but definitely not seeing. His mind was faraway, busy daydreaming about the vibrant young man he had just made a spur-of-the-moment deal with. What a spitfire! He was more than perfect for his plan, his soul so dark there was no way he would have wound up in Heaven either way, so he had no need to feel any misplaced guilt later down the line; and a hidden brightness nestled deep inside, small and sacred and precious, that called to Lucifer. The intoxicating mix was what had given him the idea in the first place.
And what an idea it was!
Lilith had taken Charlie away years ago. He hadn’t seen either of them face to face for the last ten years, and not for lack of trying. Rebuffed at every opportunity, instead he started sending gifts, and messages, and long-winded letters where he rambled on about his day-to-day and asked about Charlie’s. Even if she never responded, at least he could say he tried. And so far, he had never gotten a response, but that would never stop him. He would continue reaching out for as long as he existed in Hell. Maybe one day Charlie would write him back. Maybe she would want to see him.
Eh, he could always hope, couldn’t he?
Eternal dreamer, was what he was once called, both fondly and not, over the years.
But! That’s where Alastor came in. That young man, so bright-eyed and naïve and willing to throw away his own soul for some measly power. But underneath all that posturing and poise, he saw the scared little boy hiding below. Why else would someone sell their soul for power, if they weren’t scared of something?
He had been nothing short of adorable, collapsed on his knees and staring up at Lucifer as if he had hung the moon and stars, just for him. As Lucifer had rifled through his soul, searching through his sins and virtues to find that he wasn’t actually such a monster after all, he had realized he could work with this.
Mildly panicking now that the process had already been set in motion and there was no turning back, Lucifer sat at his kingly desk, forms and reports from all over the seven rings mismatched in one big mess, contemplating the responsibility he had just taken on, on a whim. Why was he like this? Because he was lonely? Because he missed fatherhood? Because he craved a family that wouldn’t leave him?
How pathetic…
The sound of a gunshot jerked him out of his thoughts, echoing not through the room but through his connection to Alastor. There was a tug against his very being, a spark igniting behind his eyes as he turned to stare into the ether. He focused on the link between himself and Alastor and winced, the sound of baying and snarling dogs overtaking the fast-paced heartbeat pounding in Alastor’s ears.
His boy was arriving too early! He wasn’t ready, he had nothing prepared, they had literally just made the deal the night before!
He shook Alastor’s dread and fear off his metaphysical self like water off a duck’s wings, shelving them for later, before lunging forward with his cosmic hands, reaching out to cup the sweet little soul in his essence, cradling it close as it shone with light and writhed with shadows in equal measure.
It brushed up against his presence like a cat asking for pets, settling almost immediately from panic to a content little ball of energy. Gently, carefully, taking all the time he needed, Lucifer forged a perfect body for the tiny fragile soul to inhabit.
He made it small, adorable, compact. He gave it a slightly furry body, something soft and sweet to cuddle. He gave it big fluffy ears, reminiscent of the deer he had been mistaken for at death. Tiny little hooves like his own, a tiny fluffball of a tail. Charlie had been all porcelain skin and blonde hair, the best of her mother and father. Lucifer decided to invert the color scheme a bit with this child, focusing more on reds and blacks. He gave the body eyes similar to his own, yellow and red, slightly glowing.
Satisfied with the end product, he imbued it with a drop of his blood, siphoning some of his own power into the form, and then carefully placed the soul inside, watching with wonder as it spread out to fill its vessel, stretching and widening until it was full.
Pulling back into the physical world, Lucifer watched with awe as the little body laid out on the couch twitched and groaned as Alastor entered the world of the dead, perfect and beautiful and his.
Big, beautiful eyes cracked open, squinting against the light of the office. Alastor blinked slowly up at the ceiling, slowly processing the ceiling and the rest of his surroundings. Eventually, he turned to the side, finding Lucifer crouched right beside him, one hand outstretched as he stared at Alastor with fondness, a smile spread across his face.
“Well, can’t say I was expecting you so soon. Just couldn’t wait?” he teased gently, finally reaching out to run his fingers through the boy’s hair. Alastor watched him with slow-blinking eyes, still half-aware of himself and his surroundings.
“Where-?” the boy croaked, voice scratchy and small and foreign. His hand flew to his throat, eyes wide in concern, before he noticed the tiny clawed hand attached to his arm, and tore it away to stare at in shock. “What?” he squeaked, his hands flying to his mouth again at the unfamiliar sound. He looked mortified, cheeks darkening with an endearing blush.
Lucifer chuckled, reaching out to lift the boy up off the sofa and onto his lap as he settled in his spot on the sofa. Alastor squirmed for a moment before going slack-limbed against Lucifer’s chest, already exhausted, eyes wide and questioning.
“Welcome to Hell.” He brushed a hand through Alastor’s bright red hair. The boy turned a bright, wide-eyed gaze up to Lucifer. “And welcome to the family, Alastor Morningstar.”
The boy jolted in surprise, looking between Lucifer’s warm gaze and then around at the office, seeming to finally realize what kind of room he had formed in. The walls were covered in old family portraits, red and yellow velvet curtains, and ivory columns. It screamed ‘opulence’. His eyes, originally dulled and hazy from the sudden change in temporal location, now bright and sharp and frightened.
Before Lucifer could react, Alastor threw himself out of Lucifer’s arms, falling to the floor with a loud thump! before scrambling beneath the sofa he had woken up on. Lucifer followed him without a thought, crouching on his hands and knees to peek into Alastor’s hiding spot, finding nothing but two glowing eyes and shadows writhing unnaturally, obscuring Alastor’s tiny form.
Lucifer cooed sympathetically, trying to calm the poor boy down. “Oh, Al. It’s okay. I know this is all really scary, but it’s going to be okay, buddy.”
Lucifer could hear Alastor’s teeth chattering as he shook. “No, they’re, there’s no dogs, right?” Lucifer recalled the distant sound of a gunshot and baying dogs as Alastor’s soul fell through the ether, and smiled down at his child. Poor thing.
“Oh, baby. No. There’s no dogs here. Come on out, you’ll see for yourself. You’re safe here.” The silence stretched for long minutes, Alastor breathing hard as he obviously strained his newly heightened hearing. Slowly, carefully, Alastor stretched out a clawed hand, dragging himself forward on his belly one hand at a time until he was fully in the light, though his shadows quivered uncertainly beneath him. Lucifer leaned back against his desk, still sitting on the floor, and waited patiently.
Alastor slumped a healthy distance away, legs spread akimbo as he marveled at his tiny claws and furred body. His bright eyes eventually turned up towards Lucifer, unsure and unsteady in a way he hadn’t been as an adult.
“What did you mean, by calling me Morningstar?”
“Well,” Lucifer started, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling, organizing his thoughts. “Like I said before. You’ll stay with me, be my companion. My child. My blood.” He heard a surprised huff of breath from the boy, but continued on. “You’ll be one of the most powerful creatures in Hell. Eventually. Can’t have an all-powerful toddler running around unsupervised! Ha!” He laughed at his own joke, then quickly got himself back on track. “Well, all-powerful behind me, my ex-wife, and my daughter.” He slowly tipped his chin down to get a read on Alastor’s reaction, but he was simply sitting there, slack-jawed and shocked. “You’re my son, now, Alastor. So. Welcome to the family!”
Alastor’s gaze fell to his lap, staring at his tiny hands, tapping his claws against themselves. His face was very expressive like this; Lucifer could see his entire thought process without even using his hidden eyes. The boy mulled over the indignity, the fear, and the confusion of his situation. He had signed up for this, though. And in return for power, he was to be the devil’s companion. He had no doubt assumed he knew what would be expected of him, had been expecting an adult body upon arrival, but it was obvious that this situation could have been worse.
That’s why you don’t make deals with demons, kids!
Lucifer fidgeted uncomfortably in the silence as he let Alastor process. The boy glanced up, studying Lucifer. “Why a child?” he asked, voice squeaky and small and so different from what he had sounded like as an adult. It was jarring. “Why me?”
Lucifer tried for nonchalant and failed. “Why not? I loved raising my daughter, but her mother took her away from me. We don’t talk much anymore, and I’m lonely. I loved being a dad. When I heard your summons, when I saw your soul, I couldn’t resist. I thought, why not try again? Your soul, it’s beautiful. So dark, yet light at the same time. Entrancing.” And perfect, if he was being honest. “Is that so outlandish? That I would want you as my child? My family?”
Alastor stared up at Lucifer from across the room, blinking back tears. Obviously, he had known the moment he had killed his father at fourteen, the blood dripping from his fingers and down the ax handle, that he was bound for Hell. And that meant he would never see his maman again. He had made his peace with that. But to start life anew, a child once more, dependent on none other than the Devil as a parental figure? It was leaving him more than a little unmoored.
“But-,” he whimpered, wincing as his voice cracked. He looked away, no longer feeling like that thirty-two year old man he had been just hours before. No, he truly felt small and young and vulnerable. “But I’m no good. You must be wrong. M’soul’s not entrancing. It’s just… polluted.”
Lucifer’s gaze softened even more, and between one blink and the next, he was sitting next to Alastor, scooping him up to set him in his lap and cradle him close. “Honey, I promise. You’re not bad, and you’re not polluted. You have darkness in you, of course you do, but there’s light there, too. You’re a beautiful mix of both. Just enough darkness to get by in Hell, and just enough light to keep pace with the angels.”
Alastor ducked his head, biting his lip and wincing as his sharp teeth broke the skin there. Lucifer gently wiped away his blood. “I promise, Alastor. This is going to be a good thing. You’ll see. I’m so happy to bring you into the family.” He leaned forward, whispering sweetly in his big fluffy ears. “Y’know, as I was holding you soul in my hands, I caught glimpses of your life. Just flashes. But it was enough to understand what’s holding you back.” He pressed his lips to Alastor’s temple, nuzzling close, burying him beneath his arms and his face and his wings, keeping him safe and protected from the rest of the universe. “I’m not like your father, honey. I promise. You’ll be safe here, with me. You never have to worry about that.”
Alastor lost control of his tears at that point, sniffling and whimpering into Lucifer’s jacket, hiding his face away. Lucifer kept quiet, running his fingers through Alastor’s hair, brushing away the tears, kissing his cheek.
“That’s it, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you.” He rocked them together and smiled when Alastor’s breaths evened out, snuffling in his sleep as he burrowed closer to Lucifer.
“This is a good thing,” Lucifer said, more to himself than Alastor. “It is, I swear.”