Chapter Text
Alastor was 16 the first time he saw his angel. The other boy was so much smaller than his companions, but he took up so much more space. He was the embodiment of joy, dancing around among the others. His blond hair glinted like gold in the sunlight, and his eyes were so blue they looked like fragments of sapphire. His skin was unnaturally pale, almost like porcelain. His waist was so narrow he felt like he could wrap his hands around it with ease, and Alastor desperately wanted to test the theory. His laughter rang out across the school yard, drawing looks from all the girls and more than a few of the boys. Alastor felt his chest burn with a jealousy he couldn't explain and couldn’t help but drift closer as discreetly as possible, not wanting to draw attention. He held his hands behind his back to keep them from reaching out to touch.
“Lucifer, did you get into the candy again or something? You’re practically vibrating.” A tall blond boy said, rolling his eyes. The fond smile he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide betrayed his amusement. They looked so similar that they must have been brothers, though their heights differed drastically. Maybe Lucifer was younger? He certainly acted like it.
“No sugar, just happy! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and here I am with the two of you,” he sang. Alastor snorted at the corny song and suppressed the urge to grab Lucifer and pull him into a kiss.
He’d never felt an urge like that before. How odd.
“I don’t believe you,” another responded. This one was also tall; he had brown hair but the same blue eyes. Alastor hated his teasing smile with all his heart. Hopefully this was also a brother or else he’d need to step in quickly to stake his claim. They may not have spoken yet, but he knew this boy was his, and he didn’t share.
As they walked into the school the taller blond pulled the smaller back. “Deep breath, Lulu. Calm down. If the teacher calls home again you know how father will react.”
What a cute nickname his darling had! Alastor quietly tried out the new name himself, loving the way it felt on his tongue. He slipped in the door behind them, making sure to pull out a random book to focus on as he drifted up beside the three.
“Come on, Mikey. He'll react that way no matter what I do, so why try to behave?” Lucifer said. His expression fractured, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself to self-soothe. Alastor was fascinated by this new aspect of his beloved. This darkness that now shaded his eyes. Had his angel seen hardship? Did he know pain? Alastor took a moment to actually think about Lucifer's appearance. Why was he so much smaller than his sibling? Why was he so petite? Why was he so pale? If his brother was anything to go by, it followed that something had altered how Lulu should have formed. Alastor's grin was sharp as he vowed to find out who had a hand in his beloved's suffering and make them pay tenfold.
“Lucifer…” the brunette sighed.
“If he's going to treat me like the devil, shouldn't I just act like it? At least earn what he gives me?”
“Lulu, I'm so sorry -”
“Hey, Alastor!” He rolled his eyes as he stopped walking, but made sure a wide smile was on his face as Mimzy ran up to him. His fists clenched as his new boyfriend walked away without a backward glance.
Lucifer. What a beautiful name.
—-------
Alastor waited outside the school in a cluster of trees when the final bell rang. He’d needed to ditch his last class, but he honestly didn’t care. If they called home about it, he’d just tell his maman he’d been worried about a classmate. Hopefully she’d be so proud that he was expressing empathy that she’d drop it.
His angel was easy to spot as he exited the school with the same two boys. Alastor waited for them to walk past his hiding spot, then waited until they were almost out of sight before following.
He longed to run up and lead Lucifer away. Put him somewhere deep in the bayou where he could keep him secret forever. The young man’s earlier energy was noticeably flagging, and the further they walked, the worse it got. The trio stopped a few times, and occasionally Lucifer seemed to rise from whatever darkness hung over him, but as they got closer to the very large house that was far more isolated than he expected, the other two had to grab his arms and practically drag him inside. The door closed sharply behind them, and it was as if the house were sealed off from the rest of the world.
Alastor knew if he could spirit the boy away to his house, he could get his maman to make something warm and filling that would have Lucifer back to his happy, energetic self. He was certainly too skinny. Was he even being fed? Alastor felt he could lift the boy with one hand. He seemed happy, but the longer he watched, the more Alastor was certain it was a mask. Could he look behind it? What would it take to get Lucifer to trust him enough to drop it? What would it feel like to touch him? To hold his hand, caress his cheek? Would it make his skin feel like it was crawling with ants? Would it feel like coming home?
The temptation to follow was strong, but in the light of day, probably not wise. He knew where the house was now. He would be back later, when it would be harder to be seen.
—----
“Where have you been, Al?” His mother was in the kitchen, the sound of chopping and delicious smells making the house feel safe and warm.
“Out with some friends, maman. Just walking them home.” He walked up behind her and embraced her, doing his best not to notice her slight flinch.
“They… know you walked them home?”
Alastor hummed noncommittally.
She sighed heavily, her hands stilling. “Get to stirring, hun.”
Alastor dutifully moved to the stove and did as she asked.
“I love you. You know I love you, right?”
“I know.”
“And we both know you’ve always had a problem with… boundaries.”
“Mama…”
“No, sweetheart, I need you to listen. I know you have a bit of trouble with what’s -”
“ - Normal?”
“You know I don’t like that term. Who can say what’s normal? You just have a bit of trouble with empathy. With social expectations. And following someone home… well hun, that’s what society would call unacceptable.”
Alastor frowned at the slowly caramelizing onions. “Why, though? I want him to like me, to trust me, to belong to me, so I should know everything about him so I can make him happy, right? I just want to make him happy.”
His mother was silent for a few minutes, then pressed a kiss to his temple. “Him?” She felt a small spark of relief that he wasn't following some girl home. That would cause much more of a stir if it came out. It would be bad either way, but folks tended to be much more protective of their daughters in her experience.
“Is… is that a problem?” Alastor bit his lip, stirring a bit more aggressively.
“No! No, not at all. Unexpected but not unwelcome. But honey, imagine if a man followed me home. How would that make you feel?”
Alastor stopped stirring as a dark expression settled on his face. “I would kill him,” he growled.
His mother lightly tapped him to bring him back to here and now. “Exactly. Your heart is in the right place, and wanting to make him happy is commendable, but you achieve that by talking to him, engaging with him, and finding out your answers along the way. And if he’s worth it, he’ll want to know all these things about you, too. Remember that relationships aren’t one-sided, dear. It takes effort from all parties.” She took his hand and chuckled. “I’ve got to admit, I didn’t expect to have this conversation with you! At least not so soon, not yet. You’ve never shown any interest in anyone before. But enough of that now. Go set the table, dinner will be ready soon.”
Alastor set the table and ate dinner quietly. His mind was far away, imagining a future with Lucifer at his side. Once dinner was over and the kitchen was clean, he hugged his mother and went to his room. He waited until he was certain she was asleep before he got ready.
He had ventured out like this fairly often, and it seemed his mother had yet to catch on to it. She surely would have stopped him otherwise. She loved him, he knew, but she was also terrified of him. Not for herself, but for the general public around them now that he had experience solving his problems in… unconventional ways.
He slipped out of his bedroom window and kept to the shadows of the trees around his home. He enjoyed the cool night air, the singing of the cicadas, and the sound of the wind rustling in the trees as he walked. He’d learned to find comfort in the bayou during his father's many drunken rages… not that he had to worry about those anymore. He thought his mother would be more grateful than she was when he’d shown her his father’s final resting place, but then he’d never pretended to really understand grief or whatever this feeling of hers was. She tried to explain it once, but the thought of still loving a man who delighted in inflicting pain on her and her children seemed ridiculous.
He moved silently through the dark. His outfit was comfortable, nearly invisible against the dense clumps of trees. His boots were perfectly molded to his feet and allowed him to move quickly. He was merely a shadow enjoying a stroll. His long legs ate up the distance between their homes, and soon he found himself outside Lucifer’s home, confident no one had seen him.
—----
Lucifer was having a bad day. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? It was a bad life. He loved his brothers more than anything, but they were the only bright spots in the darkness that consumed his mind. Some days the thought of just stepping into traffic or settling into a warm bath with a sharp knife was all he could think about.
His brothers loved him. Of course they did, they reminded him all the time, especially on days following his father's lessons. Those were the days when his mind would get stuck in a fog he couldn’t escape, and the simple act of getting out of bed seemed like such a daunting task.
His father had never loved him, he knew this for certain. At least since his birth. Maybe when his mother was pregnant he did? Maybe he’d dreamed about having another son once upon a time? That was how that usually went, right? But his birth had caused her death, and that was something he would never be forgiven for. He killed her. For fucks sake, his father had named him after the literal devil over it.
Once he’d asked his older brother Gabriel why he hadn’t just been given up for adoption or left at a fire station. Hell, left in a dumpster! But Gabriel had been so distressed to hear Lucifer talking about that, so to protect his brother, Lucifer just swallowed the thought and worked on keeping himself as outwardly pleasant as possible. Fake it till you make it, right? It took weeks for Gabriel to stop looking at him like he was going to break down at the slightest breeze. The bastard shared the situation with Michael, and he never let it go, no matter how cheerful Lucifer tried to make himself appear.
Michael became a protective guardian after that, which would have almost been sweet if he hadn’t been so sure it was killing any chance at a normal life for his brother. How was he meant to make friends if all he did was follow around his pathetic excuse of a sibling? Though if he were honest, the thought of his brothers actually leaving him behind made his heart clench painfully, and the world seemed even darker.
Today he’d managed to avoid getting himself into trouble. He wasn’t quite sure how; he couldn’t remember much of what happened. That seemed to happen more and more these days. Life was just a beige world he was viewing from behind a screen on days like this. His head felt full of cotton, and people sounded like they were underwater. Sometimes there were moments of crystal clarity, but usually all he wanted to do was find some place where he could sleep for the foreseeable future. If he could just stay in his room and hide under the sheets, that would be great, but the house wasn't safe. There was no safety anywhere. He was able to push his body through the motions, but sometimes it was too much to get his mind to stay present.
He stumbled. Michael caught his arm before he could fall, and the expression on his face pulled his brain out of the fog for a few moments of clarity. Something had happened today. Something bad from the guilt etched on Michael’s face. He forced himself to pay attention.
“Mikey? What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said gruffly, setting Lucifer back on his feet. He turned away and walked faster as though he could outpace his problems, his eyes focused on the ground.
Lucifer frowned at his back. “Who says I’m worried about it? Can’t I just ask how my brother’s day went?” He skipped a few steps to catch up and tried to catch his brother’s eye. Sometimes being short had its advantages. Michael tried to avoid him, but Lucifer was persistent.
Michael stopped abruptly, causing Lucifer to stumble again and Gabriel to collide with his back. “It… was nothing important, but… father will be getting a call from the school about my… insubordination today.”
“Insubordination? You? What on earth could have happened?”
Michael shifted restlessly. “I acted without thinking. There’s a boy in my class, Peter. He’s a good kid but a bit…socially… awkward.”
Lucifer chuckled at Michael saying anyone was socially awkward. Gabriel lightly smacked his arm, and he quickly sobered his expression.
“He’s being bullied, and I stepped in,” Michael continued, “but the teacher said I was just adding to the problem and should have left it for her to solve, even though this has been going on all year and nothing has been done about it! But now! Now, because of my actions, father is going to… he’s…”
Michael was shaking by the end, so angry at the injustice life put in front of him. Lucifer smiled and took his hand, doing his best to soothe his rage. Michael pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Lulu. I know he’s going to blame you, he’s going to say you corrupted me, he’s going to hurt you. I didn’t mean to, my temper just got the best of me and -”
“I don’t blame you at all, Mikey. I love that you want to stand up to bullies! I’m so proud to be your brother! Whatever happens at the house isn’t your responsibility. Father is an adult, and he shouldn’t be treating us like this. He knows he shouldn't, and that’s on him. Don’t dim your light for him.”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “I love this, love you both, all that jazz, but if we’re late that’s just going to make it worse, so shall we get going?”
With a dramatic sigh, Lucifer disentangled himself and started walking the familiar path. Gabriel and Michael started talking, but Lucifer was feeling the fog settle back over him. He just wanted everything to stop. His heart first, if at all possible. Please and thank you.
—----
Alastor pulled on a pair of leather gloves as he crept around the perimeter of the large house, looking for any sign of life. It was well past midnight, and all the lights were off. This looked like the kind of place he expected to have a staff of some sort, but he didn’t see any movement. He went around back and tried the door. It was locked, but he was prepared. He pulled out a lock-picking kit, and after a minute or two the door opened.
The house was completely silent, and Alastor moved through it like a shadow. Near the rear entrance, there was a door that looked far too sturdy for an interior door and had several padlocks that had been added fairly high up. Alastor idly thought about Lucifer and how he’d be unable to reach several of the top locks. He pressed an ear to the door and, in the stillness, thought he could hear a whimper.
Alastor’s fists clenched, the leather creaking around his knuckles. He knew what was down there, of course he did. Now that he thought about everything he’d witnessed that morning, it all clicked into place. Someone was hurting his Lulu. He doubted it was the brothers, given how loving Lucifer was towards them. So it was a parent, likely a father from what he'd heard when he had first started following his beloved. He was familiar with fathers like that. Alastor patted the door, vowing to come back, and the faint noise he’d heard abruptly stopped.
Alastor noted the pictures on the walls as he walked further into the house. They showed a stern looking man standing with Lucifer and his two brothers. He was surprised the brunette was the one who took after his father. The blond siblings must take after their mother, though there was no indication anywhere that such a person existed. All of them looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.
Further along the walls were various certificates and framed awards. There were pictures of the taller siblings accepting the awards with blank expressions or forced smiles. Michael and Gabriel. Their names were the only ones on the accolades. There was nothing about Lucifer anywhere except that first stiff image.
Eventually, he found a staircase leading up, illuminated by a faint glow. It looked like someone was awake up there. Alastor considered going up and doing… well. But he decided to see Lucifer first. He needed to know exactly how much punishment had been earned before the final blow was struck.
The trip back to the kitchen was quick. He looked around for keys but found none. If there was a fire anyone locked down there was doomed. Especially if it was Lucifer trying to get down there, as he would certainly struggle to reach the top few locks. But it didn't matter. Alastor hadn't really expected to find the keys in any case. They were likely on the father's person, especially if he really was abusing his son in the basement.
Plan B then. Breaking in. The locks were the obvious weak points, and it only took a few minutes to break each one. Lucifer's father clearly didn't think anyone would genuinely try to breach the door it seemed. The locks were cheap, flimsy things easily picked up at any store, and in no time, he had them all placed in the kitchen trash, rearranging some of the items inside to hide their appearance. Then he took a deep breath and opened the door. It was time to officially meet his future husband.
The door swung open silently on well oiled hinges. Down below, he heard another whimper, louder now without the door in the way, and shuffling as someone tried to back away.
Alastor slowly made his way down the rickety wooden stairs, each one creaking as he put his weight on them. The room below was oppressively dark even with the door letting a little light in, but Alastor wasn’t afraid. He was the thing to be feared in the darkness. Always.
He stepped onto a bare concrete floor. The air was noticeably colder and had the metallic smell of blood. From the little he could see, the room was largely empty. The center of the room was devoid of any kind of furniture, though he noticed a metal ring bolted to the floor. There were dark stains around it, probably old blood that had been poorly cleaned. Against the walls, he saw shapes that could be some kind of shelving units, and things that could be boxes or crates. It was tempting to find the light, but sadly, darkness was the wiser decision since he'd broken in and very obviously left the door open. Alastor finally approached the source of the ragged panting and muffled sobs. His steps seemed to boom in the otherwise silent space, and with each step he heard the sounds of someone desperately trying to get away but having nowhere to go. It took him several minutes before he saw Lucifer huddled against the wall with his hands pressed over his mouth. His beloved had done the best he could to hide, and in the dark might have succeeded if he'd managed to calm himself. He approached cautiously and heard Lucifer’s breath hitch with each step, his bare feet scrambling on the cold ground to try to push himself further back. “Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't, I'll be good, please -”
“Oh, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.” Alastor's voice was warm and soothing. He crouched down and instinctively showed his empty hands.
Lucifer jerked away, his head smacking against the wall. He didn't seem to notice as he looked frantically at Alastor, or at least where Alastor should be. But he was wearing all black along with a mask obscuring his face. He knew all Lucifer could see was a darker patch in a dark room, and just maybe the glint of light on his glasses making his eyes glow.
“Who… who’s there?” Lucifer’s voice was hoarse, but absolutely lovely. Alastor could listen to it all day, and hopefully one day would.
Alastor hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose for now… just a friend. You look like you could use one.”
He decided to move closer. Lucifer tried to back away again, but Alastor was prepared this time and, in a flash, had his hand in Lucifer's hair, preventing him from hitting the wall. He frowned at the matted mess he found and the tacky sensation of drying blood under his hand.
“A… friend. Are you… an angel?”
Hm. Lucifer was speaking slowly and with a slur. His breathing was labored, and his pulse was racing. The head wound needed to be treated sooner rather than later. Alastor forced himself to ignore it all and laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“A demon then?”
“A demon? Yes, I like the sound of that. I’m your personal demon, darling. Now come here so I can get a better look at you.”
Lucifer hesitated a moment and blinked asymmetricly. Then he shuffled closer. “Good boy,” Alastor murmured. He noted Lucifer shiver at the praise.
From the way Lucifer moved, it seemed his hands were bound. Alastor reached out to confirm and encountered cold metal binding his wrists. Lucifer hissed as Alastor's fingers brushed against the wounds left from his struggling against them. Alastor pressed more firmly against them, surprising himself at the burst of anger towards Lucifer for causing his own injury. When Lucifer finally cried out at the pain, he released him and rubbed his arms gently, murmuring assurances and apologies.
“Oh, darling,” Alastor whispered. He pulled Lucifer closer, his hands slipping inside his shirt, pressing at his stomach and ribs, listening for any hitch in his breath.
Lucifer tried to squirm away. “What - what are you doing?”
Alastor hummed absently as he continued his evaluation. “Checking for other injuries, dear. Your head seems to have taken quite the blow, but I would like to know if you're bleeding anywhere else at the moment.”
Lucifer continued to squirm, but soon ran out of energy and relaxed in his arms. His consciousness seemed to drift, and as it did, he nuzzled closer. “Warm,” he mumbled, pressing even further into Alastor, his body unconsciously seeking all the comfort it could.
“As the fires of hell,” Alastor said cheerfully. He pulled Lucifer fully into his lap, unashamedly petting him from his neck down to the dip of his hips. He felt heat pooling in his gut at the sheer size difference between them, but he held himself in check as best he could.
Eventually, Lucifer fell asleep. Or passed out, he wasn't actually sure. He thought he remembered that sleeping with a concussion was bad - and he figured with the amount of blood in his hair, that's probably what was happening - but he didn't have the means to help with this, and he had other plans in the house tonight. He placed Lucifer back on the ground as gently as possible and returned to the main floor.
The knife block near the sink looked promising. He selected a cleaver. The knife was beautiful, the way the moonlight caught the edge was mesmerizing. He couldn't imagine using something like this in the course of a normal day. This kind of knife should be saved for only the most important of tasks. And what was more important than shuffling its master off this mortal coil? Alastor's grin was wide and terrible.
With inhuman grace, he made his way upstairs.
—-
Michael woke up with the sun, surprised to find himself alone. Lately, when their father was especially rough, Lucifer would end up in his bed for comfort. Perhaps he was angry that Michael was the reason for last night's abuse? He wouldn't blame him at all for that. He got up slowly, dressed, and stepped into the hallway. What could he do to show his remorse? Maybe he'd make breakfast before their Father woke up and make sure Lucifer was able to eat his fill before the day got underway? Around him, the house was silent.
First, Michael made his way to Lucifer's room. He tapped lightly on the door before peeking his head in. Empty as expected. Next, he moved to Gabriel's room. Again, he tapped and then peeked inside. Gabriel was fast asleep, snoring softly, his lanky body taking up every inch of room on the bed. No Lucifer.
Surely he hadn't been left in the basement, right? Lucifer was always so cold when he was finally let out. He always smiled and brushed it off, but Michael knew one of the big reasons Lucifer would crawl into his bed was for the warmth. He would be frozen solid if he'd been left there all night!
To check the basement, he would need the keys, and to get those, he would need to find their father and hope he didn't set off another fit of anger. He headed to the study first, and didn't bother knocking, just in case he woke the beast.
He froze.
Blood.
Everywhere.
The floor, walls, and the ceiling. In the center of it all was father. He was lying face down in a pool of blood, arms and legs akimbo. He was covered in large cuts that seemed to nearly separate his limbs and only failed to do so because the tool used couldn't handle the bones. He even seemed to have lost a few fingers.
Michael felt… Nothing. He knew he should be panicking, maybe crying or begging his father to hold on, but… Instead, he glanced around the room for the ring of keys. He saw them in a glass dish by the door. He shoved them in his pocket and then backed out of the room, closing the doors firmly behind him. Then he took off running.
He skidded to a halt in the kitchen.
The door.
The door was open.
Cold, icy dread flooded his chest. He lunged for the entrance and nearly fell down the stairs in his haste. “Lucifer? Lucifer, answer me!”
The basement only had one small window set high on the wall, and it was letting in a soft glow of light from the rising sun, but it wasn't enough to illuminate the room.
He fumbled towards the wall and found the switch, flooding the room with light.
There. In the corner. A body.
Michael ran to Lucifer's side and fell to his knees. His skin was ice cold, and blood had turned his fine blond hair a rusty brown where it had dried. There was a small puddle of it where he'd been lying. His bound wrists were beginning to change color due to bruises around shallow cuts.
But.
He was breathing. Shallowly, but there. Michael carefully lifted him into his lap, and Lucifer immediately curled into him.
Michael breathed out a shaky sigh of relief and then finally fished out his phone and called the police. He felt a wave of anxiety doing so. Calling them had only ever made things worse in the past.
Lucifer began to stir as Michael talked to the operator.
“Mikey?” he mumbled.
“Yeah, Lulu, I'm here - what? That's my brother. Yes, he's awake now.”
“Mikey, there was a demon here last night.”
“I'm sorry, what?”
“ ‘s demon. Said he was a friend. He was warm.” Lucifer trailed off. It felt like his mind was starting to drift again.
“Lu, I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”
Lucifer tried to say anything, but he couldn't fight the rising darkness any longer.
—----
The death of Elijah Mange was reported on the front page of all the local papers and was being discussed on every radio channel. Even several larger news networks had sent reporters into town to cover the story.
It was a circus. A town that never had traffic was now overrun, every diner and coffee shop was packed, and every motel was sold out of rooms. It seemed someone with a camera or a microphone was waiting on every street corner for something to happen.
The radio had the best reporting by far in Alastor's not so humble opinion. He listened to it religiously as he covertly watched the proceedings to see what direction the investigation took.
At night, his maman put on the news.
“In local news, police are asking for the public's help today to locate the person responsible for the death of Elijah Mange. They are offering a ten thousand dollar reward for any information leading to their apprehension, and have released this video from security cameras inside the house.”
Alastor froze. He hadn't noticed any camera, though, to be honest, he hadn't really been looking, had he? He had gone in without doing any research into the property or any scouting. Stupid, stupid, fuck!
The screen transitioned to footage taken from a high vantage point. The video was in black and white, and Alastor noted with relief that his outfit prevented any kind of recognition.
“That you?” his mother asked.
He turned slowly to face her. On screen, he broke the locks holding the door shut and disappeared into the basement. The newscaster returned, but neither of them noticed.
“I asked you a question, Allie.”
“Yeah,” Alastor whispered.
She looked at him thoughtfully. “What did you find down there?”
Alastor stared at her. He hadn't been expecting that question. “Lucifer. He was hurt. His dad… His dad earned what he got.”
“That poor boy.” She shook her head and sat down. “You should have called the police.”
Alastor shrugged.
“They aren't telling anyone that Elijah Mange beat that child half to death, they're blaming you. If the police were called and that awful man was alive, it would be harder to blame someone else… Though considering his connections, could be nothing would have happened anyway.”
“What?”
“Oh, honey. Mr Mange owned at least half this town. He owned all the shops on main street, and the land most of the houses sit on. Hell, he owns the land we live on. A man like that has power even in death, and without direct proof, they were never going to accuse him of any wrongdoing.”
“Did they not talk to Lucifer at all?!”
“He had a pretty nasty head wound from what I heard at the diner. The current theory is that the killer thought a door that was heavily barred must have held the most wealth, found that poor boy, and tried to kill him. Then went upstairs and killed the father in frustration at finding nothing of value,” she laughed bitterly. “As if there'd be nothing in that house, my word what world.”
“Lucifer was handcuffed down there, maman! He was bleeding and terrified and -”
“- and none of that matters to the sheriff! Now Lucifer and those two other boys are going to be sent to live with a different relative somewhere far away. Apparently, there's a killer on the loose who seems to have a fondness for the youngest.” She gave him a pointed look. “This is what happens when you act impulsively.”
Alastor tugged at his hair, then strode to the door. “I need to go, I need to see him, I need -”
“You stop right there, young man! You're not going over there. There will be police everywhere. Unless you like the thought of prison? You'll never see him again if you go that route.”
Alastor slowly slumped to the ground. His beloved was leaving, and it was his fault.