When the radio demon loves

Chapter 13 (Charlie)

(Normal pov)

Alastor had always prided himself on his control, his ability to manipulate any situation to his liking. But now, as the weeks turned into months, that control was slipping. No matter what he did—no matter how much he held back, how much he tried to make Lucifer comfortable—nothing changed. Lucifer remained the same, an empty, emotionless shell.

It began to drive Alastor mad. He had pulled back from the abuse, given Lucifer space, even catered to his every need, yet Lucifer never smiled. There were no signs of improvement, no flicker of life behind his once-vibrant eyes. It was as if the Lucifer Alastor had known and desired was gone forever, replaced by this hollow figure who merely existed, without joy, without anger, without anything.

The guilt that had gnawed at Alastor before was now a constant weight. He had done this. He had broken Lucifer beyond repair. The realization haunted him, eating away at his mind until it began to affect everything he did. Alastor stopped eating. He barely slept. He couldn't focus on anything other than Lucifer's lifeless expression. Every moment was consumed with thoughts of how he could bring him back, how he could undo the damage he had caused.

But nothing worked. And slowly, that despair turned inward, dragging Alastor into a depression he had never felt before. He had always been in control—of others, of his own emotions. But now, he was helpless, powerless in the face of what he had done. No amount of power, no amount of manipulation, could change the fact that Lucifer no longer cared about anything. It was driving Alastor mad, and he knew if things didn't change soon, he would completely unravel.

After months of no improvement, Alastor found himself contemplating something that went against everything he stood for, something that felt like an admission of defeat. But he was desperate. He needed to see that spark in Lucifer's eyes again, needed to believe there was still a part of him that could feel something. Anything.

That's when the idea came to him—an idea so out of character for Alastor that it almost felt absurd. Charlie.

Lucifer's daughter, the one person in Hell who might be able to stir some kind of emotion in him. Alastor had never cared much for Charlie—her optimism, her unrelenting desire to redeem lost souls, had always been a source of mild amusement and annoyance. But now, she might be the only one who could bring some light back into Lucifer's life. If anyone could break through the numbness, it would be her.

As much as the thought pained him, Alastor knew what he had to do. If there was even a small chance that Charlie's presence could bring Lucifer back to life, he had to take it. It wasn't about control anymore, or possession—it was about Lucifer and the overwhelming need Alastor had to see him whole again.

With reluctance and a deep sense of unease, Alastor arranged for Charlie to visit. He didn't explain the situation fully, only hinted that Lucifer hadn't been himself and that perhaps her presence might help. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for Alastor, asking for help, but he was beyond pride at this point.

When Charlie first arrived at the castle, her usual bright energy was tempered by the solemn atmosphere. She had always known her father to be proud, even distant, but the idea that he could be so broken unnerved her. As she walked through the halls toward Lucifer's chambers, she felt an unfamiliar weight in the air.

When she finally entered Lucifer's room, the sight that greeted her broke her heart. Her father, once the powerful and commanding ruler of Hell, sat by the window, staring blankly at the darkened skies outside. He didn't even seem to register her presence at first. His body was thin, his features gaunt, as though the life had been drained out of him entirely.

"Dad?" Charlie's voice was soft, hesitant, as she approached him.

Lucifer turned his head slowly, his eyes dull and unrecognizing at first. When they finally focused on her, there was the faintest flicker of something—perhaps recognition, perhaps confusion—but it was fleeting.

Charlie sat beside him, her heart heavy with sorrow. She reached out, gently placing her hand over his. For a moment, there was nothing, no reaction. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, Lucifer's fingers twitched beneath hers.

"Dad, I'm here," she whispered, her voice filled with love and sadness. "I've missed you."

Lucifer didn't respond. He only stared at her, his expression unchanged, but Charlie didn't give up. She stayed by his side, talking to him softly about her life, about the world outside the castle, about anything she could think of that might bring him back to her.

In the days that followed, Charlie visited regularly. Alastor kept his distance, watching from the shadows as she tried to reach the father she loved. He hated feeling so powerless, hated that it had come to this, but as time passed, he began to notice small changes.

Lucifer didn't respond much at first, but there were moments—tiny, fleeting moments—when his eyes would linger on Charlie a little longer, or his hand would tighten slightly around hers. It wasn't much, but it was something. And for Alastor, that small sign of life was enough to give him hope.

He continued to stay away from Lucifer's chambers during the day, leaving Charlie to do what he couldn't. But at night, when the castle was quiet and Lucifer was asleep, Alastor still slipped into his room. He still held Lucifer close, still craved that connection, even if Lucifer would never know.

And as much as it pained him to admit, Alastor knew that he would do whatever it took to see Lucifer smile again, even if it meant stepping aside and letting someone else be the one to bring that light back into his life.

End of chapter

Next chapter: tomorrow 12am