When the radio demon loves

Chapter 15 (Redemption)

(Normal pov)

When Lucifer finally returned to his usual self, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off Alastor's chest. The months of agonizing over Lucifer's empty shell, the sleepless nights spent in torment and guilt—it all seemed to fade as he saw Lucifer standing tall once more. The proud, confident ruler of Hell had returned, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Alastor allowed himself to hope.

He believed that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to start over, to make amends in whatever twisted way he could. Alastor had kept his distance long enough, watching from the shadows as Charlie helped pull Lucifer back from the brink of despair. Now, seeing Lucifer almost as he had been, Alastor thought he could finally step out of the darkness, could finally speak to Lucifer face to face.

But as much as he had hoped for a reunion—perhaps one where they could speak without fear or malice—he had been naive to believe things could ever go back to what they were. He hadn't fully grasped the depth of the scars he had left behind, scars that no amount of time or distance could erase.

With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, Alastor made his way toward Lucifer's chambers. He had thought about this moment endlessly, imagining how it might unfold—how he might apologize, explain himself, or at least offer Lucifer the respect he hadn't before. He had no illusions about redemption, but perhaps there could be something akin to understanding, or even peace.

But the moment Lucifer laid eyes on him, all of Alastor's carefully crafted fantasies shattered.

Lucifer's reaction was immediate, visceral, and devastating.

The second their eyes met, Alastor saw the fear flood Lucifer's gaze. His once regal posture crumbled. It was as though the life that had slowly been restored to Lucifer vanished in an instant. His breath hitched, his eyes widened, and his body visibly trembled as if an invisible weight had been dropped on him.

"L-Lucifer," Alastor began, his voice faltering, the confident tone he had always carried nowhere to be found.

But Lucifer didn't speak. He didn't need to. His body said everything. The tremble in his body, the way he instinctively took a step back, His lips quivering, his eyes wide open in terror, as though bracing for a blow that would never come, tore at Alastor.

Lucifer's mind had immediately been thrust back into the nightmare that Alastor had subjected him to for years. The abuse, the torment, the fear—it all came rushing back in full force at the sight of him. The healing that Charlie had helped foster, the strength that Lucifer had slowly regained, crumbled like ash before Alastor's very presence.

Alastor could see it in his eyes: the overwhelming terror, the memories of pain and humiliation. And as much as Alastor wanted to speak, wanted to apologize, he realized in that horrible moment that there was nothing he could say to undo the damage.

Lucifer wasn't just afraid of him—he was haunted by him.

The sight of Alastor was enough to undo months of healing in an instant. Lucifer's entire body quaked, his knees threatening to give way. Alastor had thought his absence might have softened things, that perhaps distance had allowed Lucifer to forget or at least dull the memories. But seeing Lucifer now—how his fear was so raw, so real—Alastor understood that no amount of time could ever erase what he had done.

Alastor's throat tightened, his heart heavy with a guilt that went beyond anything he had felt before. For so long, he had been consumed by his own desire to control, to dominate, to possess Lucifer. Now, seeing him reduced to a trembling figure, too scared to even look him in the eye, Alastor understood the true cost of his cruelty.

Lucifer was broken. Not in the way he had been before when he was empty and emotionless—but broken in a deeper, more permanent way. No matter how much Lucifer recovered, no matter how much strength he regained, the fear would always be there, lurking just beneath the surface. And Alastor was the reason for it.

He had once relished in that fear, but now it only made him feel sick.

Without saying another word, Alastor took a step back, his face drawn tight with regret. Lucifer's gaze never left him, eyes wide and filled with terror, as if he were bracing himself for another round of torment. But there was no fight left in Lucifer, only fear, and that fear cut through Alastor like a knife.

He had wanted to be close to Lucifer again, to perhaps find some form of reconciliation, but now he realized that was impossible. His presence alone was a reminder of the agony Lucifer had endured, and no matter how much Alastor wished otherwise, he knew that Lucifer would never look at him without seeing the monster he had been.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alastor turned on his heel and left the room, his hands shaking with emotions he could no longer control. As he walked down the empty hallways of the castle, the realization crashed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

There was no going back. No matter how much he tried, no matter how much he wished for it, Lucifer would never be the same around him. His mere presence would always bring back the fear, the pain, the trauma.

And for the first time in his existence, Alastor knew what it truly meant to lose.

As he disappeared into the shadows once more, Alastor understood that some wounds could never heal, and some sins could never be forgiven.

End of chapter

Next chapter: Tomorrow 12am