When the radio demon loves

Chapter 16 (Ghost)

(Normal pov)

Alastor had become a ghost in the very castle he once ruled over with cruel authority. Gone were the days of command, of satisfaction in torment. Now, he barely ate, barely slept, wandering the halls like a specter, consumed by the knowledge of the harm he had caused. He avoided the light, the presence of others, living only in the shadows. The castle, once a symbol of his control and power, now felt like a hollow tomb, its grandeur mocking the emptiness inside him.

He could still see Lucifer sometimes—those brief, painful moments when he dared to emerge from his hiding places. Each time he caught sight of Lucifer, the demon's reaction was always the same: fear. The sight of Alastor would send Lucifer retreating into himself, a deep-seated terror flashing in his eyes, his body tensing, sometimes flinching, as if preparing for the worst. The fear wasn't as overwhelming as before—Charlie had made sure of that—but it was there, undeniable, ever-present, and it shattered what little remained of Alastor's resolve.

No matter how much Charlie's influence helped Lucifer regain his strength and confidence, no matter how much she coaxed her father back into some semblance of his former self, Alastor knew that he would always be the source of Lucifer's deepest wounds. He saw it every time Lucifer's gaze flickered to the corners of a room, searching for shadows, for him.

And so, Alastor stayed away. He remained in the shadows, a silent observer of a life he could no longer be part of. He couldn't leave entirely—something kept him tethered to Lucifer, a twisted sense of guilt, obsession, and longing. But he had accepted that he could never stand by Lucifer's side again, not without dragging him back into that darkness.

Night after night, Alastor would wander the castle, his body growing weaker from lack of nourishment, his mind unraveling further from the sleepless nights. He was little more than a hollow shell himself now, a ghost haunting the life he had destroyed. The radio demon who once reveled in control, in fear and pain, had been reduced to a silent, guilt-ridden shadow. No longer driven by the need to dominate, he existed only to watch over Lucifer from a distance, even if his presence would never be welcome again.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, Alastor would slip into Lucifer's chambers, silent as death. He never touched him—he didn't dare. He only watched, standing in the shadows as Lucifer slept, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. These were the only moments Alastor could allow himself to be near him, the only times when Lucifer wouldn't flinch or cower in fear.

And yet, even in those moments, Alastor felt the weight of his actions, the irreparable damage he had caused. Watching Lucifer sleep, free from fear for those few hours, was a reminder of what could never be undone. He had stripped Lucifer of his dignity, his power, his peace of mind. The recovery that Charlie had helped bring about was fragile, and Alastor knew that if he ever made his presence known again, if he ever dared to step into the light, that recovery would crumble all over again.

And so he lingered, night after night, taking in the sight of the man he had once controlled and now could only ever admire from afar. He didn't dare stay long—sometimes only a few minutes—before retreating into the halls again, unseen, unheard. These moments, brief and stolen, were all he had left. They were the only connection he had to Lucifer now, even if they meant nothing to the man himself.

The castle felt colder with each passing day. Alastor roamed like a ghost, haunted by the life he had lost, by the love he had ruined. He had always thrived on power, on the control he held over others. But now, as he wandered alone, he realized that control had never brought him what he truly desired. The one thing he had wanted, the one connection he had craved with Lucifer, was now forever out of reach, and there was no amount of manipulation or force that could bring it back.

And so, Alastor resigned himself to his fate—a fate of shadows, of guilt, of watching from the distance as Lucifer slowly pieced himself back together under Charlie's care. Alastor's presence remained a stain on Lucifer's past, a reminder of the worst moments of his life. The demon who had once commanded fear and respect was now nothing more than a silent, broken figure, wandering the castle halls like a ghost with no purpose, no future.

And yet, despite it all, Alastor remained, bound by a twisted sense of love and regret, unable to leave, unable to stay. He watched Lucifer rebuild his life, knowing that he could never be a part of it again, but too haunted by his own mistakes to let go completely.

In the end, Alastor was left with nothing but the shadows—and the knowledge that he would live in them forever.

End of chapter

Next chapter: Tomorrow 12am