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The area around was still ringing with the aftershocks of the attack - cracked walls, drifting feathers, scorch marks in clawed streaks. The air buzzed with leftover celestial static that hadn’t yet dissipated from the weapon’s explosion.
Everyone was celebrating.
Everyone… except one.
Charlie was halfway through reassuring a shaken sinner when her smile faltered. Something cold crept up her spine. A tug - faint, instinctive - like a thread tied between her and her father suddenly pulling taut.
She turned toward the far corner of the room.
Lucifer stood half-shadowed behind a collapsed section of the balcony railing. Not standing, actually- leaning. One shoulder pressed to the wall, wings low and slack behind him. His cane was planted into the ground but he wasn’t holding it so much as hanging from it.
His head dipped forward.
His breathing… wrong.
“Dad?” Charlie whispered, more to herself than anyone.
He didn’t answer.
Because his knees were giving out.
Charlie’s stomach dropped. She sprinted across the floor.
“Dad! Dad-!”
Lucifer’s cane slipped, clattering to the floor. His hand shot out toward nothing as his body pitched sideways.
Charlie caught him only halfway, the weight of him startling. Lucifer wasn’t light -not with his celestial form straining, flickering in and out like a dying lantern flame.
“Dad, hey-hey, look at me,” she pleaded, lowering him gently to the ground.
His eyes cracked open, pupils blown and unfocused. A streak of glowing gold trailed from the corner of his mouth - blood, celestial and shimmering.
“Charlie…” he rasped, “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding, Dad!”
That drew attention.
Vaggie was at Charlie’s side in seconds, her spear clattering as she dropped to her knees. Angel froze mid-joke. Husk’s deck of cards fell from his hand. Niffty skittered closer, hands fluttering anxiously.
Emily’s wings flared as she descended from the upper hall- “Lucif-?”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Lucifer coughed sharply, an awful, ripping sound - and more golden blood splattered onto Charlie’s hands.
Everyone went silent. Terrified.
Even Alastor, who had been quietly observing from across the room, straightened with unusual seriousness.
Emily was the first to move, falling to her knees beside Charlie. “This is bad-this is very bad-his arm, his arm is wrong-”
Charlie looked down.
Lucifer’s left arm hung at a sick angle - shoulder visibly dislocated, the bone beneath the skin misaligned. Defensive wounds scorched his coat. The hit from the weapon hadn’t just exhausted him - it had broken him.
“Dad, why didn’t you say something?” Charlie cried.
Lucifer managed a trembling smile.
“Didn’t… want to ruin the moment.”
Before anyone could answer-
The temperature dropped.
Light poured in through the cracked ceiling.
A soft, familiar hum of heavenly resonance filled the room, unmistakable even after millennia.
Sera.
She descended slowly, her expression unreadable as her feet touched the floor. Her gaze fixed on Lucifer — shock, horror, anger, worry, all tangled, all flickering for just a moment before vanishing beneath her commander’s mask.
“Lucifer Morningstar,” she breathed, voice cracking on the edges. “What have you done to yourself?”
Lucifer looked up weakly. “…Sera...”
Sera stepped forward, and Emily immediately rose defensively.
“Please,” Emily begged, hands clasped, wings trembling. “Sera- let us bring him to Heaven. Just until he’s healed. You know this level of injury is-”
“No.” Sera’s voice cut like a blade. “He was banished. The decree stands.”
Emily’s eyes burned with frustrated tears.
“You know he won’t survive this down here-”
“He will,” Charlie snapped, surprising everyone with the force of her voice. “He will. Because we’ll take care of him.”
Sera’s eyes softened despite herself.
“Charlie…”
She knelt, ignoring the collective tension of the room, and hovered her hand near Lucifer’s broken arm - not touching, but close enough that celestial light faintly glowed around the wound.
“I can ease the pain,” she murmured quietly. “But nothing more. I cannot break Heaven’s law.”
Lucifer flinched as her healing aura brushed him, but a relieved sigh escaped his lips as the edge of the agony faded.
His eyes drifted shut.
Charlie squeezed his good hand.
“I’ve got you, Dad. Stay with me, okay?”
Lucifer’s voice was a whisper.
“I wasn’t… planning on going anywhere.”
But his body slumped fully into her arms.
Unconscious.
Charlie swallowed a sob. Vaggie steadied her. Emily pressed a shaking hand to Lucifer’s chest, checking for the slow, fragile pulse of celestial energy inside him.
“He’s alive,” Emily breathed. “But he’s crashing.”
Sera rose, wings folding tightly. Her expression had cracked - just barely - grief flickering in her eyes.
“I cannot allow Heaven to intervene… but I will not let him die,” she said softly. “You must keep him stable. His grace is depleted. That explosion nearly tore through his core.”
Charlie wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“We’ll do everything.”
Sera held Charlie’s gaze for a long, heavy moment - seeing in her eyes the love, determination, the fierce stubbornness so achingly reminiscent of the man bleeding in her arms.
“…You have your father’s heart,” Sera whispered.
Then, just as softly, “Let me know if he worsens.”
And then she was gone - light fading, warmth dispersing.
Leaving everyone in a stunned, heavy silence.
Charlie lifted her father carefully with Vaggie’s help, Lucifer limp, wings dragging behind him.
“Dad?” she whispered into his hair.
“We’re taking you to your room. You’re safe. I swear.”
Lucifer didn’t answer.
But he breathed.
And for now - that was enough.
.
The hallway to Lucifer’s room was narrower than anyone liked, and the combined weight of a near-unconscious Morningstar made every step a battle.
Charlie and Vaggie carried most of him, holding his torso and legs, while Husk trailed behind, occasionally supporting his limp wings or catching his cane when it slipped.
“Gods, he’s heavier than I thought,” Husk grumbled, muttering under his breath as he wiped sweat from his furrowed brow.
“Try not to drop him on the floor, Husk,” Vaggie snapped, balancing Lucifer’s legs like a human seesaw.
“Relax, I know what I’m doing,” Husk huffed. And yet, the next time Lucifer flopped sideways, he barely caught him in time.
Alastor - ever the shadow of chaos - was a surprising sight at their side. He had snapped his fingers, muttering in that singsong voice of his, weaving minor illusions of weightless support beneath Lucifer. Each flicker of magic helped ease the burden, making the Morningstar’s form feel lighter, almost like he was floating.
“Ah, what fun!” Alastor’s grin stretched impossibly wide. “Nothing like the delicate dance of carrying a very unhappy deity! Careful, Husk, careful! His pride is already bruised.”
Lucifer’s lips twitched. Or maybe it was just a cough. He was pale - more than usual - and each movement made him wince in pain. His left arm sagged uselessly, the dislocation sending shocks of agony up his shoulder and down his spine.
“I… don’t need this,” he rasped, voice hoarse, almost a whisper. “I am-perfectly capable of walking… myself.”
Charlie shook her head, pressing a gentle hand to his chest.
“No, Dad. You’re not walking anywhere like this. You’re barely conscious.”
Lucifer’s pride fought him. His legs twitched, trying to push off, but his body refused. The glow of his eyes flickered weakly, golden light sputtering like a dying candle. He groaned as another cough racked his frame, spraying faint traces of celestial blood onto the floor.
Vaggie growled low. “Do not move. I swear, Lucifer, if you try-”
Alastor clapped gleefully. “Oh, yes, do resist! It makes it so much more… entertaining!”
Charlie’s glare could have cut glass. “Alastor, this is not entertaining. Help him quietly!”
Alastor bowed theatrically. “Of course, my dear! Quietly, with utmost care!” He snapped his fingers again, reinforcing the illusionary support beneath Lucifer’s back and legs. The Morningstar gave a small grunt, almost startled at how the weight seemed to ebb away despite his struggles.
Husk muttered something about “never thought I’d see Alastor playing nurse,” but his hands were steady. Emily hovered nearby, wings twitching with anxiety, offering glowing healing traces to ease the sharpest jolts of pain. Every flicker of her light brought a soft hiss of relief from Lucifer, though he still strained against it.
“Stop fussing over me,” he croaked, trying to lift his head. His eyes flickered around the group - Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Alastor, Emily - and he faltered, chest rising and falling unevenly. “I am not a… child.”
“You’re not a child, Dad, you’re just… hurt,” Charlie said softly, brushing hair from his forehead. “And we’re not leaving you alone. Not like this.”
Lucifer groaned, a low, raw sound. “Every step… feels like… walking through fire.”
“Then let us carry you without fire,” Vaggie said sharply, adjusting her grip. Husk added a grunt as he steadied the wings again. Alastor’s grin only widened. “Marvelous! Drama and suffering! What a delightful mix!”
But even Alastor’s enthusiasm couldn’t mask the tension in the group. Each corridor was a careful choreography: balancing weight, shielding against Lucifer’s flailing, dodging broken debris, and keeping him as stable as possible. The usually fearsome Morningstar’s vulnerability weighed on everyone’s hearts.
Finally, they reached his room. Charlie’s hands shook slightly as she guided him to the bed. Alastor created a small levitation bubble above the mattress, so Lucifer could be lowered with minimal strain. Husk and Vaggie held steady until the last second, then stepped back.
Lucifer sagged against the bed, pale and exhausted, eyes half-lidded. Emily hovered near his side, whispering healing words. The faint glow bathed his form, easing some of the worst pain.
“I… could’ve… walked,” he murmured weakly.
“You couldn’t,” Charlie said, brushing his hair back gently. “And even if you could, we wouldn’t let you. You’re not doing this alone.”
Lucifer let out a shaky breath, letting the truth of his weakness finally settle around him. He was always the Morningstar, always the powerful, confident ruler… but for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to rely on others.
“And… you,” he croaked, glancing at Alastor with a faint, tired smirk, “are insane.”
Alastor chuckled, giving a small bow. “Thank you, dear Lucifer! You flatter me! But really, it is my pleasure to assist the suffering. Truly delightful!”
Lucifer closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion take him, knowing he was in safe hands… for now.
Charlie stayed at his side, hand resting on his chest, as the rest of the group dispersed to catch their breath. Husk muttered about coffee, Vaggie adjusted the blankets, Emily whispered more soothing words, and Alastor twirled in place, still inexplicably pleased with himself.
Lucifer didn’t fight anymore. For once, he let them carry the weight for him.
And for once, maybe… that was enough.
The room was dim now, lit only by the soft glow of Emily’s fading healing aura and the single lamp Charlie switched on in the corner - warm, gentle light, nothing that would strain Lucifer’s already overloaded senses.
Lucifer breathed unevenly, breaths catching every so often on pain or a shiver that ran through his battered form. He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to fight the way his body sagged deeper into the mattress.
Even now, even wrecked, even bleeding celestial gold, he was trying to stay awake for their sake.
“Dad… you can rest.”
Charlie’s voice was soft, almost trembling as she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. “Please. You need to.”
Lucifer’s eyelids fluttered.
His glowing irises flickered once, twice.
“I should… help with… the damage… my hotel…” His words slurred at the edges, drifting.
Vaggie shook her head immediately. “We can handle everything. You can barely lift your head.”
Lucifer tried to lift his head to argue.
It didn’t make it off the pillow.
A groan tore from his throat-low, raw, defeated. The kind of sound he’d never allow anyone to hear if he had the strength to stop it.
Emily gently pressed two fingers to his forehead, her touch light as a feather. “Lucifer… your grace is exhausted. If you don’t sleep now, your body won’t heal. Even an archangel needs to… to stop.”
Lucifer’s brows furrowed, as though he wanted to protest.
But the moment Emily’s healing hum softened, the pain-relief settling deep into his bones, his body reacted instinctively. His breathing shuddered, fell into a slower rhythm, moving toward the pull of sleep whether he wanted it or not.
Husk leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching closely. “Let him drift. He’s been on his feet too damn long.”
“Quite right!” Alastor chimed, though quieter now, almost respectful. “Even a Morningstar has limits! And what a rare treat to witness them.”
Charlie shot him a glare.
Alastor smiled and zipped his mouth shut with a flick of static.
Lucifer’s hand weakly curled around Charlie’s, a last tug of consciousness trying to anchor him.
“Charlie…” he whispered, voice thin and floating.
“I’m still here.”
Charlie’s chest tightened. She squeezed back gently, leaning close.
“I know, Dad. You’re safe. You can sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Lucifer blinked slowly, heavily.
The fight drained from him.
The lines of pain on his face softened.
His fingers loosened around hers.
Another breath… slower.
Another… softer.
His wings, limp and battered, finally settled fully against the mattress instead of twitching from pain.
One last flicker of gold passed through his eyes-
And they closed.
Not collapsed.
Not unconscious from pain.
Just… finally allowing himself to fall asleep.
A peaceful, fragile kind of sleep that he hadn’t known in a long time.
Charlie brushed his hair back and exhaled shakily, relief and worry tangled together. Vaggie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Emily wiped her eyes discreetly. Husk muttered something about finally getting a break. Even Alastor’s grin dimmed, though only slightly.
The room felt still.
Safe, for the first time since the fight.
Charlie leaned her forehead gently against her father’s hand.
“Sleep, Dad,” she whispered, barely audible.
“We’ll keep watch.”
And they did.