Chapter Text
Lucifer hated everything about this place.
The music.
The perfume.
The smiles.
The room glittered with gold and crystal, every surface polished until it gleamed beneath the chandeliers overhead. Wealth dripped from every corner of the auction hall. Rich alphas lounged in velvet chairs, sipping expensive drinks while servants moved silently through the crowd.
It looked less like a slave market and more like a gala.
Which somehow made it worse.
Lucifer swirled the amber liquid in his glass and reminded himself not to grimace.
You are supposed to be an asshole.
The rescue organization had repeated that approximately fifty times before allowing him anywhere near the border.
Smile.
Act interested.
Bid confidently.
Do not punch anyone.
That last one had apparently been important enough to warrant its own lecture.
Across the room, another omega was led onto the stage.
A cat hybrid this time.
Young.
Terrified.
The audience barely looked up.
The auctioneer rattled off information as though he were describing a racehorse.
Age.
Temperament.
Training.
Previous owners.
Lucifer felt his jaw tighten.
Three months ago he'd been sitting in his doctor's office being told that perhaps, for the sake of his health, he should consider finding another omega.
Three months ago Ozzie had suggested it.
Bee had suggested it.
Satan had suggested it.
Even Mammon had suggested it, which honestly should have been a warning sign.
Apparently everyone had decided that Lucifer spending years alone after Lilith left wasn't healthy.
Personally, he thought he was doing just fine.
Sure, some alphas struggled without an omega in their lives.
Some became anxious.
Some developed health complications.
Some deteriorated completely.
Others lived perfectly normal lives.
Lucifer preferred focusing on the second group.
Unfortunately nobody else seemed interested in that strategy.
So here he was.
In a country where omegas were sold like jewelry.
Trying to buy one.
Not because he wanted an omega.
Not because he wanted another relationship.
And definitely not because he intended to bond.
He simply wanted to get one person out.
One omega.
One life.
Something good.
Then maybe everyone would finally stop bothering him.
The cat hybrid was led away.
Another omega followed.
Then another.
The audience had been attentive all evening.
That wasn't surprising.
Omegas were rare.
Every omega presented had drawn hungry eyes, eager whispers, bidding wars waiting to happen.
Lucifer had spent most of the evening trying not to look disgusted.
His original plan had been simple.
Find the omega nobody wanted.
The one overlooked.
The one whose chances of getting out were the lowest.
Buy them.
Get them somewhere safe.
Done.
But he couldn't help himself and think - every time a new omega was brought on stage - this one, I'll get this one. Then the next came… and Lucifer thought the same.
The rescue organization hadn't prepared him for this. Seeing all this suffering and knowing nothing could be done. He could only save one.
The stage had filled up by now. Each omega standing at their designated spot, waiting to be bought. Some of them were crying. Some of them were staring into emptiness, as if their soul had left their body already and all that was left was a shell.
Then the final omega stepped onto the stage.
And the room changed.
Not silent.
Worse.
Focused.
Every eye in the hall locked onto the figure emerging from behind the velvet curtains.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Somebody actually stood.
Another alpha leaned forward so quickly he nearly knocked over his drink.
Lucifer followed their gaze.
And forgot to breathe.
A deer hybrid.
Large ears flicked nervously atop dark red hair that waved around his face, framing it as if on purpose. A small tail rested against the backs of impossibly long legs.
Gold jewelry glimmered beneath the chandelier light. A nose piercing connected with a delicate chain to the ear.
Another chain hung out from the thick chest fluff, trailing down the thin, lean belly to another piercing that was clamped around the omegas clit. A crystal stone hanging from it catching the light, sparkling once in awhile. From there thin delicate chains spanned to the side, circling the beautiful waste. Thin chains draped over red translucent fabric at the side and along the arms designed to display far more than it concealed.
A golden collar encircled his throat.
His ear bore a numbered tag.
Not a name.
A number.
Lucifer's stomach twisted.
Caramel-colored fur dusted his shoulders and arms, scattered with delicate white fawn spots. Freckles dotted his cheeks like stars.
The entire presentation had been crafted to showcase him.
To make him look precious.
Valuable.
Desirable.
Property.
The auctioneer spread his arms dramatically.
"Our Little Fire Ruby."
The title earned appreciative sounds from the crowd.
Lucifer hated it immediately.
Not because it was inaccurate.
The omega practically glowed beneath the lights.
Red eyes like polished gemstones.
Elegant posture.
Grace in every movement.
Beauty that seemed almost unreal.
No.
He hated it because it clearly wasn't his name.
And because the omega didn't react to it at all.
Not even a flicker.
As though he'd heard so many names over the years that none of them meant anything anymore.
The audience was enthralled.
Lucifer barely noticed them.
He was watching the omega.
Watching the way he stood.
The way he held himself.
The way he didn't look at anyone directly.
Not fearful or panicked.
It was something worse.
Hope had already left.
Fear implied there was still something worth losing.
This omega looked like someone who already knew exactly how the evening would end.
Someone who had stopped expecting kindness a very long time ago.
Someone who had learned that fighting changed nothing.
Lucifer suddenly found himself wondering when he'd last smiled.
Whether anyone had ever asked what he wanted.
Whether he even remembered.
The omega finally glanced across the room.
Their eyes met for only a second.
A heartbeat.
Then the omega looked away.
Like Lucifer was no different from the rest.
Another buyer.
Another owner.
Another chapter of the same miserable story.
Something sharp twisted in Lucifer's chest.
His original plan evaporated.
The omega nobody wanted?
Forget that.
Looking around the room, Lucifer realized every alpha here wanted this one.
Wanted him badly enough that the bidding was going to become a bloodbath.
And with sudden, startling certainty, Lucifer knew only one thing.
He wasn't leaving without him.
Twenty years ago
His breath came fast.
His lungs burned.
Every step sent water splashing up his little legs. Every move made his arm hurt, where his mother was grabbing onto him.
Her fingers were white, where they were wrapped around his wrist, pulling him forward despite the exhaustion hanging deep in his bones.
"Momma," he panted.
"Hold on," she said, and her voice sounded thick. Thick like it was shortly before someone cried. "Just a little longer, Alastor."
His mother kept saying that.
Just a little longer, Alastor. The border is close.
Alastor didn't know what she meant with that exactly.
He didn't know what a border was. But his momma kept saying they would be safe there. That they wouldn't be owned by anyone. That they would be free. Would have their own names.
Alastor didn't know what free was, but he had seen their masters son read books. Alastor wanted that too. One for himself. And his momma had promised him an endless amount of books where they were going.
Whatever the border was… it must be paradise.
The moon flashed through the thick clouds for a second. Bathing them both in silver light.
The rain continued falling around them. It soaked through their clothes, deep into their fur. But the running made Alastor's insides burn. His muscles were warm, as his little hooves tried to keep up with those from his mother.
"A little longer, Alastor," she said again. "Just a little."
Alastor didn't argue. He concentrated on following her.
Like he always did.
Because he trusted her.
Because she always looked out for him.
Because she loved him.
A distant bark cut through the heavy rain.
Alastor wouldn't have thought much about it, wouldn't it have been for his mother. Her breath hitched loudly, her ears flattening against her head. She stopped abruptly, swirling around.
Alastor stumbled, scarping his knees as he fell forward, barely catching himself. The only thing stopping him from falling completely the death grip his mother had on his arm. But at the same time it was also what dragged him along the ground. He yelped sharply, as his arm felt like it was pulled out of his socket, and his body scratched across the wooden floor.
"Alastor!" His mother gasped, grasping him with her other arm, pulling him up and pressing him against her, as she continued looking into the darkness behind them.
A sob escaped her.
"Mom?" Alastor asked, fear creeping in his voice. His insides turning at the tears falling down her face.
But his mother didn't answer. She just shook her head.
Another bark echoed through the woods. Then another.
"Oh god," she sobbed. "Oh god."
Then she turned, pushing Alastor forward, in front of her.
"RUN!" She screamed.
The sound so shrill, so desperate, so full of fear, that Alastor didn't question it.
He ran.
His heart beating faster than ever.
"Run, Alastor!" She screamed behind him. "Run!"
Alastor didn't look back. His hooves hitting the ground like drum beats. Rain obscuring his view. Darkness around him.
Trees suddenly looking like ghosts, reaching towards him with their claws.
Another bark echoed. Closer now.
"Don't look back!" His mother screamed behind him. "Don't look back! Keep running!"
But the barking became louder. And more.
It hurt in Alastor's ears. The rain got heavier with every step. He couldn't see anything.
His chest squeezed in fear. His heart pumped wildly.
And then a monster came crashing out of the bushes and Alastor screamed.
White sharp teeth reached for him. For a second the only thing he could see where the fangs of a beast and the darkness of a huge maw swallowing him hole.
Alastor could hear his mother scream behind him and then the thing slammed into him.
For a second Alastor couldn't feel anything. See anything.
And then he felt the pain of sharp teeth at his neck and just … froze.
A massive weight pressed against his back.
A growl vibrated through its chest.
Its teeth weren't biting.
Not yet.
But they hovered so close that he could feel their warmth.
Alastor whimpered.
Squeezing his eyes shut, ears flat to the head, heart pumping wildly.
Alastor was sure he was going to die.
Rain pounded against the earth around him.
The monster continued growling.
Then he heard his mother scream.
Alastor's eyes shot open.
"Momma!" He screamed.
Alastor twisted despite the beast's warning.
His eyes searched through the rain.
Found her.
And wished he hadn't.
She was on the ground.
Three dogs surrounded her.
One had its jaws locked around her arm.
Another was dragging her down every time she tried to stand.
She was still fighting.
Still kicking.
Still trying to get back to him.
"Alastor!"
Her voice broke.
"ALASTOR!"
Lights appeared between the trees.
Lanterns.
Voices.
Shouting.
People.
"There she is!"
"Get her!"
Alastor's breath hitched.
"Momma!" He screamed again, struggled. The growl behind him intensified, the teeth digging a little deeper. "Momma!"
"Hold still, Alastor!" She yelled. "Hold still! Don't move!"
So Alastor did.
And watched.
Watched his mother fight fruitlessly against the dogs. Listened to the sound of her screams of agony and ripping flesh, as she was dragged to the ground beneath them.
Watched as the men came out of the trees spilling onto the clearing. For a second relief filled him.
They would make it stop. They would make the dogs stop.
They would make the horrible sounds escaping his mother stop. Her otherwise so beautiful voice gurgling and breaking, as the dogs ripped at her arms and legs.
Red.
Everywhere.
But the men - they didn't stop it.
They just stood there.
Indifferent.
As if his mother was the lowest scum on earth. As if they didn't care about her pain. as if she was nothing.
Alastor didn't know how long this went on. He didn't remember it.
But it had felt like an eternity. The longest seconds of his life.
"Heel," the man at the front finally said.
Immediately the dogs let up. They sprinted back to the men, sitting straight behind him. Ears alert for the next order.
Alastor didn't wait.
He jumped up and as fast as he could he raced towards his mother.
Or wanted to -
An arm shot forward, slamming against his breast like a thick branch from an old oak tree.
For a second Alastor's breath was forced out of him, as he fell backwards.
The next moment he was grabbed at the back of the head and pulled up again. He screamed in pain. His head felt like it was on fire. Burning where the fist was wrapped around his hair. Pulling him against a strong, thick body.
Alastor struggled. Not because he was being disrespectful. But because it hurt. And his body reacted to the pain, tried to release the burning pressure.
Fruitlessly.
When his hair was finally released it was followed by a slap so hard across his cheek, Alastor immediately tasted blood. His body falling sideways to the cold ground. His ears were ringing.
Distantly he heard a: "Stop moving, you little shit."
Then he was grabbed again, pulled up.
The world spinned around him. The rain wasn't falling from the sky anymore, but came from the ground, moving upwards. The silver shine of the moon floated like fog around them.
And in the middle his mother.
Whimpering.
On the ground.
Small.
Broken.
"Mom," Alastor whispered.
The leader approached her.
He crouched beside her.
One hand tangled into her wet hair.
Forcing her head back.
Alastor wanted to scream at him to not touch her. To let her go. To leave her alone.
But his tongue felt thick in his mouth and the forest was still spinning around him.
He tasted something metallic.
"You really believed you could run," the man said.
His mother glared.
Rain and blood streamed down her face.
Alastor couldn't fathom seeing his mother like this. She was so beautiful. She didn't deserve this. She didn't… Not his momma.
No.
"You thought there was somewhere you could go," the man continued.
She didn't answer.
"You thought you could take what belongs to us."
Alastor hated the smile that followed.
Cold.
Certain.
Cruel.
"You belong here."
His grip tightened.
"You serve your purpose. And your son," he continued, glancing toward Alastor, "will serve his."
Something changed in his mother's expression.
Not fear.
Rage.
Pure rage.
She spat directly into his face.
The forest went silent.
Alastor's heart jumped.
The man's smile never faded.
Slowly, he wiped his cheek.
Then he laughed.
Softly.
Almost pleasantly.
Which somehow made it worse.
Then he stood up, looked at his man.
"Separate them."
His mother's eyes widened.
"No."
"We'll sell the boy tomorrow."
"No!"
The scream ripped from her throat.
Instant.
Primal.
Terrified.
"Please!"
The word shattered something inside Alastor.
He had never heard his mother beg before.
Never.
"Please don't."
The men were already moving.
His mother fought - wanted to fight.
But her body was too broken.
Too hurt.
She was barely able to lift herself up.
The men grabbed her arms.
Dragged her backward.
"No!"
Alastor screamed.
Despite the forest turning. Despite the world circling around him in a haze.
Alastor screamed.
He screamed so loudly.
"Alastor!" His mother yelled for him. Desperate. So so desperate.
"I am so sorry," she sobbed. "I am so sorry!"
Alastor was picked up like a rag doll, thrown over the shoulder of the man holding him.
And as he was carried away, screaming. The tears burning his eyes, blurring the world. The last thing he saw was his mothers bloodied, tear-streaked face disappearing in the darkness.
"I love you, Alastor."
He wished he had said it back.