Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 180

**KASIAN**

This is going… Okay. I think. Probably. Maybe. It’s awkward, undeniably awkward, but she’s still here. It’s been over thirty minutes and she hasn’t excused herself, fled the room, or asked Oz to whisk her away in a dramatic flourish of demon magic. By my standards, that counts as a resounding success. When we all sat down to eat, Oz predictably planted himself right beside her. He didn’t even hesitate, just settled into that chair like he belongs there. Kacia didn’t comment, which tells me it’s their normal. Allie caught my eye, clearly seeing my panic over where to sit, and gave me a tiny encouraging nod. That was enough for me to claim the seat on Kacia’s other side. It felt like choosing the lesser of two tortures. Across from her, I would be trapped in endless accidental eye contact, something I am absolutely not emotionally prepared for. Sitting beside her means less direct staring and a small buffer of shared space I can exist in without imploding. So here I am. On her right. Terrified. The worst part is that Oz and Allie have COMPLETELY taken over the conversation. They’ve been bouncing stories back and forth, mostly about Kacia. It makes sense, she’s the one thing they have deeply in common. And I do enjoy hearing it. Every little detail about her feels like a breadcrumb leading me toward the version of her I missed watching grow up. But every time they share another anecdote, about something she did as a teenager, or some ridiculous situation she got herself into with Oz recently, I feel that familiar twisting pit in my chest. They have a whole catalogue of memories between them. All I have is the day she was born… And the fact that I had to leave her. Not exactly dinner table material… Still, I keep my smile in place. I nod. I laugh when it seems appropriate. I drink water whenever I don’t know what else to do with my hands. I’m trying. Truly. Then Allie leans slightly forward, her voice gentle.

“You’re quiet tonight, Sweetpea.” She comments. Kacia looks up, startled out of her focus on her plate.

“Hmm? Oh… Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m just a little tired. We’ve been travelling back and forth to the fae realm a lot, and the days and nights are reversed there. So we’ve been keeping some odd hours.” She explains. Finally. FINALLY, something I can actually contribute to. A topic that’s not ‘remember that time when-’ followed by a story I wasn’t part of. I sit a little straighter. 

“Yes, I know how you feel.” I say, trying for casual but probably sounding far too eager. 

“When I used to visit Allie here, it was always strange. I’d sneak out in the middle of the night, then come here and walk around in daylight. The shift always wreaked havoc on my sleep routine.” I tell her. Kacia nods along almost immediately, eyes brightening with recognition.

“Exactly! I KNOW I’m still getting the same amount of sleep, but it’s not hitting the way it usually does.” She agrees. My heart does something ridiculous in response. I have to fight the urge to bounce in my seat and clap like an overeager child. She agreed with me. We had an exchange, an actual, real, mutual exchange. We share an opinion about something as mundane as a sleep cycle but I’ll take it. It’s small. Pathetically small. But it’s ours. A tiny victory. And right now, I’ll take every single one I can get.

The conversation drifts on without me for a few minutes, settling into a rhythm I’m starting to recognise, Oz makes some dry comment, Allie answers with warmth, and Kacia chimes in when she feels like it. I mostly listen, quietly filing away every scrap of information about my daughter like a starving man hoarding crumbs. Then Oz casually mentions his family, apparently he and Kacia have dinner plans with them tomorrow night. Allie raises an eyebrow. 

“Dinner plans two nights in a row? You’re very busy lately.” She teases. Oz laughs, sharp and smug.

“Two nights? Allie, she’s had dinner invitations almost every night for weeks. Plus lunches, breakfasts… And all the fae that come knocking with ‘just stop by for tea!’ If she really wanted to, Kacia could stop buying groceries and live entirely off the hospitality of her adoring public. Ever since word got out she’s re-evaluating all of Lord Asshole’s old bindings…” He nudges her lightly. 

“Isn’t that right, Princess?” He teases. I blink.

“Lord… Asshole?” I repeat. Kacia smiles, wicked and satisfied. 

“My so-called grandfather. He more than earned the title, don’t you think?” She says. 

“Oh yes.” I agree instantly. Then Allie stands with abrupt purpose.

“I’m just going to wash the dishes.” She declares loudly. 

“I’ll help.” Oz says a bit too quickly. Suspiciously quickly. No one volunteers that enthusiastically for dishes. Then it hits me. Oh. They’re leaving us alone. On purpose. Allie gives me the tiniest, most treacherously encouraging smile as she walks away. Oz gives Kacia a look that says, behave, and another at me that says, don’t screw this up. A second later, they disappear into the kitchen and I am alone with my daughter. I don’t know whether I want to thank them… Or run after them begging them to come back. Kacia clears her throat. 

“So…” She starts. 

“So?” I echo, trying not to sound too eager, but probably failing. She fiddles with her fork, then blurts, 

“I’ve been meaning to ask… What should I call you?” She asks. My entire body turns to stone. 

What is the right answer? How do fathers answer this question? Do fathers even get asked this question?

“What… Would you like to call me?” I manage carefully, terrified of pressuring her into anything. Kacia shrugs. 

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. What did you call your father?” She questions. I snort before I can help myself.

“I called him Lord Alhwin.” I tell her bluntly. Her wince is immediate. 

“Ah. Yeah, maybe… Not that.” She responds. She goes quiet, thinking hard. I watch her, my daughter, sorting through language, labels, and history as if she’s trying to find a word that fits both of us. Then softly, uncertainly, she speaks again. 

“If you don’t mind… I could call you Dad?” She says tentatively, her tone a question. I go still. Absolutely still. My chest tightens, my eyes blur, and I can feel myself tipping dangerously toward crying in front of her like some overly sentimental fool. She sees my silence and panics, words tumbling out fast. 

“It’s probably weird. Or too much. I just, well I’ve never gotten to say it before, and I thought it might be nice, but it doesn’t have to be that if it’s uncomfortable or if you don’t want-” She starts. 

“Yes!” I croak, interrupting her before she takes it back.

“Damn it, yes. Please.” I stammer out. The emotion cracks my voice open. I swallow hard, forcing the words out.

“There is… I… I want that. Very much. To be your father. Properly. Even if I don’t know how. I missed everything and I barely know you and my own father was, well, let’s not get into that. But I love you. I always have. And I know it’s unreasonable to show up now and expect anything from you but… If there’s anything I can do. If you ever want anything, or need anything, or just… Want to know something, I will be here. For you. And for your mother.” I promise. Kacia’s breath hitches. She looks stunned, almost fragile.

“You… Don’t plan to leave again?” she asks quietly. It feels like a knife. A justified one. I shake my head instantly.

“Never. I intend to stay and be in your life as long as you’ll allow me. Although…” I trail off. Her eyes sharpen. 

“Although what?” She demands. Damn it. Here comes the part I did not think through enough. But I need to be honest with her. 

“I’ve been… Contemplating giving you the rest of the magic.” I say slowly. She blinks. Hard.

“That spark I received when my father died… I thought I should pass it to you. I know it would mean that I’d age. That I’d eventually die. But Allie is human. With support from you with your magic and by taking care she’ll live longer than most mortals, but not forever. And I don’t want to watch her grow old and die without me.” I explain. My voice wavers.

“I had a long time to think while I was gone. Aging used to terrify me. Now… It feels like the only path that makes sense. I don’t want immortality if it means outliving Allie.” I tell her. I inhale shakily.

“So in that sense… I suppose I do plan to leave eventually. Just not until I’ve lived a full life with the two of you.” I finish, Kacia stares at me. Completely still. I realise, belatedly, catastrophically, that I’ve said all of this out loud without any plan or finesse. I’ve just dumped an existential bomb onto my daughter five seconds after she agreed to call me Dad.

“Shit, I should have planned that better.” I mutter under my breath.

There’s a moment of silence, soft, tentative, where Kacia just looks at me. Really looks at me. Not with suspicion or defensiveness or that wary distance she’s kept up all evening, but with something gentler. Warmer. Then she exhales slowly.

“You really do love my mum, huh?” She asks. The question is simple. But it hits like a spell straight through my ribs. 

“Yes.” I say without hesitation, my voice steady and firm in a way I haven’t felt all night. 

“I love her. There’s never been anyone else.” I say sincerely. I don’t know what she sees in my expression, truth, devotion, maybe desperation, but her shoulders loosen slightly.

“Then… Yeah, I understand. I mean, I never really expected to get any time with you, so I guess forty or fifty years or so is still more than I ever hoped for.” She pauses, shrugging awkwardly. “Especially if you can make my mum happy.” She murmurs. I blink.

“Fifty years? Kacia, try two hundred and fifty. At least.” I tell her. Her head snaps up, eyes going comically wide.

“Fae can’t make humans immortal.” I continue quickly.

“But I spent a long time researching ways to extend mortal life and health back when I first fell for your mother. There are methods, safe ones, careful ones. And with your resources now? Your mother could live far, far longer than that.” I tell her. Kacia stares at me like I’ve just handed her a winning lottery ticket and a baby dragon at the same time.

“Really?” She asks as she breaks into a grin. Bright, genuine and delighted.

“That’s great news!” She says excitedly. The wave of pride that crashes through me is embarrassingly strong. Finally I’ve said something right. Something she actually wanted to hear.

“Yes.” I say, unable to hide my own smile. 

“She may eventually need to retire to the fae realm, mostly to avoid suspicion about her longevity. But she would be comfortable there. Safe. And cherished.” I inform her. Kacia is already nodding, her brain clearly shifting into planning mode.

“Yeah… Maybe once everything’s settled with the realm, I’ll take her there for a visit. Or a holiday. Just to see how she feels about it.” She says thoughtfully. 

“That’s a good idea.” I say earnestly. 

“I believe she’d enjoy it. And I could… Give you a list of places she might like. Old markets, quiet gardens, a few hidden spots she’d appreciate…” I start. Kacia shrugs lightly, and for a split second my stomach sinks, thinking she’s rejecting the offer. 

“It’d probably be easier if you just showed us. I don’t know my way around very well. And obviously you’d be coming, too.” She adds casually. I brighten instantly. She’s… Including me? In plans about her mother? About her realm? About the future? That tiny gesture feels enormous.

“I could help plan everything.” I say quickly. 

“I’d need support with the portals now, of course, but the rest? I can manage that. I’d be honoured to show you both around.” I say excitedly. Kacia smiles. A soft, tentative smile, but real.

“That sounds perfect.” She answers. She hesitates for a heartbeat.

“Thanks… Dad.” She says, her voice small but brave. The word hits me hard. My chest goes tight, my vision blurs, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to openly sob at the dinner table. I grin instead, wide and helpless. For the first time since stepping foot back into this world… Since seeing her… Since hoping I hadn’t ruined everything beyond repair, I am feeling optimistic. This is going to be tough. Awkward and messy. Getting to know my daughter will take time and effort and more patience than I probably possess. But for the first time since I returned… I know we’re going to be okay.