Chapter Text
"This is the shit."
The spider demon groaned unsteadily. Painkillers and alcohol weren't usually how he liked to get 'on a roll', but he didn't feel like going out to find anything else. That, and the fact he wasn't allowed to leave the hotel unless he was under 'supervision'. Angel Dust shook another couple of pills out of the bottle and popped them in his mouth, then took a swig of booze to help wash it down. He winced slightly as the alcohol burned down his throat.
On the other side of the couch, Husk groaned himself, replicating the growl of a lawnmower.
"Hell yeah. I could do this all day." He chuckled dazedly. Angel rolled his head over to look at the cat demon. "I think we have been doing it all day. What time is it?" he asked. The elderly feline shrugged. "It look like I'm wearing a watch to you? I ain't got a damn clue." He stretched out on the couch awkwardly, his head hanging over the arm rest and his feet hanging off the seat, beginning to purr slightly as he drank from his own bottle, a gravelly sound like a damaged engine. Angel snickered giddily. "You're purring!"
The noise immediately stopped. Husk raised his head, looking a little sharper then he had a couple seconds ago and looked at Angel Dust irritably. He spoke in the same manner. "To be honest, I don't really care right now. But you promised if I gave you some booze and pills, you'd give me some buck. So pay up."
Angel blinked. "Now? I don't got the cash with me. I'd have to go get it and... I don't really wanna move."
Husk grunted. "Well, you don't pay and I'll tell the girl about this. Not the friendly one. I don't think that crazy spear-waving bitch wants to hear that you're doing shit you're not supposed to."
Angel's head snapped up. "You wouldn't." he growled at Husk. The top-hatted demon did a marvelous impression of the Cheshire Cat with an incredibly smug grin , knowing full well he had gotten one over on Angel Dust. "I would. And probably throw in a couple other things, too. Like that guy you were," he paused to clear his throat, "pleasuring around back a couple nights ago."
Angel was taken aback. "You saw that?" he said dumbfounded.
The old man chuckled. "These eyes don't miss nothing. Sharp as a cat's. They help in the dark, too." He blinked at Angel, showing off his orange feline eyes. Angel gave up. "Alright, fine. I'll get your money. Just wait there." He attempted to rise off the couch, but only succeeded in falling onto the floor. Husk snickered and leaned over the spider demon's face. "Aww, what's the matter?" he patronized. "Tripping over yourself?"
Angel growled at the older demon. "You try walkin' with these things. It ain't easy." He smiled coyly. "But they're nice for wrapping around necks." It was Husk's turn to be surprised. In the short moment his guard was down, Angel gave the gambling addict a peck on the lips. Husk cried out and jerked his head back, allowing the spider demon some space to pick himself off the carpet.
"Looks like I kissed the cat!" Angel sang as he rose to his feet. "What's he gonna do? Claw up my furniture?" He could hear Husk grumbling about ropes and torn flesh from the sofa.
Angel laughed and staggered away, looking for his room. It was proving fairly difficult, as his mind was in a serious state of disarray, swimming and throbbing, thoughts leaving as quickly as they came. He climbed up a set of stairs to a long hallway.
He realized he was somehow still holding the bottle, choking the neck in his grasp. He drank the rest, tipping his head back until his back was arched like a bridge, displaying an impressive show of flexibility.
With a jolt, he realized the hotel's manager was standing behind him, her arms crossed. Vaggie's mouth was upturned into a snarl, revealing razor sharp teeth. Something... red was dribbling from her lips. Her fingers were digging into her arms, drawing blood. The X over her eye was glowing angrily.
Angel dropped the bottle. It fell to the ground and shattered, pieces of glass scattering across the floor, glittering in the light. He whipped around on his heel-
-only to find that no one was there? But that didn't make any sense. Where the hell had she gone? There was no way she could have moved that fast.
He decided to forget it (which wasn't hard to do judging by all the alcohol he had consumed) and continued down the hall, now covered with pieces of green tinted glass.
The hotel had certainly seen better days. Hell if anyone knew what it had been used for before- maybe a theatre?- but it could certainly use some work. This specific part didn't look bad; none of the wallpaper was tearing, the carpet looked more or less intact, and the interior décor was in one piece. Other parts hadn't fared as well. Granted, he hadn't actually seen the other parts, but if a car hanging off a balcony in the lobby was anything to go by, the rest of the place was probably in the same condition.
Angel continued to stumble in his delirium, searching for the door to his room. He spotted it a few feet away, just as he was about to stride past it. Reaching over with his abnormally long body, he grabbed the handle and pushed. The door didn't budge.
He tried again to no avail.
Confused, he let go of the doorknob and bent down to study it. It looked like an average doorknob, perfectly round with no dents or nicks, a rare commodity in the worn-down building.
Angel grabbed the handle again and pushed. Still nothing. Then it hit him- he had to turn the doorknob. He mentally kicked himself and twisted it, pulling instead of pushing. The door opened without any further trouble. Angel stepped into his room, his white hair grazing the doorframe, and shut the door behind him. He quickly adjusted his hairstyle, pulling it back and allowing it to bounce forward again.
The room looked mostly like his old one now, dressers lined up on one side, three mirrors ringed with lights above them and two cushioned seats below. Upon the dressers was a large wig, an ashtray and a jewellery box. Hanging off one of the mirrors was a couple dresses.
A large bed sat across the room from the setup. Part dressing room, part bedroom. A large pink neon sign hanging near the door read 'Love' and below it on the left hung a neon spider web. To the right of the neon web was a large poster taped to the wall.
It was of his pet pig, affectionately named Fat Nuggets- who was now sleeping comfortably on Angel's bed. Ringed around the room were cables adorned with pink and white bulbs not unlike Christmas lights. Directly above the bed was a large board which only read one word in the very center, written in large bold letters- 'BREATHE'.
Angel Dust staggered to the bed and dropped to his hands and knees. He reached under the bed with a hand and began to pull things out, careful not to wake the small pig sleeping on top. An empty bag. He tossed it. A sex toy. Pushed it back under. A large fabric pouch tied off with string, which was what he was searching for.
Angel stood back up and sat on a cushioned seat with the pouch. Untying the bag with a couple hands, he rearranged few things in his jewellery box, ensuring their safe-keeping. Within the bag were rolls of money; fragile paper things that melted if you got caught in the rain with them.
He began to search for a twenty dollar bill to pay the old greedy cat; pulling rolls out, looking at them, and putting them back. He raised one to his eye, and started to sift through it, taking care not to tear the paper. A one. Not what he was looking for. A five, another five, a ten, a one... a twenty. He pulled it out of the roll it resided in, the elastic band stretching as the paper note slid out.
Angel Dust placed the roll- now free of a twenty dollar bill- back in its pouch, slid the pouch back under the bed, and left the room. He walked back down the hall, fanning himself the note, though it wasn't hot. Just uncomfortable.
His vision was starting to swim, and he was getting very dizzy. Is this supposed to happen? he asked himself. I don't think that stuff was supposed to do this. Maybe I should've payed attention to that warning. He was referring to the warning on the bottle, against using opioids with alcohol- the exact thing he had just done.
Angel's head began to throb. Something was wrong. This wasn't the pills, or alcohol. He could feel his stomach churning
Then things just got plain weird- and frightening.
Things were growing from the shadows, monsters more grotesque than Angel had seen in Hell (although, there was a fair chance that at least someone looked like something drawn by Will Burke). Demonic ragdolls, their mouths stitched into crude smiles and black pits where their eyes should have been. Dark liquid leaking out while they giggled with insanity, wielding knives and other sharp weapons.
Black smoke began to rise off the carpet. Tendrils of shadow reached out of it, wrapping themselves around the spider demon's ankles. He kicked them away but there were too many, dozens of little black snakes. They coiled up his legs and around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Caught as a boa constrictor catches a rat, just before strangling the life out of its insignificant little body. That's how Angel felt now, a rodent about to be crushed to death.
A figure grew from the smoke at Angel's feet. Clothed in red and ludicrously tall. It was Alastor, his antlers stretching high in the air. His smile was in natural proportion... if it weren't for the fact a knife had been sliced up the sides of his face, grey skin hanging over and bleeding, the edges of the cuts stitched. An X was sliced into his forehead, glowing an impossible red.
His eyes... they were empty, dead. Two glowing red pupils in the sockets were slit like a snake's. The monster reached out a hand, blood collecting in his palm and dribbling through his fingers. Alastor rasped, the radio effect on his voice distorted monstrously. "Care to make a deal...?"