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Vaggie is dying.
She's been dead for decades and she's dying.
And again, no-one will miss her.
Bloody rips in her muscle and skin chafe against her top with every crawl forward. She gasps through her teeth and stops, groaning. Her vision pulses black. Grit bites into her raw hands keeping herself up.
Vaggie: Fuck.
Her back muscles flex instinctively, trying to balance herself with the wings Lute ripped out and strew across the road. Vaggie's eye boils in the hellish air. Everything's on fire.
The only reprieve was in between ripping off her uniform to dump in a bin with her spear and dragging the top off some corpse onto her own.
Pain is hardly unfamiliar. She wished she could forget it. Angels don't feel pain. They don't get hurt.
She stopped being an angel when she spared that sinner.
But they were a child. They posed no threat to heaven. Killing them wouldn't have achieved anything.
Vaggie: Gurgh.
She collapses front-first onto the splintered boards and junk piled at the end of the alley. Metal digs into her side, yet her exhale is almost in relief. She's bared worse.
She's no longer in the open.
Vaggie convulses as her skin is already knitting back together. It sears and itches, covering over each bloody wound. Angelic blood did not belong in Hell or anywhere.
Angelic blood... is gold. She didn't know.
Her breaths quake her whole body. She stares down the alleyway.
Luminescent, gold splotches trail all the way from the street to her body.
Even if the demons wouldn't recognise it, all it would take is to follow it and they could kill her in the grime of a back alley, all while she's wearing a top stolen off an exterminated sinner with Xs over the tits.
Like a sinner deserves.
Blood burns acrid all over the Pride Ring. Vaggie retches as she inhales it. She buries her face against a junk box to cover her choking while she waits.
When the demon arrives, they're a blur of a red suit. They block out the fire Vaggie was squinting against.
She grinds her jaw and readies herself to fight. But her arms don't raise. Her spear is in a bin. How can she fight back?
Demon: Oh. Oh! You're alive! You're alive!
Their voice chimes like music.
Still, demons are nothing but deceptive.
Even if the demon is tall, they're skinny. They rush forward and Vaggie plans to knock out their feet with her own.
Her legs don't move.
The demon falls to their knees before Vaggie. She squirms away. They lift gentle hands that don't yet touch her face.
Demon: You are not going to die! I promise. I promise you that.
With their faces so close, Vaggie sees the demon looks... angelic.
They wear a small smile that they're pushing even bigger for her as if for her benefit. It pushes into apple red cheeks. It shines like the golden, curly hair cascading down their back. They brush Vaggie's hair out of the way of her face, exposing her hollow eye socket.
Demon: Okay, I... can't see your eye anywhere, but lots of demons live with one eye, and they're none the worse for it!
They reach into their blazer and with a gurgle nowhere near words, Vaggie bucks out of their hand.
Demon: No, no, no, don't worry. Don't move. I can bandage your wounds then bring you over to my infirmary to get better. Or at least just bandage your wounds. Please?
They bring out a fresh roll of bandage from their inside pocket.
Even if the skin is reforming, it's thin. Bandaging the wounds will keep them from reopening and from festering with hellish infection.
If the demon wanted to kill her, they wouldn't need to pretend anything. So, Vaggie stills. The demon applies the bandage around her face with care not to aggravate either the injuries or Vaggie.
Vaggie: What are you doing?
Her voice is thick with all the blood and spit in her mouth.
Demon: I am making sure that no more of my people die in the extermination than absolutely need to. Like you.
In every extermination, the only thing more deadly than an angel's blade is how the sinners turn on each other. They'd shove the next closest sinner into her blade instead, only for another angel to gut them through the back.
Vaggie: And you are?
Who would protect them? Why would they help her?
The demon's lilt is as sweet as ever, but there's a bracing to their smile. Their eyes keep flicking to the bandages they're now applying around Vaggie's raw hands.
Demon: I'm Charlie Morningstar.
‘Morningstar’.
…Seriously?
Vaggie: Is that... a coincidence? Charlie Morningstar? Lucifer Morningstar?
Charlie: He's my dad.
Vaggie: You're his...?
Charlie: Yes, I'm his daughter.
Lilith and Lucifer, the roots of human evil, have a daughter. And she is nursing Vaggie's wounds.
Charlie's red blazer and trousers paired with a black bowtie belong in a theatre. The extermination counters sinners, not hellborn demons like her. She shouldn't have been attacked. Still, Vaggie begins to notice blood on her shoes, from walking the Pride Ring during an extermination, and bloody, handprints on her front and arms, from demons shoving her away.
Charlie could have been a threat to them. She could be a threat to Vaggie. Vaggie couldn't know. But Vaggie isn't the only demon she approached this extermination.
Vaggie: You-
The word splinters into coughs. Charlie rests a hand against her head to steady it.
Vaggie: You don't act like a fallen angel.
Vaggie: Thank you.
Charlie's big eyes go bigger, and she stops to stare at Vaggie. Her mouth flaps even before she finds the words.
Charlie: Thank you. Yes, yes, so, is this all okay? How are you feeling now? Do I need to bandage anywhere else?
Vaggie's hand goes to her back without thought. She stops herself; it looked just a twitch. But Charlie's eyes catch it.
Charlie takes one of Vaggie's hands in her own.
Charlie: You know, I can bring you to a little infirmary I've made. You can even stay the night if you'd like to. It's totally rent-free. Please.
Her hands are warm, and not in the choking way Hell is warm. It thaws through Vaggie and brings her back to her first home: the tropical constant of El Savador.
Vaggie is in no condition to fight. Her body trembles to move and the alleyway junk pile is hardly shelter. If Charlie turned on her, Vaggie would find a way out. Healing first. Everything else... later.
She nods.
Vaggie: Thanks. Please.
Charlie: What's your name?
Vaggie: Vaggie.
Charlie: Ohhh... Uh, nice name.
Her attempt to smile is genuine at least.
Vaggie had volunteered to leave her human life behind her when she became an exorcist. What does it matter what she's named? She thought it then and she thought it now. It didn't occur to her to make up a new name. Who cares?
Charlie: Come on, Vaggie, let's get you up!
Charlie, as kindly as she can, drags Vaggie from the alley into a taxi. The driver sneers some inappropriate comments about the two but Charlie meets it with a smile and a wad of cash, which doesn't shut the taxi driver up but it does get her driving. Vaggie mentally notes the location of her spear.
*
Charlie takes them to a lonely high-rise atop a hill of scorched grass. It's lit up with too many lightbulbs but it's intact.
Inside, after a bit more dragging, Charlie lays Vaggie to rest into a bed set close to the entrance and Vaggie sinks into the clean blankets like a kiss against her ripped up body.
Charlie: Don't worry, I'm just getting what you need for your back.
While Charlie sets to gathering disinfectant, water, and bandages from scattered buckets, Vaggie sees she's in a grand hall of empty beds. Every inch of marble floor, every windowsill, and even the start of the staircase is set up with blankets and medical supplies. The beds seem sourced from everywhere in existence. Metal-framed singles that quiver in the breeze next to four-poster kings next to cracked cots next to...
Vaggie: Uhhh.
Charlie must have got most of the beds from some sex clubs that were either destroyed or having a sale. Vaggie is surrounded by love hearts and mirrors and leather and chains.
Thankfully, Vaggie landed on a love heart. She stares up at the pink and the pain briefly melts behind her awkwardness.
Charlie: It's clean! They're all one-hundred percent clean. Scrubbed and new bedsheets. But if you want I can move you to one of the others-
Vaggie: It's... okay.
Her face burns.
Vaggie: Am I the first you brought here?
Charlie: You know, the others I found, they said they were fine without it. It's fine. It gives me more time to focus on you. Now-
Charlie returns to Vaggie and she's shed her blazer. The white button-up underneath brings attention back to her cute bowtie while her suspenders and rolled up sleeves make a handsome shape on her. She was tall, with long arms and long legs to suit it.
Charlie: So, um, how do you want to show me your back?
Vaggie: Huh?
Vaggie splutters a bit, Charlie's voice calls her mind back, but Charlie's apple cheeks seem somehow redder. She lifts the medical supplies in her hands.
Charlie: If you want me to clean the injuries on your back, I'm going to have to, uh, see your back.
Vaggie: Don't worry about it.
Vaggie: I'll take my top off.
Meanwhile, Vaggie's face combusts. She looks again to the love heart on the bed. There is no practical reason to swap.
Charlie: I'm not going to look.
Charlie gives an exaggerated twirl of her legs as she spins around to give Vaggie her privacy.
Vaggie took another look around the grand hall. Although the windows span almost as high as the walls, they're made of individual panes too small for most demons to break through. The arching front doors are thick enough to be weapons of their own right if intruders try to enter. They're alone in the high-rise.
As satisfied as she can be by the security, Vaggie peels off her stolen top and lies on her front on the bed.
Vaggie: You're good.
She hears Charlie turn, then hiss in sympathy.
Charlie: Owwww.
Charlie: They'll heal.
She starts cleaning the two vertical gashes between Vaggie's shoulder blades, but Vaggie's wings are gone. Taken back to Heaven with Lute as proof of her fall.
Vaggie hisses too as the wet rag first hits her back. Her hands claw into the bedsheets.
Charlie: Sorry! This'll be quick. Don't worry.
Vaggie has dealt with worse. She has dealt with worse. She grinds her teeth and focuses on breathing. Charlie starts to rub little circles on her neck to comfort her, which stalls Vaggie.
Charlie: Aaaaaalmost done.
Once they're clean, Charlie covers them with some bandage she sticks across Vaggie's back. Though itching, it's tolerable.
Charlie: You look beautiful!
Charlie: I mean, it all looks nice and clean and you're totally fine now! I'm turning again. You can put on your top again if you want to.
The breath of a laugh escapes Vaggie without her permission.
Vaggie: It's fine.
Her lips quirk strangely. Vaggie didn't expect the first demon she found to be... so cute.
Fuck. If she'd said that up above, Lute's spear would have been through her lungs before Vaggie finished the breath. So, she wouldn't have said anything. But she never looked a demon longer than assessing a target before Charlie. Are these feelings a sign she was always going to fall, or is this because she fell?
Vaggie: You can look again.
Charlie returns with a smile. She rests a hand lightly on Vaggie's arm while she props herself up on her elbows.
Charlie: How are you feeling?
Vaggie: Like shit.
Vaggie: But I'm not dead, because of you.
Vaggie: Is this what you do every year?
Charlie bobs her head from side to side.
Charlie: This is the second year. I try new things, see what works and what I can do next year. I guess people don't need an infirmary as much as I thought, so back to the drawing board!
She gives an attagirl swing of her arm.
Vaggie: And this building. Is this the base for Lilith and Lucifer?
Charlie: No, no, Dad's got his own place. It's a bit deeper into the Pentagram. I got this place for myself. I used to live with my mum but she had some business or something that was very important and she had to leave a few years ago.
Vaggie frowns.
Vaggie: Why did you tell me that?
Charlie's eyes and mouth form perfect Os.
Charlie: You asked, did you not?
Vaggie: I could use this against you. If Lilith's gone, and I know where Lucifer is...
Charlie leans closer to Vaggie and gives her a little nudge with her elbow.
Charlie: But I don't think you will.
Charlie: Thank you, Vaggie. I'm happy someone could be saved.
Vaggie thinks on the child she spared. With the sheer population of Hell and no way to find their name, she'll never know if they got away.
Why can't she regret it?
It makes sense someone like her ended up with the sinners eventually.
Vaggie: Why protect the sinners?
Charlie: Just because you're sinners doesn't mean you should be exterminated. You're still human! Humans have such amazing potential. You can do anything. Who says Hell has to be the end of that?
Vaggie lets her eye fall closed. Charlie is watching her face.
Vaggie: I think you're the more impressive one.
Charlie: Mmph-!
Vaggie peeks her eye back open but Charlie's turned her head with her fluster.
Charlie: That's a nice thing for you to say.
When she's turned, Vaggie can see tears in the side of her shirt, like a clawed hand punctured it.
Vaggie: Do the sinners hurt you?
Charlie: No, no, they don't hurt me. Not like that.
Vaggie: You're doing a good thing, Charlie.
Everything from Charlie's eyes to her voice shines with sincerity. She's nothing like the sinners Vaggie has seen or the demons she's heard of.
Of the two of them, only Vaggie earnt her place in Hell.
If she was made to defend, maybe this can be her penance.
Vaggie: Is anyone else working with you?
She tried to phrase it neutrally but Charlie gasps with delight.
Charlie: Do you want to stay? You absolutely absolutely can!
Vaggie: I'll make sure no-one hurts you-
Charlie throws her arms forward as if to hug her, before remembering Vaggie's back wounds and jerking to a stop. Vaggie's insides lurch with some disappointment, before she also chides herself.
Charlie: I've got plenty of rooms upstairs for you! You get to choose. And if there's anything you need, just tell ol' Charlie and she'll sort it.
She keeps nattering her niceties, not particularly checking whether Vaggie is listening.
Vaggie's in a bed taken from a Hell sex club, under the asylum of the daughter of Lilith and Lucifer. Just breathing reminds her of the tears down her back and in her skull where her wings and eye were ripped from her. She spared a demon. She fell from the angels. She didn't deserve to smile.
Still, she is, however slightly.