Requiem of Redemption

by Mueller11

Summary:

Lucifer found Alastor on the verge of death after the extermination, offering the Radio Demon a deal in exchange for saving his life. Now in further debt, Alastor finds himself desperate to be free from the chains of the Morningstar's... with the exception of one. Meanwhile tension between Heaven and Hell is higher than ever following the death of the Exorcist Angels/ Adam causing uncertainty for the future of Hell as unexpected guests arrive at the hotel. Charlie must choose between her duty as the future ruler or her heart.

Notes:

Please be aware this is not canon and is purely Fanfiction based of Hazbin Hotel series. I started this story taking place right after Niffty killed Adam in the Season 1 finale. This is a slow burn Charlastor/ Radiobelle story so if you are not a fan of Alastor/Charlie pairing please just don't read it. No need for nasty comments. :)

I have big plans for this story. First Fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1: A lovely thought, I’m sure.

The battlefield was eerily silent. Adam’s lifeless body lay among the ruins, his once-commanding presence now reduced to nothing more than another casualty. Above, the last of the angels were retreating, disappearing into the blinding light of Heaven’s portal leaving only devastation in their wake. No one below seemed to move. Their faces painted with exhaustion and disbelief, eyes locked up towards heaven’s portal as if struggling to comprehend what had just transpired. But Charlie didn’t waste a second.

"Alastor!" she cried out. Her voice cutting through the stillness as she spun, scanning the wreckage around her franticly. Smoke coiled through the air in thick plumes, rising from the wreckage of what was once their home. The hotel was unrecognizable, reduced to nothing but broken beams, shattered stone, and smoldering debris.

Alastor was supposed to face Adam. That was the plan. But the instant the shield had collapsed, and Adam reappeared alone, a cold, gut-wrenching realization twisted inside her.

Alastor had fallen.

At least, that’s what everyone assumed. The grim silence hanging in the air after the battle and the absence of his presence all pointed to that horrifying truth. But Charlie couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it. She refused to believe that he was just gone. Not Alastor. Not the one who had been there, always so unflinchingly confident, so… untouchable.

Charlie forced her legs to move, each step unsteady as she stumbled over the wreckage heading toward the direction she had last seen him. "Al!" she cried again, her voice cracking beneath the weight of the situation. But there was no answer. Just silence.

Her hands shook as she dropped to her knees, frantically shoving aside chunks of debris. Splinters bit into her fingers, jagged edges tearing at her palms, but she barely registered the pain as her blood smeared across the wreckage. She kept digging, her body protesting with every movement, but she refused to stop.

From a short distance away, Vaggie watched helplessly. It hurt to see Charlie like this, tearing herself apart for someone who might not even be alive. The truth was, if Alastor had been caught in the destruction, the chances of him making it out before the hotel collapsed were slim.

“Charlie…” Vaggie called softly, but there was no sign that Charlie had heard her, or if she had, she chose to ignore it.

Charlie screamed Alastor’s name again, her voice hoarse and trembling with desperation. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but when she wiped them away, her bloodied palms left smears of crimson across her skin.

Vaggie’s chest tightened. “Charlie, stop… you’re hurting yourself!” she called louder this time, stepping forward. Gently, but firmly, she placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, trying to ground her.

The reaction was immediate. Charlie wrenched herself away with a sharp, almost violent movement.

“No! I’m not giving up! Not until we find him!" she snapped. "We don’t know what happened! He was just here! Alastor might not be— he could still be—" Her words trailed off, and this time, she didn’t bother trying to stop the tears. "I won’t lose someone else because of my decision. This is my fault. ME! Our friends are dead because of ME!”

Charlie’s body trembled, every breath coming out uneven, and for a brief moment, it looked like she might collapse under the weight of it all. She wanted to. She wanted to fall to her knees and break apart right there. But she couldn’t. Alastor needed her. If he was out there, if he was hurt then time was running out. With a shaky inhale, she forced her emotions down, turning her back on Vaggie and returning to her frantic search, fingers already clawing at the rubble once more.

Vaggie stood frozen for a moment, stunned by the sheer anguish in Charlie’s voice. But she didn’t let it linger. Shaking herself out of it, she turned to their friends, who had now gathered behind her, uncertainty written across their faces.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” Vaggie’s voice rang out, commanding immediate attention. Her gaze swept over the devastation. “Split up and find Alastor.” Without a word, the group nodded in unison, fanning out across the wreckage, their voices calling his name as they searched.

---

Lucifer was quick to join the search, not because he cared if Alastor was dead or not. But because seeing the state his daughter was in, just at the thought of Alastor dead, broke his heart. He had not been there for her in the past and that changes now. If she wants to find the egotistical prick then he will help, for her. He spread his wings and flew to the highest point of the rubble to look out across where the hotel once stood while everyone else searched below. Looking down he noticed a bloody trail in the distance leading towards a broken radio tower. He quickly flew down to investigate.

It didn’t take long to find him. Alastor sat slumped against a nearby wall, one hand clutching his bleeding chest, the other limp at his side. Even now, with blood seeping between his fingers, he still wore that signature grin.

His crimson eyes flicked toward the door in a panic as his shadow stirred, a silent warning of someone approaching. He tensed for only a moment before recognizing the figure in the doorway. A weak chuckle escaped him, but it quickly dissolved into a violent cough, blood spilling from his lips.

Alastor’s ears flattened against his head, irritation flickering across his face. The last thing he wanted was for anyone, especially him, to see him like this. With a sharp exhale, he spat the remaining blood onto the floor and turned his gaze away.

“Come to finish me off?” he rasped, his usual theatrics dulled by exhaustion. “Now’s your chance.” His voice, though hoarse, still carried that mocking edge, even as he refused to look Lucifer in the eye.

Lucifer knelt beside him, his expression unreadable. “I came to help,” he said simply, reaching for Alastor’s coat.

As he pulled the fabric aside, the deep gash across Alastor’s chest was fully exposed—a brutal wound left by Adam’s axe. But what caught Lucifer’s eye were the countless scars littering his body, some visible through the smaller tears in his clothing. His gaze lingered on one in particular, just above his collarbone, a mark he immediately recognized.

Alastor’s head snapped up, eyes blazing with anger as he felt the shift of his coat. Realizing what Lucifer was looking at, he grabbed his wrist and shoved him away, attempting to sit up straighter but failing miserably.

“I never asked for your help,” Alastor spat, his voice laced with venom.

Lucifer barely reacted. His tone remained flat as he met Alastor’s glare. “I’m not doing this for you.” His gaze flicked back to the mark near Alastor’s collarbone before he gestured toward it. “Tell me, why did you stay and fight for the hotel? Was that part of a deal?”

Alastor let out a breathy chuckle at the notion but offered no answer.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “If not, then why? Why risk your life for a cause you don’t even believe in?”

“For the same reason as you, I assume,” Alastor rasped, his voice hoarse but laced with amusement despite his exhaustion. He tilted his head slightly, “Except I was there when it mattered. Where were you when the fighting began, hmm?” Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he made no move to wipe it away, letting it stain his grin as he taunted Lucifer.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there,” Lucifer said, his voice growing thick with frustration. “I am aware that without your help, I wouldn’t have made it in time to save Charlie. That’s why I’m here now trying to help you.” He paused, exhaling sharply as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. We don’t like each other. Hell, I’d love nothing more than to walk away and leave you to die, to be rid of you once and for all. But Charlie… she already lost someone today. If she loses you too…” His expression darkened, becoming suddenly stern as his eyes fixed on Alastor. “Charlie may trust you, but I don’t. So tell me, who owns your soul, Radio Demon?”

Alastor’s eye flickered black with seething anger at the mention of his soul. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he spat, his tone dripping with mockery.

Lucifer’s patience, already frayed, snapped at the disrespect. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his irritation boiling over. The air around him seemed to crackle with power as he leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “Yes, I would,” he said, his voice taking on a deeper, more menacing tone. A demonic echo laced his words, commanding the room with the weight of his authority. “And you will tell me.”

The power of Hell itself seemed to reverberate in his demand, each word sharp and uncompromising.

Just as the question was asked, dark threads materialized around Alastor’s mouth, their menacing presence a clear threat to cause him pain if he complied. His gaze flickered briefly to the threads before returning to Lucifer. “King or not,” he said with a smirk, his voice laced with defiance, “I can’t disclose that little tidbit of information. You should know the rules of a deal better than anyone… after all, you helped make them.”

Lucifer’s expression hardened, his eyes momentarily darkening as he looked away, the weight of his past actions bearing down on him. A deep sigh escaped his lips. “So I did…” His words trailed off, a momentary flash of regret flickering across his face before he steeled himself and met Alastor’s gaze once more. “Then tell me this much, at least.” He leaned forward slightly. “Can whoever you’re chained under be trusted around my daughter?”

“No.” Alastor’s response was immediate, as if the answer were an obvious truth. With a subtle wave of his hand, he gestured toward the door for Lucifer to leave. “So if you don’t mind.”

Lucifer looked at the door, the thought of leaving still crossing his mind before remembering who was out there right now looking for this bastard.

“A deal, then?” Lucifer suggested, turning back to Alastor.

Alastor’s smile widened, just a fraction, as he struggled to sit up straighter, the effort clearly causing him pain. “You have my attention.” His shadow appeared behind him, its grin stretching unnaturally wide as it mirrored the Radio Demon’s anticipation.

Lucifer observed Alastor closely, noticing the cracks in his carefully maintained façade. Alastor’s breaths grew heavier, more labored with each passing moment, and his eyes, once sharp and piercing, now struggled to stay open. His act was faltering, and it was becoming increasingly evident that beneath the bravado, Alastor was running on borrowed time.

“I hate having to admit this…” Lucifer began, “…but you proved capable enough to handle things in my absence. And if Charlie isn’t going to let you go, then I’ll protect her in my own right. I’ll help you this one time—if you protect my daughter from anyone who might cause her harm. That includes you, and whoever owns your soul. Any pain inflicted on her, you will feel tenfold. Do you understand?”

Alastor scoffed dismissively. “Ah, to think I actually thought you might have something of value to offer. Should really work on your sales pitch, your Majesty,” he sneered. “You expect me to surrender the little freedom I have left, to play the loyal protector at someone else’s whim? For what? Help… from you? HA.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, planting his cane firmly in front of him as he gazed down at the broken Sinner. “More like a life for a life,” he said coldly. “I save your life now, and you protect my daughter for what’s left of yours. How you lost your ‘freedom’ in the first place is not my problem.”

“You must be getting hard of hearing after all these years in Hell,” Alastor mocked, his grin widening. “I already told—”

But before he could finish, a sharp pain shot through his chest, and he gasped, clutching at the injury. His eyes squeezed shut as the agony rattled his body, his form slumping against the wall behind him. Despite the intense pain, he tried to mask it, humming a light, airy tune, pretending to be lost in thought as if the whole ordeal was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

Seeing Alastor’s hesitation and the obvious toll his injuries were taking, Lucifer decided to speed things up. “The pain’s only going to intensify, you know. Angelic weapons have a tendency to do that to Sinners. You’d be wise to act quickly.” He paused, watching Alastor struggle. “You clearly have a loophole in your contract if you’re still able to make deals while under a soul-binding one. If that’s true, then you can accept offers without facing any consequences, as long as it doesn’t conflict with your original terms. After all, deal-making is a two-way street. If your intention to help Charlie is genuine, and not just tied to your contract, then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly, flicking a piece of lint from his sleeve as he looked around the room with mild disinterest. “Or, you know, you could just lie down and die here. The choice is yours.” His tone was casual, but the underlying message was clear—he wasn’t going to offer any help unless Alastor accepted his deal. Despite Alastor’s bravado, they both knew who truly held the power in this exchange.

Leaving Alastor to consider his offer, Lucifer strolled over to a nearby desk. His gaze landed on the scattered colorful papers, each one filled with bright drawings and whimsical designs of hearts and rainbows. Curious, he picked up a few, creating a disorganized stack as he flipped through them. They were all Charlie’s ideas, but half of them were covered in red ink, complete with corrections, question marks, and neat handwriting. It was clear Alastor had been the one to revise them. Lucifer rolled his eyes, casting a pointed glare over his shoulder at Alastor, clearly unimpressed.

Why did she feel the need for his approval? Her ideas were unconventional, and her handwriting was notoriously sloppy, but she didn’t need a second option… especially not from a Sinner. Lucifer glanced back down at the papers in his hands, scanning over the notes Alastor had made, revising some of Charlie’s plans, making them more practical, or just outright vetoing others. Why did this guy even bother entertaining her ideas? What was his angle?

Alastor didn’t respond immediately, weighing his options in silence. He watched Lucifer through a cracked eyelid, annoyance flickering across his face as the king casually examined his once-beloved sanctuary like some sort of sideshow attraction, rifling through his things. Alastor hated anyone touching what was his, but right now, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Each labored breath sent sharp pain searing through his chest, but he forced himself to stay conscious, clinging to his awareness.

He knew this deal wasn’t in his favor, and his mind raced for a counteroffer, a smart-ass remark, anything. But with each passing second, his thoughts grew murkier. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision as the blood loss took its toll. Alastor had always been prepared for death, but now, with it looming closer, his mind wandered to unexpected places. To her.

Alastor remained silent, his hand trembling as he reached out toward Lucifer, catching his attention. Seeing the last bit of color drain from Alastor’s face, Lucifer quickly dropped the documents, spun around, and grasped Alastor’s hand. A beam of light shot into the sky sealing the deal. As the light dissipated, Alastor’s body went limp, collapsing onto the floor unconscious.

“Shit,” Lucifer muttered under his breath. He swiftly exposed Alastor’s chest, his hands hovering over the massive wound before he pressed down, channeling his power to heal the deep laceration that marred the Radio Demon’s body.

---

As soon as Charlie saw her father’s beam of light in the sky she took off in that direction. The radio tower of course! She slid down some rubble to the base of the tower right when her father exited the door wiping his bloodied hands with a dirty rag. “Dad? Wait, is he?” tears continued dropping from her eyes as she scanned the trail of blood on the floor around them. 

Lucifer smiled sweetly at her. “Check it out for yourself.” stepping off to the side to allow Charlie to pass.

Charlie quickly ran around her father and into the room while he stayed outside. Alastor just started to stand up from where he was lying but ended up getting tackled back down to the floor by Charlie’s embrace.

“Al! I…I thought you were-. I was so scared.” She buried her face in his chest sobbing. Alastor slowly sat back upright with Charlie now straddling him. One hand planted firmly behind him in order to support the weight of the two of them in their current position while the other hovered awkwardly at her side, unsure where to place it.

Charlie's arms enveloped him in a tight embrace, his body stiff with surprise and uncertainty. She was aware that he had never been one for physical displays of affection. But she wasn't thinking, when she saw him alive, she was just so happy.

Not expecting anything in return, Charlie started pulling away not wanting to make him more uncomfortable then he probably was. Before she could get far, she was shocked to feel one of his arms securely wrapped around her waist keeping her close, offering his silent support. This kind gesture made her sink back into him and cry even more, tears of relief and happiness overwhelming her.

As he held her, Alastor's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had never been in a situation like this before. His existence had always been one of power and control, yet here he was, offering solace to someone who wept at the thought of his demise. Lucifer's spawn no less. Charlie's tears eventually began to subside, her sobs turning into quiet sniffles. He removed his arm from around her and placed his hand on the top of her head getting her attention, she pulled back slightly from his chest to look up at him.

“Hello to you too, my dear” Alastor lightly cupped her face his hand wiping a few tears with his thumb. “I’m happy to see you’re okay. Now if you would be so kind and remove yourself from me so I may get up.” Charlie turned bright red once she realized how she was sitting on Alastor jumping up off of him quickly backing away.

Charlie watched Alastor slowly stand up... again... dusting himself off before buttoning back up his shirt that Lucifer had undone from healing him. As he did, Charlie couldn't help her curiosity as she dared to look at his exposed chest. He was more muscular than she imagined. Alastor was always covered up from the neck down, leaving you guessing on how he might look like underneath, now understanding why. Charlie's breath stopped in her throat as she caught sight of the scars that crisscrossed across Alastor's skin. Each scar a silent testament to the pain and suffering Alastor had endured, a stark contrast to the façade of strength he had always projected.

Her heart ached at the sight. The realization of the depths of his past struggles hit her like a wave, leaving her speechless and overwhelmed with empathy. Charlie's eyes traced the lines and patterns of the scars. They seemed to all be at different healing stages, some looking much more recent than others. The amount of pain he had been through...

Alastor looked up to see Charlie staring at him with concern as he was finishing dressing himself “See something you like darling?” Alastor taunted smiling back at her tilting his head curiously to the side while he finished the last of the buttons. Refusing to be caught in another vulnerable position. Even if the subject was a touchy one, he would not show it, not again.

"Yes. Oh... what? Ahhh, I mean no!" Charlie immediately turned three different shades of red, quickly spinning away from him, now talking to the blank wall behind her. "No, not like 'no' like a bad no, it’s just... I didn't... I'm sorry..." she rambled on covering her face in embarrassment making Alastor chuckle softly to himself.

Once Alastor finished straightening himself out, he walked back over to Charlie. Now standing behind her, he gave her a moment watching as she attempted to wipe any stray tears off her face before turning back around to look at him. The redness in her face still present adding to her already rosy cheeks.

No, that's not it. He knows this shade of red. Charlie smiled up at him about to say something but was cut off when Alastor gripped her chin suddenly with his fingers turning her head one way then the other inspecting her face. Something made his own blood sing with excitement. It was the scent of her blood, rich and enticing, calling out to him like a siren's song. Alastor could feel his demonic instincts stirring within him, urging him to take advantage of this opportunity. He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching Charlie's cheek as he inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating aroma.

Charlie's hands shot up gripping Alastor's that was holding her face "Al, What are you-" His crimson eyes darted to Charlie's hand that now wrapped around his bare wrist. She noticed and quickly let go, freeing her face and taking a step back trying to create distance between them.

Before she got far Alastor snatched her arm bringing her hands back in front of him finding the source of this temptation. "Your hurt." he started cutting her off from what she was about to say. Alastor's smile tightened as his eyes locked onto the crimson droplets. 

"It’s nothing." slipping her hands out of his and hiding them from view behind her back. "Just a few scrapes. Others weren't so lucky" tears threatening to return to her eyes. She looked back up at Alastor seeing his usually composed demeanor teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous. "I'm sorry I didn't realize blood affected you this much."

"Charlie," he said, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he chuckled. "You are the only person in Hell who would apologize for being injured." Shaking his head in disbelief, finding her concern for his own reaction ridiculous. "Though the allure of blood may be powerful and even exciting, it does not dictate my actions. I am a demon, not a vampire. So rest assured, I am a master of my own desires."

His words were measured, but each syllable seemed to strain against the restraint he was forcing upon himself. As much as he was tempted in that moment, Alastor was aware this was not the time to give into his demonic cravings. Another time perhaps... 

"I know that you’re not a vampire." rolling her eyes at the comparison.

"Then allow me" holding out his hand to her, now giving her a choice in the matter. Charlie was hesitant before lightly placing her hand back in his, her eyes watching his every move. Alastor rotated her hand so her injured palm was facing up towards him, the scent of her blood still lingering in the air.

Without a word, he reached into his front coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief ripping it into two. Alastor took her hand in his own, his touch surprisingly gentle as he began to carefully wrap the cloth around her wound. His movements were precise and controlled, his fingers deftly securing the cloth in place. Charlie watched him work in silence. She had expected Alastor to be cold and indifferent, but his actions were proving her wrong. 

As he finished bandaging her hand, Alastor met her gaze and gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. "There, all done," he said softly.

Charlie nodded, her expression a mix of relief and confusion. She couldn't quite reconcile the image of the powerful, feared demon with the one who had just shown her a moment of compassion. "Thank you, Alastor," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I appreciate your help." flexing her figures while holding her bandaged hands to her chest.

He nodded in acknowledgment “Come the others will be waiting for you to make your debut.” Alastor announced as he left her side walking toward the broken door, holding his arm out to allow her to walk out first. Acting a bit more like his old self.

Charlie met him at the door and was about to exit when she turned back to Alastor. "Al?"

"Hmmm" Alastor hummed raising one eyebrow in question.

“How did...” reaching out her hand towards Alastor's chest, where she saw his scars, only to stop herself deciding against physical contact. "Who hurt you?" A mix of anger and sadness showing across her face.

Before anything could be said they heard Vaggie yelling from a distance.

“Charlie, you found him!” Vaggie shouted as she and the rest of the hotel residents came running up to Charlie while keeping their distance from Alastor who was now standing behind her.

“My dad found him … actually. Where is my dad anyway” looking around for any signs of Lucifer.

“Really? Anyways come you have to check this out.” Vaggie said ignoring Alastor, grabbing Charlie’s hand, and pulling her back to where the hotel once was.

Husk was the first to say anything to Alastor. “Thought you were dead.” Husk grimaced.

“A lovely thought, I’m sure. Not to worry Husker, I will be around for quite some time.” Alastor smiled cheekily to Husk as Husk rolled his eyes walking away.

Angel walked up to him holding his pet pig in his arms. “You did good smiles. That creepy shadow shield of yours bought us a lot of time to slim down their numbers. Don’t know how we could have done it without ya down at the ground floor.” Angel was about to give Alastor a small pat on the shoulder until Alastor’s eyes shot him a look unsettling enough for Angel's hand to stop short of touching him. "Anyways... Yah uh thanks."

Niffty appeared on Alastor shoulder “I did it Alastor, I stabbed the Angel” a wicked smile spreading across her face while displaying the bloody knife to Alastor showing him a stabbing motion in the air.

“Oh yeah, your little protégée Niffty over here is the one who killed Adam, by the way.” Angel clarified to Alastor.

Alastor's eyes looked surprised for a brief moment before laughing with a more genuine looking smile spreading across his face “Good job” patting her on the head. He picked up Niffty, taking her off his shoulder and placing her back on the ground. “Shame I couldn’t be the one to return the favor. Well Niffty, guess that makes you my competition. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.” He added sarcastically.

Niffty blushed at the compliment as she played with her dress shyly. “Aww thanks Alastor, but you don’t have to worry but that. I would never hurt you, you’re a bad boy.” She giggled.

Angel interrupted, “Come on, let’s go meet up with Charlie and the others” motioning for them to follow.

Once they got to the top of the hill, they were able to see that a new Hazbin Hotel had magically been created where the last one stood. It was twice the size of the original.

Everyone took off running excitedly towards the new building ready to check it out with the exception of Alastor who stayed where he was.

“Well, what do you think?” Lucifer asked Alastor smugly as he walked up and stood beside him. Turning to look out at the new hotel that he just created using his angelic magic.

Alastor placed his hands behind his back “A bit flashy, don’t you think? Could pass off as a casino with the amount of lights you added.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes “Right, so I should have kept it looking like an abandoned Truck stop motel? Cause that’s appealing.”

“And what’s that other tower off to the side of the ‘casino’ I see?” Alastor asked as it was on the other side of the building where his radio tower now stood.

Lucifer smiled. “I was wondering if you would notice that. That is where I will be staying.”

Alastor's face dead panned. “Having doubts on our little deal, are you? Don’t think I can take care of this place.”

“Well, you did such a good job protecting the hotel last time...” Lucifer laughed sarcastically.

Alastor’s smile strained as his eye twitched in annoyance.

“You may not be able to physically hurt Charlie now but that doesn’t mean I trust you. If you weren't about to die on me, I would have added more conditions to our agreement. Your welcome by the way." He added sarcastically. "Besides I will not stand idly by while you crush my daughters dreams for whatever sick reason you or your master have for you being here.”

Alastor’s head snapped at the word ‘master’ but before anything could be said Charlie ran up to the both of them.

“Isn’t this wonderful! Dad, your amazing." Giving him a large hug "I can’t believe you were able to do this! Isn’t it great Al!” Charlie turned and smiled up at Alastor.

Lucifer took a large step forward to stand next to Charlie wrapping his arm around her giving her a small squeeze “Yeah Alastor, how great is it.” looking back at Alastor with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Lovely…” Alastor said in a sarcastic tone walking passed the two of them and towards the hotel.

Notes:

Thank you all for reading my first fanfic. I plan on making this a pretty big story so be sure to save for updated chapters.

Chapter 2: Three's a crowd

Later that night….

“I gotta say, you’re drinking these a little fast, don’t ya think, princess?” Husk muttered, glancing at the clock. “It’s three in the morning. You should get some sleep.”

Charlie stared blankly at her empty glass. Sleep was impossible. The high of opening the hotel had long faded, leaving her with nothing but guilt and the weight of everything that had happened.

“Just one more Husk, I just need one more” Charlie placed her head down on the bar while raising up her index finger to indicate another drink. She felt a glass touch her hand. Not looking to see what was inside as she shot it back. Charlie waited for the bitter sting but instead it was sweetness she tasted. Looking down in the glass she saw bright orange liquid. “What the? Is this juice?”

“Orange juice,” Alastor answered, his ever-present grin in place as he took the glass and refilled it. “You’ll thank me later” taking the empty glass from her hand and filling it back up once more.

“Alastor? When did you get here? Where is Husk?” Looking up confused at Alastor who was standing on the other side of the bar where Husk once stood.

“I sent him away. Is there a reason you are trying to work my employees to death? That’s my job”  He chuckled at his own joke, clearly entertained.

“Oh no.” Charlie groaned, realization dawning. “I didn’t even think about that. Poor Husk, I kept him up all night with my problems… I never thought to ask how he was.”

Alastor waved his hand in the air dismissively. “He’ll live. Why may I ask are you drinking all alone my dear? Where is your little angry shadow.”

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully “Vaggie is upstairs asleep." Charlie rested her chin on the bar again, her voice small. “I just… I couldn’t sleep. I feel like I made everything worse. Our friend is dead because of me. The extermination happened sooner than ever before—twice! People keep pretending everything’s fine, but it’s not. Heaven will come back, and more bloodshed is coming. I just don’t know what to do.”

Alastor said nothing, wandering to the shelves to pour himself a drink. Charlie sat up, watching in surprise as he sipped bourbon from the glass.

“You drink?” 

“Course. Is this not a drink to forget kind of night? Or should I say morning. Yesterday is not a day I care to remember ither.” Alastor carried the bottle and glass to the other side of the bar and sat on the stool next to Charlie. The shift in his demeanor wasn’t lost on her.

Charlie took another sip of her juice not wanting to ask why he wanted to forget. She was sure losing a fight against Adam really hurt his ego, even if she didn’t see it that way. He just seemed more serious than his usually cheery self.

“I wanted to say thank you.” Alastor looked at her questionably from his glass. “You have always been clear on your opinion of this place, yet you still helped despite that. To include risking your own life for us. You always speak your mind and I really like that about you, I never have to guess. It’s refreshing.”

"What you see is what you get sweetheart." he gestured to himself "but based off your expression I take it something happened to make you have this little realization. With your angelic lover perhaps?" Charlie turned back to her juice confirming his suspicions. "Ahh, Trouble in paradise?"

“It's nothing... it’s just... Vaggie doesn’t have faith in this project ither, but she tells me she does and shows support anyway. I know it’s because she loves me, she is trying to make me happy. I mean that’s what couples do for each other... right?"

"What makes you think she doesn't. She seems pretty eager to do your little group activities."

"I overheard her and the others talking the other day when I walked by the lobby. It's fine, no one ever does. I’m used to it...I mean she still supports me, has good intentions, she is doing it for me. But I don't know... knowing how she really feels... why does she have to lie to me about it? Why couldn't she just tell me the truth. First, she felt the need to hide she was an exorcist angel and now this... What else wont she tell me. It's exhausting…"

"Who knows." He shrugged. "Everyone has their secrets. Best not lose sleep over it." refilling his glass obviously tired of hearing about her love life.

“Your probably right, I'm over thinking this. I just feel like it’s been a constant struggle… but whenever I have felt truly lost or needed help with something, even when we don't agree, you are the one who seems too always be there. Always having a way to fix what I broke. So, thank you, Alastor. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.” A little embarrassed from that last comment she quickly looked away from him and fiddled with her juice once again.

“Course my dear, always a pleasure.” he smiled as he continued to drink.

“The more I try, the more I lose.” She sighed “Maybe your right… Maybe this whole thing is a mistake.” Slowly twirling her drink in her glass, lost in thought.

Alastor laughed “Now don’t go and let me win that easy. Where’s the fun in that. Besides I do quite enjoy our back-and-forth banter…. I got to say it would be quite entertaining to be wrong for once.” Tapping his chin pretending to think over the idea.

“Wait? You want to be wrong?” Charlie perked up. “Why?”

“Think of it! Once you prove this hotel of yours works, all of Hell will be at your feet. Sinners will be trying to break down the doors, willing to do anything or make any deal for a chance of redemption.” His smile widening. “and when they do, I will be right there by your side to welcome them as I have been from the beginning… And if not and I’m right with this whole redemption thing failing miserably… well I still get to have fun so it’s a win, win really.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it… I was just hoping -”

“Hope can be a powerful tool, my dear,” Alastor said with a playful grin, his tone dripping with dramatic flair. “So I suggest you use it. If you do, you might just pull this off. Who knows?” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Charlie smirked, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion. “Careful, Al. Sounds like you’re starting to think this is actually possible.”

“HA!” Alastor barked out a theatrical, mocking laugh, spinning his chair to fully face her. “Don’t be getting ahead of yourself, now.” He waved her off with exaggerated flourish, though his grin lingered. 

"Fine. Looks like we will just have to wait and see." taking another sip of her juice.

“Indeed.” Alastor’s expression shifted, as though he were suddenly reminded of something distasteful. “Speaking of, when exactly did your dear ol’ father plan to open this... fine establishment?” He curled his lip as he gestured to the lobby, his distaste for its bright, pristine design practically oozing off of him.

Charlie’s grin widened knowingly. “In about a week. I told him I wanted to go through the hotel first and see if any changes were needed.”

“I can think of one,” Alastor replied, rapping his knuckles against the marble bar top. In a flash, the bar shimmered and twisted back into its former eerie glory: dark wood, green glow, and a slightly unsettling ambiance that clashed beautifully with the white and gold lobby. Alastor’s smile grew wicked as he admired his handiwork.

Charlie just laughed putting down her drink. "Fine, if that's what you wish. You can keep your creepy bar.”

Alastor's eyes raised in surprise "Now that felt a bit too easy, no fight hmm?"

"Nope, you can have it." smiling over at him "You are my partner after all, you get a say in how things are to be run too, not just me. Besides, I want you to be happy here and if this makes you feel at home then it stays, no matter what my dad is going to say about it." giggling as she pictured Lucifer's reaction to seeing Alastor's creepy bar again.

Alastor laughed with her, joining in her fantasy. "My dear, I must say with your passion and my power we make one hell of a team.” Holding up his glass to her.

Charlie smiled bumping her glass against his lightly. “That, I can agree with you on.”

He returned her smile with a smile of his own that looked a bit more genuine than his classic appearance, shooting back the rest of his drink as she took a sip of hers.

The moment of camaraderie faded slightly as Charlie hesitated, then finally asked, “Alastor... Did you make a deal with my dad? I saw the light at the radio station. When I asked him about it, he wouldn’t say.”

For a fleeting second, Alastor’s smile twitched. Way to ruin the mood, Charlie... she thought with a wince. Still, she knew he wouldn’t lie, especially if she mentioned Lucifer’s refusal to answer. If anything, it would prompt him to do the opposite.

“I did,” Alastor said simply, his tone even. She knew it.

“Can you tell me what it was about?”

He poured another drink, his eyes fixed on the glass. “Hardly matters.”

“Please.” Charlie reached out and took his free hand, her voice soft but insistent.

For a moment, Alastor glared at their joined hands, his expression unreadable. Charlie quickly let go, but he finally spoke. “In exchange for my life, I am to protect you, for the rest of mine.”

Charlie looked confused. “So, you have to be around me” she leaned away from him, “you don’t have a choice...” Charlie’s arms wrapped around herself as her voice cracked slightly. “For a moment, I thought maybe you-“. She didn’t finish. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Her horns started to appear as she pushed herself up from her stool. “My dad doesn’t own your soul, but he might as well with a deal like that! I’ll get him to fix this. I’ll make it right—how could he—”

Alastor was the first to initiate physical contact this time. He moved swiftly, stepping in front of her before she could storm off reaching out and cupping her face in one hand, pulling her closer to him.

“As much fun as it would be to see you tear into daddy dearest. I am here because I chose to be. I was at your side before the deal was struck, was I not? This deal means nothing as it changes nothing. Your father will never have any real power over me.” His voice dropped an octave, one eye flashing black as faint antlers briefly grew in his fury. 

Charlie's horns faded as his words sank in, the tension in her shoulders softening. He didn’t want anyone fighting his battles for him... that much was clear.

“But Al... if you’re tied to this deal, you’ll never leave Hell. Even if you could get redeemed...”

“HA! Oh, Charlie...” His smile returned to its usual unsettling mirth, though his tone was gentler. “Always thinking of others, never yourself. Tell me, do you realize what happens if your little plan succeeds? Everyone will leave you. They’ll forget you the moment they reach Heaven, and you...” his voice softened dangerously“...will be alone for eternity. You can’t go to Heaven. You’re Hellborn.”

“Yes… I know what will happen...” Charlie still wanted to help others even if she couldn’t herself. She just never guessed someone else would figure that out as well, at least not this quickly. Charlie turned her head, tears threatening to surface stinging the brim of her eyes due to Alastor’s harsh but truthful words.

But Alastor wouldn’t let her look away. He tilted her chin up with his fingers, his expression unusually serious. “I promise you. I will not leave you. I am one of the worst sinners in this wretched place, and let me make this perfectly clear. I have no interest in redemption. You’re stuck with me, my dear, deal or not.”

Charlie blinked up at him, then impulsively threw her arms around his chest in a tight hug. Alastor stiffened, taking a small step back, clearly caught off guard. After a few seconds, he relaxed, his hands awkwardly resting on her shoulder and the back of her neck somewhat returning the embrace.

“Promise?” Charlie murmured into his chest.

“Uhhh, what the fuck is going on here?” came an angry voice.

Both turned to see Vaggie at the top of the stairs, her glare fixed squarely on Alastor.

Alastor burst into laughter as Charlie stumbled back, flustered. Before she could escape, Alastor rested a hand casually on her shoulder pulling her back into him, smirking. “Ah, right on time! Care to join us? Though I must say three’s a crowd.”

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, you smiling freak!” Vaggie stormed down the steps. “Liquoring her up to take advantage of her... that’s low, even for you.”

“Vaggie, stop!” Charlie pleaded. “I chose to have a drink. He actually made me stop. Al was looking out for me.”

Alastor clapped his hands together with mock delight. “Well, look like my work here is done! As much as I loved our little... chat,” emphasizing the last word, throwing a mischievous glance at Vaggie, “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. I’m off to get some breakfast.” With a hum, he cheerfully strolled out of the room.

Charlie groaned. “Seriously, Alastor...”

Vaggie crossed her arms. “And what, exactly, was that all about?”

“It’s not what it looked like!” Charlie insisted. “We were just talking.”

“Well, it sure didn’t look like it.” Vaggie’s voice softened slightly. “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted a drink? I would’ve come with you.”

Charlie looked down, her voice quiet. “I just... needed a moment to myself.”

“And you invited Alastor? You’d rather have him around than me?”

“No, that’s not it!” Charlie’s voice rose, frustrated. “You’ve been so supportive, Vaggie, but I didn’t want to hear that we’re ‘doing great’ or whatever. This whole thing... it’s fucked up. I needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat things.”

Her words hung heavily in the air as Vaggie stared at her. “That came out harsher than I meant—”

“No, I got it loud and clear,” Vaggie muttered, turning and heading back up the stairs.

Charlie buried her face in her hands. “Shit...”

Chapter 3: Lover’s heart is through their stomach

Thick black smoke choked the kitchen, swirling like an ominous storm cloud. “Shit, shit, shit…” Charlie muttered frantically, flapping a kitchen towel to fan the air. The smoke, however, only seemed to grow thicker, wrapping around her as she started coughing uncontrollably. Before she could make it worse, a sudden surge of shadow magic swept through the room. The smoke halted midair, trapped in place like a frozen wave, before it rushed toward the nearest window and vanished into the night.

“What the—?” Charlie gawked, still coughing lightly, as she blinked through the clearing haze.

“I know the hotel décor is tacky,” a familiar voice drawled, dripping with playful mockery, “but I don’t see the need to burn the whole place down over it.”

Charlie spun toward the sound just as Alastor strolled into the kitchen. His grin was as sharp and smug as ever, though his eyes glinted with amusement as he approached the oven. Without missing a beat, he pulled open the door, plucked out the charred remains of her dish, and set the smoking tray on the stovetop where it could do no more harm.

“I didn’t need saving,” Charlie snapped defensively, crossing her arms as if that could reclaim her dignity. “I had it under control.”

“Clearly,” Alastor replied, unfazed, his grin widening with theatrical flair. He inspected the dish with exaggerated curiosity, his eyes narrowing as if studying an unsolved mystery.

“Though, alas, I fear I arrived too late. Time of death—” he glanced at his wrist, where no watch existed, “—sixteen hundred hours.”

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.” Charlie deadpanned, glaring at him.

“I thought so.” Alastor’s tone was far too pleased with itself as he turned to face her, hands clasped behind his back. “Now, tell me, Princess, what’s got you so frazzled this evening? Aside from attempted arson.”

Charlie sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “I was trying to make dinner for Vaggie. You know… to apologize for this morning. I hurt her feelings, and I wanted to do something nice, but I’ve already ruined it three times.” She gestured at the blackened pan in defeat. “I just… I’m no good at this.”

Alastor chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm in contrast to his usual sharp-edged humor. “Lucky for you, my dear, I happen to thrive in the kitchen.” He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it neatly on the back of a nearby chair. Rolling up his sleeves, more of the faint scars on his arms became visible under the dim kitchen light. Charlie’s gaze lingered on them, but she said nothing.

His attention was entirely on the counter, studying the ingredients she’d laid out. “Well then,” Alastor said, snapping her from her thoughts. “Let’s salvage this catastrophe, shall we?” He reached into a drawer and retrieved a spare apron, holding it out to her with an exaggerated flourish.

Charlie hesitated but ultimately smiled, snatching it from his hand and tossing it over her head. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Alastor stepped behind her, tying the apron strings with surprising care. “Now you look the part.”

He clapped his hands sharply. “But we may require additional assistance!”

At his snap, Niffty suddenly appeared in his arms with a cheerful squeal of surprise. Her confusion lasted all of two seconds before she looked up and grinned. “Oh, hey, Alastor!”

“Ah, my dear Niffty,” Alastor said smoothly, setting her on her feet. “I trust you don’t mind being summoned for a noble cause? You see, Charlie and I will be making quite the mess preparing dinner for your little ‘family.’ I’ll need you on dish duty.”

The words dirty dishes lit a spark in Niffty’s eyes. Her grin turned predatory, showing off far too many sharp teeth. “Bring. It. On.”

“Splendid!” Alastor laughed with genuine delight. “Now then, let’s get to work. Steak, greens, and potatoes?” He gestured to the ingredients Charlie had set out.

“It’s Vaggie’s favorite,” Charlie said, trying to sound confident. “Besides, you can’t go wrong with the classics.”

“Wise choice.” Alastor washed his hands and began organizing the counter, setting a cutting board and knife in front of her. “You’ll handle the vegetables, dear. I’ll handle the steaks.”

Charlie nodded, taking the knife he offered. Her focus shifted momentarily as he returned from the fridge with raw meat in hand. “Uh… that’s not a person, is it?” she asked warily, nudging the meat with her knife tip.

Alastor barked a genuine laugh. “No need to fret! I wouldn’t impose my… dietary preferences upon you. Unless, of course, you’re curious for a taste?” He grinned, devilish as always.

“Pass.” Charlie wrinkled her nose, earning another hearty laugh.

“Suit yourself. Rest assured, I’ll prepare my meal last to avoid contamination. Your food is perfectly safe.”

“Thanks,” Charlie murmured, pulling her hair into a high ponytail before focusing on the vegetables.

The kitchen settled into a surprisingly pleasant rhythm. Alastor hummed an old jazz tune to himself as he worked, slicing the meat with expert precision. Charlie watched him out of the corner of her eye, fascinated. He moved with a surprising calm, almost serene as if this mundane task brought him genuine peace.

Still, his hair kept falling into his face, and Charlie couldn’t help but notice how it slowed him down. Without thinking, she reached out to brush it back.

The reaction was immediate. Alastor flinched sharply, his body tensing as his crimson eyes darted toward her. For the briefest moment, his expression was full of murderous intent.

Charlie froze, her face going pale as her heart pounded in her chest. “I-I’m sorry!” she stammered, stumbling back a step, hands raised defensively. “Your hair—it was in your way, and I wasn’t thinking—I’m so sorry!”

For a heartbeat, his gaze remained hard, unyielding. But then his focus shifted to the fear in her eyes, the way her voice wavered as she tried to back away from him. The anger in his expression faltered. Before she could retreat any further, he reached out snatching her wrist. Charlie gasped, startled, as he tugged her back toward him, just close enough to bridge the space she’d tried to create. Her wide eyes flicked up to his face, finding it no longer furious but guarded.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said, his voice low, though the earlier edge was gone. “I don’t take kindly to being touched.” His gaze lingered on her.

Charlie swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “I know, it's a bad habit. I’m sorry—”

“But…” He hesitated, the word almost reluctant as his grip on her wrist softened. Slowly, Alastor guided her hand back toward him, pressing her palm lightly against his cheek. His crimson eyes met hers, searching, watching. “It’s different when it’s you,” he murmured, quieter now, the anger long faded. “You just startled me. That’s all.”

Charlie blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Her fear melted away as his meaning sank in, replaced by a tender understanding. Slowly, her fingers curled against his cheek, brushing lightly along his jaw.

After a moment, she slid her hand up pushing his bangs out of his face, offering him a small, warm smile. “Let me help you,” she said softly meaning it in more than one way.

Alastor watched her for a moment before kneeling down on one knee before her. Charlie’s hands were steady this time as she carefully ran her fingers through his unruly hair, smoothing it back. Gently, she gathered the strands, pulling them away from his face before securing them neatly with her own hair tie.

“There,” she said with satisfaction, stepping back to admire her work. “Now it won’t get in your way.”

Alastor reached up, fingers brushing over the small bun now resting at the back of his head. “Well, would you look at that. Much obliged, my dear.”

The peaceful moment was shattered by a shrill voice calling out from the other room.

“Alastor! Is something burning?” Niffty’s voice rang through the air.

Alastor and Charlie froze, their eyes widening in unison before snapping toward the stove.

“NO! The potatoes!” Charlie shrieked, lunging forward to pull the pan from the oven. Smoke billowed up as she wrestled with the half-burnt potatoes.

Alastor’s booming laughter filled the kitchen as Charlie stared at the charred remains, looking on the verge of tears. “Fourth time’s the charm, my dear!” he teased, clearly amused.

“That’s not funny!” Charlie shot back, mortified. Tears stinging the back of her eyes.

Alastor stepped beside her and plucked a scorched potato from the pan, popping it into his mouth with a theatrical hum of approval.

“Don’t eat that—!” Charlie protested, covering her face with her hands.

Ignoring her protests. “Delicious,” he announced, grinning as he chewed. “Just add a little salt. Good as new!”

Charlie groaned "you don't have to do that..."

Alastor just grabbed a second potato for good measure, winking at her, then turned his attention to the meat still cooking on the stove. “Now, my dear, are you going to let a few burnt potatoes ruin dinner? Or are you going to help me cook this thoughtful meal for your beloved.” He held out his hand, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Charlie hesitated before sighing, defeated. She took his hand reluctantly, and Alastor guided her back to the stove, positioning himself just behind her. Step by step, he talked her through seasoning and cooking the meat properly, his tone surprisingly patient as he gave instructions.

The smell of the food had clearly drawn an audience. Husk, Angel Dust, and Lucifer all entered the kitchen.

“What smells so good?” Husk asked, sniffing the air.

Alastor started rolling down his sleeves discreetly once the others made there presence known. Charlie noticed and decided to stall to give him some more time to get situated. Smiling proudly she turned addressed the group. “Alastor’s teaching me how to cook!”

Lucifer crossed his arms, his tone flat. “Is he now?”

Once done adjusting his sleeves Alastor quickly turned around. "Indeed. Charlie is has quite a natural talent, truly.” resting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, only for Lucifer’s sharp gaze to zero in on the contact.

Angel Dust chimed in with a smirk. “Hey, what’s with your hair?”

Alastor’s grin stretched unnaturally wide as his eyes flickered to radio dials, his head tilting with a spine-snapping crack. “Oh? What about it?”

Husk elbowed Angel sharply, muttering code for shut the hell up. Angel straightened, laughed nervously under Alastor’s predatory gaze. “N-Nothin’! Looks fantastic!”

Lucifer ignored the distraction, eyes still locked on Alastor as he turned toward his daughter with a forced smile. “What’s on the menu, sweetheart? It smells… divine.”

“Thank you! It's Potatoes, roasted vegetables, and steak! Vaggie's favorite. Just needs one more thing..." holding out her hand in his direction while inspecting her potatoes in thought. "Dad, can you hand me the salt.” 

"Course." Lucifer stepped forward, but before he could react, Alastor was already there, appearing at her side in a blink handing her the salt with a sickeningly cheerful grin.

“Thank you, Dad,” she murmured absently, taking it without looking up.

Lucifer’s expression froze, the slight twitch of his eye betraying his rage. Alastor straightened and slinked back beside him, bending just enough to whisper smugly into his ear, “She calls me Daddy too.”

The sound of Lucifer’s teeth grinding together was audible in the small kitchen. His eyes blazed as his voice dropped to a lethal growl. “Oh, you’re dead.”

Angel Dust and Husk froze like deer in headlights. Without exchanging a word, they turned on their heels and slipped out of the kitchen, clearly eager to avoid the fallout.

Charlie, oblivious to the growing storm, turned with plates balanced on her arms. “Dad, can you take these out to the dining room?”

Lucifer forced his face into a tight smile, barely masking his anger. “Of course. I’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, wait—not this one!” Charlie interrupted, snatching a plate back. “This one is for my beloved (referencing Vaggie).” She teased, echoing Alastor’s earlier dramatic phrasing as she held the plate aloft for her father to inspect.

Lucifer’s lips parted as if to respond, but before a word left his mouth, Alastor swept in. “Why, thank you, my dear!” He snatched the plate with practiced flair.

“Hey! What? … I cooked your dinner?” Charlie stumbled over her words trying to figure out what just happened.

“Course, and you’ve done it beautifully,” Alastor praised with an impish grin, ignoring Charlie’s protests. Turning back to Lucifer, his grin widened, eyes flickering briefly with something darker. “The rest of your fine cuisine awaits in the dining room, courtesy of dear Niffty. This one, however, is… tailored to my taste.”

Lucifer’s expression deadpanned now understanding what he was insinuating. “You’re disgusting.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Alastor laughed, rich and theatrical, as though Lucifer’s anger were nothing but fuel to his fire as he turned back to Charlie. “Now then, my dear, you’ve done it! A fine meal to win back your beloved angel. As my mother always said, ‘The way to one’s heart is through the stomach!’” As Alastor winked playfully and popped another burnt potato into his mouth, following the rest of the hotel residents to the dining room.

Chapter 4: Family Pet

Alastor was lounging on the couch with Niffty perched happily on his lap, her small hands cradling a bowl of popcorn. She was fully engrossed in the flickering TV screen while Alastor, disinterested in the so-called picture box, read from a leather-bound book in his hand.

“What’s going on here?” Angel Dust’s voice rang out as he swaggered into the lobby, freshly back from work. He dropped himself dramatically into a nearby chair with a sigh, phone in hand.

“We’re watching my favorite movie,” Niffty replied wickedly, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“Oh yeah? Which one?” Angel asked, only half-interested as he glanced toward the TV. His lazy smirk vanished immediately, his face twisting in confusion and horror. “Wait... what the hell am I looking at? Is that what I think it is?”

“Human Centipede,” Husk answered flatly, padding into the room with a beer in each hand. He passed one to Angel and plopped himself down on the floor by the chair to watch alongside him. “It only gets worse from here.”

Angel blinked, then snorted with a devilish grin. “Kinky,” he laughed, accepting the beer and taking a swig. After a beat, he turned toward Alastor, squinting suspiciously. “Hey, wait a second. I thought you didn’t watch TV.”

“Oh, worry not,” Alastor said without looking up from his book, holding it up as proof. “I have no interest in these moving pictures. I’m simply fulfilling a promise to Niffty here after she assisted me with dinner this evening. Quality time and all that.”

Angel snickered. “Right, right. though I gotta ask, why’re you always so nice to the ladies but not us guys, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say he’s nice to us ladies,” Vaggie chimed in coolly, approaching from behind the couch, arms crossed and brows raised.

Alastor finally lowered his book just enough to glance at her, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Well, my dear, I don’t exactly consider you much of a lady.”

Vaggie bristled, her eyes narrowing as she opened her mouth to fire back.

“Shush!” Niffty hissed suddenly, glaring at both of them. “The best part is about to start!”

Before Vaggie could retaliate, Charlie entered the lobby with a bright smile. “What are we watching?” she asked, scanning the room. She shot Vaggie a playful grin, clearly on good terms with her again after dinner. When no one immediately answered, far too distracted by the grotesque scenes unfolding on screen. Charlie shrugged and decided to join the chaos anyway.

With a mischievous laugh, she vaulted over the back of the couch and plopped down next to Alastor. “Oh! Didn’t see you there, Al. Wait, I thought you didn’t like movies.”

“SHHH!” Niffty snapped, far more aggressive this time.

Charlie blinked at her, startled. “Right. Sorry.” She turned her attention to the TV just in time to catch a particularly horrific scene. Her expression crumbled instantly. “Oh my God, what is that?!” she cried, slapping her hands over her eyes.

“The best part!” Niffty cackled darkly, popcorn spilling in her excitement.

Vaggie, alarmed, tried to intervene. “Babe, don’t!” she said, stepping forward to shield Charlie from the screen.

But it was too late. Charlie peeked between her fingers, only to recoil again with a groan of disgust. “Ugh! There’s no way you actually enjoy this!” In a panic, she turned to the closest source of comfort. Unfortunately for Alastor, that meant burying her face into his sleeve, clutching at the fabric like it would save her from the horror.

Alastor flinched, momentarily stunned by the unexpected contact. His crimson eyes flickered down at her, then upward to meet Vaggie’s furious glare from behind the couch. Ever the opportunist, Alastor let a devilish smirk play across his lips, pointedly flashing it at Vaggie before turning his gaze toward the TV. His eyes narrowed with curiosity as he finally decided to look at the screen.

The scene held for a moment, and then his face split into a wide, toothy grin. “Hmm,” he mused aloud, his tone dripping with mock fascination. “Perhaps this picture box isn’t so terrible after all. How… creative. One could almost take notes on how to torment another soul.”

Charlie’s head snapped up, horrified. “Don’t you dare!” she scolded, shooting him an accusatory glare. Only then did she realize just how close she’d gotten to him and what she’d done to his pristine suit. The once smooth fabric was now wrinkled where she’d gripped it.

“Oh no. Sorry! …” Embarrassed, Charlie quickly let him go and sat upright, awkwardly smoothing her hands down the front of her shirt. Her face was flushed as she tried to focus anywhere but on him.

Alastor simply chuckled, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve with exaggerated nonchalance as he turned back to his book, unbothered.

There was a sharp knock on the door, cutting through the tense, horror-fueled atmosphere of the room.

“I’ll get it,” Angel Dust muttered, dragging himself up from his seat as the others remained transfixed by the grotesque scenes unfolding on the TV. “Geez, nobody wanted a redemption arc until we iced a couple of angels. Now all of Hell’s suddenly interested. Don’t they know we ain’t open for another week?” he grumbled to himself on the way to the door.

Angel swung it open with a practiced flourish. “Hello, welcome to the—Holy hotness!” His cocky demeanor shattered as he stared up at the tall, slender blonde standing before him. She radiated an aura of power and elegance, the kind that could silence a room without a word.

“That’s a new one.” The woman smirked, stepping past him with effortless confidence. “I like you.”

Angel, dumbfounded, could only blink as she strode into the lobby.

“...Mom?”

At Charlie’s breathless exclamation, the entire room stilled.

Alastor froze mid-page, nearly dropping his book. Sensing his sudden tension, Niffty quickly leaped from his lap and scurried over to Husk’s side. Uncharacteristically rigid, Alastor silently rose to his feet and withdrew to the far side of the room.

“Charlotte, darling,” the woman cooed, arms outstretched as she approached Charlie. “It’s been so long. Look at how much you’ve grown.”

Charlie ran into her mother’s embrace, stunned. “I can’t believe you’re here…” She pulled back, looking up at Lilith’s immaculate face.

“Can’t a mother come to see her daughter?” Lilith replied, though her eyes wandered across the room, clearly surveying the hotel with little interest in the reunion.

“Of course! It’s just been a while…” Charlie said quickly, her cheerful tone faltering. She straightened up with a nervous smile. “Oh! Let me introduce you to everyone! This is my girlfriend, Vaggie. Vaggie, this is my mom—Lilith.” Charlie pushed a reluctant Vaggie forward.

“Uhh, hello… Your Majesty,” Vaggie said, giving an awkward wave.

Lilith’s gaze barely flickered over Vaggie, her smile thinning as she sized her up. Turning to Angel “And you are?” she asked dismissively, ignoring the greeting with Vaggie entirely.

“That’s Angel,” Charlie said hastily, attempting to regain control of the moment. “He’s one of our guests! And over there are Husk and Niffty. They help run the hotel.”

Lilith’s demeanor shifted as her gaze landed on the two of them. A slow, wicked smile curled her lips as she began walking toward them. Husk, instinctively cautious, bowed low, his expression unreadable. At the same time, he reached behind him, gently pushing Niffty back.

"He's got you two playing house, I see." Before Lilith could close the distance, both figures melted into the shadows and disappeared.

“What the-?” Charlie turned sharply, scanning the room. “Where did they go?”

“Perhaps another time,” Alastor’s voice called smoothly from across the room, though there was a notable edge to his tone. "They have a job to do, after all." He remained standing tall in the far corner, arms behind his back, eyes locked on Lilith. Alastor's grin was intact, but something about him was off.

Charlie’s stomach twisted with unease as she glanced between her mother and her friends. She stepped forward to regain Lilith’s attention. “Mom, why don’t we go out somewhere and catch up? I know a really good place—”

Lilith ignored her, her sharp gaze landing directly on Alastor. “Unfortunately, Charlotte, I’m here on business, so I cannot stay long.” She began moving toward him with slow, deliberate steps.

Charlie’s breath hitched as she watched the way Alastor’s entire presence shifted the moment her mother made her way over to him. Normally, he carried himself with unshakable confidence, always the first to speak, to introduce himself with that ever-present grin. But not this time. He wasn’t cowering—no, he still stood tall—but something was off. The unshakable confidence he always carried, the same boldness that allowed him to challenge Lucifer without hesitation, had dulled under Lilith’s presence.

His eyes flicked to the side, deliberately avoiding her stare, his grin still intact but stretched thin, as if forced. His ears dipped slightly, betraying the tension he refused to show outright. He wasn’t broken, wasn’t weak—but for the first time, he wasn’t in control. And that alone sent a chill through Charlie.

Lilith closed the distance between them. Slow and possessive, her fingers traced over Alastor’s shoulders as she circled him, savoring the way his body stiffened beneath her touch. The only sign of protest was the sharp, nearly imperceptible flinch when her hands slid around to the front of his neck as she stood behind him. Her touch was deceptively light, almost affectionate, but there was no mistaking the underlying threat woven into the gesture. Her thumbs ghosted over the pulse of his neck in a mockery of tenderness.

“My dear,” she purred near his ear, her voice rich with amusement, “it’s been far too long.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with unspoken tension... until Charlie shattered it. “You two… know each other?”

Lilith didn’t turn right away. Instead, her smirk widened as she dragged her nails lazily down Alastor’s collar as if dusting off an old trinket. “Of course,” she cooed, her tone laced with something wicked. “He works for me, after all. A pet, if you will.” As she spoke, a deep violet chain flickered into existence around Alastor’s neck. It pulsated faintly before vanishing just as quickly. 

Charlie’s breath hitched. “What?” she whispered, her wide eyes darting between them. But Alastor refused to meet her gaze, his face an unreadable mask.

Lilith sighed as if bored, finally releasing him with an elegant flick of her fingers before turning toward the grand staircase. “Now,” she continued, her voice light and airy, “where is your father? I have business with him.”

Charlie clenched her fists at her sides as anger bubbled in her voice. “How could you? You’re supposed to help people in Hell, not imprison them! Release my friend. Now!”

Lilith slowly turned to face her daughter. Her once amused expression darkened. “You’re telling me what to do?” she murmured, somewhat surprised. “I thought we were past this rebellious teenage phase. We rule Hell, Charlotte. They serve us. Not the other way around.”

Her gaze flickered toward Alastor, eyes gleaming with something cruel. “Besides, this thing doesn’t have friends. You’ll understand in time.”

With a lazy flick of her wrist, Lilith snapped her fingers. Instantly, the violet chains surged back to life, crackling with dark energy as they tightened around Alastor’s throat. The searing burn of the chains cut deep, agony lacing through him like wildfire. The length of the chain slithered like a living serpent, coiling effortlessly into her grasp.

Before he could react, she let it slip from her fingers, allowing it to drape beneath the sharp heel of her shoe. Then, without hesitation, she pressed down. The sudden force sent a brutal jolt through the chains, yanking Alastor forward with merciless strength and wrenching him to the ground.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as his knee crashed against the polished marble, pain ricocheting through his body like a bolt of lightning. But he swallowed it down, refusing to give her—or anyone else—the satisfaction of hearing him falter. His gloved hands curled into fists so tightly that his nails nearly bit through the fabric, as he fought against the instinct to recoil from the searing burn of the chains around his neck.

Every muscle in his body locked into place, his spine rigid, his jaw clenched to the point of aching, determined to mask the agony coursing through him. Even as he was forced into a kneeling position before the queen, his glare remained sharp, burning with quiet fury beneath the weight of his restraint.

Something inside Charlie snapped. Her pupils sharpened into slits, red-hot fury igniting in her veins as she stormed forward, her power crackling around her.

“Stop it!” she snarled, her voice shaking the air like distant thunder.

Before she could reach her mother, a firm grip caught her arm.

“Toots, don’t,” Angel murmured, his usually carefree voice unusually tense.

Lilith smirked at the exchange, her cold amusement returning. She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head as if scolding a child.

“It would be wise to listen to your spider friend,” she said coolly.  For a moment, the glow of the chains dimmed the torment subsiding. Alastor slumped forward slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, shoulders trembling from the effort of suppressing the agony.

Lilith sneered down at him, tilting her head as if admiring a fine piece of art. “I must say, you look much better down there, dear.”

The sound of footsteps broke the suffocating tension. All eyes turned as Lucifer appeared at the top of the stairs, his usual cheerful grin faltering at the sight before him.

“Lil?” His voice wavered between confusion and joy. “You’re back!” His arms opened as if he might welcome her, but his smile faded completely as he took in the room. His gaze locked on Alastor kneeling at Lilith’s feet, the faint glow of purple chains wrapped around the demon’s neck like a collar. 

“What’s… going on here?” Lucifer asked, his tone careful now. His crimson eyes darted between his wife, Charlie’s furious expression, and Alastor, who still knelt silently, eyes to the floor.

Lilith tilted her head toward her husband, an elegant smile curling her lips. With a wave of her hand, the chains vanished, leaving faint wisps of smoke drifting up from where they had burned into Alastor’s neck. “Can’t a wife come home to see her family?” she replied smoothly, ignoring the heavy atmosphere she had left in her wake.

Lucifer stared at her for a moment, his brows furrowing. “After seven years?” His tone was part jest, part accusation, though his eyes flicked to Alastor once more, suspicion bubbling beneath the surface.

“Well,” Lilith sighed, brushing a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. “I may have gotten a bit… sidetracked.” She turned fully toward Lucifer now, her tone shifting as though she were discussing a casual errand. “As good as it is to see you, darling, I’m afraid I’m here on business.” Her voice dropped to a more serious lilt. “We need to speak. In private.”

Lucifer glanced around the room again. “Right,” Lucifer said, full of unease. “Of course. We’ll… talk in my office.” Lilith gave an approving nod, striding toward the stairs without another glance at anyone else.

As Lilith and Lucifer vanished down the hall, Charlie wasted no time rushing toward Alastor.

"Alastor!"

Her voice was urgent, but before she could reach him, his hand shot up, halting her in place. Still kneeling, he dragged a shaking hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in the now-ruffled strands. A low chuckle bubbled from his throat, void of its usual mirth, as if in disbelief. His grin remained sharp and unwavering, but his eyes were now black.

For a moment, he remained motionless, his breaths still uneven as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His movements were stiff, as though forcing his body to obey him despite its protests. He reached up, straightening his suit with a harsh tug, though the action did little to restore his usual pristine appearance. The sharp scent of iron lingered in the air as blood seeped through the crisp collar of his shirt where the chains had burned him. Yet he didn’t so much as wince. His expression remained eerily composed, a fixed grin stretched across his face, though the darkness in his eyes was telling.

"I think it’s best if you all leave. Now." His voice was dangerously quiet.

His eerie calm made the air feel heavier. Angel and Vaggie stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. Neither spoke, but both silently turned toward the exit, instinct guiding them to leave before the inevitable explosion.

But Charlie remained rooted in place.

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not leaving you.”

Alastor’s gaze flicked to her, a flash of irritation crossing his features. 

Angel gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice softer than usual. “Sweetheart, you’re not gonna like what you see.” His expression darkened. “If you try to stop this, she’ll only make it worse for him. Trust me.”

Charlie hesitated. A painful memory flickered in her mind as she remembered trying to help Angel from Valentino in a similar situation. Her throat tightened, but finally, she gave a small, reluctant nod, hugging herself as Angel let out a breath of relief. He cast Alastor a knowing glance before gently guiding Charlie and Vaggie toward the door.

Once the room was empty, Alastor moved to the base of the grand staircase. He stood there, motionless, his shoulders squared, his posture unwavering. His shadow stretched unnaturally long across the floor, curling at the edges like living ink. It pulsed with a quiet, sinister energy, mirroring the fury he refused to show.

He waited for Lilith’s return, his smile carved into place like a mask.

---

Husk and Niffty were already waiting outside the hotel when the group stepped out. Charlie began pacing back and forth as she wrestled with her thoughts.

“Babe, there’s nothing you can do,” Vaggie said softly, trying to reach her. “Alastor made the deal. He only has himself to blame.”

Charlie stopped mid-step, her golden eyes glistening with frustration. “She’s my mother, Vaggie! The woman I grew up idolizing is in there right now, torturing my friend, and there’s nothing I can do about it. How am I supposed to feel about that?!” Her voice cracked slightly as she went on. “I don’t know why Alastor sold his soul, but that doesn’t mean he deserves this. None of you do.”

The group fell silent as the weight of Charlie’s words settled over them. Sometime later, the gilded doors of the hotel creaked open, and Lucifer himself stepped out. Charlie rushed to him, grabbing his hands in hers.

“Dad!” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please, please tell me what’s going on.”

Lucifer’s usual smirk was absent, his expression somber as his gaze shifted briefly to the others. “Perhaps we should talk in private, Charlie.”

Charlie shook her head, stepping back and glaring up at her father. “No. Right here. Right now. Where is Alastor?”

Lucifer exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly under the weight of his words. “With your mother.”

“You’re the King of Hell, do something!”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, but there was an edge of steel in his voice. “Your mother is within her rights under our laws, Charlie. I cannot interfere. Besides… he’s a traitor.”

Charlie froze, staring at her father as if he had just struck her. “A traitor?”

“Yes,” Lucifer continued, voice grave. “He betrayed you, Charlie. He sabotaged your hotel and lied about his true intentions. He placed doubt in your mind, convinced you to go against Heaven, and ultimately, set your dream on a path to ruin. He did that.”

“No,” Charlie said firmly, stepping closer to her father. “I did that. Standing up to Heaven was my decision. Alastor only offered a way to do it where we actually had a chance at winning. But the choice was mine. The consequences, those are on me.”

Lucifer’s lips parted slightly as if to respond, but Charlie wasn’t finished.

“And if doubting my dream makes someone a traitor, then all of you are guilty!” she snapped, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “Because I’ve seen it, every look, every whisper behind my back"

Vaggie reached for her "Charlie..."

"Vaggie, stop." Charlie snapped as angry tears started stinging her eyes. "No one here believes in redemption, and that’s okay. I've accepted that a while ago. But you do not have the right to stand here and accuse another person for something you all have been doing this whole time as though it is a crime. At least he doesn't lie about it. No one here thought they could actually get into heaven, yet you still fought for the hotel, for me, because you are my friends. And I am so grateful for that. Alastor included, he was fighting by our side the whole time. Why is he now the enemy? Because my mom said, he was?"

Charlie stopped shouting and ran her hand down her face, trying to calm herself. She turned back to her father, "I don't know why he made a deal with mom... but actions speak louder than words," she said, recalling what Rosie said to her back in Cannibal town. " And Alastor has proven himself with his actions. He is my friend, and I trust him. I will stand by him, as I will stand by all of you. You guys are my family."  

Lucifer shook his head disapprovingly. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but I don’t see what you do. All I see is a demon who came here to hurt you and destroy your dream. Once your mother is done with him, he’ll leave and never return."

Charlie’s eyes flared with renewed fury. “What you see? You weren’t even here until yesterday!” She stepped closer, voice sharp. “Who says Alastor has to leave? You? No! This is my hotel. I decide who stays or goes. Besides, your deal with him won’t even let him leave my side, will it? Or have you forgotten that?”

Lucifer’s face darkened in frustration. “Of course, he told you…” he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, “I only made that deal to keep you safe, Charlie. And judging by today, I made the right choice.”

“Safe from who, Dad? From him? Or from Mom?” Charlie challenged. “I can take care of myself! If you’re so worried about Alastor being here, then release him from your deal.”

Lucifer’s expression hardened. “I won’t. He’s still a threat. As long as he stays here, so does our deal. I won’t cave on that, Charlie.”

Charlie glared at him, tears welling in her eyes again. “Then you’re just as bad as she is.” Without another word, she turned and stormed off, disappearing around the side of the hotel.

Vaggie started to follow, but Lucifer held up a hand, stopping her. “Let her go,” he said quietly. “She needs a minute.”

Vaggie hesitated before nodding, casting a worried glance in the direction Charlie had gone. The group stood in silence, the weight of the confrontation still hanging heavy in the air.

Chapter 5: Apple doesn’t fall far...

Notes:

FYI: *** MATURE*** Extreme Violence/ Dark themes ahead.

Charlie still had no idea what was truly happening, but one thing was certain, she needed answers. Even if she couldn’t intervene directly, she would at least figure out what was going on behind the scenes. Quietly, Charlie made her way around the hotel, keeping out of sight of anyone who might be watching. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached a side door, and with a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure no one saw her, she slipped back inside.

As soon as she entered, she froze, hearing the faint sound of her mother's voice somewhere ahead. She held her breath, straining her ears to catch the conversation's words. Staying low and moving as silently as possible, she crept down the hallway, following the sound of Lilith’s voice until she found herself standing near a door.

She glanced through the crack of the door leading into an adjacent room. The dim light filtered through, casting long shadows on the walls. She could just make out the figures of Alastor and Lilith inside, talking in hushed tones. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat as she leaned closer to the door, staying perfectly still so she wouldn’t be noticed. 

Lilith’s hands glided over Alastor’s shoulders, her fingers plucking at an invisible imperfection on his otherwise immaculate coat. 

“So, tell me,” she mused, feigning idle curiosity, “how is my daughter faring these days?”

Alastor stood motionless in the center of the small room, his posture unnaturally rigid. His expression betrayed nothing, his gaze locked on some distant point beyond her, refusing to acknowledge her presence. Lilith’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, his silence only amused her further.

“I sent you here to keep an eye on her,” Lilith purred, her voice dripping with venom as she circled him slowly. “To make sure this ridiculous little hotel of hers crumbled into nothing. But instead, I find that you openly endorsed it. Not only did you fail in your task, but somehow, some way, you managed to pull Lucifer out of hiding." She closed the distance between them, her eyes burning with icy fury.  "And now, the King of Hell is back in my daughter’s life, where he doesn’t belong.”

Alastor’s grin remained, but there was a tension beneath it, a telltale sign of restraint. “I did exactly what I was instructed to do,” he replied smoothly. “I watched over Charlie; she remained safe during the battle, did she not? As for the hotel, it was destroyed. The fragile hope it sparked, crushed, even if only for a fleeting moment.” He gestured around the room, his hands moving in a fluid, almost theatrical motion. “As far as this hotel's… rebirth? That’s not within my capabilities. I did exactly as instructed.” He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenching just enough to betray the frustration he felt at being forced to acknowledge his limitations.

Lilith chuckled, the sound rich with amusement as she trailed a single fingertip along the line of his jaw before stepping back. “Clearly,” she murmured, “or my magic would have already reduced you to dust.” She tilted her head, her piercing eyes scrutinizing him. “And yet, despite your failure, you’re still breathing.” Her lips curled in satisfaction. “Your knack for reading between the lines never ceases to impress me.”

She took a deliberate step closer, her voice lowering ever so slightly. “And what of Lucifer? Care to explain how he became entangled in our affairs?”

“I tried to keep him away. But he is the King of Hell, after all.” 

“Spare me the excuses. Manipulation is your forte, deary. Lucifer never cared before. Yet you baited him, quite expertly, I’ll admit.” Her gaze narrowed. “He’s still here because of you. As long as you make yourself appear a threat to my daughter, Lucifer will linger. You want him here, don’t you? That’s why you stay so close to her, why you keep the game going. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Keeping Lucifer around will not save you from me.”

Before he could respond to her, Lilith’s hand grabbed a fistful of his hair. Alastor hissed through clenched teeth as she yanked his head back to look up at her. Leaning in close, her lips ghosted near his ear, her words a venomous whisper. “I came to see you home. You can imagine my shock to discover you chose to stay here of all places after Adam’s extermination.” She tilted her head, her grin growing crueler. “And then there’s the matter of the deals. Making bargains in my absence with my husband, no less.”

Alastor’s eyes flicked sideways to look at her, his expression carefully neutral, though a glint of unease shone in his gaze.

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d find out about that?” Lilith teased mockingly, leaning in closer still. “I have eyes everywhere.”

She released his hair, and then suddenly, glowing purple stitches appeared across Alastor’s face, sealing his grin shut in a grotesque mockery of a smile. Followed by shimmering puppet-like strings that materialized out of the air, stabbing into the joints of his limbs. Alastor flinched involuntarily, his body jerking as the strings embedded themselves deep into the joints of his extremities. He let out a painful yell, but the sound was muffled behind the tight threads. 

Once secured, the strings shot upward, their ends tethering themselves to the ceiling as though an invisible puppeteer had claimed him. The force dragged him upright and held him in place, his limbs suspended awkwardly in a twisted marionette pose.

Lilith flexed her fingers in the air, her movements slow and deliberate, as violet magic crackled and swirled around her fingers like smoke. Without warning, the back of Alastor’s coat shredded open, fabric tearing as jagged wounds ripped through his flesh. Blood spilled freely, trailing crimson down his spine and pooling onto the floor. Muffled screams echoed through the empty halls as Alastor struggled against his bindings, his body twisting in agony.

For several minutes, Lilith simply watched, her expression one of cruel satisfaction as she drew invisible lines through the air, each gesture carving fresh lacerations across his body. Every twitch of her fingers added to his torment, more blood blooming across his torn skin.

Charlie stood frozen behind the door, her wide eyes locked on the scene unfolding before her. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, her breath hitching as she reached for the handle, every instinct screaming at her to do something—anything—to stop this. But just as her fingers brushed the cold metal, she hesitated. If she stepped in now, her mother wouldn’t just punish him; she’d kill him, and it would be her fault. Swallowing back a sob, she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, the weight of her own helplessness suffocating her.

Eventually, Lilith paused, her gaze sharpening as though considering something new. Alastor’s body sagged forward, his limbs trembling, but the strings embedded in his joints held him upright like a broken puppet. “Unless...” she mused aloud, her tone dripping with mock curiosity, “it’s not yourself you’re trying to protect.”

At that, Alastor’s crimson eyes snapped upward, the flicker of recognition betraying him. Lilith’s laughter rang out, dark and triumphant. “Oh, wait! Could it be? You truly care for her?” She clutched her chest as though the thought was some grand comedy. “You? you, of all creatures? I expected you to use my daughter against me, perhaps to try to twist her into your little schemes. But to actually care?”

Snapping her fingers, Lilith loosened the stitches that sealed Alastor’s mouth shut. The glowing threads unwound, leaving faint marks in their wake. Alastor coughed harshly as the cold air hit his lungs again, now heaving with labored breaths.

Lilith’s cruel smile returned as she paced before him. “No,” she said, shaking her head with exaggerated pity. “That’s not it. I know you. Perhaps a fascination, or even an obsession, but you? Care? Impossible.” She chuckled softly, as though reassuring herself. “To think I thought you a master of manipulation, yet here you are, my daughter playing you like a fiddle. The apple doesn’t fall far, does it?”  her voice mocking. “Why is it you cling to her then? There must be something to gain, or you wouldn't still be here. What? Hoping she can save you from yourself with her redemption plans?” 

Alastor didn’t answer at first, his head bowed as he fought to steady his breathing. Blood trickled from his mouth as his eyes turned black, the scarlet glow of his irises now burning like embers in a pitch-black void. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and steady. “There is no saving me.” He spat blood onto the floor before tilting his head up to meet her gaze. His usual eerie smile twisted into a sneer. “I did come here with every intention of using your daughter against you,” he admitted, his voice laced with a demonic distortion that crackled like static. “In every way imaginable.” His restraints creaked as he leaned forward, the strings groaning under the pressure. “I was going to make you, Charlotte, and your entire family suffer as I have. Pain you could only dream of inflicting.”

The air in the room grew heavy as static filled the space, a deafening hum that reverberated off the walls. The shadows around Alastor seemed to stretch unnaturally, distorting the light.

Through the narrow gap Charlie continued to watch the scene unfold, her stomach churning violently. It wasn’t just Alastor’s words that left her feeling ill... it was him. She had never seen him like this. He always wore his power like a mask, his sinister nature cloaked in jokes and laughter. But now, as he stared down her mother with pure malice she could see the truth. This was him. This was the Radio Demon.

Lilith, however, remained entirely unfazed. She turned to face Alastor with a smirk of smug indifference. “I don’t know about that. I do have quite the imagination, as you will find out,” she said smoothly. “You speak so confidently with that silver tongue of yours, but I can feel it.” Her hand shot out, grabbing his face harshly. “Your fear.” Her voice dropped into a hiss. “You cannot hide behind that smile from me.” Shoving his face away. “For someone who claims to want revenge on my family, you seem to be failing spectacularly. Not only are you bound to me, but you’re also in a deal with my husband to not harm my only kin. Meaning you can’t so much as touch us. Not exactly off to a strong start with your grand revenge plans, are you?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Maybe,” he said darkly, “but I’m not the only one bound by a deal. Am I?”

The smirk fell from Lilith’s face instantly, her eyes flaring red. “It would be wise to remember your place. Shall I remind you?” she seethed.

Before Alastor could respond, she closed her hand into a tight fist. Suddenly, agony erupted through his body. Alastor screamed, his voice twisted and raw as he thrashed against his bindings. His limbs convulsed violently, the puppet strings pulling taut to hold him in place. His head jerked as if trying to escape the searing pain radiating through his skull, but his restraints offered no mercy.

Charlie pressed herself against the cold wall, her trembling hands clasped tightly over her mouth to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. Her wide, tear-filled eyes stared at the floor as Alastor’s muffled screams echoed through the crack of the door, each cry twisting like a knife in her chest. The sound of her mother’s cruel laughter mingled with the agonized wails. She wanted to run, she wanted to do something... but her body refused to move, paralyzed by the horror of what she was hearing.

The torment continued for what felt like an eternity until, finally, Lilith released him. Alastor slumped forward, his body trembling, blood dripping steadily onto the floor from his limbs. He coughed again as more blood spilled from his mouth.

Lilith’s crimson eyes slowly faded as her usual calm returned like a veil settling over her face. The sharp click of her heels echoed ominously through the silent room. “Defiance.” Her voice was smooth, almost sweet. “The downfall of every sinner who thinks they’re strong enough to bite the hand that feeds them… 

With an elegant motion, she conjured a thin-edged dagger. Twirling it once between her fingers, she toyed with the idea of using it. Lilith strode to the front of Alastor, her heels clicking softly against the blood-stained floor.

“You’ve always been stubborn, Alastor. You must know... I do love breaking strong spirits. But now look at you. Reduced to this.” Her violet eyes swept over him in his disheveled state, the blood dripping steadily from his mouth, the tremble of his shoulders as he stood, his strength spent. 

Despite everything, Alastor lifted his chin just slightly as a faint glimmer of defiance. “I'm not broken,” he croaked, though his voice faltered under the weight of his own words.

“No?” she murmured sarcastically. "You never know when to give up, do you? There’s something so delicious about watching someone so stubborn, so relentless, come apart piece by piece.” With slow, deliberate care, she pressed the dagger’s tip against his shoulder just hard enough to bite through the fabric of his torn suit. Alastor flinched involuntarily at the sting but quickly stilled himself. He refused to meet her gaze, his head turning slightly away as he tried to gather what scraps of composure he still had. “It’s a shame, really. I used to admire that defiance. It made you... Entertaining.” Her blade traced along his collarbone, the edge leaving a shallow line of red in its wake. “But I must admit, this broken look suits you better.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it,” he growled weakly, though it lacked the menace he once commanded.

Lilith chuckled softly. “Kill you?” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Not yet.” Her tone oozed delight, like a cat toying with a mouse on its last breath. “Tell me what stopped you. You had your chance, didn’t you? To ruin everything, to shatter my precious little plans, and get your revenge. And yet… here we are.” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “What changed, Alastor?”

His silence stretched on, a defiance that only seemed to amuse her as she turned the dagger’s tip to his throat. A drop of blood welled up where the blade dug in enough to remind him of his position.

“Speak,” she ordered. “And do be honest, dear. I’ll know if you’re lying.” She placed her hand on his chest, purple smoke curling from her fingers, tendrils seeking his heart like an ethereal lie detector.

Alastor inhaled shakily, eyes glancing down to his chest before choosing his words carefully.  “She… wasn’t you.” 

Lilith’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. “You’re going to have to speak up, deary. You know how I detest mumbling, so improper.”

His eyes rose to meet hers at last, dark and furious despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “I expected you,” he spat, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. “Another scheming, heartless puppet willing to trample anyone for power. But…” 

Lilith’s smile curled wickedly, her amusement only deepening at his outburst. “Oh, how touching,” her voice laced with condescension. “Innocence? Is that what stopped you? You, the butcher of hundreds, the monster of the bayou. Suddenly struck by a pang of morality? Tell me, did this epiphany come when she smiled at you? When she dared to call you a friend?” 

Alastor scoffed as if that was an outrageous accusation. Lilith’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but this time, she didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

Alastor’s scowl deepened at her silence, irritation gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He could feel her watching, waiting, letting the weight of his own thoughts sink in. Her usual sharp tongue was absent, and that, more than anything, unsettled him.

His fingers twitched, clenched just enough to keep them from shaking. “You knew,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. The realization settled in his chest like a stone.

Lilith tilted her head slightly, her smirk unwavering.

Alastor let out a sharp, humorless laugh, though there was no real amusement behind it. “You knew I wouldn’t hurt her.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the bitterness in it was razor-sharp. It wasn’t an accusation. It was a fact. One she had counted on. His mind reeled, piecing together the cruel joke she had orchestrated from the start. Sending him to watch over Charlie was no risk to her. No, Lilith had known exactly what she was doing. She had set him up and played him like a puppet.

And the worst part?

It had worked.

Lilith’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she leaned in closer, the dagger still resting lightly against his throat. “Oh, my dear,” she murmured, her tone soft but no less sharp. "You’re finally starting to understand.” She removed the blade and stepped away from him.

“You think I’d send a mindless brute to deal with my daughter? Someone who might actually harm her?” She gave a soft, mocking laugh. “No, my pet. I wouldn't leave my legacy up to chance. I know you.” She punctuated the words with a tilt of her head, as though this truth should have been obvious all along. "You are predictable, dear. You thought you were pulling the strings, didn’t you? Working your little angles, playing your games in the dark. But you were never the player here. For all your horrors, all your little games, there’s a line you have yet to cross. Oh, you’ll toy with the damned and crush the desperate, sure, but her?” Lilith’s voice softened mockingly, almost tender. “No. She’s different. Innocent. Because for all your twisted charm and blood-soaked history, you hesitate when faced with something that doesn’t belong in Hell...”

Alastor’s expression felt as though it may crack as the realization sank in like ice water. 

“You’re a scalpel, not a hammer. The perfect tool to carve apart my daughter’s hopes without even shedding blood. Why send one of my dogs to rip her apart when I could send you, the great Radio Demon. You’re approachable, with that whole charming, old-school Southern veneer of yours. With a few sly words, you can weave a web no one seems to be able to escape from in order to do your bidding." She gestured toward him with a languid wave of her hand.  "Redemption? A hotel for sinners? Laughable. All it needed was a little push, a gentle unraveling, and you’d leave her with nothing but ashes. Simple. So I thought.”

She stopped in front of him, her gaze narrowing. “But instead of destroying her silly hopes, what do you do? You let her con the con artist. The great manipulator, outplayed by a child. How quaint. Not only did you fail to destroy her dreams, but you also handed her more power than she ever had. Lucifer.” She said his name with a hiss. “You pulled him into this with your games, and now he’s here, meddling in things he’d otherwise ignore. Because of your incompetence, a sinner has been redeemed."

Alastor’s grin wavered ever so slightly at this new information, though he still tried to appear unbothered tone slick with false bravado. “Redeemed?” he echoed, his voice raspy, still raw from the blood pooling in his throat. “Well, now. One sinner making a spectacle hardly warrants worry.”

Lilith’s violet gaze narrowed, “You think this is just about one sinner? About some meaningless act of redemption?”

Alastor’s grin twitched, but he held his ground, his curiosity outweighing the tension in his battered frame. “Enlighten me,” he challenged, his tone thinly veiled mockery. “I fail to see why it matters who lights the fire. Your daughter is just a spark, after all. If she ignites the war, isn’t that what you’ve been after? Heaven will fall by Morningstar’s hand, whether it’s yours or hers.”

Lilith’s eyes flashed with disdain, and in a blink, her hand shot out, seizing Alastor’s jaw with enough force to make him wince. “You think small, my pet,” she hissed, her nails digging into his skin. “This isn’t about starting a war. It’s about control.” She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his face. “If her foolish little plan succeeds, if sinners actually believe they can be redeemed, then they will turn to her.”

Alastor’s eyes flickered, a hint of surprise betraying his composure as he processed her words. Lilith’s grip only tightened, sensing his understanding deepen. “Hope, no matter how small, is a poison. It spreads like wildfire, infecting even the most damned. And hope doesn’t bring them to me. It doesn’t strengthen my rule. No, it gives them something else, a choice." Her voice dripped with loathing as she continued. “If sinners see her as the path to salvation, then her name will rise. Do you understand now? This isn’t about the war with Heaven. It’s about making sure I am the one who rules when the ashes settle.”

Lilith released him with a sharp push, letting his head drop forward as though she found him beneath her notice. “Her delusions are dangerous,” she said coldly, straightening as she turned her back to him. “They breed weakness, and weakness has no place in my kingdom. Now, I’ve had to make… other arrangements.

Alastor’s eyes darted up from the floor at that, his smile hardening as he processed her words. “Other arrangements?” he repeated, his voice tight. “And what, exactly, does that entail?”

Lilith’s lips curled into a cruel smile, but she ignored his question. Instead, she strode back toward him, her imposing figure casting a long shadow over his slouched form. “What it means,” she said sharply, “is that I can no longer afford failure. Not from you. Not from anyone. The yearly exterminations have left us weak, Hell's ranks decimated. Time is something we cannot afford now, and neither is failure. That is where you come in.”

Alastor’s expression hardened, saying nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. 

She watched him with the cold amusement of a queen addressing a disobedient servant. “You know, Alastor,” she mused, her tone deceptively light, “you’ve always been one of my favorites. Efficient. Unwavering. Reliable.” She clicked her tongue. “But this… this has been a rather disappointing misstep, wouldn’t you agree?” She lifted a hand, lazily brushing a stray hair from his face, as if he were something that needed polishing. “Your absence has been costly. Do you have any idea how much you’ve set me back? No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Alastor remained rigid, his grin unwavering, but she could see it in the way his fingers twitched. He was listening. 

Lilith’s smile widened. “Since you seem to have forgotten where your priorities lie, let’s remind you, shall we? We’ll triple your quota of souls from our last agreement.” She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. “A bit steep, even for an esteemed Dealmaker such as yourself, but necessary, given your… prolonged absence.”

Alastor said nothing, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He knew there was no arguing with her. Not now. Not when she had already made up her mind.

Lilith leaned in just enough to drop her voice to a near whisper. “You’ve lost my favor, dear. But don’t worry.” Her fingers trailed over his collar before she stepped back, her expression sharp with expectation. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to earn it back. You see, I am never letting you go.” Lilith’s eyes gleamed with victory. “Lucifer may have you as my daughter's little lap dog, but don’t delude yourself. Once he’s finished playing his little games, you're coming back to me. Your soul is mine to do with as I please.”

She snapped her fingers, summoning a chain of deep purple flame that materialized around his neck. With one sharp tug, she yanked his head up, the links biting into the flesh of his chin as blood dripped to the floor. “You will work in the shadows, as you do so well. You will bring me those souls, Alastor. Do not fail me again. And just so we’re clear…” Her voice softened dangerously as she grabbed his face, her nails grazing his jaw in mock affection. “If even a whisper of our conversation leaves your lips, you’ll lose your tongue. Do you understand?”

“…Crystal,” he rasped.

Lilith’s smile widened, and she patted his cheek condescendingly. “Good boy.” Purple smoke coiled and swirled around them, curling through the cracks in the stone like living shadows. The infernal chains binding their deal solidified with a sinister hum, sealing the deal.

In the other room, Charlie flinched as the smoke crept under the door, shivering as faint tendrils wrapped around her, sealing her into the deal as well.

Lilith lingered over Alastor, her face mere inches from his as she tilted her head mockingly. “You’ll never escape me, my dear.” Then, with a cruel smirk, she leaned forward and pressed a mockingly tender kiss to his lips, the gesture more suffocating than affectionate. “Understand.”

“Yes… your Majesty,” Alastor replied, his voice hollow as he bowed his head down to her. The grin on his face was more masked than ever before.

Lilith finally stepped back from him satisfied. Her form dissolved into a cloud of shadow and smoke, leaving the room to silence as Alastor’s restraints disappeared with her.

He collapsed onto the floor, crumpling beneath his own weight, the blood dripping steadily from his limbs pooling beneath him. For a moment, the only sound was his shallow breathing, ragged and strained, as he forced himself to sit upright on his knees.

Slowly, the static hum returned as he slammed his fist into the ground with a demonic roar shattering the tiles beneath him. The echoes of his frustration filled the room, mingling with the crackling buzz of his own power, but no matter how loud it grew, it couldn’t drown out the hollow truth gnawing at him—

He had never been in control.

Charlie heard everything, forcing her hands over her mouth to silence herself through the entire ordeal. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned against the door, frozen. It wasn’t until the oppressive silence filled the air that she dared to move. She listened carefully, ensuring her mother had left, before quietly letting out a shaky breath. Her sobs finally escaped as she slid down the door and crumpled to the floor.

In the other room, Alastor flinched. The sound of Charlie crying pierced through his clouded thoughts. With great effort, he pushed himself up from where he’d slumped. His trembling hands smeared crimson streaks against the wall as he steadied himself, gritting his teeth through the pain. Forcing his legs to move, every step toward the door feeling heavier than the last. When he finally reached it, he paused, leaning against the door frame as his gaze fell on her.

Charlie sat curled up on the floor, her arms clutching tightly around her knees. Her sobs were soft but relentless, shaking her body while her face hid behind strands of golden hair. The sight bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake…” he muttered under his breath

Alastor exhaled before he slid down the wall to sit beside her on the floor, leaving a smear of blood where he leaned. He hesitated slightly before carefully draping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to him. She blinked and glanced up, startled to see Alastor sitting there with her. He looked like death itself, but the faint shadow of his usual grin still lingered on his face. She didn't say anything right away as she turned into him and started crying into his chest, gripping at what was left of his coat.

Alastor’s own breathing was unsteady as he patiently waited for Charlie to calm down before speaking.

“So,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “You know then.”

Charlie stiffened but nodded into him. “Yes,” she choked out. She finally looked up at him properly, her eyes red and full of despair. “I saw everything.”

Alastor grabbed her chin as he always did to get her to look at him. His smile was still present, though smaller and strained. “Smile, my dear,” he said, his tone carrying a broken sort of cheer. You should be celebrating. After all, you were right.”

Charlie understood that he was referring to her hotel having been successful in redeeming a sinner but he was unable to talk about it. She blinked up at him, incredulous. “That’s… that’s what you got out of all of this?” she asked, a mix of disbelief and helpless laughter breaking through her tears.

“Course, though now it looks like I owe Husker some money,” Alastor chuckled faintly in response, though it dissolved into a painful, rattling cough. 

She rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips as he tried, absurdly, to lighten the situation. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Charlie’s brows furrowed. His grin looked so forced, so wrong, and made her heartache. Without thinking, she ripped a strip of her sleeve, moving closer to him. “Hold still,” she murmured, reaching to dab at the blood trickling down his face.

He flinched at her contact, his hand instinctively snapping up to grab her wrist, though the strength behind it was shaky at best. “Stop fussing, dear,” he said weakly, his grin flickering with exasperation. “It’s nothing. Niffty can stitch me up later good as new. Practically superficial.”

“Nothing?” Charlie snapped, pulling her arm free as she shot him an incredulous glare. “This isn’t nothing, Alastor! You’re—” Her voice caught in her throat as she carefully pushed back what remained of his tattered coat. Her eyes widened at the sight of his skin beneath, scarred, battered, marred with old wounds. Too many. Her hands trembled as the reality of it sank in. “How many times has she done this to you?” she whispered, her voice small and broken.

Visible threads flashed across his face as he looked away, unable to physically answer her question. Charlie stopped asking about her mother, knowing now that he was under her deal, it would only cause him harm. “This whole time … I had no idea…. I have so many questions... but… I don’t even know where to start.” She looked at Alastor, who still didn’t look at her.

“Good,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’m not feeling particularly talkative at the moment.” As he started closing his eyes halfway from exhaustion.

Charlie made mental notes of things she wanted to ask later about on what she overheard but didn't want to push it right now seeing the state Alastor was in. She started thinking out loud, “What... I don't understand. Is that what she and my dad were talking about? Does he also want to stop the hotel from reopening?”

Alastor said nothing looking back at her, offering her no answers, no explanations. He simply sat beside her, his bloodied body slumped against the wall, gently wiping any stray tears that were on her face with his hand as he sat there listening to her speak to herself.  

She continued. “That’s what my dad wanted to talk about outside... about how sinners can be rede-"

Alastor cut in abruptly, his voice sharp. "Careful, my dear," he warned, stopping her before she could continue.

Charlie glanced at him, concern flickering in her eyes. "Right... the deal! I won't, I promise. But... Umm... Al, I was engulfed in magic from the deal as well." She spoke slowly, processing the implications of her own words, making Alastor's expression shift from annoyance to subtle worry.

"Are you sure?" his brow furrowed in confusion, not realizing that she was bound to the same deal he was.

"Yeah," Charlie replied thoughtfully. "So, if we're both in the same deal, we should be able to talk about it, right? But if I say anything to anyone other than you..." She trailed off, letting the weight of her words settle.

Alastor nodded curtly, his finger gently pressing to her lips to stop her from saying any more. His usual confident demeanor now seemed tinged with a faint edge of concern.

Charlie carefully took his hand that was on her lips into her own. "Okay. Al," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I promise I won’t tell a soul about what was said. You don’t have to face this alone. I’ll protect you. Even if this is all I can do for now, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We will figure something out."

Alastor’s expression quickly hardened as his eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sharp, bitter smile. "HA. Protect me?" His voice cut through the air, the amusement in it hollow. "My dear, you forget who I am." Abruptly, he pulled his hand away from her.

Charlie’s gaze softened, but her resolve didn’t waver. "I know you're powerful, Alastor. But everyone needs someone to watch their back sometimes, even you."

"Do not patronize me!" His voice snapped, colder now as he leaned back, eyes flashing dangerously. "I am not some fragile creature in need of your pity or protection."

Charlie stood her ground, her voice rising to match his. "It’s not about pity, Alastor," she shot back, her voice unwavering. "It’s about caring for someone. I care about you, and I don’t want to see you hurt."

Alastor scoffed, his tone dismissive as he turned his head. "Your sentiments are misplaced," he muttered, the words dripping with disdain. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

Charlie’s voice softened her words to barely a whisper. "Maybe so..." She wrapped her arms around herself, the weight of his words heavy on her, but she didn’t back down. "But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to help."

Alastor observed her carefully, his eyes narrowing as he searched for any hint of deception. But this was Charlie... He knew she never lied about her intentions. That very honesty only fueled his anger further, his antlers beginning to grow larger as his emotions stirred. "If you only knew what I was going to do to you... what I could do to you... to hurt her..." 

Charlie, still sitting in front of him, watched the internal battle unfolding within him. His eyes flickered wildly as if he were reading something in front of him she couldn't see. Without thinking, she reached out to him, her hand hovering near his arm. "Al, I—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Alastor’s arm shot out, grabbing her by the neck with a brutal force that sent her crashing onto her back. Hovering above her, his other hand braced against the floor next to her head, he leaned in close, his face twisted in something dark and unreadable.

He applied just enough pressure to hold her down but not enough to choke her. Charlie’s heart raced, but she didn’t react outwardly. She lay there, frozen in shock, her wide eyes watching him as he stared down at her throat, calculating. His claws dug lightly into her skin, the sensation sending a cold shiver down her spine. It was as though he was deciding whether to kill her or not, and Charlie could feel the weight of that choice in the air.

"I don’t have a heart," he muttered, his voice eerily hollow as if he was speaking to himself more than to her. His eyes shifted into red radio dials, his appearance becoming more unsettling as blood trickled from his mouth, splattering onto her cheek. The static grew louder, warping his voice until it sounded even more demonic as if the Radio Demon himself had completely taken over. "I could still hurt her now. Destroy her legacy. I could do it."

Charlie remained still, her hand moving gently to rest on his wrist around her neck. Her touch was light, unthreatening, and calm as she met his gaze with a quiet understanding. "I know," she whispered, her voice steady despite the threat above her. She didn’t pull away; she simply waited, letting him make the choice.

For a long moment, Alastor’s eyes stayed locked on her throat. The tension was thick as he fought the impulse to squeeze harder. Then, slowly, his gaze shifted, meeting her eyes. Charlie smiled patiently, clearly making peace with whatever he was about to do.

The change in Alastor was immediate. His grip suddenly released as if he had been burned, and he leaned back against the wall, no longer looking at her. Charlie sat up carefully, rubbing her neck where his hand had been.

"Your faith in others is insufferable," Alastor muttered, his eyes glancing her way, but only briefly. "Did... did I hurt you?"

Charlie shook her head slightly, still trying to calm the lingering shock in her chest. "No, just a bit startled is all... Why—"

Alastor's eyes drifted away again, his focus entirely elsewhere. "There’s no point in killing you while your father’s deal is in place," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I’m trapped in service to you Morningstar's."

"You are under no obligation to me," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "Your deal with my dad might have you ‘protecting me,’ but I trust you, not because of some deal, but because you are my friend."

Alastor’s expression hardened, but his voice trembled with a bitter edge. "You may think we're friends, but you'll learn to hate me too. It's only a matter of time." He attempted to push himself up to leave, but the effort was too much. He coughed up more blood, his body failing him as the toll of his injuries caught up with him. "Damn it..."

Charlie quickly grabbed his arm to stop him from struggling. "Stop." Her grip was firm, and she looked at him with unwavering determination. "I won't let you push me away like that. How could I ever hate you for something you never did? What you planned on doing and what you actually did are two different things. You’ve never hurt me. Not even now. You could have left us on Extermination Day to die, but you didn’t. You stayed. You protected us all. Even with my mother’s deal in play, you still found a way to help. That doesn't sound like someone without a heart to me."

Alastor shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from her once more clearly flustered by her words. "I didn't do it for them!" he snapped, confusion and frustration boiling over. His voice faltered before he laughed bitterly. "Yet I failed at that too. Defeated by a... sloppy playboy with a guitar. I underestimated him, just as I underestimated the Queen." His voice dropped low as if admitting a secret he couldn't bear to acknowledge. "She won. She always wins. I should have died in that radio tower."

Charlie couldn’t hold back any longer. She leaned in close and grabbed his face gently, forcing him to look at her. "Hey! The Alastor I know would never give up so easily. I won’t let you doubt yourself because of my mother’s mind games. The only reason any of us are here is because of you. We wouldn’t have stood a chance without your help. You saved me, Al. Look, I don’t care what your plans were to get back at my mother. After what I just saw, I wouldn't blame you. But I want you to know I trust you, Alastor. Even after all that. I will find a way to get you out of this. We’re in this together. You and me."

Alastor’s smile was strained under the weight of his discomfort, though he tried to mask it with his usual bravado. “Do as you wish, but don't expect any thanks from me.”

Charlie’s response was soft and genuine. Her smile tinged with a quiet understanding as she let go of his face. “I don’t need your gratitude, Alastor,” she murmured, her gaze falling to her hands clasped in her lap. “I just want you to be safe.” It didn’t matter to her whether he acknowledged her efforts or her sacrifices. All that mattered was that, in his own guarded way, he was starting to let her in.

Just as she convinced herself the moment had passed, Charlie felt a subtle shift. Her breath hitched as Alastor’s gloved hands moved toward hers, slow and deliberate. For a fleeting second, she thought he might pull away—but instead, his fingers curled gently around hers, his touch uncharacteristically soft. Before she could react, he guided her forward with an effortless pull, closing the space between them. Then, without a single word, wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against his chest. The gesture was neither theatrical nor forced,

“Alastor?” she whispered, uncertainty lacing her voice as she tilted her head, trying to look up at him. But his arms tightened ever so slightly, keeping her close and tucked against him. It was clear he didn’t want her to see his face, not yet.

Sensing his unspoken need, Charlie didn’t press him. She let herself relax into his arms, her head resting lightly against his chest as her breathing fell into rhythm with his. Enveloped in his embrace she nestled securely in his lap, allowing herself to simply exist in the quiet, unspoken solace between them.

Chapter 6: Crimson Water

After several minutes sitting in Alastor’s lap Charlie started to feel Alastor’s blood soaking through her clothes and his breathing becoming more labored. “We need to treat your wounds.” She whispered unsure if it as okay to look up at him yet. “Would you like if I go grab Niffty?”

Alastor adjusted slightly, allowing her to move freely again. His eyes were tired, but his usual composed demeanor remained intact. “Yes. Husk too, if you would be so kind.”

“Course”. Charlie carefully got off of Alastor "I'll be back" she promised before heading down the hall. Her steps quickened as she approached the front doors, her urgency mounting. When she came outside everyone was looking at her horrified.

“Husk, Niffy” Charlie called, motioning for them to follow her.

“Charlie! Are you okay?” Vaggie intercepted her, grabbing her arm firmly.

No, she wasn’t okay, not even close, but she couldn’t focus on herself right now. “I’m fine,” she lied, her voice strained. “Why?”

“WHY! Look at you, your covered in blood. What happened?”

Charlie glanced down at herself, finally registering her appearance. Her clothes were soaked with Alastor’s blood, her shirt sleeve was torn, and her eyes were puffy from crying. I guess it did look bad...

“Why were you inside the Hotel?” Lucifer asked the concern on his face matching Vaggie’s while looking over his daughter for injuries.

She ignored her father’s question “The bloods not mine. We have to go. Alastor’s badly hurt.” Turning sharply, she led the group back down the hall. When they neared Alastor’s room, she stopped and turning back to the others.

“Just Husk and Niffty.” Opening the door slightly, she addressed them with a quiet plea. “Please, help him.” She stepped aside, allowing them to enter, then closed the door behind them. Alastor is not one to show weakness, there was no need for everyone to see him in this state.

Angel peeked into the adjacent room, his eyes catching the dark stains across the floor. “Holy shit. Is all that his?” he muttered, pointing to the blood splattered everywhere. “What the hell happened in here? What did she do to him?”

Charlie flinched at his words, her expression blank as she moved to a nearby closet. Without a word, she pulled out a bucket and a brush, her hands trembling as she began scrubbing at the blood.

Vaggie ran to her “Babe, stop. Your clearly in shock. Let’s get you cleaned up, I’ll help you.” Taking the brush away from Charlie. 

Charlie stared at her for a long moment before nodding silently. She allowed Vaggie to take her by the hands, leading her down the hall. But before they got far, Husk appeared at the door, his expression grim. "Princess-."

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Charlie pulled away from Vaggie and rushed back into the room, closing the door behind her. Vaggie stood alone frozen in the hallway, her chest tightening as she watched Charlie disappear once again.

---

“What happened?” Charlie’s voice cracked as she stared at the dark puddle of blood where Alastor had been sitting. Her eyes darted to where he now lay crumpled on the floor.

Husk spoke up, his tone gruff but urgent. “I was trying to get him to the bed, but he collapsed. I can’t lift his lanky ass on my own. I need help.”

Charlie didn’t hesitate. She ran to the other side of Husk, positioning herself so they could each take one of Alastor’s arms over their shoulders. Together, they heaved him onto the bed, his weight heavier than she expected.

“Thanks, Princess,” Husk huffed, wiping his brow.

Charlie’s gaze lingered on Alastor’s pale face, her voice barely a whisper. “Husk, is he…?”

“He’s alive,” Husk interrupted quickly, his tone firm. “But we need to stop the bleeding, or he won’t be for long.”

“Right.” Charlie darted into the adjoining bathroom, returning moments later with towels and a bowl of steaming water. She placed them on the bedside table, her hands trembling.

“Thanks,” Husk said as he grabbed the supplies. “Now go get some rest. Me and Niffty will take it from here.”

“What? No, I can help.”

“Doll, you’re shaking.” Husk gently grabbed one of her blood-streaked hands, holding it up to show her. “You’re running on fumes. We’ve got this. I’ll come get you when he’s up, okay? But you need to clean up and rest.”

Charlie clenched her fists, her knuckles white, as she tried to steady herself. The frustration boiled beneath the surface, but she couldn’t deny the truth in Husk’s words. Finally, she nodded and turned away, leaving the room.

Her feet carried her down the hall toward the kitchen, her movements automatic as shame crept into her thoughts. Why am I shaking? I’m not the one dying. I should be helping, but instead, I’m too scared to do anything. I’m useless.

At the sink, she turned on the tap, letting the water run until it was clear and cold. She plunged her hands beneath it, watching the crimson streaks swirl and disappear down the drain. She scrubbed at her hands, the motions growing faster as images she couldn’t suppress resurfaced—Alastor’s body torn and bleeding, the sound of flesh ripping, his wide, lifeless eyes staring, hands tightening around her neck.

“What are you doing in here?” A voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, but she couldn’t respond. The images wouldn’t stop. Red. Blood. Flesh. His screams. Her hands moved faster, scrubbing harder.

“Charlie, stop!” The voice was closer now, and then arms wrapped around her, one pair encircling her waist, another gently pulling the scrub brush from her hand. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Angel said softly, his voice stripped of its usual sarcasm. He turned her around, his eyes scanning her arms and hands for injuries.

Charlie stared blankly as Angel inspected her hands. They were rubbed raw, red and swollen, but he’d stopped her before she could break the skin. She felt nothing, no sting, no ache. Just a hollow numbness that spread through her chest.

“Charlie, talk to me,” Angel urged, his voice filled with concern. But she didn’t answer. She couldn’t. All she could do was stand there, silent, as the shame and helplessness consumed her. "Want me to take you to your room? I think Vags is there now." he asked quietly. Charlie just shook her head 'no' looking away from him. "Okay... let's get you out of your bloody clothes at least. Look you can have my jacket to cover up" Taking it off and setting it over a chair. Charlie nodded as she turned her back to Angel, he did the same in order to give her privacy without leaving the room in case she needed him. She tried to unbutton her blouse but was shaking so hard she couldn't undo the buttons. Angel as able to hear her struggling.

"Listen toots, I can help you if you like. I'm not into girls or nothing like that, if that changes anything. If not I can undo a shirt with my eye's close. Hell I have had enough practice at it." He half heartily laughed trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't care about that… I just..." Charlie hugged herself feeling her bloodied shirt cling to her skin clenching her eyes shut even more as memories flooded her head.

Angel noticed her reaction and moved in front of her and started unbuttoning her blouse, quickly stripping it off replacing it with his pink stripped jacket. As soon as it was buttoned up he hugging her with all four arms. Charlie broke down crying into him as he held her. She sank to the floor as Angel lowered himself with her so they could sit together.

“I didn’t do anything. I just watched… as my mother—” Charlie choked on her words, unable to finish. Her body shook as sobs wracked her chest. “I should have… I should have done something.”

“There was nothing you could do,” Angel said softly, pulling her closer. “You need to understand—you did the right thing by not interfering. If you had, she might’ve killed him outright. Trust me on this.” His voice held a rare note of sincerity. “I’m sorry you had to see… whatever she did to him. But because of you, he got medical attention quickly. Husk’s patching him up right now, and soon enough, Smiles will be back to torturing all of us with his bad taste in music and those awful dad jokes.”

Charlie let out a shaky laugh into Angel’s chest, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Hey, I like his dad jokes.”

Angel grinned. “You’re the only one, toots.” He chuckled, holding her as they sat there quietly, her breathing slowly evening out. After a while, he broke the silence. “Alright, come on.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet. “When I’m having a rough night, I grab some treats and watch a movie in my room. That’s where I was headed before all this. Wanna join me?”

Charlie gave him a small but grateful smile. “Thank you… for everything. But I think I should check if they need help.” She glanced at her hands, relieved to see they were no longer shaking.

“Fair enough.” Angel shrugged, heading to the fridge and grabbing a box of popsicles. “You know where to find me. Let me know if you need me, yeah?”

“I will,” Charlie promised as Angel left the kitchen, humming softly to himself.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. Pull it together… for Al. No more tears. She turned and made her way back down the hall to the room where Alastor was. Quietly opening the door, she slipped inside.

Husk had just finished wiping away the last traces of blood, while Niffty snipped the glowing green thread on Alastor’s stitches with her teeth.

“All done!” Niffty chirped, hopping off the bed. She admired her handiwork with a satisfied smile. “Perfectly even stitches, if I do say so myself!”

“Good,” Husk grunted. “Now we wait.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Charlie said, stepping further into the room. Both of them turned, startled, having not noticed her come in.

“Oh. You sure?” Husk asked, his expression skeptical.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m okay now, really.” Charlie gave him a weak smile, doing her best to look steady and confident.

Husk raised an eyebrow, glancing at the coat draped over her shoulders. “Wait… is that Angel’s coat?”

“Yeah. He lent it to me so I could get out of my dirty one.”

Husk rolled his eyes with mock exasperation. “I swear that man’s on a mission to get everyone out of their clothes.”

“Has he gotten you out of yours yet?” Niffty teased with a mischievous giggle.

Husk’s eyes widened in horror. “What? No! Shut up!”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh softly at their banter. “I’ve got this, Husk. Promise.”

Husk gave her a long look before nodding. “Alright. Yell if you need anything.” He ushered Niffty toward the door. “Come on, you troublemaker.”

Once they were gone, the room fell silent again. Charlie walked to Alastor’s side, gently pulling the blanket up higher on his chest, though his arms remained outside. She hesitated before taking one of his hands in hers, her fingers trembling slightly as they entwined.

“I’m so sorry, Al,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I promise I won’t leave you.”

She sat beside him, holding his hand as the weight of the night settled over her.

Chapter 7: Scars

Charlie had been sitting by Alastor’s bedside for hours, her head resting on the mattress, her thumb tracing gentle circles over his hand. The quiet of the room was broken by soft mumbling. She lifted her head, her heart skipping as she saw him in a cold sweat, his face twitching as though caught in some nightmare.

"Al?" she whispered, her voice low but steady. He didn’t respond, his murmurs growing more frantic. The room seemed to darken as eerie, glowing symbols floated into existence, swirling around them.

"Al, wake up! It’s just a dream, wake up!" Charlie shook his shoulders lightly, trying not to hurt him. Suddenly, Alastor shot upright with a sharp gasp, the movement tearing some of his stitches. His wide, unfocused eyes darted around before locking onto her. He flinched, backing away in panic, his breathing ragged.

“No, don’t— I’ll kill you!” Alastor’s voice trembled with horror as red flames ignited in his hand. But before he could move, his shadow surged forward, coiling around his arm to hold him down, suppressing the fire.

“It’s okay. It’s me. Everything is going to be okay,” Charlie said softly, her voice breaking as she saw the fear and confusion in his eyes. “Please, Al… come back.”

Gradually, the glowing symbols faded, and Alastor’s breathing slowed as reality began to take hold. He blinked, scanning the room before his gaze landed on Charlie. Confusion clouded his expression, and then his eyes dropped to his restrained arm. The faint glow of the flames reflected in his pupils as he realized his shadow had acted on its own. With a flick of his fingers, the flame disappeared, and the shadow melted seamlessly back into the room.

“Get out,” Alastor whispered hoarsely, his eyes fixed where the shadow had vanished.

“What?” Charlie froze, her hand reaching toward him instinctively, only to see him recoil, his flinch stopping her in her tracks.

“Get out!” he barked, his voice rising with desperation. The force of it made her jump, but she didn’t move.

Charlie glanced at the door, hesitating, but then turned back to him. “No. I will not go.”

Alastor’s expression twisted with frustration and guilt. “I could have killed you,” he snapped, swinging his legs off the bed as though ready to leave himself.

“But you didn’t,” Charlie countered, stepping in front of him to block his path. “It wasn’t your fault. You were sleeping.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Charlie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head against her shoulder. Alastor stiffened at the unexpected contact, his arms hanging at his sides. He did not return the embrace, but he didn’t push her away either.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” she murmured, her voice soothing and gentle. “Your shadow wouldn’t have stopped you if you had. You don’t need to explain.”

Alastor remained motionless, his head leaning lightly against Charlie's shoulder, his body trembling faintly. She couldn’t tell if it was from the nightmare, anger, or the pain of his injuries. Attempting to lighten the tension, she joked softly, “Besides, you give yourself too much credit. Fire wouldn’t hurt me anyway.”

She felt him chuckle lightly at her remark, a brief, warm sound that eased some of the heaviness in the room. He exhaled deeply, and the weight of his head pressed more fully into her shoulder as she rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t fighting her anymore.

“Like I said earlier, we’re in this together. Now, please, lay back down. You’re still hurt.” Charlie’s voice was gentle. She felt him take several deep, unsteady breaths as if trying to regain control over himself.

After a long pause, “Stay with me.” he mumbled into her shoulder. Sounding unsure of his own request.

“Of course.” Charlie pulled back just enough to help him ease back onto the bed, settling him on top of the covers. She walked around to the other side and laid down next to him, her head propped on one hand as she observed him. For the first time, she saw the full extent of the scars crisscrossing his chest and arms. Her stomach twisted. Were all of these from her mother?

Before she could dwell on it further, Alastor broke the silence. “What’s this?” His voice was low and curious as he turned toward her, his fingers tracing the seams of her jacket near her neck. His touch drifted lower, pausing just above her chest. “Tell me, Charlie, why are you wearing the spider’s clothes? Hmmm?” Though his fingers toyed with the fabric, his eyes bore into hers, waiting for an answer.

Charlie suddenly felt insecure with how Alastor was staring at her. Even though he was looking into her eyes, she knew she was only wearing her bra underneath the jacket. Grabbing the top of Angels jacket she tried to conceal herself better before answering. “My clothes were soaked in your blood,” she explained, her voice quiet. “So he lent me his so I could stay by your side.”

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, clearly not entirely satisfied with the explanation, but he let the subject drop.

“You lied to me,” Charlie said, attempting to shift the conversation as her eyes roamed over him.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with feigned innocence, though exhaustion dulled the edges.

“You said you were fine. That your wounds were nothing to worry about. But Husk told me—”

“HA! In his dreams,” Alastor interrupted, his tone dismissive. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He pressed on before she could argue. “I should be asking how you are. You left the room earlier in quite a hurry.”

“I’m fine,” Charlie insisted. “I left quickly to get help for you. I’m not the one who’s hurt.”

He rolled his eyes. “We both know that’s not true.” Moving slowly, he swung his legs off the bed again ready to leave.

“Stop trying to move. You’re going to make it worse!” Charlie protested, jumping off the bed and stepping toward him.

Ignoring her, Alastor crossed the room to a clean shirt that Niffty had left for him. He struggled to put it on, wincing as he maneuvered his arms into the sleeves.

Charlie sighed in exasperation and walked over to him. “Here, let me.” She waited for a nod of approval before gently helping him slide his arms into the shirt. “Why do you even need a shirt right now? Some of your wounds are still bleeding through the stitches. It’ll just ruin it.”

Alastor rolled his eyes again, his voice sharp with irritation. “Because, my dear, I can’t stand when you look at me like that” buttoning up his shirt.

“Like what?” Charlie asked, confused.

"Like that." He gestured at her face with an annoyed flick of his hand. "The moment you see my scars you look at me with disgust. Like I’m just another broken soul for you to fix. Don’t.”

“You think I find you disgusting?” Charlie’s voice wavered, hurt flashing across her face. “No, not in the slightest. I just… had no idea how badly you’d been hurt before. You’ve hidden your pain so well. Honestly, I half-believed you were untouchable.”

“That’s the idea,” he muttered, his tone colder now.

Charlie studied him. She constantly had to remind herself that outside these walls, Alastor wasn’t just her ally or friend. He was an Overlord, a title that came with constant threats and the need for an unshakable image. If anyone knew the Radio Demon could be hurt, it would paint a target on his back larger than any he’d faced before.

Charlie reached out and grabbed Alastor’s hand, halting him mid-motion as he attempted to finish buttoning his shirt. “It just hurts me to see you like this,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize I was making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” To reassure him, she placed her other hand gently on the scars across his upper chest, silently proving she wasn’t disgusted by them.

Alastor didn’t flinch this time. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly. “The scars themselves don’t bother me,” Charlie continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the thoughts... the images in my head of how you got them that scare me. I don’t know much about you, Al. Did… did she do all this to you?”

For a moment, Alastor simply looked at her, his gaze unreadable as her concern hung heavy in the air. Slowly, he shook his head no, taking her hand off his chest. Charlie thought he would push her away, but instead, he guided her hand to his right shoulder.

“This one,” he said, allowing her to feel the jagged scar there. “Niffty stabbed me. A game of ‘hide and stab seek.’”

“What?!” Charlie’s eyes widened in shock. “Niffty did that?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t recommend playing with her... she takes the game very seriously.” He chuckled softly, his voice tinged with amusement. Keeping her hand in his, he moved it up to his neck, where her fingers grazed fresh bruises and a scar left by chains. “And this one?” he continued, guiding her fingers along a long scar under his ear. “That was from falling down the stairs.”

Charlie blinked at him, incredulous. “Seriously? You fell down the stairs?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “Had a bit too much to drink. Fun night, from what I remember of it.”

Alastor released her hand, letting her trace the rest of his scars at her own pace. As her fingers roamed over his body, he quietly explained their origins. Some scars came with sorrowful tales, but others brought laughter and even a wistful smile. When her hand hovered over a small circular burn mark, she hesitated, recognizing it as a cigarette burn. She was about to skip over it when Alastor spoke up.

“Cigar burn. From my father.”

Charlie’s heart sank. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her expression softening with sadness. But she quickly replaced it with a gentle smile. “You’ve lived such a hard, yet extraordinary life, full of adventure.” She resumed buttoning his shirt where she’d left off earlier, her hands working with care.

Alastor stood still, watching her with quiet intensity as her fingers moved closer to his collar. “For the record,” Charlie continued, “I don’t see you as a broken soul for me to fix. I see you as my friend, someone I care about deeply. Thank you for trusting me with your stories. I promise I won’t bring it up again. But please, don’t feel like you have to hide your scars from me. They’re a part of you, and I like you just the way you are.”

She finished fastening the last button and adjusted his collar, stepping back to smile up at him.

For a long moment, Alastor said nothing. His face was unreadable, his eyes half-lidded as he studied her intently, searching for any hint of deception in her words. Then, slowly, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the back of his fingers. His touch lingered as he tucked the hair behind her ear, his palm coming to rest lightly against the nape of her neck.

“Charlie,” he purred, his voice low and velvety, free of its usual static. The sound sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a flutter in her stomach. Damn his voice. The way he was holding her, the way he looked at her, so close their chests almost touched, it was overwhelming. All she had to do was rise onto her toes, and the distance between them would disappear.

Her heart raced, her mind screaming at her to stay rational, but her body betrayed her. “Y… yes?” she stammered, her voice trembling as she swallowed nervously.

Chapter 8: True Professional

"Charlie." he purred, no static behind his words. Charlie felt fluttering in her stomach. Damn his voice right now! the way he was holding her, looking at her, whispering to her. All she needed to do was stand on her toes to close the gap. No she shouldn't be having these thoughts! But her body said otherwise. They were so close.

"Y... yes?" she swallowed nervously.

---

He reached behind him, grabbing a spare one of his shirts and handing it to her. "Put this on” he continued to speak softly playing with the end of her hair with his fingers.

"What? Why?"  Well wasn't expecting that.

"That jacket, it does not suit you." Charlie looked down at her chest where Alastor eyes now set and saw how low Angels jacket goes without a shirt under it. Though it covered what it needed to, it didn't leave much to the imagination, especially with Alastor's height difference compared to her. She quickly grabbed the top of it again pulling it tighter around her turning bright red, making him smile tilting his head innocently to the side.

Charlie snatched Alastor's spare shirt from his hands turning around. She waited for him to leave the room or at least turn around like Angel did, but he did no such thing as he just stood there watching her. "I'll... be right back" taking his shirt and rushing to the bathroom to change.

Once safe behind the bathroom door she neatly took off Angels jacket folding it next to the sink and replaced it with Alastor’s shirt. The red shirt was much larger on her than the jacket had been. As she buttoned it up she felt much less exposed. The bottom of his shirt stopped mid thigh, almost like a dress and she had to roll up the oversized sleeves. Charlie didn't feel anything weird about barrowing Angels clothes but... Alastor's. She felt almost too comfortable in it. She looked at herself in the mirror. His shirt suited her, she felt more comfortable walking around in it at least without the fear of accidently flashing someone. The color of the shirt seemed to only brighten her already red cheeks. She always loved the color red.

Charlie walked out of the bathroom to find Alastor right where she had left him. It was hard to tell his expression as the room he was in was darker than the bathroom she just came out of. "Um... Thank you Al. This fits much better..." She just stood there awkwardly as he made his way over to her slowly. His features creeping back into view as he did. He lightly grabbed the shirts collar straightening it out as she did for him.

Alastor was staring at her neck in thought. Charlie felt a bit nervous that maybe he still wanted her dead to get back at her mother. But as she looked at him, she felt nothing but safe. He did not hold hate in his eyes as before, no, it was something else.

His fingers grazed her throat, trailing down the front of her neck with a feather-light touch that made her freeze in place. Her stomach fluttered, the heat in her chest spreading as her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. His touch wasn’t threatening; it was soft, almost curious, leaving her momentarily breathless. Charlie gently placed her hand over his, breaking him from his trance. “Al?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes widened in surprise, as though he had just realized what he was doing. It was as if a switch had flipped. “Much better, my dear,” he said, recovering quickly and giving her one of his trademark grins. “Now you look like a true professional.” He began buttoning her shirt higher, fastening it all the way to the top, completely covering her neck and leaving no room for protest.

Charlie giggled, grabbing his wrist to stop him. “Okay, Al, I get it,” she said, amused. But as she looked closer, she noticed him starting to sway slightly, his movements unsteady. Concern replaced her laughter. “You need to rest,” she urged. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. Let’s get you back to bed. I’ll let Husk know you’re awake.”

Alastor didn't move at first but eventually allowed her to guide him to the bed. He sat down with a chuckle, his usual confidence slipping into light exhaustion. “I’m sure he couldn’t care less whether I’m awake or not.”

Charlie shook her head. "You don't give him enough credit. He was quick to act and help save you, without complains might I add. Both of them. You have some really good friends." Alastor pretended to not hear that last part as she walked into the bathroom to grab Angel’s jacket. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading toward the door.

He watched her leave, the faint echo of her footsteps lingering in the quiet room.

---

Charlie made her way to Angel’s room, setting his neatly folded jacket on the floor next to his door for him to find when he woke up. With that done, she headed to Husk’s room and knocked lightly. From inside, she heard the clinking of bottles being kicked aside before Husk finally opened the door.

He stood in the doorway, staring at her for a moment longer than usual. It wasn’t until Charlie glanced down at herself that she realized why—she was still wearing Alastor’s oversized shirt.

“Oh! This isn’t—It’s just that Angel’s jacket was... a bit revealing, and—”

“Stop.” Husk held up a hand, cutting her off with a groan as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to know.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “So, I’m guessing he’s awake, judging by...” He gestured vaguely at her shirt.

Charlie’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she dropped her head. “Yes, he’s awake.”

“Right,” Husk said with a resigned sigh. “Guess I’ll go check on the prick.” He stepped out of his room, and Charlie fell in step beside him as they walked back toward Alastor’s room. After a beat of silence, Husk broke it. “Just so we’re clear, princess, don’t think you’re getting anything off me tonight.”

“Huh?” she asked, confused.

Husk tugged at the sleeve of her shirt for emphasis. “The shirt. Don’t get any ideas.”

Charlie blinked, then laughed, realizing he was teasing. “Husk, you don’t even wear a shirt.”

“Exactly,” he replied dryly. “But that won’t stop Angel from getting ideas. If he sees you getting people out of their clothes, he’ll take it as a challenge. Fucker’s relentless.”

Charlie giggled, shaking her head. “Trust me, I’m not planning on telling a soul.” Husk scoffed with a small smile tugging at his lips as if saying ‘suuure’. Once they got to the main lobby Charlie cut in. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to make some tea for everyone. Want some?”

“Nah,” Husk replied, holding up his flask. “Got my tea right here. I’ll see you inside.” Charlie just nodded as he headed down the hall where she left Alastor, leaving Charlie to head off toward the kitchen.

---

Charlie waited patiently by the stove, listening to the kettle heat up, when Niffty bustled into the kitchen with her usual chipper energy.

“Morning!” Niffty chirped, twirling a large needle in her hand.

“Morning, Niffty,” Charlie greeted with a smile. “You’re up early.”

“The rats are finally asleep, so now it’s the bugs’ turn to play,” Niffty replied cheerfully, brandishing her needle with purpose.

Charlie blinked. “Right… Well, I’m taking some tea to the boys. Want to come? Alastor’s awake if you want to see him.”

Niffty’s eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly, bouncing in place. Once Charlie handed her a cup, the two made their way back to the room where Alastor was recovering. Charlie knocked softly before entering, but neither Alastor nor Husk noticed them—they were too deep in conversation.

“She really gave you hell,” Husk said, handing Alastor his flask. “You must’ve seriously pissed her off this time. Lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Alastor accepted the flask, taking a long drink. “Agreed,” he replied, handing it back.

“Worse?” Charlie’s voice broke through their exchange, her expression shifting to concern.

Both men turned to her, Husk visibly flustered as he tried to backtrack. “Yeah, uh... I mean, Adam almost killed him. So, compared to that, this is just a scratch, right?” He glanced at Alastor for backup, only to be met with a tired, annoyed glare.

“Thanks for the reminder, Husker,” Alastor muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Right… well…” Husk rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m gonna leave before I dig a deeper hole. You seem fine to me.” He tossed his flask to Alastor to finish off, who caught it easily.

At the door, Husk paused and looked back. “Oh, and... Thanks.... For sending me and Niffty away when you did earlier... I know you pissed her off doing that. Last time– ”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.” he answered darkly, cutting Husk off mid-sentence. Alastor demeanor snapped back to his old self as he shrugged playfully. “Besides, I don’t share my playthings.”

Husk rolled his eyes, smirking despite himself. “Yeah, whatever. Asshole.”

“She hurt you too!” Charlie exclaimed cutting in, her voice sharp as she turned to Husk.

Husk’s smirk vanished, replaced by a deep frown. “Annnnd I made it worse. That’s it. I’m out.” With that, he turned and left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Charlie spun back to Alastor, setting the tea down on a nearby table. “Who else did my mom hurt?” she demanded, her tone wavering between anger and worry.

“You know I can’t answer that,” Alastor replied calmly. “Besides, their souls are now under my protection. Isn’t that right, Niffty?”

“Right!” Niffty chirped, darting up to Alastor with a teacup in hand.

“Thank you, my dear. Now, you’ve had a busy night. Best be off with you.” Alastor patted her head gently, and with a cheerful nod, Niffty skipped out of the room, leaving the two alone once again.

Charlie hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “How can you guys even stand to be around me? Knowing what my family has done... what they’re still doing to you all.”

Alastor tilted his head. “Why would anyone blame you? You can’t choose your parents. Take me, for instance. I had a very loving and supportive mother. My father, on the other hand… well, let’s just say he had more in common with your mother in many aspects.” He chuckled lightly, though the sound was tinged with bitterness. “Looks like we’ll just have to balance out each other’s mommy and daddy issues, hmm?” Despite his humor, he winced, clutching his injured side.

Charlie stared at him, startled by his candidness. “You never talk about your life before… before Hell.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Tell me about your family.”

“Another time, perhaps,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand trying to stand once more.

“Al, you need to rest. At least use your cane. Where is it?”

He chuckled dryly. “Destroyed in the fight with Adam, as Husker so kindly reminded me.”

“Can you fix it?”

Alastor was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I no longer have the power needed to repair it. It was more than a cane, it was a living relic one that helped me store and channel my power for more... ‘devastating’ results... Fret not, I’m still plenty capable without it. I’ll figure something out.”

He smiled faintly, though Charlie could sense he missed the cane deeply.

She yawned, trying to hide it behind her hand. “I’ll see what I can do to help,” she offered, rubbing her eyes.

“Not to worry,” Alastor said, his tone growing softer. “You’ve had a long day. May I suggest you retire for the rest of the morning?”

Charlie hesitated, and Alastor noticed she had more to say. Before she could voice her thoughts, he added, “We’ll talk later, after you’ve rested. Now, off to bed with you.” He gestured toward the door with a playful grin.

“With all the blood you lost, I can’t leave you here alone,” Charlie countered firmly.

“You can,” he replied.

“I won’t,” she clarified, crossing her arms. “It’s not safe. Someone needs to stay with you for at least 24 hours after something like this.”

Alastor’s brow furrowed as he stared her down, but Charlie stood her ground, unyielding. Finally, he sighed in defeat, raising his hands. “Fine,” he said, returning to the bed and lying back with exaggerated theatrics. “Well?”

“Well what?” Charlie asked, confused.

“Are you going to stare at me from there while I sleep, or are you going to join me?”

Her face flushed. “You want me to sleep with you?”

Alastor arched a brow, clearly amused.

“No—wait—that’s not what I meant—”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he patted the empty side of the bed. Reluctantly, Charlie lowered her gaze, walking over and lying down on the bed beside him.

She got comfortable, cuddling a spare pillow as she faced him. Alastor, in turn, lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands resting on his chest, keeping a respectable distance. After a moment, he closed his eyes and began humming a familiar tune, his voice low and soothing.

Charlie smiled into the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut. “Of all the songs you’ve played on your broadcasts, this one’s my favorite,” she murmured drowsily.

Alastor cracked one eye open, surprised. He hadn’t realized she listened to his radio show. A flicker of pride warmed his chest, though he suspected she appreciated the music far more than the screams and chaos woven into the broadcasts.

He continued to hum, his gaze lingering on her as she drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally claiming her.

Chapter 9: She's a Drug and Him the Addict

Alastor never slept much, and this was no exception. He kept his eyes shut in order to keep Charlie from pestering him further. She had made it clear she was not going to leave him, which he wouldn’t mind if under... different circumstances. Lilith being around put him on edge. He had just started getting used to the idea of being away from that damn women since she hadn't called on him for some time. He should have known better than to hang around her daughter, it was only a matter of time.

Why of all the demons in Hell was she the one he couldn't get enough of. His Masters own fucking spawn... seriously. He knows better, he is better than this. Yet his plans change anytime Charlie is involved. He needs desperate souls to make deals with him to become stronger. This was the perfect place as they would come to him, it was supposed to be easy and straight forward. He was to use Charlie's soft heart to get his foot in the door then take this place over, if not by just killing her outright, then by manipulation or deals. Something to hold over Lilith and get his soul back. Yet he did none of that.

Instead he becomes partners with her... Fine, he could still use this position to manipulate her power in his favor. Yet he doesn't...  First thing Charlie asks him for is that Sinners maintain their free will if coming to the hotel, what's he do... he agreed. Demons destroy the place, she asks him to keep violence off the premises, he agreed. Fancy up the place, agrees. This fucking women can ask him to jump, and all he would ask is how high. This was not the plan....

Hell, he threatens her life and still she supports him. Charlie's relentless optimism and kindness was to complete opposite of everything believed in. It was maddening, and yet finds himself drawn to it at the same time. It was becoming painfully clear to him that Charlie didn't need a deal in order to obtain his soul. She was a drug he could not escape from and him an addict. And oh how he hated himself for that.

Cold hands slipped its way between the buttons of his shirt. Alastor's eye shot open. Charlie had fallen asleep, like he hoped she would, but didn't expect her to sprawl out attaching herself to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, a few fingers settling between the buttons of his shirt making direct contact with his now burning flesh underneath. He just watched her as she adjusted herself once more rubbing her leg up his slightly as she got more comfortable resting her knee on his thigh.

He felt hot, afraid to move as he felt his body start to betray him with her small adjustments. He tried to slip out of bed but him pulling away only made her subconscious whimper and grip his shirt trying to pull the warmth back into her body. The desperate pulling, the sounds she just made, he started to feel desires that he thought buried long ago. It was too much for him right now. Alastor removed his pillow behind his head placing it under her arms in place of him, then quickly melted into the shadows appearing upright besides the bed looking down at her.

His breathing was elevated, even just seeing her lying there in his clothes was enough to work him up. Damn her. He needed to leave. This was not the time nor place. Alastor turned to leave, but before he could take a step, his shadow stretched out before him.

His crimson eyes flicked to the inky figure. It started making an exaggerated motion, rubbing its arms up and down as if cold. Slowly, his gaze drifted back to Charlie. She was curled up, on top the blanket's of the bed. Looking back at his shadow, he found it nodding in silent insistence.

With an exasperated sigh, Alastor strode over to the chair where his jacket lay. Grabbing it, he turned back and crossed the room, draping the garment over Charlie’s shoulders with deliberate care.

Another delicious sound escaped her lips as the warmth enveloped her, making Alastor clinch his jaw in frustration. His fingers twitched at his sides as he turned sharply away, casting a glare toward the wall where his shadow loomed.

“Happy now?” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and sharp.

The shadow merely grinned back at him.

Scowling, Alastor spun on his heel and strode toward the door, needing to put distance between himself and whatever this was. He needed to get out of here. Now.

Unfortunately he didn’t make it far before bumping into Charlie's little play thing in the hallway.

"Well your up sooner than expected" Vaggie grumbled crossing her arms.

Alastor stood up straighter at the sight of her adjusting his bowie cockily "Of course I am. Charlie made sure to take great care of me. Practically good as new." Feeling the stitches pulling at his sides due to his improved posture. But making it a point not to show the pain he was currently feeling.

Vaggie rolled her eyes "There is blood soaking threw your shirt" pointing at one of his sides.

Alastor looked annoyingly to where she was pointing to. A thought crossing his mind smiling wider, wiping his finger across his damp clothing then placing his finger inside his mouth sucking off the blood with a satisfying hum. Watching as Vaggie face twisted in disgust. Oh the misery of others, how it so enjoyed it...

"Gross..." She glance around him "Where is Charlie?"

"She had a long day. I believe being with me all evening wore the poor girl out." Chuckling at his own comment intending to let the ex-angel's imagination run rampant.

"Knock it off Alastor, she was only with you cause you where hurt. So get this through your thick egotistic skull of yours, she will never choose you. So you can stop the crap."

"Perhaps, but if I remember correctly isn't Charlie aiding you how you two started off before talking things... further." he smiled wickedly.

Vaggie's eye narrowed "It's not the same. You are no good for Charlie. Now. Back. Off."

"I beg to differ. Have I not been supportive of her dreams, helped her when in need, make her laugh rather than cry. I have never hid who or what I am and yet she still accepts me with open arms." Gesturing his arms out to the side before placing them back behind his back. "Yet after all your time together you still lied about who were are to Charlie. HA, your one to talk."

"She knows who I am."

"Because you could no longer keep your little secret, but if you were being honest with yourself, you never planned on telling her. She may have forgiven you but it’s safe to say her trust for you is gone." Shrugging his shoulders as though what he had just said was common knowledge.

"You’re not going to get in my head Alastor I have always supported Charlie. We are just in a small argument. We will work through it. We always do. She loves me."

tsk. tsk. He clicked with his tongue in disagreement. "She loved who she thought you were. Tell me how exactly have you supported her hmm? By discouraging her theatrics for musical theater and song? Telling her not to get her hopes up when you expect her plans not to work out. Sounds a bit backhanded to me." Slowly he started to walk around her like a predator stalking its prey.

Vaggie tightened her grip around the spear in her hand, keeping her eye on the Radio Demon as he paced. "Don't act high a mighty, you don't believe in any of this either."

Alastor chuckled. "Course I don't. I never claimed too. Yet here I am. Helping the hotel upscale, building cliental and connections, all to support Charlie's ridiculous endeavor, for her. What real solutions have you provided to help support her dreams?"

"I’m there for her."

"Darling we all are, that's why we are here. Your nothing special." Rolling his eyes at her pathetic excuse. "Tell me, when’s the last time she came to you for help or even taken advice of anything you have said hmm?"

Vaggie's eyes went wide in realization before turning to anger. "I helped in trust exercises! and ah-" trying to think of something more.

"Oh you mean the one I told her to have you take lead on? Alastor cut in making Vaggie's face drop.

"When-"

Alastor cut her off again. "You see me and Charlie often get together to go over her little group therapy plans before she presents them to the lot of you, we are partners after all." Watching Vaggie's expression as she hears this new information. Pretending to be shocked he set a hand to his chest. "Oh you didn't know? Poor thing. You truly thought she wouldn't come to me for such matters? I mean... It's only everything she stands for. Surly she would want to share her ideas with someone she trusted input from before broadcasting it for the world to see. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Why? Why did u even bother including me if you want me gone so bad?" Vaggie asked through her teeth attempting to regain he composure at this new information.

"Boredom my dear girl, why else". Alastor shrugged "I figured with it being a trust exercise you would revile your little secret, causing a scene, and adding some drama that had been lacking within the hotel walls. And if not, it would just come back to bite you sooner or later, with much more flare." Alastor leaned in close to her keeping his hands behind his back. "But I must say waiting to announce it while in Heaven, at the most important meeting in Charlie's career, was much more dramatic than even I anticipated. HA. Spectacular truly."

"Is that what you tell her when you all talk? Your trying to turn her against me?"

He stood back upright, throwing back his head and barked out a laugh. "Struck a nerve did I? Why would I to do that, when you do such a good job sabotaging the relationship yourself. There really is no point in wasting my breath. If anything I build you up to Charlie, telling her to 'give you another chance' even after the whole angel reveal. Honestly, I don't know how more of your companions didn't know. It wasn't that hard to figure out."

Vaggie eyed him suspiciously. "I don't believe you. You clearly want us apart. So why talk me up?"

"To watch as you fall even further my dear, why else if not for the entertainment." He shrugs no longer interested in what she had to say as he turned on his heel walking his original direction.

Tears burned at the corners of Vaggie’s eye, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. 

“This is all a joke to you?” she seethed, her voice trembling with fury. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, you red-haired freak!” Without a second thought, she grabbed her spear and hurled it at the back of his head with deadly precision.

Alastor, without so much as a glance, tilted his head slightly to the side. The spear whizzed past him, missing his cheek by mere inches before embedding itself deep into the wall with a violent thunk.

He came to a halt.

For a moment, the room was silent… until his shoulders began to shake, a low, chilling chuckle rising in his throat. “Now, now,” he mused, amusement dripping from every syllable. “You really ought to watch yourself.”

Without warning, blackened shadow tendrils erupted from the floor behind him, twisting and writhing like living things. Before Vaggie could react, one lashed out and coiled tightly around her throat, yanking her off the ground and pinning her against the nearest wall. Her hands clawed at the inky mass constricting her windpipe, her feet kicking uselessly in the air as she gasped for breath.

Alastor turned his head just enough to glance at her over his shoulder, his grin widening as his eyes darkened into black voids save for the glowing, red dials that had replaced his pupils.

“It would be so easy,” he purred, his voice almost fond, “to crush your head like a grape.” The tendrils tightened their grip. A weak, strangled sound escaped Vaggie’s lips as panic set in. Her vision swam, her lungs burning as she fought against the suffocating hold.

Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the shadows released her. She collapsed onto the floor with a sharp thud, coughing violently as precious oxygen flooded her lungs once more. Vaggie gasping on the floor, her trembling fingers brushing against her throat where his darkness had lingered just moments before.

Alastor kept his back to her, his eyes returning to their usual form as he adjusted his tie, not even sparing her a glance. “But this little scuffle would hardly be entertaining,” he said breezily. “So why don’t I do you a favor, hmm? Let’s forget this little spat ever happened.” He paused, casting a knowing smirk over his shoulder. “Best not to get dear Charlie worried, wouldn’t you agree? After all she is already so exhausted, fell asleep right in my arms." He chuckled. "I had no idea she was a drooler."

“Fuck you, you prick,” Vaggie coughed out, her voice raw as she forced herself upright, bracing against the wall. Her throat ached, but she refused to let the lingering sensation of his shadows shake her. She glared daggers at him, watching as he ignored her and continued making his way down the hall as if this was nothing more that an inconvenience from his original destination. “The only way she’d ever be in your arms is by force. You used her deal with you, didn’t you?” She yelled louder.

Alastor didn’t stop walking at her accusation, but he did chuckle darkly. “I assure you, our deal remains fully intact,” he replied, his voice as calm as ever, as if her words held no weight. Sending an involuntary shiver down Vaggie’s spine. “Don’t believe me?” He called back over his shoulder, his tone light and amused. “See for yourself.”

And just like that, he disappeared around the corner, leaving her alone in the dimly lit hallway. The moment he was out of sight, his mask of composure cracked.

His hands trembled. His breath came quicker than he liked. A cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Damn woman… If he had been at full strength, he would have killed her for her insolence. That Ex-Angel was the second most disrespectful woman he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. (The first being Susan, of course.) But in truth, it was probably for the best that his power had run out when it did. If he had actually hurt Vaggie, Charlie would never forgive him.

Alastor exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation bubbling hot in his chest. There I go again. This was her fault. That insufferable, naive little princess was making him hesitate. Making him change the way he did things. Again. He had spent decades mastering his persona, refining every smirk, every inflection of his voice, every step in his carefully choreographed dance of power and control. Yet now, here he was, weighing his actions in ways he never had before. Pulling back.

And for what? For her?

Alastor clenched his jaw. She has no idea the hold she has on me. And I intend to keep it that way. This feeling would pass. It had to. Because there was no future for him here. He knew that. And if he ever forgot, Lilith would make damn sure to remind him.

The thought sent a fresh wave of frustration surging through him, coiling tight in his chest. With a growl of annoyance, Alastor shoved open the lobby doors, the wood slamming against the walls with a force that echoed into the night. He stepped out into the streets of Pentagram City, the cold air slashing across his face like a knife.

For a moment, he just stood there, inhaling deeply, willing the static buzzing beneath his skin to settle. It didn’t.…Fine. His fingers twitched at his sides before he straightened his tie before turning sharply on his heel in the direction of Cannibal Town.

He needed to see someone. She would know what to do.

Chapter 10: A Friend’s Knowing Smile

Notes:

Updated 3/6/25

“Babe?” Charlie groaned before opening her eyes to see Vaggie sitting beside her on the bed.

“Good morning, Vaggie,” Charlie murmured, stretching as she blinked up at her girlfriend with a sleepy smile. But as her gaze drifted around the room, the fog of sleep lifted, and memories of the previous night came rushing back. Her smile faltered.

As she sat up, something slipped from her shoulders and pooled into her lap. Frowning, she looked down—Alastor’s coat. The rich crimson fabric stood out starkly against her pale hands. He must have draped it over her while she was asleep. But… when had she even fallen asleep?

“Where’s Alastor?” she asked, running her fingers over the worn fabric, confusion clear in her voice

Her words looked to have stung Vaggie a bit as she flinched but answered her question. “He left a while ago. He sent me to check on you, actually…” Her eyes flicked to the coat in Charlie’s lap, her expression tightening with irritation rather than concern. Charlie knew that look well. “Look,” Vaggie continued, sighing. “Alastor’s up and moving again. Maybe we go out for breakfast or something? Get away from here for a bit?” She held out a hand, offering an escape.

Charlie let out a tired sigh, giving Vaggie a weak smile in return. “Yeah… that sounds great.”

She swung her legs over the bed and took Vaggie’s hand, ready to follow her out of the rom until something made her pause. “Oh, hold on.” Jogging back, she grabbed Alastor’s tattered coat from the bed. With it clutched in one hand, she returned to Vaggie’s side, intertwining their fingers with the other.

As they walked the halls, Charlie couldn’t help but notice Vaggie sneaking glances at her, her expression laced with concern. Confused, Charlie followed her gaze only to realize what Vaggie had been staring at. She was still wearing Alastor’s shirt, its oversized fit draped over her frame, paired with her own pants that were still stained with his dried blood from the previous night.

“Oh, shit! No! It’s not what it looks like,” Charlie blurted, panic creeping into her voice. Now understanding what this might look like. “Please don’t worry, nothing happened. I would never— I can explain—”

“Charlie.” Vaggie cut her off gently, though her voice was tired. “It’s fine. I trust you, okay?” She forced a small smile, clearly not wanting to dwell on it. “It was a rough night. Let’s just get away from here for a while, yeah?”

Charlie hesitated but eventually just nodded, squeezing Vaggie’s hand in silent gratitude. She was relieved she didn’t have to explain why she had ended up in Alastor’s clothes though she had no doubt the topic would resurface sooner or later.

“Okay. Let me just drop this off in his room first,” she said, lifting the damaged coat in her hand. Vaggie just nodded slightly.

Together, they walked down the long, dimly lit hallway in silence, the only sounds being the soft padding of their footsteps against the worn carpet. The hotel always had a certain eerie stillness in the mornings, but today, it felt heavier somehow.

When they reached Alastor’s door, Charlie hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly, listening for any sign of movement inside. Nothing.She sighed, her fingers wrapping around the doorknob. To her surprise, it turned easily in her grasp. Unlocked?

Alastor was secretive when it came to his personal affairs—always careful, always in control. It was strange that he would leave his door open like this. Then again, he spent most of his time in the radio tower, so maybe he just didn’t see the need to lock it.

Still, it felt odd.

Pushing the thought aside, she stepped inside, the familiar scent of aged wood, dust, and a faint trace of static filling the air. The room was as meticulously arranged as ever, everything in its proper place. Charlie made her way toward the closet while Vaggie lingered by the doorway, arms crossed, her wary gaze scanning the room as if expecting something unsettling to leap out at her.

As Charlie pulled the closet door open, her breath caught for a brief moment.

There, propped against the back wall, was Alastor’s microphone staff snapped clean in two. The jagged break in the middle stood in stark contrast to the pristine order of the rest of the room, as if the damage didn’t belong there.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his coat as she frowned. “Poor Alastor…” she murmured, carefully hanging the coat back in its place before kneeling down, hesitating only briefly before reaching out to pick up the fractured pieces.

“C’mon, Charlie,” Vaggie called from across the room, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t want to be in this creep’s room any longer than necessary. The whole… swamp he’s got going on in here seriously freaks me out.”

Charlie let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t argue. Carefully she ran her fingers over the jagged edges. Now that she thought about it… She hasn’t seen him with it since the extermination. She had no idea. The sight of it made something in her chest tighten.

She already knew Alastor would never ask for help (especially not from her) but she also knew how much this item meant to him. And after everything he had been through because of her and her family, the least she could do was try to make things right.

Before she could think too much about it, Vaggie’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“What are you doing over there?”

Charlie startled slightly, snapping her head up to see Vaggie eyeing her from the doorway, suspicion creeping into her expression.

“Nothing,” Charlie said quickly, shutting the closet door a little too fast hiding the pieces behind her back. Using her magic she opened a small portal behind her, dropping the two broken halves inside, making them vanish from sight. She would fix it later.

Charlie knew better than to tell Vaggie the truth right now. If she admitted she wanted to fix it, Vaggie would only tell her not to waste her time, that Alastor didn’t deserve her help. And maybe, in some ways, she was right. The two of them never saw eye to eye, and Charlie understood why.

But Alastor wasn’t just some heartless monster.

Yes, he laughed at others’ misfortune, stirred chaos wherever he went, and treated everything like an elaborate joke. But Charlie had seen beyond that act, past the grinning façade he used to keep everyone at arm’s length.

She had seen it in the way he always made sure the hotel’s residents had food, even if he never admitted to leaving it for them. In the way he had, without hesitation, stepped in to defend her whenever she needed it, only to brush it off afterward like it was nothing. Draping his coat over her ensuring she was warm, despite claiming to care for no one but himself.

He may call those types of acts weaknesses. She called them kindness.

If only Vaggie could see what she saw, maybe—just maybe—her opinion of him might change. But for now, Charlie wouldn’t push it. She didn’t want to add fuel to the fire (especially considering the situation she had already found herself in, having stayed the night in his room and still wearing his clothes) Charlie simply turned away from the closet, now making her way back to her girlfriend.

Without another word, Charlie pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, offering a warm smile. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

_____________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back in Cannibal Town...

Rosie, the sophisticated and sharp-witted overlord in Hell, sat elegantly in her private lounge, the warm glow of the chandelier casting a soft light on her poised form. She sat there sipping her tea as she watched Alastor pace back and forth. His usual confidence seemed to waver as he tried to mask his agitation with his characteristic grin.

“Alastor, darling, come sit,” Rosie beckoned, patting the seat beside her. “You look exhausted, hun.”

She watched him pace, his usual jaunty energy replaced with restlessness. Rosie didn’t know the details, but she had a strong suspicion of who, or rather, what was responsible. Only once before had she seen him like this.

“She’s back,” he muttered, not stopping his movement.

Rosie’s expression barely flickered, though her fingers tightened slightly in her lap. “I see,” she murmured.

She knew enough, not everything, but enough. That first time, when he had dragged himself to her, barely able to stand, she had tended to him without prying. His wounds had spoken volumes, as had the silence that followed. They had never spoken of it again.

Alastor abruptly halted his pacing, turning to Rosie. "I am here to take you up on your offer for some easy deals, my dear if you wouldn't mind. I have some business that needs to be dealt with... rather quickly."

Rosie leaned back in her chair, studying him with that sharp, knowing gaze of hers. “That’s not a problem, but I suspect that’s not the only reason you’re here.” Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she added, “I’ve noticed you’ve been… different lately. And I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with a certain princess.”

Alastor’s grin twitched, a crack in his otherwise perfect performance. “Rosie, dearest, must you always play these little guessing games? Let’s keep things simple, shall we? You provide this service, I take it, we all go about our merry way.”

Rosie ignored his deflection, her lips curling in amusement seeing his reaction.

Seeing this, Alastor’s smile stretched thin. “I don’t know what ridiculous notion you’ve conjured up in that head of yours, but I assure you, you’re mistaken.”

Rosie merely raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “Charlie is amusing, yes. Her ridiculous idealism is entertaining at best. But I assure you. I do not care for anyone in that way, nor do I want to. You should know that by now.” Turning his back to her his gaze locking onto the vintage radio in the corner of her room that he had gifted her many years ago, as if it might rescue him from continuing this conversation. “Even if such nonsense were true,” he mumbled without looking back at her “what use would I have for it?”

Rosie’s smile reminded undeterred. “Oh, Alastor, hun. You can insist all you want, but I know you better than that.” His eyes snapped back in her direction aggressively. She giggled raising her hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Alastor’s glare darkened, but before he could fire back another sharp remark, Rosie leaned forward. “But before you go, I’d like to tell you a story.” Rosie began, her voice smooth and melodic. 

He raised an eyebrow turning back to face her, "Really a story? What do I look like, a child?" he asked, walking over and leaning against a nearby wall, crossing his arms, clearly expecting to be amused. The Radio Demon's ever-present grin fixed firmly in place as he listened with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Rosie took a delicate sip of her tea before continuing. "You see, there was a time when I was much like you, dismissive of love, viewing it as a foolish indulgence. I thrived on power, control, and the thrill of the game. But then, I met someone who changed everything."

Alastor's smile twitched slightly, a hint of genuine interest breaking through his façade. "And who was this mysterious someone?"

Rosie smiled wistfully, her eyes softening as she recalled the memories. "His name was Franklin. He died 2 years ago in an extermination, he was my partner while you were gone those 7 long years. You would have liked him. He was charming, intelligent, and had a way of seeing right through my defenses. At first, I thought it was a game, a challenge to see who could outwit the other. But then, something unexpected happened."

"And what was that?" Alastor leaned in, despite himself, his curiosity piqued. 

"I found myself caring for him, truly caring," Rosie admitted, her voice tinged with emotion. "It wasn't about power or control anymore. It was about wanting to share my life with him, to be there for him as he was for me. I realized that love wasn't a weakness, it was a strength. It made me vulnerable, yes, but it also made me stronger than I ever thought possible."

"But love-... these feelings…" he corrected himself, " makes you dependent on another. It ties you to someone else's fate."

Rosie shook her head gently. "Love is a choice, my friend. It's choosing to let someone in, to share your life with them. It's not about dependency; it's about partnership. Franklin and I, were partners in every sense of the word. We lifted each other up, made each other better."

Alastor's eyes flickered with a mix of doubt. "Maybe for you, Rosie. Not for someone like me." He removed himself from the wall he was leaning on and took a seat beside her, rubbing his face with his hands.

Rosie reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps, but just remember, even the Radio Demon isn't immune to the heart's desires. One day, you might find that love is exactly what you need."

Alastor opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself as his eyes shot down to his knuckle, a sudden, unexpected pain catching his attention. "We'll see about that," he muttered, answering her question, not reacting to the pain as he watched his blood drip down his fingertips. "Seems I am needed elsewhere, if you would excuse me."

Reaching over he took Rosie's fingers in his hand, kissing the top of it farewell. He lowered his voice to a near whisper, "I am happy you found someone to make you feel that way. It's a shame I didn't have the opportunity to meet such an individual." With that, he set her hand back down, lingering for only a moment before rising to his feet, ready to take his leave.

Rosie smiled sweetly in a silent thanks to her friend before looking at Alastor's sudden injury curiously but did not press the issue. They made a mutual agreement many, many years ago not to dig into each other's lives if it meant finding a weakness that they could use to overpower each other as overlords. They may be friends, but they do not share everything. This is Hell, after all. 

“Take your time, dear” Rosie said lightly, swirling her tea. “I’ll have the details ready whenever you decide to darken my doorstep again. But don’t keep me waiting too long, I do miss my friend.”

Alastor gave a single, curt nod before slipping into the shadows, vanishing from sight without another word. Rosie let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she took a sip of her tea.

He could deny it all he wanted, but she had seen the truth clear as day. Against all odds, Alastor had found someone he cared for even if he didn’t realize it yet. And for that, she was happy.

Chapter 11: Arranged

Charlie and Vaggie walked side by side through the lively, chaotic streets of Hell, the distant echoes of laughter and mayhem blending with their quiet footsteps. They had just wrapped up a peaceful brunch at a cozy, hidden café—a rare escape from the constant whirlwind of the underworld. Yet, as the towering silhouette of the Hazbin Hotel loomed closer, Charlie’s silence grew heavier.

Vaggie glanced at her, her brows furrowed in concern. “Charlie, you’ve been quiet ever since we left the café. Is something bothering you?”

Charlie sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she avoided Vaggie’s gaze. “It’s just… I know my dad’s waiting for me back at the hotel, and I really don’t want to face him right now.”

Vaggie frowned, her expression tinged with both sympathy and frustration. “Charlie, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually. I don’t know what happened at the hotel yesterday while we were outside, but maybe if you told me, I could help.”

Charlie offered a small, apologetic smile. “Thanks, Vaggie. I wish I could…” She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Vaggie’s face, her expression softening as she noticed the worry in her friend’s eyes. “I promise I’ll fix this. Things will get back to normal soon... at least, I hope they will.”

Vaggie stopped walking and took both of Charlie’s hands in her own, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Fix what?” she asked, her voice pleading. Charlie hesitated, opening her mouth to answer but faltering. Alastor’s words echoed in Vaggie's mind: She doesn’t trust you… The thought made her chest tighten. “Charlie, please,” she urged, her voice growing more desperate. “Just tell me what’s going on. You can trust me. You can tell me anything.”

Charlie smiled warmly, placing one of her hands on Vaggie’s cheek. The gesture was reassuring, but the lack of an answer only deepened the unease in Vaggie’s expression.

“Come on,” Charlie said gently, squeezing Vaggie’s hand and tugging her forward. “Let’s get this talk with my dad over with.”

Reluctantly, Vaggie followed, her heart heavy with unspoken questions as the imposing doors of the Hazbin Hotel came into view.

---

They stepped into the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, greeted by the usual sights and sounds of its chaotic inhabitants. Husk was slouched at the bar, nursing a drink as usual. Niffty darted around in a blur, furiously chasing bugs. Angel was sprawled across the couch, his phone in hand, scrolling lazily. Despite the familiar scene, Charlie’s eyes darted around the room with growing unease.

As they approached the bar, Husk glanced at her.

“Husk,” Charlie began, her voice tight with worry, “have you seen Alastor?”

Husk grunted, his eyes returning to his drink. “No idea, princess.”

“Did he mention where he might be going?”

“I ain’t his sitter,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his tone.

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “You’re right, sorry. I just don’t see him anywhere, and I’m worried about his injuries.”

Husk finally set his glass down meeting her gaze. “Relax, Charlie. That creep’s tougher than he looks. Saw him earlier this morning waltzing out of the hotel like nothing happened. He’s probably lurking around, grinning like the psycho he is.”

Charlie exhaled a sigh of relief, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t fully dissipate. “Thanks, Husk. I just… I feel responsible for everyone here. I can’t help but worry.”

Husk’s expression softened, though his voice retained its usual gruffness. “I get it, princess. But you can’t shoulder the whole damn hotel. Alastor’s not your problem. He’s got his own thing going. You’ve got plenty on your plate already.”

“You’re right,” Charlie admitted with a small nod. “Thanks, Husk.”

As she turned to leave, her heart skipped a beat. Descending the grand staircase with an air of regal authority was her father, Lucifer. His very presence seemed to silence the room, and all eyes turned toward him.

“Charlie,” Lucifer called, his voice smooth yet commanding. “We need to talk.”

Charlie’s stomach twisted. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Vaggie gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Charlie mustered a weak smile and stepped forward to meet her father. Lucifer gestured for her to follow him to his office. The door closed with an ominous click, sealing them off from the rest of the hotel. Once inside, his usual smug demeanor was replaced by a rare seriousness.

Charlie crossed her arms, still simmering with frustration over the events of the previous day. She decided to let him speak first, unwilling to risk saying something that might inadvertently harm Alastor.

Lucifer leaned against his desk, his tone carefully measured. “As you know, I had a conversation with your mother after yesterday’s... incident. The Hell Council is outraged. Killing the exorcists and Adam? They see it as a direct challenge to their authority. They want blood, Charlie.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, her voice laced with venom. “They’re not pleased? What have they been doing this whole time? Hiding away in their precious council chambers while everyone in Hell suffers? They’ve never done anything to help, so why do we even need them?”

Lucifer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They exist because of me, Charlie. Because I abdicated my responsibilities for so long.” He straightened, his gaze locking onto hers. “When your mother left the hotel yesterday, I tried to talk to them. I told them everything was my doing.”

“Dad…”

He raised a hand, silencing her. “It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t listen. I may still be King, but there are limits... even for me. And the truth is, we can’t keep fighting Heaven like this. We don’t have the numbers, the strength, or the means to win.”

Charlie’s jaw tightened, her anger simmering just below the surface. “And what about the hotel? About redemption? Isn’t that what we’re working toward?”

Lucifer’s eyes softened briefly before hardening again. “We don’t even know if this hotel can succeed. You’ve placed your faith in an idea, but faith alone won’t stop Heaven or the Council from tearing us apart.”

So I guess mom didn't tell him everything...“We already beat them once. We can do it again.” Charlie tried reassuring him.

Lucifer stepped closer, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, his gaze locking onto hers. “Charlie, you had the element of surprise last time. Now, you don’t. Look at what you’ve already lost from just one fight. If you keep this up, you’ll lose even more. This isn’t just about you anymore, it’s about Hell. It’s about your future.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed as dread began to creep in. “What are you saying?”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I believe it’s time we discussed something important... your marriage.”

Charlie froze, her stomach dropping like a stone. “Marriage? Dad… what are you talking about?”

He sighed, his hands falling away as he turned to look out the window, his tone grave. “An arranged marriage, Charlie. It’s a tradition that has been upheld for generations in our realm.”

She stepped back, her eyes blazing with defiance. “No! I can’t believe this. I won’t do it, Dad. I don't want to be part of an arranged marriage. I want to choose my own path, my own partner."

Lucifer turned back to her, his expression soft but resolute. “This isn’t about what you want, Charlie. It’s about the greater good. Our family has responsibilities, and sometimes, personal desires must be set aside for the sake of our realm.”

Charlie’s voice trembled with frustration as she shot back, “Responsibilities? You’re one to talk! What about my responsibility to myself? My own happiness?”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened, his patience waning. “This isn’t a request, Charlie. The decision has already been made.”

Tears welled in her eyes, anger and betrayal surging through her. “How could you do this to me? I thought you understood what I was trying to achieve with the hotel, with redemption. But this... this is cruel.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, though his voice remained steady. “I understand more than you think. But some things are bigger than individual dreams. The Council has struck a deal with Heaven to postpone exterminations but only if order is restored to Hell. That means honoring traditions, Charlie.”

“Why now? Why this?” she demanded, her voice cracking. Then, realization dawned, and her eyes widened. “They don’t want me to be your successor, do they? Because I challenged them. They know it was me who stood against Heaven, not you. This is their way of punishing you... through me.”

Lucifer’s silence confirmed her suspicion.

“If I marry,” Charlie continued, her voice trembling, “the person I marry will inherit your title, your power. They’ll take everything from you. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Lucifer stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “Charlie, I don’t care about the throne or the power. All I care about is keeping you safe. You’re my daughter, and I would give up everything for you.”

“They’re using me against you!”

Lucifer pulled her into a hug, his voice filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but the arrangement has already been made.”

Charlie stiffened in his embrace. “With who?” she whispered.

Lucifer hesitated before answering, “Seviathan.”

“No, Dad!” She stepped back, her hands raking through her hair in panic. “What about Vaggie? I thought you liked her.”

“I do,” he said gently, “but you’re royalty, Charlie. You’re expected to secure the bloodline. Even if Vaggie were male, only Hellborns can produce heirs with other Hellborns. Without this marriage, the other royals and overlords will fight for the throne, and Hell will descend into chaos.”

Charlie’s voice cracked as she pleaded, “Why does it have to be Seviathan? I don’t love him.”

“There are few Hellborns of Royal status and proper age,” Lucifer explained, trying to sound reasonable. “And you loved him once.”

“That was years ago!” she snapped. “He’s a liar and a cheat!”

Lucifer raised a hand to stop her. “He’s changed. I’ve been assured he’s grown into a responsible man.”

“By who? Mom?” Charlie asked, her voice dripping with disbelief.

Lucifer looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “I supported your dream for this hotel, Charlie, but it’s not enough. You can’t fight Heaven and the Council. This marriage will secure peace for you and for Hell.”

Charlie’s voice trembled with desperation. “I already have a family, Dad. They’re all downstairs.”

“You know what I mean,” he said softly. “If you refuse, they’ll kill you and your friends. I can’t let that happen.”

Tears streamed down Charlie’s face as she whispered, “You’re asking me to give up everything.”

Lucifer cupped her face, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’m asking you to survive. Together, we’ll find happiness in other ways.”

Charlie turned away from her dad hugging herself as she wiped away tears that were threatening to fall. "And if I marry what then. What about the exterminations? my people?"

“Heaven will continue them but only once a year like before. You and your future family will be safe from exterminations. No timelines will be moved up as long as no angels die during that time.”

“No..." Charlie choked out dropping to her knees, "Then all this was for nothing." she told herself in a state of shock. Her father knelt down and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry Charlie. There is no other way."

After several minutes Charlie moved out from her dads arms wiping her face "I... I need air" She felt her anger starting to fill the space in her heart replacing the sadness she felt.

"Charlie..." Lucifer reached out for her only to have Charlie rip her arm away and stormed out of the room slamming the doors behind her.

Chapter 12: You rang?

Charlie stormed out of her father’s office, frustration and anger simmering in her chest as she made her way to the top floor. Pushing open the heavy door leading to the roof, she stood there for a moment taking in the silence. But the weight of her emotions felt unbearable. Without thinking, she lashed out, her fist colliding with a nearby wall.

"Ow... shit..." she muttered, clutching her hand to her chest, the pain radiating through her knuckles.

Alastor materialized from the shadows, casually flexing his hand by his side, his gaze scanning the rooftop as if ensuring they were alone. “You rang?” he asked with a playful tilt to his head, his eyes quickly shifting to her, noticing the distress in her posture. His usual grin faded just slightly, the concern creeping into his expression.

Charlie gasped, spinning around, realizing she wasn’t alone anymore. “Al?”  Alastor was standing there without his usual red coat, wearing only his shirt and suspenders. His appearance without his usual attire was oddly humanizing and it made Charlie wonder if he hadn’t gone back to his room at all before coming here. Must have been important. “Wait... how did you find me?”

He ignored her question, his gaze fixed on her injured hand as he stepped closer. "What happened?" he demanded.

Charlie tried to dismiss it, wincing as the sharp pain from her hand reminded her of her rash outburst. "It’s nothing, Alastor. Just... a little disagreement with my father."

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he walked up to her, gently taking her injured hand in his. "Let me see that," he insisted, voice brokering no argument.

Charlie hesitated, but the pain was too much to ignore and she finally relented allowing Alastor to examine her hand. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers tracing over the bruised knuckles with delicate care.

"So, you did this to yourself?" he asked, glancing from her hand to the cracked brick wall beside them, his tone carrying a hint of amusement despite the gravity of the situation. "What could have driven our usually composed princess to such a display of anger?"

She sighed, feeling the frustration creep back to the surface. "My dad... He wants me to go through with an arranged marriage to Seviathan." Alastor raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. She continued, her voice shaking slightly. "But I can’t do it, Alastor. but if I don’t... everyone else will suffer for my selfishness."

“Ah, the trials of royalty. Such a tangled web of duty and desire,” Alastor mused, his fingers still tracing over the bruises on her hand. “But you, my dear, have always been a beacon of hope and defiance. It’s one of the things I find most fascinating about you.”

“I just...,” she started, her voice trailing off. Feeling a blush creep up her neck as she glanced down at their hands. The sight of their fingers intertwined made her feel suddenly self-conscious. But then, she noticed something that made her heart skip a beat. "Alastor, you’re bleeding again!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she noticed the blood dripping from his fingertips staining the floor beneath them.

Alastor glanced down at his hand, then back at hers, unfazed by the blood slowly dripping from his fingertips. “It’s just a scratch,” he muttered, though it was unclear whether he meant his injury or hers. His face remained eerily calm, as though the blood didn’t bother him in the slightest, his focus still on her.

“When...” Charlie’s eyes widened as she quickly turned her hands to hold his in return, inspecting the injury with urgency. Alastor was taken by surprise, clearly not expecting her to react so fast nor touch him. “Did I do that to you?” she nearly shouted, comparing their injuries. They were nearly identical, his seemed more severe, but the pattern of torn skin was unmistakable. “It’s from the deal with my father, isn’t it? That’s how he’s making you do it! You have to protect me to protect yourself. I can't believe he—"

Alastor rolled his eyes and pulled his hand from hers, walking over to the railing that overlooked the city. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the deal with her father again.

Charlie took the hint and sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Sorry, I’m just... still angry about the whole thing. I’ll drop it... for now." She followed him to the edge, leaning against the railing beside him.

She stole a glance of him, studying his profile in the fading light. For a moment they stood in silence, the cool breeze tousling their hair. The light caught the sharp angles of his face, making him seem more human, more real than the grandiose figure of the Radio Demon she usually saw. It was a side of him she didn’t often get to witness.

"I put your coat back in your room," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "It was really ruined. Do you think your tailor can still fix it?"

Alastor shrugged nonchalantly. "It’s been through worse. It won’t be a problem, I have more."

Charlie giggled softly causing to glance at her in surprise. "It’s strange to see you without it," she added with a smile. "Your coat. You always wear it unless you're cooking. I’ve just never seen you outside without the full get-up."

He took a moment before responding, glancing down at his attire with a thoughtful expression. "Even I need a moment to breathe every now and then. The coat, as much as it is a part of my persona, can be... stifling. Sometimes, it’s nice to shed the mask, even if only for a little while."

Charlie nodded, the sentiment resonating with her. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like I’m always wearing a mask trying to be the perfect princess, the perfect leader. It’s exhausting."

As they stood there side by side, Charlie couldn’t help her gaze from shifting. She found herself admiring the more vulnerable side of him, something she rarely saw. "Alastor," she began, her voice soft but sincere, "this look suits you."

Alastor turned to her, his usual eyebrow raised in mild surprise while his grin softened into something more thoughtful. "Oh? And why do you say that, my dear?"

She smiled back, meeting his eyes. "I guess it just makes you seem more approachable. Less like the fearsome Radio Demon everyone knows, and more like... well, just Alastor."

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that seemed to harmonize with the cool night air. "Well, isn’t that an interesting observation. I must say, it’s not often I hear such sentiments. But I do prefer the mystique and theatrics." eyes narrowing playfully. "So don’t get too used to it. This is a rare occasion."

Charlie laughed softly. "I figured as much. But I’m glad I got to see this side of you, even if only for a little while... It can be our secret. What's one more, right?" She laughed awkwardly, and they both stood in silence, the city of Hell sprawling beneath them. Despite his dark past and enigmatic nature, Alastor felt, in this moment, real and comforting. And knowing he was willing to show this side of himself, even for just a brief moment, made her feel special.

A few minutes passed before Charlie turned to him, her voice quieter now, weighed with uncertainty. "Al, tell me... what am I supposed to do?"

His tone grew cold and uncompromising. "The only way for you to escape your father’s grasp and this arranged marriage is to leave."

Charlie’s eyes widened in shock, her voice trembling. "Leave? But this is my home, Alastor. What about my friends? What about... you?"

Alastor’s expression hardened, his arms crossing over his chest. "What about them? We had our chance." He shrugged, the indifference in his voice cutting through the air. "Stop thinking about everyone else for once and focus on what you want. Staying here only serves to keep you under your parents’ thumb."

Tears welled up in Charlie’s eyes as she looked at him, voice shaking. "But I can’t just abandon everyone. I can’t abandon you."

He narrowed his eyes, his voice growing harsher. "If you stay, you'll be trapped in a life you don't want, all because you couldn't let go. Once you're married, even if it’s a forced marriage, there’s no turning back. Not in Hell. Souls are exchanged, and divorce is impossible. You don't owe Hell anything."

Charlie's voice trembled as she fought back the tears. "I don’t want to leave you behind, Alastor. You've always been there for me, supporting me. I can't just walk away from that."

Alastor rolled his eyes, expression unreadable. "Then I’ll make it easy for you." turning and walking away from her.

Charlie reached out, but didn’t touch him, her voice rising with urgency. "Wait, I have questions... You said if I rested, we could talk."

Alastor stopped, pivoting sharply to face her. He let out a long sigh, his gaze shifting toward the sky, clearly reluctant. "That I did." He looked back at her, his expression softening slightly. "Don't fret," he said, noticing her anxiety. "I’ll hold up my end of the deal, as you did yours. Ask away, my dear. Though I can’t promise I’ll answer."

Charlie took a shaky breath, suddenly realizing she’d been holding her breath. "You said my mom made a deal with someone. Who was it? Or can you not answer that?" She pointed to her neck, where the chain was missing, gesturing to his own deal.

Alastor chuckled, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Right to the point, I see." He walked back to the edge of the roof, looking out at the sprawling city below, Charlie following him leaning on the railing, waiting for him to continue.

He paused, as though weighing his words. "I have my suspicions."

"Can you tell me who you think it is?" she asked, hope and curiosity in her voice.

Alastor let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "HA. Not a chance."

"Oh, Is that part of the deal?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, studying his face closely trying to spot any hint of the contract’s threads.

Alastor turned his head, amused by her attempt to read him. "No. It's because I don’t want to," he teased, enjoying watching her look for something that wasn’t there.

Charlie groaned in frustration. "If you don’t know who it is, how did you figure out she was in a deal or soul contract in the first place? I’ve never heard anyone accuse my mom of that before. My dad always made sure we had everything we needed so we wouldn’t be tempted to make deals with demons."

"Yet, you did," he interrupted with a mischievous grin. "What’s to say your dear ol’ mum didn’t do the same?"

"Oh, right..." Charlie muttered, her hand instinctively touching her neck as if to feel for the missing chain. Alastor’s eyes didn’t leave her as he studied her every movement. Realizing this, she quickly returned her hands to the railing, trying to avoid any awkwardness.

"Your mother may have been the first sinner in Hell, but she wasn’t the last," Alastor continued, his tone growing more serious. "You see, sinners don’t just get granted power when they’re sent here, unlike you Hellborns. Deals must be made with those of higher power. Your mother was no different. Knowing Lucifer, he wouldn’t want to burden his ladies with hardship. As you said, he provided everything you needed, so why would he share his power when he could handle matters himself?" He paused briefly, subconsciously gripping his chest, his mind wandering to the scars hidden beneath his shirt. Realizing his actions, he smoothed his shirt down as if nothing had happened.

"You didn’t even know for sure when you accused her of selling her soul? She could’ve killed you!" Charlie’s voice held a sharp edge now.

"Perhaps," he shrugged, unfazed.

"Why?" Charlie’s voice softened, but her question still carried weight. "Why did you sell your soul to my mom? A simple deal could have been enough, right? What could have been so important that you had to give her your soul?"

Alastor chuckled, his tone almost nostalgic. "Deals are never simple, my dear. Besides, what I asked for required more than a mere handshake or a gesture of good faith." His gaze shifted upward, focusing on the closed portal to Heaven in the sky.

Charlie's eyes followed his, a hint of understanding creeping in. "Did you ask to get into Heaven? Is that why you’re helping the hotel? Trying to go back?"

That made him laugh hard enough to grab his still injured side. Charlie remained silent, watching him with a mix of fascination and concern. "Heavens no, I have told you before I have no interest in redemption. Besides I find it quite dull and suffocating with all their rules and morals. I quite enjoy the current work I do down here." wiping a fake tear from his eye as if she told a wonderful joke. Charlie was just watching him quietly waiting to hear his story. One he wasn't planning on sharing but continued as she wasn't taking his silence as an answer. "Let's just say I needed to see a friend of mine."

"You have friends in Heaven?" Charlie’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Friend," he corrected, emphasizing the singular. "Surprised?"

"Yes, actually," she admitted, her eyes wide. She couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought, and Alastor joined in, though he still kept the rest of his story to himself.

"Who are they?" Charlie pressed, turning her full attention to him. Alastor simply watched her from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. "I promise I won’t say anything to anyone," she added quickly, nudging him lightly with her elbow in an attempt to coax him out of his shell. "No one needs to know you have friends," she joked, offering him an encouraging smile. She didn’t expect him to open up, but her curiosity was burning, and she was desperate to know. Just as she was about to drop the subject, her patience paid off with a barely audible response from Alastor.

"My mother," he spoke softly.

"Wh... what?" Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise. That was not what she expected.

"I just needed to see her, one more time. You can imagine what she thought of me... seeing me... like this." Alastor’s hands gripped the railing tighter, frustration evident in his voice.

"You sold your soul to see your mother?" Charlie’s smile dropped instantly, replaced by shock and disbelief.

He waved his hand dismissively, as if trying to brush it off. "Pathetic, I know. A moment of weakness, to be sure." Charlie took a step forward, her heart aching for him, but Alastor matched her steps backward, refusing to be comforted. She hesitated, understanding his need for space.

"No, it’s not pathetic," she replied firmly, not willing to let him belittle himself.

"It doesn’t matter," he muttered, his voice losing its edge. "I had her memories wiped before returning to Heaven. She won’t have to live with the heartache of knowing... me." He fell silent, his gaze turning back to the city below them, signaling the end of the conversation.

Charlie’s heart shattered as she absorbed his words. This was a part of his past he’d never shared with anyone, and he had trusted her with it. "I won’t tell a soul," she reassured him softly, her voice barely a whisper, her own tears threatening to spill. She knew if she let herself cry, he might misunderstand and think she pitied him, something she knew he would never want.

"I know," he answered, his voice quiet, almost absent, as his focus remained fixed on the distant city. Charlie’s chest tightened. He trusted her, and it was a fragile trust she would protect at all costs.

She forced a small smile as an idea popped into her head. "Maybe you don’t have to go to Heaven to see her again," she said, her voice filled with a sudden sense of optimism. "The hotel works, right? We know that now. It can be a bridge between Heaven and Hell. If you can’t go there... maybe she can visit here. Maybe you could make amends... like a do-over."

Alastor blinked slowly, his smile growing just the slightest bit. "Oh, Charlie," he said, his voice soft with a hint of amusement. "I do find your optimism quite... charming." He chuckled. "She would have liked you." Despite his teasing tone, there was a warmth to his words, and though he wasn’t entirely convinced by her plan, he didn’t discourage it. Knowing that his mother would have liked her made Charlie’s heart swell with a quiet sense of pride. She didn’t press further on the topic, knowing this was as much as he was willing to share for now.

"Now that we’re being open and all, I have a question for you," Alastor said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Of course. Ask me anything," Charlie replied, eager to reciprocate the trust he’d shown her.

"Tell me about this royal your parents are so keen on you marrying."

"You want to know about Seviathan?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Indeed."

"Why?"

Alastor placed his hands behind his back, his expression a playful mix of curiosity and smugness. "I find it only fair. I shared something personal with you, and now I expect something in return. Isn’t that how conversations work?"

"Yeah. Of course, that makes sense," Charlie replied, a little caught off guard. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before answering. "Well, Seviathan is a family friend. My father really likes him. Always has. He’s really good at playing the part of the perfect boyfriend when others are around. But that’s not the real him. He cheats, and somehow, he always finds a way to make it my fault. The worst part? I believed him. He’s really good at making people feel small. Seviathan never hurt me physically, but he would grab me, drag me around—things like that. I hated it. It took me years to realize what he was doing. When I finally broke it off, my parents were upset, saying I was causing a rift between the families."

"I see," Alastor replied, his tone devoid of judgment, though he didn’t add anything more to the conversation.

"Why do you want to know about him?" Charlie asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"Must I have a reason?" Alastor teased, placing his hand on his chest in mock offense.

Charlie crossed her arms, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You don’t do anything without a reason."

Alastor’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Now you’re catching on." He winked at her but still didn’t answer her question, leaving her to wonder what his true intentions were.

"What are you planning to do with me?" Charlie asked, her voice steady but her mind racing. Alastor’s ears perked up at the change of subject, a sharp glint in his eyes as he now gave her his full attention. His smile grew darker, more sinister, as she continued.

"Our deal," she began, voice tight with concern, "What’s the favor I owe you? Why did you want one from me in the first place?"

"Oh, darling, don’t tell me our little deal has been gnawing at you all this time," Alastor teased, clearly relishing in her unease.

She crossed her arms, not backing down. "Yes, it has, actually."

His grin widened into a toothy, malicious smile. "Oh? And why’s that?" he pressed, enjoying her discomfort.

"Because now that everything has slowed down, and I’ve had a chance to think it over... our deal is just so... vague. You could ask me to do anything, and there’s no timeline on how long you have to use it. I could be bound to you forever with a deal like this, with no need for my soul."

"Indeed." Alastor’s tone was almost dismissive, not offering any clue about his future intentions. "Anything else on your mind?" he asked, studying her expression intently.

"Well... no, I just..." she trailed off, unsure how to put her thoughts into words.

"Yes?" Alastor’s voice took on a teasing, sing-song quality, urging her to continue.

"Does it hurt?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking to the collar around his neck. "The chains? I’ve never done anything like this before." She thought back to the way Alastor had reacted when the collar appeared around his neck, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the same for her. If it had caused him to drop to the ground in agony, she couldn’t imagine what it might do to her.

Alastor smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I see. So, I’m your first... How delicious," he teased. In the blink of an eye, he summoned the chain around her neck, catching her off guard with his swift action. Her hand immediately flew up to grip the clamp, instinctively pulling at it, but Alastor wrapped the chain around his forearm, pulling her closer to him. She struggled for a moment, her natural reaction to the sensation of being dragged by her neck, but he didn’t stop until she had one hand firmly planted against his chest, looking up into his gaze once again.

"Not always," he answered her question with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Unless, of course, you want it to," he purred, his voice dripping with playful menace.

Charlie's hands gripped the part of the chain closest to her neck, her breath shallow as her demon form threatened to surface. Alastor’s excitement only grew, his smile widening as he continued to hold the chain and tipped her chin up to meet his gaze.

He stopped suddenly looking off into the distance, his playful demeanor shifting to something colder. "I suggest you leave quickly, sweetheart." His tone darkening as he waved his fingers, making the chain vanish from around her neck stepping away from her and adjusting his shirt collar as if nothing had happened.

Charlie could sense the tension in the air based off his reaction with the top of his shirt near his neck, her mother was close. "Wait, I—"

Alastor’s gaze turned cold and detached, the playfulness gone from his voice. "Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, Charlie. You can’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. Go find your angry angel. She’ll protect you. Leave now."

Charlie felt a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over her. She knew he was right, but the thought of leaving everything and everyone she cared about was nearly unbearable.

"Will you promise to take care of everyone if I go?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Alastor’s expression softened just a touch, though his resolve remained firm. "I’ll manage the hotel as you saw fit."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, before asking again, her voice shaky. "Promise me you’ll protect the other sinners, Al. I need to hear it, please—"

"I promise," he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Charlie tried to steady herself. "Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll leave."

Alastor stood tall, his posture rigid as he nodded once. "Good. The sooner you leave, the better."

Charlie felt the weight of his words, and though she knew it was the right thing to do, leaving him felt wrong. It wasn’t fair. "I’ll come back for you," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

"Don’t," he said simply, stepping toward her and holding open the door. "Go."

Charlie didn’t argue. She walked toward the door, stopping only when she crossed the threshold. Turning back to him, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, Alastor. Thank you." Without waiting for a response, she turned and fled down the hallway, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. Alastor stood on the roof, flustered and caught off guard, as she disappeared from his sight.

Chapter 13: We need to talk...

Charlie rushed down the stairs, heart pounding, and found Vaggie standing in the hallway, walking toward their room. “Vags, we need to go. Now.” She grabbed Vaggie’s hand, pulling her along with urgency.

“What’s happening?” Vaggie asked, confusion and worry creasing her brow as Charlie slammed the bedroom door behind them and started haphazardly shoving clothes into bags. "Charlie, what are you doing? Why are you packing?"

“My mom’s on her way. We’re leaving.”

Vaggie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

Charlie didn’t look up as she continued to throw items into the bag. “My parents want me to marry my ex. Heaven will keep sending angels to kill us. Nothing’s changed. We need to go now.”

“Hold on, Charlie, slow down!” Vaggie’s head spun as she tried to digest everything. “You can’t just leave! This hotel—it’s everything to you!”

“You are everything to me, Vags,” Charlie replied, her tone soft but firm. “We can leave. We can be happy. Just pack your things.” She handed her a bag, then continued rifling through the drawers.

Vaggie hesitated, placing the bag down on the bed. “You’re going to leave everyone here? Just like that?”

“I have to,” Charlie said, her voice tinged with finality. “Alastor told me to. We can’t stay here. We need to go.”

Vaggie sighed dramatically, feeling the weight of her emotions. “And there it is…”

“What?” Charlie asked, still distracted by packing.

Vaggie turned toward her, eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and resignation. "Charlie, we need to talk."

Charlie's heart sank hearing that sentence. "Talk about what?" finally slowing down enough to look at her girlfriends face. Seeing her reaction Charlie stopped grabbing things was walked over to her with concern.

Taking a deep breath, Vaggie's hands started shaking as she tried to steady herself. "About us. About the hotel. About... Alastor."

Charlie’s eyes widened in confusion. "Alastor? What about him?"

"Charlie, I've seen the way you look at him." Vaggie's shoulders sagged, the weight of her emotions was too much to bear. "The way you talk about him. You have feelings for him."

Charlie swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Vaggie's gaze "Vaggie, I—" Charlie felt a lump form in her throat. 

Vaggie held up a hand to stop her. "Besides if you leave now, you not only leave behind your friends but Alastor as well. I know you love me babe. But you would be lying to say you don’t have feeling for him too. Please, Charlie. Don't deny it. I know you care about him. And to tell you the truth, it's tearing me apart."

"What? No, I love you. You're the most important person in my life. I like Alastor sure but..." she tried bargaining.

"I know you love me, Charlie. But I also know that your feelings for Alastor are real. And I can't compete with that. I can't stay in a relationship where I'm always wondering if your heart is somewhere else. Ever since he arrived you have chosen him over me at every turn. I tried to compete with him for your attention, I really have. But I see how you are around him, and him you. There is no competition"

Charlie's tears spilled over, taking a step back as if she'd been physically struck, her voice breaking. Vaggie walked up to Charlie wrapping her in a hug causing Charlie to drop the bag she was carrying to the floor. “It's okay Charlie, really. You can’t help what you feel. I know you do not do it maliciously, it’s just who you are. Hell that's one of the reasons I fell for you.”

“Nothing has happened between us, I swear.” she spoke into Vaggie's shoulder  “I do care for him, but I do for you as well. I had no idea I was making you feel that way. I wish you would have told me.”

Vaggie squeezed Charlie reassuringly before pulling back to continue talking. “There wouldn't be much to tell. I know you wouldn’t do anything like cheat; I was never worried about that, but you can’t control how you feel though Charlie. Neither can Alastor.” She said annoyed. “If we left together now, you would regret it immediately and would end up back here, being worse off than if you never left.”

Charlie was shaking her head wiping her cheeks “But Alastor told me to leave, for us to leave, together. Why would he say that if he felt anything for me in that way.”

"Charlie, you can really be oblivious sometimes," Vaggie said with a bitter laugh, her voice shaking. "It's because he cares for you too. You think I'm just the lesser of two evils right now, that if he had to choose between me and your ex, he'd pick me?" She let out a hollow giggle, but it was quickly replaced by tears. "I know you're in a rush, but just think for a second. If you leave, who will your mother blame? She’ll use Alastor against you. We’ll figure something else out. I may not be in the picture anymore, but I’ll always be here for you—on the sidelines."

“Are… are you breaking up with me?” Charlie asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Vaggie nodded, tears falling freely now. "Yes, I think so. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still here for you. I’ll always support you, Charlie. I’ll always care about you. But I need to take care of myself too."

Charlie’s chest ached at the words, her voice cracking. “Vags, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Vaggie replied, her voice soft but firm. “That’s why you’re not leaving the hotel. We’ll find a way out of this mess. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate that red-haired bastard, and I don’t trust him. But I don’t have to, because I believe in you. You see something in him that I sure as hell don’t. Maybe one day I can… but until then… don’t expect me to be nice to him. He needs to earn it.”

Charlie managed a small giggle, nodding through her tears and wiping them away.

“I’ll stay until your mom leaves today, then I’ll see about staying with Carmilla for a bit.” Vaggie began picking up the bag Charlie had handed her earlier, adding her things to it.

“Vaggie, you’re always welcome to stay here. You don’t have to leave the hotel.”

Shaking her head, Vaggie continued packing. "It’d be too hard right now… I just need some space."

Charlie let out a soft chuckle. "You’re the one breaking up with me," she teased, a hint of a smile breaking through her sadness.

“I know. It’s all messed up,” Vaggie laughed back, walking over to Charlie and pulling her into a final hug. "We may not have worked out as a couple, but you’ll always be my best friend."

Charlie clung to her, trembling as she returned the hug. "Vaggie, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

“I know, Charlie. And I don’t blame you. Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to."

Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted the moment, followed by Angel’s head poking inside. “Ah shit, you girls okay?” he asked, eyeing the tears in their eyes.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Charlie replied, clearing her throat and gently releasing Vaggie from the embrace. "Thanks for asking. What is it, Angel?"

“Unwelcome guests downstairs. They’re waitin’ for ya.” Angel pointed behind him, gesturing toward the hall.

Charlie nodded, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Angel. I’ll be down in a minute.”

"Okay, hun," Angel said, closing the door behind him.

Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, her tone filled with determination. “We’ll figure this out, Charlie. You won’t marry your ex or lose the hotel. I’ll help make sure of it.”

Charlie met her gaze, a quiet but resolute understanding in her eyes. “Okay, I trust you.”

Notes:

I couldn't do Vaggie dirty by having Charlie cheat on her, besides I couldn't see Charlie doing that anyway. But now that it's officially over.... time to focus on romance and smut :p

Chapter 14: Knight in shining armor

Alastor took a deep breath as he descended the grand staircase, his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the marble steps. He recognized a melodic voice within the soft murmur of conversation below. Doing his best to suppress his anger he put on the charming mask that was his smile he was so well known for, even though the very thought of facing her Majesty, Lilith, filled him with simmering resentment. 

Once at the bottom of the stairs he straightened his tie and adjusted his new crimson suit, ensuring he looked every bit the dapper gentleman. Steeling himself, he locked eye with the owner of his soul.

Lilith stood by the grand piano, though not alone. Another figure stood beside her, a tall, imposing man with an aura of arrogance and a dark appearance. Alastor's eyes narrowed slightly; he had a feeling he knew who this was. Based off his regal attire, befitting his status in the demonic hierarchy Alastor took it as being the man that would try to marry Charlie.

Lilith looked up as Alastor entered, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Alastor," she greeted him coolly. "Where is Charlotte? Is she not supposed to be with you? After all we have much to discuss."

Alastor flashed his trademark grin, the one that could disarm even the most guarded individuals. “Greetings my queen" bowing slightly "Unfortunately I haven't the slightest idea.” 

"Is it not your job to keep an eye on her as the family's pet." Lilith questioned backhandedly.

Alastor's eyes tightened but other then that did not react to her comment. "My 'job' is to see her safe, nothing more. Though if you must know the last I spoke to her she talked about needing some space to clear her head. Perhaps she's taking a walk in the gardens or spending some time in her favorite café. You know how young ladies enjoy those little escapades."

Lilith's frown deepened as her suspicion grew. Alastor placed a hand over his heart, feigning sincerity. Feeling his own heart race beneath his chest, but careful not to show it. "You and I both know that Charlotte wouldn't simply leave without a word" he reassured, "especially not when it would mean leaving behind her friends. She simply needed a moment to herself. I'm sure she'll return soon."

She studied him for a moment longer, clearly not entirely convinced but unable to find any immediate fault in his words. "Very well, you better hope she does" she said finally. "Because if I find out you are hiding something from me, there will be consequences."

Alastor felt one of his hands begin to shake involuntarily. "Of course," Alastor replied smoothly. Casually placing his hands behind his back keeping it out of sight, clinching his fist tight trying to remain in control, the last thing he wanted to do was show the Queen she was getting to him. "I would expect nothing less." 

"While we wait, I suppose introductions are in order" Lilith began, her voice dripping with a mix of disdain and amusement. "I believe it's time you met someone very important. This is Seviathan Von Eldritch, Charlie's intended." Alastor did not say anything but raised a eyebrow in curiosity as if hearing this news for the first time.

Seviathan stepped forward, his glowing eyes locking onto Alastor's with a condescending smirk. He extended a hand in a gesture that was more a display of dominance than a greeting. "Pleasure to meet you, Alastor. I've heard quite a bit about you."

Alastor did not accept the gesture as his hands remained behind him "pleasure."

Lilith's smile widened as she watched the interaction, sensing the underlying tension. "You see, Dearie, Seviathan and Charlie have quite the history together." Alastor couldn't deny the rising sense of unease and something darker bubbling within him it as clear Lilith had orchestrated this encounter with meticulous precision.

Though his smile didn't falter, his eyes flickered with a hint of irritation. "Ahh of course, though I'm well aware of their history. However, the past doesn't always dictate the future."

Seviathan chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "We will see about that"

“I’m here! Sorry I’m late.” Charlie yelled across the room. Everyone's heads turning to the small blonde as she raced down the steps towards them. Her usually bright and cheerful demeanor was noticeably dimmed. Her eyes red and puffy from crying which betrayed her recent distress. A pang of concern shot through Alastor looking her current state, mingling with a growing annoyance at the situation. However, he wasn't going to voice his concerns. 

Lilith shot Alastor a glance, as in saying 'your lucky' before turning her attention to Charlie. “Ah, darling. Just in time. You remember Seviathan.”

“Charlotte, it’s been too long.” Seviathan held out his hand to her.

Charlie extended her hand in greeting, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Seviathan, with a flourish that bordered on theatrical, took her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. 

Though there was clear discomfort in her expression Charlie offered him a polite smile. "Seviathan, it's nice to see you.” sliding her hand awkwardly out of his. 

Alastor's jaw tightened, his usually composed façade slipping ever so slightly. He prided himself on his ability to maintain control, but seeing Seviathan kiss Charlie's hand ignited a spark of possessiveness that he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't help but feel a desire to destroy this man who seemed all too eager to stake his claim.

Lilith, watching from the sidelines, seemed to revel in the tension. Her eyes flicked to Alastor, a now knowing smile playing on her lips.

Charlie turned to Alastor then Seviathan, "Sorry again for my tardiness, Have you guys had a chance to be properly introduced?"

Seviathan turned his attention to Alastor, his smirk widening. "Yes your mother took care of that. But I'm afraid we haven't had much time to chat. So, I've heard so much about you Mr. Radio Demon. It's fascinating to finally meet the man who's been assisting Charlie with her little project. I find it strange a man with your reputation entertaining such a idea."

Alastor's eyes met Seviathan's, the unspoken challenge clear between them. Charlie, sensing the brewing conflict, stepped closer to Alastor subtly placing a hand on his arm. "Alastor has been very helpful helping me with the hotel, even if our views are ... different" Clearly wanting to say more but held back not knowing what would get him in trouble or not with her mother around. 

Seviathan's eyes flicked to Charlie's hand on Alastor's arm, a brief flash of annoyance crossing his features before he masked it with a charming smile. "Of course, Charlie. I'm sure Alastor has been quite... helpful."

Lilith's smile grew wider as she observed the exchange, clearly enjoying the subtle battle of wills. "Well, it seems we have quite the dynamic but do play nice. We all want what's best for Hell and it's people, after all, that's why we are here. Your father told you the details did he not?” turning to her daughter

Charlie just nodded. “Yes, he did. I have some questions about that…”

Lilith waved her hand in the air “It can be discussed later” dismissing all of Charlie's concerns, turning back to Seviathan, “You are going to love it here.”

“Wait! What? You're staying here?” Charlie interrupted asking Seviathan.

Seviathan just smiled sweetly at her “This is a hotel, is it not?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean…” glancing up at Alastor for his input but he only looked straight ahead clearly not having a say with the whole ordeal.

“Then it’s settled.” Lilith answered for the both of them clapping her hands together. She placed her hand on top of Seviathan's back and started telling him about the layout of the hotel.

Leaning to his side close to Charlie, Alastor dropped his voice down to a whisper “I thought I told you to leave.” He muttered under his breath in annoyance.

“You did. I chose not to listen.” Charlie whispered back looking straight ahead towards her mother in anger.

Lilith wiped around back to Charlie and Alastor hearing there hush voices but unable to make out was was said. “Charlotte let us show Seviathan around, I’m sure you kids have a lot of catching up to do.” Charlie sighed as she walked over to her mother with Alastor in tow. He was about to join them when Lilith placed her hand on Alastor chest stopping him cold in his tracks. Lilith leaned in close to him “She is an adult. Surly she can handle a stroll with her intended without your protection. Wouldn't you agree.” Smiling knowingly over at Alastor. "Not to worry my dear  I will ensure everything goes smoothly." 

Ensuring to not show any cracks in his mask he politely nodded to Lilith “Course, your Majesty.” Lilith patted his chest before following the young couple at a distance as Alastor stayed back watching them walk down one of the hallways. Once out of sight he walked to the bar where Husk was working to wait for Charlie and Lilith’s return.

“I don’t like that guy.” Husk stated watching everything play out from the other side of the lobby as Alastor sat down on the bar stool in front of him.

Alastor's smile was tight, his usual charm strained by the evening's events. "A drink, Husk. Something strong, if you please." Husk grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and poured a generous amount into a glass, sliding it across the counter to Alastor.

“That makes two of us.” Vaggie interrupted joining Alastor and Husk at the bar. 

Alastor didn't acknowledge Vaggie right away as he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long, slow sip. The burn of the alcohol was a welcome distraction, if only temporary. “So tell me why are you here? I thought you and Charlie would be far away from here off riding into the rainbows or whatnot together right now.”

Vaggie rolled her eyes “It’s riding into the sunset but whatever. You must be stupid to think she would leave you behind.” taking a glass Husk had filled for her.

Alastor scoffed “She was ready to leave when last I talked to her.”

“I’m sure you have that effect on most women.” Vaggie commented making Husk bark out a laugh.

Alastor glanced at Husks outburst but chose to ignored it “So why stop her from leaving? Didn’t she share her concerns with you. I must say you are even more cruel that I. Well, you are an angel after all, so I guess that makes sense.” swirling his drink around in his glass.

“Course she was trying to leave. She was scared, but you and I both know she wouldn’t stay gone. Why make it worse by leaving now?”

“She has a point Boss” Husk jumped in. “Charlie always steps in if friends are in trouble. If she knew what her mother-”

“Who side are you on.” Alastor snapped.

Husk raised a eyebrow “Do you want me to answer that” he questioned as Alastor glared at him. “Whatever, fuck this. Pour you own god damn drinks.” Husk threw his hands in the air and left the bar area going over to hang out with Angel on a nearby couch.

“I ask again, why are you here.” Alastor asked turning back to Vaggie “Unless you came to keep me company as we watch Charlie run into another man’s arms..." resting his elbow on the bar placing his chin in his hand as he continued. "Though I must say it would be quite dull without you around.”

Vaggie rolled her eyes “Yeah? Whys that?"

“Well, you see I am in dire need for entertainment. Knowing your temper, it will only be a matter of time before you get caught in a secret relationship with Charlie. Most likely at the worst possible time causing lots of drama, fighting, and of course violence. A sight to see, I’m sure. I can almost picture it now.” Alastor pretended to have a blissful daydream before taking another sip from his glass.

Vaggie scoffed “That can be said for you as well”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rolling his eyes out of boredom.

She placed her glass back down on the bar turning in her stool to face him.“You are not as subtle as you think you are. You care for Charlie too.”

Alastor laughed “It’s called an act my dear. I do just enjoy making your life miserable.” 

“Some of it maybe. But what about the things you do when you think no one is looking. I have been watching you since you arrived, in order to protect Charlie. I see the subtle glances you shoot her way when you think she isn’t looking. Holding out your arm for her to take when going places in order to keep her close to you while you two talk. Seeing you visibly relax when you are holding her in your arms…” Vaggie said starting to get more upset listing it all out for him. Even though she ended things saying it out loud, it still hurt.

Alastor looked away from Vaggie acting bored while downing the rest of his drink as she listed all the things he does around Charlie. Half of which he didn’t even realize he did himself. 

When she finished talking Angel jumped in the conversation yelling across the room from the couch, he was now turned around in. “Or how about when you bring her coffee cause she was up late coming up with her crazy group activities. Or how you make sure to show her off to everyone when you make introductions. Shit, she is the only person exempt from your 'Stay 5 feet away from you' rule. Oh I have a better one...”

"Or when you let Charlie wear your clothes after your sleepover."" Niffy joined in innocently while still focused on a bug she was attempting kill with a large needle.

"You what!" Angel yelled looking at Alastor.

"Niffy no-" Husk begged "it wasn't... God damnit..." slapping his face knowing it was too late. Vaggie just pinched her nose in annoyance knowing how this was going to go. Alastor's ears went down, irritation spread across his face and was now completely facing the bar with his back to Angel.

Angels smile growing even bigger waiting for everyone else reactions to this news before dropping slightly. "Wait you guy already knew about this? And didn't tell me?!" Angel crossed one set of his arms across his chest. "Your telling me our innocent sweet princess was able to get Smiles here out of his clothes and none of you cared to share! And to think I almost thought of you as my friends. Psh."

Everyone stayed quiet for a moment not wanting to add fuel to the fire that was this conversation. "So ... I gotta know. How was it?" Angel asked Alastor raising his eyebrow suggestively. 

Alastor's elbow slipped regarding his question, causing a brief burst of static from the radio. His eyes narrowed as he quickly turned to face Angel, his irritation barely masked by his usual smile. "It would not be wise to make assumptions, Angel, but I assure you, nothing of the sort occurred."

Angel chuckled, clearly enjoying Alastor's flustered state. "Oh, come on. You're telling me you two weren't up to anything... interesting? I can't think of many activities that involve taking off each other clothes if you weren't'..."

Alastor was starting to become flustered and pissed at everyone’s accusations. His eyes dramatically changed to radio dials as his neck snapped to the side uncomfortably, quickly standing up kicking back his stool when he did. “Angel, if you value your life, you'll turn around and mind yourself. Now.” Alastor threatened from across the room.

Holding up his hands "Alright, alright, no need to get all scary on me, I'm just messing around. I'll leave you two to your little chat." Angel surrendered turning back around on the couch. "But you and me pussy cat are gunna have a talk about this," now addressing Husk.

Vaggie quickly took control of the conversation once more before Alastor decided to murder one of them.

“So yes”, Vaggie groaned “you make my life miserable, but you make Charlie happy. So, you win. Congrats. There is no more relationship between us. We broke up.” Wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.

Alastor's head snapped back to Vaggie at hearing about the break up. Along with Husk and Angel. “What?” Angel asked as Husk hit his arm in reminder to turn back around and shut up. Vaggie ignored them as her attention was on Alastor.

“So, listen here shit lord. If you do anything to hurt her, I will kill you myself do you understand? I may not stand a chance against you in a one on one fight but there are always other ways to go about it. I’m serious Alastor. You are not going to sit here idle while Lilith marries off Charlie to some royal prick. If you care about her, you will do something.”

Alastor had heard enough his temper boiling over.

“I tried that already my dear. You were quick to ruin that idea.” He argued angrily, losing his patience. “You think because I happen to look at Charlie on occasion or that I was taught basic manners that I have feelings for her. That because you broke up, I would just come in and swoop her up, become a knight in shining armor in her time of need. Hate to break it to you all. I am not at her beck and call.” Alastor’s antlers started growing and his eyes turned black. Everyone started shying away from him nervously. “I am an Overlord of Hell. The queen having my soul, a small step back to be sure, but believe me there is no restrictions on the amount of souls I can consume or how I chose to do so. I will tear your souls apart as I begin eating you limb from limb -.”

Charlie came around the corner “Hey Al, can we talk for a minute.”

Alastor quickly returned to his normal appearance, before Charlie could see him, turning back to the group “If you’ll excuse me.” a strained smile stretch across his face.

There fear in everyone’s faces turned into small smiles as they all looked at each other trying to suppress giggles. “Not a word” Alastor snapped glaring at Angel in particular warning the lot of them as he left the room with Charlie bit disgruntled at the timing of everything.

Chapter 15: Wedding Announcement

Alastor strolled leisurely down the hallway, to where his name was called. His posture impeccable and arms tucked behind his back as he always carried himself. The young princess paced anxiously in front of him, mumbling incoherently under her breath. She had yet to notice his arrival, so caught up in her spiraling thoughts that she nearly tripped over her own feet.

He paused a few steps away, letting the faint creak of his shoes announce his presence. "Well now, what is it that has you all worked up, my dear?" Charlie stopped mid-step, her head snapping up toward him. The distant hum of the hotel carried on behind them, but here, in the narrow hallway, it was just the two of them … and Charlie's escalating panic.

Charlie exhaled sharply, running both hands through her golden hair in exasperation. “He’s staying with me. In my room!” Her voice, though lowered, trembled with frustration as she struggled to keep herself calm.

Alastor raised a brow. “Pardon?” he asked, voice lilting as if he hadn’t quite heard her right.

“My mother!” Charlie hissed, throwing her hands up as if the mention of Lilith explained everything. “She saw my packed bags from earlier. For me and Vaggie, you know, when I was going to leave before … and now she’s forcing him to bunk with me as a precaution. This is her way of keeping an eye on me, even while I sleep. And he’s a pig, Alastor!” Charlie blurted, pacing again with frantic steps. “What if he tries something? I mean… I—I don’t trust him! I can’t sleep like that! I won’t…” Her voice cracked slightly as her panic took hold, and she pressed the heels of her palms against her temples, stopping to breathe.

Alastor's long, gloved hand darted forward, and with a gentle but deliberate motion, he bumped her chin up with the tip of his finger. The sudden contact startled her enough to freeze her pacing, and her wide eyes locked on his.

“Calm yourself, dear,” he murmured smoothly. “He will not lay a single finger on you. And should he dare…” His crimson eyes darkened just slightly as the edges of his smile curled unnaturally. “Well, let’s just say he won’t live to regret it.”

Charlie blinked at him, a mix of relief and hesitation flickering across her features. “What? But… how would you even know?” she asked softly, though her voice betrayed lingering doubt.

Alastor’s grin broadened as he wiggled his injured hand, tapping it pointedly with one finger as if to remind her of its significance. The bandages around it were still fresh from earlier events.

“Oh.” Realization dawned on Charlie, and she winced, her expression shifting to guilt. “Right. Sorry about that… again,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she rubbed at her arm.

“No apologies needed, dear,” Alastor replied lightly, his usual jovial air returning in an instant. He flexed his gloved fingers as if the injury were of no consequence. “Because of this, I will know if he so much as breathes out of turn in your presence.”

Charlie frowned, chewing her lip. “But you can’t kill him.”

Alastor’s grin faltered for only a fraction of a second before it returned, broader and sharper than before. “Can’t I?” he asked innocently.

“Ugh!” She groaned in frustration, throwing her hands up. “Yes, technically you could, but no, you can’t! He’s a royal, Alastor! If you killed him, it’d be… it’d be a death sentence!”

Alastor merely chuckled softly, the sound echoing ominously in the narrow hallway. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

Charlie glared at him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “No! No *we’ll see!” she snapped, her voice sharper this time. “Promise me you won’t do anything!”

Alastor’s smile remained, though his gaze took on an unsettling glint. He spread his arms theatrically, bowing slightly as if humoring her. “As you wish, dear princess.” He paused, his grin widening just enough to hint at mischief. “Nothing more… unless absolutely necessary.”

Charlie made a face at his offhand comment, prompting a low chuckle from Alastor before his expression shifted back to something unreadable. “Tell me, Charlie,” he began, his tone quieter, more deliberate. “Why did you come back? You had a chance to leave.” Vaggie had already filled him in, he knew the answer but clearly he wanted to hear it from her.

“I came back for you,” Charlie said without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “If I left, my mom would punish you.” Her gaze hardened slightly as she continued. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? Why would you send me away, knowing what she’d do to you?”

For once, Alastor didn’t have an immediate reply. His usual grin flickered, but it didn’t falter entirely. The silence stretched between them, and Charlie pressed on, her voice soft but insistent. “What am I to you, Al?”

His answer came too quickly now, breaking the tension with a bark of laughter loud and sudden, as if her question was so absurd it didn’t deserve consideration. “You’re a distraction,” he replied, the words slipping out smoothly, though his voice lacked its usual mirth. He reached out thoughtlessly to twirl a strand of her hair that had fallen on her shoulder.

“What?” Charlie’s face fell, hurt flashing across her features. She’d been braced for something, but not that. Kinda hoping for friend. At least.

“A lovely distraction to be sure, but a distraction nonetheless.” He corrected, each word clipped and deliberate now. “You should have left, Charlie. You make things… unnecessarily complicated.”

She flinched at the sharpness of his words, but her eyes never wavered from his.

“I am a cold-blooded killer,” he continued, his smile still in place but his voice hollow, empty. “A monster. A murderer. Folks cower in fear of the Radio Demon. I had no weaknesses, no vulnerabilities, until you.”

Charlie blinked, stunned. Me? Her cheeks turned crimson, but her heart tightened in her chest at the weight behind his words. “Al, I—”

Before she could finish, footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway, growing louder with every beat. Alastor’s hand dropped the strand of hair he’d been toying with and  took a step back. His entire demeanor shifted. His grin returned, but it was a mask  once again. He looked toward the source of the footsteps, his voice dropping so low it was almost a whisper.

“Charlie, I need you to stay away from me.”

Her heart sank, and she took a small step forward, searching his expression for answers. “Why? Are… are you embarrassed of me?”

Alastor’s laugh came quickly, sharp and short. “Embarrassed? Not at all, my dear.” His grin was there, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I simply prefer not to give anyone reason to… make assumptions. Just treat me like everyone else does, and it won’t be a problem.”

Charlie froze, taken aback by his words. How does everyone treat Alastor? She realized, with a pang, that she’d never really thought about it before. She’d always seen him as a friend, her friend. But the way he said it…

“Wait, what do you—”

Before she could finish, Alastor stepped back, his form dissolving into the shadows as though he were never there. The hallway fell silent, save for her own shaky breaths.

“Charlie?”

She startled, turning toward the voice just as Seviathan appeared at the end of the corridor.

“There you are,” he said, striding toward her, exasperation lacing his tone. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh, well… here I am,” she replied softly, tucking the strand of hair Alastor had been toying with back behind her ear. Her gaze flickered briefly to where he’d disappeared, the darkness now empty and quiet.

Seviathan reached her, taking her hand gently in his own. Charlie allowed it, though her mind was still spinning, still lingering on the conversation that had just ended so abruptly. “Come,” he said, giving her hand a small tug to guide her forward. “Your mother wants to talk with us.”

Wordlessly, Charlie let him lead her back toward the dining room, glancing one last time over her shoulder into the shadows where Alastor had vanished

---

When they entered the dining room, Lilith sat regally at the head of the table, her husband’s chair conspicuously empty. At the sound of the door, she looked up, her expression sharp yet pleasant as her gaze landed on the young couple. With a snap of her fingers, Alastor emerged soundlessly from the shadows nearby, his sudden appearance as casual as it was unsettling.

Lilith curled a finger, beckoning him closer. He approached with smooth, measured steps, bending slightly as she whispered something inaudible into his ear. Across the room, Charlie’s face reddened with anger, her fists clenching at her sides as she watched the quiet exchange. She tried desperately to read his expression, to glean anything from the Radio Demon’s face but, as always, Alastor’s signature smile revealed nothing, a mask as impenetrable as ever.

With a casual flick of her hand, Lilith dismissed Alastor, sending him to the far corner of the room. He obediently stepped back into the shadows, his gaze lingering on Charlie for a beat too long before he shifted his attention elsewhere.

“Come sit, children,” Lilith said smoothly, her voice a silky command as she gestured for them to approach. “Lunch is almost ready.”

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly moved toward the table. As she reached for her chair, Seviathan smoothly pulled it out for her, flashing a warm, practiced smile. “Allow me,” he said, his voice dripping with false charm.

Charlie blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks,” she muttered, awkwardly sitting down. Seviathan slid into the chair beside her, positioning himself far too close for comfort.

Lilith clapped her hands together in mock delight, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked from Charlie to Seviathan. “I’m so happy to see you two together again,” she mused, her tone sweet yet calculating. “How long has it been now?”

“Too long,” Seviathan responded smoothly, his hand moving toward Charlie’s as if it were second nature. He placed it on top of hers with an almost practiced familiarity. Charlie flinched, immediately pulling her hand away and tucking it into her lap, her face flushing in discomfort.

Across the room, she could feel Alastor’s crimson gaze on her, piercing through the air. She resisted the urge to look, knowing it would only make the situation worse.

“Yes, it’s been a long time,” Charlie agreed, her voice laced with thinly veiled annoyance.

Seviathan glanced at Lilith, silently pleading for some form of intervention.

“It’s fine,” Lilith said dismissively, waving off his concern. “You two will regain your passion soon enough. Once you’re married. In a few days, in fact.”

“A few days?!” Charlie’s voice shot up in disbelief as she pushed her chair back and stood up, her anger flaring. “I keep being told I have to marry him, but so soon? I can’t marry him right now!” She turned toward Seviathan, a flicker of politeness slipping out. “No offense.”

Seviathan raised an eyebrow, his expression light and nonchalant. “I mean… I’m a little offended,” he replied with a chuckle, though his tone remained even.

Ignoring him, Charlie rounded on her mother. “Why now? Why so soon?”

Lilith remained icy and unfazed, her eyes never wavering as she leaned back in her seat. “Your father already told you the importance of this union—”

“Yes, I know!” Charlie cut her off sharply, her voice rising in frustration. “I must marry to protect the people of Hell, or so you say. But why right now? Why rush it?”

Lilith arched an eyebrow, her expression unbothered. “Because I don’t see much point in waiting.”

“Well, I do!” Charlie shot back, her heart racing with frustration. “We don’t even know each other anymore!”

To her surprise, Seviathan spoke up, his voice smooth and agreeable as he leaned back in his chair. “Charlotte is right.” He turned to Lilith with an almost calculated calmness. “We are to be married regardless, but let us reacquaint ourselves first. It will make the transition much easier, don’t you think?” His eyes seeking her approval.

Lilith’s expression flickered with annoyance, but she quickly masked it, her gaze shifting as servants began to file into the room, placing plates of food before them. “It sounds like it’s settled, then,” she replied, dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand as if it were nothing of consequence.

Charlie slumped back in her chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest, muttering something under her breath.

“Oh, Alastor,” Lilith suddenly sang, her voice rising with a melodic sweetness as she gestured with an elegant flick of her wrist.

Alastor stepped forward with two long, deliberate strides, his smile widening just a little, as though he'd been waiting for the call.

“Go on your little radio show and announce the marriage,” Lilith said airily, as if it were a simple request. “The last day of summer, we’ll have ourselves a Royal Wedding.”

“Of course,” Alastor replied smoothly, bowing slightly at the waist. He lingered for just a moment, casting a brief, almost imperceptible glance at Charlie before turning on his heel and walking toward the door.

Charlie’s gaze followed him, not so subtly, her expression unreadable as he disappeared from sight.

“Well, let’s dig in,” Seviathan announced cheerfully, breaking the silence as he picked up his utensils and started eyeing the food in front of him.

Charlie reluctantly returned her focus to her plate, though her appetite had long since fled.

Once Alastor was out of sight, Seviathan spoke again, his tone casual but firm. “Once we’re done eating, you can change, and we’ll take a stroll through the town, just like we used to.”

Charlie paused, looking up from her plate with a raised eyebrow. “Why do I have to change?”

Seviathan blinked in amusement, glancing her up and down. “Oh, I just assumed you only wore that here. I didn’t realize you wore a pantsuit out in public, too.”

“What’s wrong with a suit?” she shot back, her voice defensive as she sat up straighter.

Lilith let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as she delicately began cutting into her meal. “You look like a boy, honey.”

Charlie’s jaw tightened as her mother continued, her voice sweet but dripping with condescension. “Not to worry, dear. I have plenty of lovely outfits for you to wear on your date tonight.”

Fists clenched tightly under the table, Charlie’s face flushed with anger, but she kept her mouth shut, glaring down at her plate. Beside her, Seviathan simply smiled, clearly satisfied with the situation.

Suddenly, the radio behind Lilith crackled to life, and Alastor’s voice echoed through the room, crisp and clear. Charlie froze.

---

The radio crackled ominously as Alastor’s voice slithered through, smooth as velvet yet professional with chilling malice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, demons and devils of all ages,” his voice boomed, the slightest hint of mischief dancing on every word. “This is your ever-charming Radio Demon with a most delightful announcement. Oh, you’ll want to put down those pitchforks, stop torturing the damned for a moment, and lend me your ears. It’s news you simply can’t afford to miss!”

A brief pause followed as a jaunty, old-timey tune played faintly in the background, like something out of a twisted 1920s ballroom.

“Hell’s royal family—yes, them—, that we all know and adore. Has decided to bless us with a little celebration. That’s right, mark your calendars, my dear listeners!” On the last day of summer—oh, how poetic—it seems we will all bear witness to none other than a ROYAL WEDDING! Can you hear the church bells? No? Ah well, pretend you can.”

The grin in his voice sharpened just a touch.

“I’m sure we’re all simply dying to see how this unfolds! Invitations? Not to worry, my dear listeners your all invited. And remember, attendance is optional... but absence? Well, that tends to have consequences, doesn’t it?. After all, who would want to miss such an occasion? So dust off your finest rags, polish those horns, and smile like you mean it. Nothing says ‘true love’ quite like a political arrangement.”

There was a slight pause as if Alastor were grinning directly into the microphone, the static lingering like the hum of anticipation.

“Until then, my dear listeners, Alastor signing off!

And then, as if emerging from the depths of some unseen abyss, the broadcast dissolved into the sound of distant, distorted screams, tormented souls wailing in agony, their cries rising and fading as Alastor’s chilling laughter echoed faintly in the background.

The radio went dead with a sharp click.

---

Back at the dining table, Charlie's stomach twisting as Alastor’s words hung in the air. Across from her, Seviathan smirked, clearly unbothered, while Lilith merely sipped at her wine, satisfied.

Charlie didn’t dare look toward the corner where Alastor had stood moments earlier, but she could feel his presence lingering like smoke, even after he was gone.

Chapter 16: A lovely distraction

Charlie stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection as if it belonged to someone else. The gown she wore was undeniably beautiful—an elegant black dress adorned with intricate silver embroidery that shimmered under the soft light. The fabric hugged her form perfectly, exuding a regal, almost ethereal quality. But it wasn’t hers. It was her mother’s.

The weight of the dress pressed heavily against her, as if it were trying to reshape her into someone she wasn’t. She had always admired her mother’s taste, the effortless way she commanded attention and wielded power with every step she took. But now, draped in her mother’s image, Charlie felt like an imposter. Her warm, lively eyes appeared dull in the mirror, overshadowed by dark, dramatic makeup that felt foreign on her skin. Her wild golden waves, which she loved leaving untamed, were styled meticulously into glossy, controlled curls. Every detail screamed perfection, and yet all Charlie could feel was a hollow ache.

“This isn’t me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as it broke the silence. The woman in the mirror looked poised, powerful, and cold an image devoid of the warmth and kindness Charlie cherished in herself.

Behind her, Vaggie stood with her arms crossed, observing quietly. The hesitation in her eyes betrayed her calm demeanor as she finally stepped forward. “You look amazing,” Vaggie said softly, her voice tinged with an uncertainty that didn’t escape Charlie’s notice.

Charlie let out a shaky breath, her gaze fixed on her reflection. “I feel like I’m becoming her,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “Wearing her clothes, doing what she wants... I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

Vaggie moved closer, placing a steady hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You’re nothing like her,” she said firmly. “Wearing her clothes doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t make you her.”

Charlie’s lips quivered as she fought back tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing myself?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to ruin the perfectly applied makeup.

Vaggie tightened her grip on Charlie’s shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one evening. You can get through this,” she urged. “Seviathan doesn’t seem as bad as he used to. Maybe tonight won’t be as awful as you think.”

Charlie shook her head, the lump in her throat growing tighter. “It’s not just Seviathan...” gripping the edge of the vanity for support. Her voice wavered as she confessed, “It’s my mother. I can’t stand to be in the same room with her. Not after...” Her voice broke, unable to finish the thought. The memories of everything she had witnessed, everything she now knew, clawed at her mind.

Vaggie’s eyes hardened, her tone growing serious. “She doesn’t know that you know, does she?”

Charlie shook her head quickly, her breathing uneven.

“Good,” Vaggie said firmly. “I don't need to know what this big secret is to know she is dangerous. We all saw the room that she had Alastor in. I won't let you be next. You need to be smart about this, Charlie. You need to keep playing her game until you’re ready to beat her at it."”

Charlie bit her lip, her voice cracking. “So, I just... pretend? Let her keep manipulating me while I smile and act like nothing’s wrong?”

“For now, yes,” Vaggie said gently. “You can’t let her see you’re onto her. If you confront her too soon, she might try something... And I won’t let that happen.”

Taking a deep breath, Charlie nodded, though the knot in her stomach remained. “I’ll try,” she murmured.

Vaggie’s expression softened, and she offered a small smile. “Good. We’ll figure this out. Just give us time to come up with a plan.”

Charlie steadied herself, "Okay... I will. Let’s get it over with."

Vaggie hesitated, then said quietly, “One more thing. "Umm, Charlie. I won’t be here when you get back," she admitted, biting her lip. "I’ll be staying outside the hotel for a bit. I’m always here for you, you know that, but..." Charlie turned, confusion flickering in her eyes. “It’s still hard for me,” Vaggie admitted, her voice full of emotion. “Watching you with someone else... it’s hard, Charlie. I know it’ll pass, but right now...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Charlie’s heart sank. “I understand,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you, Vaggie.”

“You’re not,” Vaggie assured her, though the pain in her voice was unmistakable. “This is just... for the best for now... And your mom," Vaggie added with a small, bitter laugh, "I don’t think she’d take too kindly to me being around you so much anyway." She tried to keep her tone light, but both of them knew the truth behind the words. "But I’m always here for you. Don’t forget that.”

Charlie nodded, her chest aching with the weight of everything left unsaid. With one last glance at the mirror, she squared her shoulders, forcing herself to stand tall. Sighing deeply she felt more conflicted than ever. Charlie wanted to stay, to hide in her room with Vaggie and forget about the dinner, Seviathan, and her mother. But she couldn’t avoid it forever. "I’ll go," she said, though the resolve in her voice wavered. "I’ll try to enjoy myself. Who knows, maybe..." She trailed off, unable to even convince herself that the evening would be anything other than painful.

Vaggie nodded, giving her a look of quiet support. "You might surprise yourself," she offered gently, though even she didn’t seem convinced.

Charlie gave a weak nod in return. With one last glance in the mirror, she turned and left the room, the sound of her heels echoing in the hallway. Her heart felt heavier with each step as she descended the grand staircase into the hotel lobby, feeling more like she was walking into a trap than a dinner.

Alastor sat at the bar, his usual grin plastered on his face, but there was something distant about him tonight. The lively sounds of the Hellish establishment buzzed around him. Husk lazily slouched next to him, downing another glass of whiskey, while Angel Dust prattled on about something obscene, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Despite their proximity, Alastor wasn't engaged in the conversation.

The Radio Demon’s eyes remained fixed on his glass, which he had barely touched. The faint glow from the bar's neon lights cast long shadows on his sharp features, making him look even more ominous than usual. Angel cracked a joke, laughing loudly as he playfully swatted Husk on the back. Just then, the sound of her heels clicking drew their attention. Charlie emerged from the staircase, her presence instantly commanding.

“Holy shit, Charlie?” Angel exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in her transformed appearance.

“You look great, princess,” Husk remarked, his grin softening into something genuine.

“Great? She looks sexy as hell!” Angel corrected, tossing a dramatic wink her way.

Charlie managed a small smile, though her heart still felt heavy.

Alastor hesitated for a moment, his polished composure flickering as his eyes took her in as she descended the staircase. His ever-present grin faltered, barely perceptible, but it was there.

She looked different... beautiful, but unsettlingly different.

Her dark gown, an intricate blend of satin and lace, gave her an air of undeniable elegance, the kind reserved for royalty. The design was hauntingly familiar: the delicate embroidery, the way the fabric draped over her figure. It wasn’t just the dress, though. Her normally untamed golden waves were styled, tamed into something controlled and regal. Her makeup, darker and more dramatic than usual, framed her features with an almost ethereal sharpness.

She looked like her mother.

Alastor’s eyes darkened for a fleeting moment, the resemblance striking a nerve he hadn’t anticipated. Recalling his manners, he got up from this bar stool clasping his hands in front of him with gentlemanly precision, extending his hand to her. “Well, my dear Charlie,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying its usual eerie cadence, “I must say, you look... stunning this evening.” The words, though spoken with his characteristic charm, felt almost forced, his discomfort hidden beneath the surface.

Charlie offered a weak smile, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she took his hand. “Oh, uhh... thanks.”

Alastor helped her down the last few steps then placed her hand on his arm, leading her with a surprising gentleness through the lobby and into the hall.

Charlie tilted her head to look up at him. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“I am to take you to your betrothed,” he replied formally.

“Don’t say it like that,” she muttered, annoyance flaring in her tone as she looked away.

The walk felt longer than it was, the silence between them heavy. Once they were out of earshot of her friends, Charlie seized the moment. “How do you do it?”

Alastor glanced down at her, his expression curious. “Do what, my dear?”

She tightened her grip on his arm. “How can you be so calm around my mother? I was only in the room with her for a few minutes this morning, and I wanted to scream. You’re around her all the time, and after everything she’s done... how do you manage it?”

Alastor chuckled softly, his voice both soothing and calculated. “Just smile, my dear,” he advised, his tone earnest despite its eerie undertone. “As I’ve told you before, never let them see they can hurt you. If you do, you give them power. And power, my dear Charlie, is best kept in your hands. So wear your smile like armor and starve them of satisfaction.”

Charlie hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter. “Is that why you don’t want to be seen with me? Because I’m just a ‘distraction’ to you? A weakness?” She quoted him, searching his face for answers she was unable to get before.

He stopped for a moment, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “A lovely distraction,” he corrected, a playful edge to his voice. Before she could respond, they arrived at the grand doors where Seviathan waited. Alastor straightened, resuming his polished demeanor, and released her arm.

The moment they entered, Seviathan glanced at Alastor with disdain. “She lives here, she could have found her way here without your help,” he scoffed.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his grin sharpening. “A real gentleman picks up his date rather than letting her wander long distances in heels. Unless, of course, you’ve got a pair tucked away to compensate for your height?” His smirk widened, his jab landing perfectly.

Charlie stifled a laugh, quickly covering her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to hide her amusement.

Seviathan, though not short, stood just a fraction shorter than Alastor, a fact that clearly stung. He glared at the taller demon before turning to Charlie with a forced smile. “Charlie, babe,” he said, placing a hand on her lower back and guiding her toward the door. “We should head out if we want to make our reservations.”

Alastor stepped forward, holding the door open as they exited. Charlie glanced back at him, her voice bright with surprise. “Wait, you’re coming with us?”

Her cheerful tone caught Seviathan off guard, his brow furrowing. Before Alastor could respond, Seviathan cut in, irritation seeping into his voice. “Your father insisted he come along. Apparently, he’s good at keeping riffraff away.” He sneered, turning to Alastor with disdain. “Just stay back, would you? We wouldn’t want anyone thinking we’re out with... the help.”

Charlie stiffened, her tone sharpening. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

Seviathan shrugged dismissively. “Why not? He is beneath us.”

Charlie shot a quick glance over Seviathan’s shoulder at Alastor, who met her eyes with the slightest shake of his head. With a subtle motion of his fingers, he gestured for her to smile. She sighed and forced a grin. “You’re right... sorry, Seviathan. I guess I’m just not used to having another royal around.”

Seviathan smirked, pleased with himself. “You’ll get used to it. Everyone serves us here.” He took her hand and began leading her down the street, his pace brisk and unrelenting.

Charlie stumbled slightly in her heels, struggling to keep up. At least with Alastor she was able to balance herself on his arm when they walked, always mindful of her comfort. She stole a glance back at him, his tall figure trailing them silently.

Stop it, she chastised herself. You’ll only get him hurt. Focus on Seviathan.

After what felt like an eternity and a few blisters later... they finally arrived at the restaurant Seviathan had chosen. He turned sharply toward Alastor. “Wait out here,” he barked before striding inside.

---

Inside, Charlie and Seviathan were shown to their reserved table. As she settled into her seat, Charlie offered the waiter a quiet, “Thanks.”

Seviathan leaned back in his chair, his eyes shamelessly roaming over her. “You look stunning, Charlotte.”

“It’s just Charlie,” she corrected with a tight smile. “And thanks... my mom picked this out.”

He chuckled, his gaze lingering. “I can tell. You look just like her.”

The comment struck a nerve. Is that’s what Alastor see as well?, her heart sinking at the thought. Needing a distraction she reached for her full wine glass.

When the waiter returned, Seviathan took control immediately. “I’ll have the steak, rare. She’ll take the salad.”

Charlie raised a hand before the waiter could leave. “Actually, I’d like to hear the special, please.”

The waiter smiled. “Tonight, it’s chicken and shrimp over pasta in our chef’s famous sauce.”

“Perfect. I’ll have that,” she decided, lifting her empty glass. “And more wine, please.”

Seviathan’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t argue. “Pasta, huh? Better watch how much of that you eat.”

Charlie’s grip tightened on her wine glass as she fought the urge to snap back. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving it off as if her words were inconsequential. He leaned forward, his expression turning smug. “So, Charlotte, what have you been up to?”

“Charlie,” she corrected again, her patience thinning. “I’ve been running the hotel and—”

“I heard you’ve taken an interest in girls now. Is that true?” Seviathan interrupted, his tone dripping with amusement.

Charlie took another long sip of her wine, deliberately avoiding Seviathan’s question. She wasn’t sure how to answer without a snarky remark slipping out, so she chose silence instead. Sensing the awkward tension, the waiter returned, leaving the wine bottle on the table. Charlie nodded in appreciation, quickly pouring herself another glass.

Seviathan, unfazed by her lack of response, launched into a self-indulgent monologue. He barely gave her a chance to interject as he regaled her with tales from his past, his voice drowning out the ambient hum of the restaurant. The dim lighting cast soft shadows over the polished wooden tables, and Charlie tried to appear engaged, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She absently stirred her drink, tuning out Seviathan’s voice, her eyes wandering the shadows that danced around the room. Something odd caught her attention, her shadow by her feet seemed to shift unnaturally. She blinked, then noticed it: a wide, toothy grin briefly formed within her silhouette before disappearing. Her lips curled into a smile.

It was Alastor. Even from a distance, he was watching over her, likely cringing at Seviathan’s blathering. Knowing Alastor, he’d tuned out the moment Seviathan started talking about himself.

After what felt like an eternity, Seviathan finally declared, “We’re done here. Let’s go for a stroll.” leaving cash on the table.

Charlie followed him out into the cool night air, relieved to leave the restaurant. As they walked, Seviathan rambled on, his voice laced with condescension. “That hotel of yours is a waste of prime real estate,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “We could turn it into a club or casino. Easy money.”

“It’s not about money,” Charlie retorted, her frustration simmering. “It’s about helping people.”

Seviathan scoffed, waving her off. “There you go again, lumping us in with them. You’ll learn to think like a proper royal soon enough.” He plucked a rose from a nearby bush, presenting it to her with a smug grin. “For you.”

Charlie rolled her eyes but took the rose reluctantly. “Thanks…”

As they continued, loud music thumped from a nearby club, catching Seviathan’s attention. His eyes lit up. “Let’s grab some drinks, like old times,” he said, reaching for her hand to pull her along.

Charlie hesitated, pulling away quickly. “I just need a moment. I’ll catch up,” she said firmly.

Seviathan shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He disappeared into the club, leaving her alone on the quiet street.

The moment he was gone, Alastor emerged from the shadows, his presence a comforting reprieve. “Leaving a lady alone at night? Tsk, tsk. Dangerous. Someone might come along and snatch you away.”

Charlie laughed softly, turning to face him. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Alastor’s grin widened, his ruby eyes gleaming. Charlie held out the rose Seviathan had given her. “Care for a rose, Al?”

Alastor’s fingers brushed the flower lightly, and it withered in her hand almost instantly, petals curling and blackening. “Not my style,” he said with a chuckle. “Besides, you don’t strike me as the type to care for roses.”

“Oh?” Charlie asked, tossing the dead rose aside. “And what kind of flower would you say I like?”

Alastor paused thoughtfully before his grin returned. “Taraxacum erythrospermum.”

Charlie blinked. “What?”

Stepping past her, Alastor knelt by the base of the rose bush, pulling up a humble dandelion with its fluffy, white seed head. “A type of dandelion,” he explained. “Some call it a weed, but I beg to differ. Where I’m from, finding one of these meant you could make a wish.”

He held it out to her.

Charlie took the flower, a small smile playing on her lips. “You can make wishes with it?”

“So they say,” Alastor replied with a shrug. “Close your eyes, think of something you truly desire, and blow the seeds away. Your wish just might come true.”

“That’s it?” she asked skeptically, inspecting the delicate fluff.

“As simple as that,” he said with a grin.

Charlie smiled, holding the flower close. “Sounds too good to be true. Doesn’t all magic come at a price?”

“Not this time,” Alastor said, his tone softer than usual. “Go on. Make your wish.”

Closing her eyes, Charlie thought for a moment before blowing the seeds into the night air. She opened her eyes to find Alastor watching her intently. “There. I wished for—”

“Ah-ah,” Alastor interrupted, pressing a finger to her lips. “Don’t say it aloud, my dear. It’ll lose its magic.” He winked, his playful smile returning.

“Fine,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes. She took his hand from her lips, holding it gently. Pressing his palm against her cheek, she whispered, “Thank you, Al.”

Alastor chuckled, his usual mischievous demeanor momentarily giving way to something more tender. “Always, my dear.”

They paused, caught in a moment that neither of them had anticipated. Alastor’s thumb brushed against her bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping away the smudge of lipstick to reveal the soft pink of her natural lips.

Charlie shifted nervously, her heart hammering in her chest. She hadn’t expected the night to take this turn, not with him, a demon who always seemed so detached, so above mortal whims. But tonight, something about him felt different. His ever-present grin wasn’t the wide, predatory expression she had grown accustomed to. It was softer, hesitant even, and the way he looked at her carried a depth she’d never seen before.

“Charlie…” His voice was low, smoother than usual but still tinged with that faint, haunting radio crackle that sent shivers down her spine. He was closer now... too close. His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. Leaning in, his crimson eyes locked onto hers, searching, as though he were uncertain, hesitant, vulnerable in a way she never thought possible.

Her breath hitched. The world around her seemed to fade, her responsibilities, her fears, the ever-present weight of her family’s expectations, all of it dissolved into the background. All she could focus on was him.

Alastor stopped, his lips just a breath away from hers. His hesitation lingered, and for a moment, it seemed he might pull back. But Charlie didn’t let him. Her hands gripped the front of his suit tightly, and with a surge of courage, she pulled him down to her. Their lips met, the kiss breaking through the barrier of tension that had been building between them.

For once, Alastor didn’t resist. He melted into her touch, his usual polished composure slipping as he responded to her kiss. It wasn’t rushed or calculated, but genuine, raw, and electric, like a static charge that set her heart alight.

It didn’t take long for his confidence to surge back. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against him, while his other hand wove into her hair, fingers tangling at the nape of her neck. He pulled lightly, deepening the kiss as his tongue slipped past her lips. Charlie let out a soft, involuntary moan, the sound fueling him as his hold on her grew firmer, more possessive.

The kiss was electric, an unspoken hunger spilling out after being suppressed for far too long. Alastor kissed her like he was staking a claim, as though he’d been waiting for this moment longer than even he could admit. It was desperate yet deliberate, an intensity that left no doubt of how deeply he desired her.

When his lips moved to her neck, she gasped softly, tilting her head to give him access. The warmth of his breath on her skin sent shivers down her spine. She leaned into him, her fingers clutching at his suit, but just as the moment threatened to spiral out of control, he froze.

Alastor pulled back abruptly, his breathing uneven, his composure cracking for just a moment before he forced it back into place. His hands dropped away from her, though his forehead rested lightly against hers.

Charlie’s lips tingled, her heart still racing as she stared up at him, wide eyed. Her mind was a whirlwind. Words failed her, leaving the air between them heavy with unspoken emotion.

“I guess wishes do come true,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Alastor chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. His voice dropped to a low, almost bitter murmur. “If only it were that easy.”

His words brought her crashing back to reality. Charlie frowned, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. As she did, she noticed the faint smudge of her lipstick on his lips. Blushing, she instinctively reached up to wipe it away, but before her fingers could touch him, he caught her hand midair.

“Go back to your date, my dear,” he said, his tone calm but distant, a polished mask slipping back into place. He gently lowered her hand before taking a deliberate step back, his crimson eyes flickering toward the building where Seviathan waited. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he added coolly, “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Charlie bit her lip, the sting of reality cutting through her daze. She nodded, her voice trembling as she started to speak. “You’re right. We can’t. I… I’m sorry—”

“I’m not,” he interrupted, his voice sharp and unwavering as his gaze locked onto hers with intensity that made her breath catch. “But now… go back to your date.”

A knot formed in her throat as she swallowed back her emotions, unsure of what to say or how to fix the ache building in her chest. Without another word, she turned and walked quickly back toward the club, where Seviathan would be waiting for her.

---

Once inside the club, it didn’t take long for Charlie to spot Seviathan lounging in a VIP booth, surrounded by three demon girls draped over him like accessories. His posture oozed arrogance as he noticed her and waved her over with a lazy grin. “There you are, Come join us,” he called out, clearly enjoying himself in their company.

Charlie took in a deep breath trying to reset her emotions. “I don’t think so,” she said firmly looking at the girls, her voice laced with frustration. “Let’s just go back to the hotel.”

Seviathan raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile curling at his lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. We just got here!” He waved his hand dismissively, signaling the other girls to leave the booth. They pouted but obeyed, slinking away without a word, leaving Seviathan and Charlie alone.

“I thought this was supposed to be a date,” Charlie said, crossing her arms defensively. “Why are you with other girls?” As if she's one to talk...

Seviathan’s smirk deepened. “Relax, babe. You need to learn to have a little fun. I figured you’d be into some girl-on-girl action after, well... you know.” His tone was suggestive, and he leaned in closer.

Charlie’s expression hardened. “Just because I had a girlfriend doesn’t mean I went around sleeping with every woman I met.”

Seviathan rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat as if her words were of no consequence. “I’ve been trying to make this fun for us all day,” he said with an air of exasperation. “But you’ve been moping around, barely engaging. I thought getting out of the house would snap you out of it, but no.”

Charlie’s frustration flared. “I've seen you for all of one day, Seviathan. I haven’t even had time to process all of this yet. Everything’s happening so fast. Can’t you see that?”

Seviathan stood up from the booth, his demeanor shifting from casual indifference to a more predatory calm. He approached her, fingers lightly brushing up and down her arm in what was supposed to be a soothing gesture, but it only sent chills down her spine. “Remember when we used to have fun?” he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Seviathan, stop,” Charlie warned, leaning back and pulling her arm out of his grasp. She turned her head, avoiding his attempt to kiss her.

His face twisted with a brief flash of annoyance before he masked it with a smile. “It’s fine, Charlie. Take your time,” he said smoothly, though his voice carried a sharp edge. “I’m not going anywhere. But at least stay for a few drinks.”

Charlie hesitated, knowing she shouldn’t indulge him, but the need to drown out her thoughts, especially those of Alastor. “Fine,” she muttered, “but just for a bit.”

Seviathan didn’t waste any time. He ordered round after round of drinks, pushing them toward Charlie, who reluctantly accepted. She tried to pace herself, but soon the alcohol started to dull her senses. The noise of the club became a distant hum, and the room swayed slightly around her. It wasn’t until she felt Seviathan’s hand sliding up her thigh, creeping beneath the hem of her dress, that she snapped back to full awareness.

“What…? No, Seviathan, don’t,” Charlie protested, her voice slurring slightly from the alcohol. She tried to push his hand away, but she felt weak, and her limbs were slow to respond.

Seviathan leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “Come on, babe. No one will even know. We used to do this all the time.”

“No. I said stop,” Charlie repeated, her voice firm, though the quiver of unease crept through. She tried to shove him off, but he ignored her, his hand continuing its unwelcome exploration.

From beneath the table, a shadow shot up like a coiled snake, wrapping around Seviathan’s wrist with a bone crushing grip. He yelped, startled, as the shadow dragged his hand away from Charlie with an almost violent force.

The club’s lively atmosphere shifted. Conversations hushed. The music seemed to warp and distort as the crowd parted making room for him to pass. Through the sea of stunned patron Alastor strode forward with deliberate, unhurried steps, his tall, angular form radiating menace. His antlers cast jagged shadows on the walls, and his eyes burned with a deep, malevolent black.

“I believe the lady said no,” Alastor’s voice was soft but sharp, each word cutting through the air like a razor. Shadows coiled around his hands, flickering with an eerie green glow that pulsed in time with the static hum of his power.

Charlie tried to steady her breathing, relief flooding her as she saw him. Alastor didn’t take his eyes off Seviathan as he extended a hand toward her, his smile twisted and unnerving. “Charlie, my dear,” he said with unnerving calm, “it seems you’ve had enough excitement for one evening. Shall we return to the hotel?”

Seviathan, shaken but determined not to lose face, straightened his jacket and shot Alastor a glare. “She’s fine,” he snapped, yanking his arm free from the shadow’s grip.

Alastor tilted his head, his grin widening. “Is she?” His eyes flickered, morphing into old-fashioned radio dials, and the static around him grew louder, more erratic. The shadows at his feet writhed like living things, eager to strike again. “Because it didn’t look that way to me.”

Tension thickened, the room growing still as onlookers whispered and began pulling out their phones. Charlie stepped between them, holding up her hands. “It’s fine, Al. Please, let’s just go home,” she said, her voice calm but pleading. She glanced around, noticing the curious stares and flashing cameras. This was getting out of control.

Seviathan scoffed, his pride clearly wounded. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing Charlie’s hand. “We were leaving anyway.” Seviathan glared at him but said nothing, tugging Charlie toward the exit. Alastor followed at a deliberate distance, his presence looming behind them like a predator stalking its prey.

---

When they reached the hotel, Seviathan held the door open for Charlie, but as Alastor approached, Seviathan stepped into his path, blocking the way. His lips curled into a smug grin. “You’ve done your part, Radio Demon. Why don’t you take your little shadow and crawl back into the dark where you belong?”

Alastor’s grin faltered, his head tilting as if processing the words with bemusement. He tapped his foot rhythmically, and his shadow slithered back from Charlie, returning to its master in a slow, deliberate motion. His voice was honeyed venom. “Feeling brave now, are we? I wonder…” He leaned forward, his grin widening into something feral. “…if you’d be so bold without your queen to shield you.”

Seviathan didn’t reply. He turned his back on Alastor with a derisive snort, guiding Charlie toward the stairs, his hand gripping hers possessively.

Alastor’s smile lingered as he watched them disappear, his hands resting loosely in his pockets. The static hum around him faded, but the glint in his eyes promised that this wasn’t over.

Chapter 17: What Real Power Looks Like

Notes:

*** MATURE CONTENT *** This chapter contains some mature scenes that may be considered offensive or disturbing to some readers.

Charlie’s head was still spinning from the drinks she’d had throughout the night. Her mind struggled to keep up with the chaos that had unfolded, but the alcohol dulled the edges, making it hard to think clearly. She stumbled slightly as they made her way into her bedroom, leaning against the cool surface of the nearby wall for support, grateful for something solid in a world that didn't feel like it was tilting.

Her heels were unforgiving as they pinched her feet, each step on the plush carpet sending a dull throb through her legs. With a frustrated sigh, she bent over awkwardly, balancing against the wall as she slipped them off, tossing them aside. 

“Now where were we?” Seviathan murmured, his voice a low drawl as he slipped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her close. His breath warm against her neck, his grip tightening while his fingers lingering a bit too long.

She stiffened under his touch, her heart quickening, not with nostalgia but with frustration. “Nowhere, enough Seviathan,” prying his hands away from her waist and stepping out of his grasp. She spun around to face him, her eyes narrowing as she held her ground. There was no warmth in her expression, only a firm resolve.

His eyes flickered with surprise, maybe even amusement, as if he didn’t quite believe her. But Charlie wasn’t backing down.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration. “This isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”

Charlie might’ve been a bit drunk, her head still buzzing from the night’s indulgence, but she was sober enough to stand up for herself. “It is not the same. We are not the same people we once where, this whole arrangement is just that, an arrangement. Do you honestly think I would believe you are here for me and not your own selfish desires? Not once tried to get to know me since arriving at my hotel. I will not be a pawn for you or my mother nor will I be a fuck toy for you while you try to climb your way to power. Not again.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he locked the door to the bedroom turning back to Charlie. “Well, I got to tell ya,” he said, his tone turning dark, "I’m tired of being told no. I’ve been patient. I did everything right. I wined and dined you, gave you flowers, complimented you. I played the game, now ... you owe me.”

Charlie’s stomach turned. “I don’t owe you anything. You don’t get to decide what I give, and no amount of ‘doing everything right’ changes that.” He stepped closer, his jaw clenched, as if her defiance was something he couldn’t comprehend. But Charlie didn’t back down. “I don’t owe you shit for you pretending to be a decent person. You think there is a checklist on steps needed on how to get into my pants. I don’t think so. You need to leave,” her voice cracking a bit at the end as Seviathan started making his way to her.

“You right, I don’t know why I even bother... Nothing I do will be good enough because I'm not that Red freak, right? I see you watching him hoping he will notice you. How fast you took his hand in the club to leave with him, clinging to him when meeting me for OUR date. Do you think me stupid? Is that it?"

“What! No that’s not it at all, Alastor was just being polite.”

“You really think he willingly wants to be around you? That freak has to be by your side. He doesn’t care about you. He is a slave forced to work for your family. You did this to him, why would he ever care for you? Or, have you forgotten? If he ever got his freedom back he would without a doubt kill you and the ones your love. After all that's what he is best known for." His eyes narrowing as he got right in her face, his voice dropping to a sneer. “You know, you’re not anything special”.

The confidence Charlie felt moments ago started slipping away, replaced by a suffocating weight that pressed down on her chest. Charlie’s throat tightened, she’d always known her parents wielded influence over Alastor because of their deals but to think it was the only reason he stayed, that every smile, every word, every act of friendship had been because he had to. The thought made her stomach twist.

Had she just been fooling herself? All the times she’d thought he was looking out for her, all those moments she’d felt truly seen…were they nothing but obligations? She thought back to Alastor’s lingering glances, his dry humor, the small ways he’d been there when no one else was, and felt the fragile threads of hope unraveling. If it was just another deal, something he endured out of duty or even pity.

Seviathan chuckled closing the distance between them seeing Charlie hurting as she mulled over his words. "But if you have a thing for bad boys then that’s fine by me.” Grabbing Charlie’s wrist.

“What?! No what are you doing?” Snapping her out of her thoughts as he threw her onto the bed that was behind her.

“What I should have earlier. I'm done playing these games”

Charlie's eyes widened in fear looking up at her Ex as he walked towards her on the bed. She turned around trying to crawl away before she could Seviathan grabbed her ankles pulling her towards him. Pushing up her dress he settled himself between her legs while pinning her wrists above her head.

Panic set in seeing the position he was in. Charlie started fighting back kicking and screaming. She tried summoning fire into her hands only for it to be extinguished. Seviathan used his powers, manipulating water, turning her flames into harmless steam making her heart drop. She was too weak to fight him off physically and the booze she consumed where not helping her focus for summoning her power.

“Nice try princess but that shit won't work on me so just lay back and relax.” Transitioning his hands, he used one to hold both hers, while using his now free hand to rip down the top of her dress exposing her breast to him.

“No please. Stop!” Alastor where are you? Charlie racked her brain. She needed to hurt herself to get Al's attention. Even though she was terrified right now, she wasn’t in any physical pain, so he doesn’t know what going on.

“We are to be married honey. Might as well get used to it.” Licking the side of her neck as he placed the weight of his body on top of her rocking back and forth getting himself ready while pawing at her chest. Charlie started crying as she felt him trying to adjust his pants. She tried yelling again but he covered her mouth with his. Crying only seemed to work Seviathan up more as his motions started to become more frantic.

She never wanted to throw up so bad as she did in that moment. Feeling his tongue invading her mouth. She tried digging her nails into her hands but his fingers were laced between hers so she couldn’t. Biting her lip was going to be hard with this asshole’s month on hers. Guess his lips will just have to do.  Charlie bit his lip as hard as she could causing him to lean back grabbing his mouth as blood dripped from it.

“Bitch” returning his attention to her by punching her in the face in retaliation, busting open her bottom lip. 

That should do it...

Seviathan’s grip tightened in Charlie’s hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat, his voice a venomous whisper. “You’re going to regret that.” He sneered, not noticing the shift in the atmosphere around them.

Before he could savor the moment, a pulse of dark energy swept through the room like a sudden storm, bending the shadows and warping the very air. A figure emerged from the sudden darkness, a towering, ominous silhouette whose power seemed to stretch and twist the shadows themselves. The Radio Demon, loomed before them, his crimson eyes glowing with an unearthly fire in the shape of radio dials. A blood smeared grin tugged at his lips, matching the crimson streak running down Charlie’s chin.

Charlie’s eyes flicked upward, her head tilting back as she silently sought Alastor’s help. Seviathan, still unaware of the danger, kept her pinned beneath him, oblivious to the terror that was about to be unleashed.

Without hesitation, Alastor moved. His tendrils shot forward, lashing out like serpents of shadow, yanking Seviathan off Charlie and flinging him backward with the force of a hurricane. The demon didn’t even have time to comprehend what had just happened before he hit the floor hard, sprawled in a heap.

The room seemed to tremble in Alastor’s presence. He took two long strides to stand beside Charlie before sending a small glance her way to check on her. Alastor shadows pulsed around him in anger seeing the state she was in, like living creatures obeying his every thought as they writhed in fury.

Charlie, shaken tried to hold her torn dress together in a attempt to cover her chest, and gave a shaky nod to say she was okay. Her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear. But Alastor didn’t linger. His attention snapped back to Seviathan, who was already struggling to regain his bearings, eyes wide with shock as he pushed himself up from the floor.

Before Seviathan could even think to retaliate, Alastor was upon him. His movements were swift like a predator closing in on its prey. Alastor’s hand shot out, seizing Seviathan by the collar and yanking him forward so violently that it nearly wrenched the demon’s neck. His eyes burned with a ferocity that could have set the room ablaze.

“So,” Alastor’s voice was low, a sharp edge of menace cutting through the air, “Was it courage, or simple stupidity, that led you to believe you could lay your filthy hands on her?”

Seviathan’s mouth opened to retort, but before he could speak, Alastor’s fist collided with his face in a brutal, bone crushing punch. The sound of it echoed like thunder, and Seviathan’s body was sent flying into the nearby wall with enough force to crack the stone, his body crumpling in a dazed heap as he slid to the floor.

Charlie’s faint squeak of shock echoed through the room as Seviathan crashed into the wall. Alastor’s gaze shifted toward her for the briefest moment, registering her stunned expression before he turned his back to her, positioning himself between her and the fallen demon. His movement was deliberate, ensuring that she couldn’t see the full extent of what he was about to do.

Seviathan, now struggling to regain his balance, pushed himself up from the floor, his breath ragged and bloody spittle dripping from his lips. He glared at Alastor, his voice dripping with venom. “What the FUCK,” he spat, “What do you care? You may not be able to hurt her with your deal, but I can. All slaves want revenge. If anything, you should be thanking me for doing the one thing you cannot. So be a good boy and get the fuck out of my way. Learn your place.”

The pressure of Alastor’s unwavering gaze seemed to suffocate Seviathan, but it only fueled his anger. With a growl, the aquatic demon raised his hands, and streams of water coiled around his fingers, swirling and churning in a violent, icy dance. The room grew colder as the water emitted an eerie, glowing hue. Seviathan smirked, shaping the water into a deadly spike and launching it directly at Alastor with murderous intent.

Alastor didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly in mock appreciation. “Water spells,” he mused, his voice dripping with condescension. “How quaint.”

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor’s shadows responded to his every thought. His hand rose effortlessly, and the shadows coiled around the water spike, absorbing the blast with a grace that bordered on laziness. The water evaporated into nothingness before it could even reach him, leaving the air thick with the remnants of dark energy. Alastor stalked forward, unbothered, closing the distance between himself and Seviathan with every step.

Seviathan’s fury boiled over as he gritted his teeth, his hands shaking with rage. “Shut up!” he roared. With a defiant flick of his wrist, more water surged from his palm, twisting through the air like a serpent, wrapping itself around the space in an attempt to overwhelm Alastor. “You’re not as untouchable as you think,” Seviathan sneered, a surge of confidence pulsing through him as he watched the wave of water move toward the Radio Demon. “Let’s see how you handle this.”

Alastor, however, was unfazed. His eyes gleamed with a chilling, silent amusement as the water closed in on him. Without a single flicker of fear, he raised one hand, his fingers curling slightly. The shadows responded, stretching outward like liquid darkness to intercept the attack. They formed an impenetrable barrier, swallowing the water with ease, the surge evaporating into nothing as if it were nothing more than a faint mist.

Not a single drop reached Alastor.

The Radio Demon’s smile widened, eyes glowing brighter in the dim room, as he began his slow, deliberate approach toward Seviathan. “Is that the best you can do?” he purred, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. The shadows around him seemed to hum in agreement, alive and ever ready to obey his every command.

Growing increasingly frustrated, Seviathan tried one last desperate attack. But before he could unleash any more of his fury, Alastor casually raised his hand and his shadows surged forward, slicing through the remnants of the water spell like deadly claws. Inky tendrils twisted and coiled around Seviathan, winding tightly around his arms and chest, binding him securely. The demon gasped as the shadows tightened, forcing him to his knees, leaving him breathless and powerless as his own magic flickered out.

Alastor’s voice lowered to a chilling whisper, sharp and cold with rage. “People like you are the true scum of the world. You take pleasure in hurting those who are kind or defenseless.  Choosing to wait until someone is intoxicated to try anything like a coward you are, afraid of their true strength. Cowardice masked as strength.” His gaze pierced into Seviathan’s, his crimson eyes gleaming with a cruel, merciless light. “Tell me, does it make you feel powerful?” He leaned in closer, his grin widening as sharp teeth flashed in the dim light. “Because I’m more than willing to show you what real power looks like.”

Seviathan struggled against the dark restraints, his hands clawing at the suffocating shadows that now encased him, but they held him fast, twisting around his arms and locking him in place. His frantic gaze darted between the shadows and Alastor, wide with panic as realization dawned, he was completely at the mercy of a power far beyond his own.

Charlie’s heart pounded as she watched the scene unfold. Alastor’s shadows twisted and coiled around Seviathan like living chains, suffocating him under their weight. She’d never seen him this furious before, and fear gripped her tightly as she witnessed Alastor’s wrath being unleashed. Seviathan, battered and helpless, struggled against the relentless assault of Alastor’s shadows before the demon himself began to strike with his sheer strength. There was no mercy in his eyes, only vengeance.

“Please, stop!” Charlie’s voice broke through the tension, desperate and trembling. “Alastor!” But Alastor didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on Seviathan, the very air around him charged with dark energy. Charlie’s voice, filled with fear and pleading, seemed to pass through him without effect. His eyes were locked on Seviathan, unyielding in his intent for retribution. Charlie’s heart raced faster as she watched Alastor deliver blow after brutal blow, his face a mask of icy fury.

Quickly she stumbled forward, her hands outstretched in a desperate bid to reach Alastor. Just as she reached out to grab his arm, a shadow sprung up in front of her blocking her path. She gasped, trying to push through it, but the shadow only tightened its hold. Stretching out to form an inky tendril around her waist, gently but firmly pulling her back. No matter how she struggled the shadow held her in place an unyielding barrier between her and the man she was trying to protect.

Tears filled Charlie’s eyes as she fought against the restraint, her voice raw with fear and desperation. “Let me go! Please! He needs to stop!” But the shadows remained, silent and unyielding, holding her tightly against the dark wall of power.

“Alastor!” Charlie cried again her voice breaking with desperation as she struggled to break free. “Al, look at me! You’re going to kill him!” she pleaded, tears threatening to spill as fear laced her words. “You have to stop!”

A cool, mocking voice cut through the chaos from behind her. “I agree.”

Charlie froze as Lilith stepped into view, her presence commanding and unnervingly calm. Without warning, a vibrant purple chain materialized from thin air, snapping taut around Alastor’s neck. The magic hit him like a shockwave, his shadows curling and flickering violently before evaporating into smoke. The air crackled as the chain drained his power forcing him back into his regular appearance. Lilith yanked the chain hard, pulling Alastor off Seviathan with a cruel efficiency. He hit the ground at her feet, the impact jarring but not enough to dull the raw fury still blazing in his eyes. “That’s quite enough,” Lilith said smoothly, her voice edged with a dangerous sweetness.

Alastor ignored her completely, his rage drenched gaze snapping back to Seviathan as if ready to resume his assault the moment he could. Lilith’s expression soured at the slight, her lips curving into a thin, displeased smile. Annoyed, she stepped forward and crushed the heel of her shoe down onto Alastor’s hand with deliberate pressure. A sharp hiss of pain escaped him, his fingers curling instinctively under her weight.

“That’s better,” Lilith cooed, her grin widening as she leaned over slightly to meet his wild, defiant stare. “Would you look at that? It seems you do have a heart after all.” She tapped her heel against his knuckles for emphasis, her tone lilting with mockery. “We’ll have to see to that….”

The room’s tension was shattered as the door flew open with a resounding crash.

“What is going on in here?”

The King of Hell stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he took in the scene. Seviathan, disheveled and bruised, lay crumpled on the floor. While Alastor knelt at Lilith’s feet, chains glimmering ominously against his throat.

And then Lucifer’s gaze found Charlie.

Time seemed to slow as his eyes swept over her, lingering on her torn clothing, the dark bruise forming on her cheek, and the faint trickle of blood at her split lip. The red marks on her arms told their own story, evidence of a struggle far too violent for his liking. Around her, the wreckage spoke louder than words... pillows shredded, the bed a disarray of torn sheets and broken wood.

Lucifer froze, his expression unreadable for a moment too long. But when he finally moved, the air in the room shifted. The weight of his fury was palpable, rippling outward like waves of black fire.

His eyes snapped to Seviathan first, then to Alastor. “Which one of you,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet and laced with a deadly calm, “laid a hand on my daughter?”

Seviathan swallowed thickly, his body trembling as he struggled to push himself upright after the brutal beating he’d endured. He shifted unsteadily, trying to find his voice. “Lucifer, it’s not—I didn’t—”

Lucifer’s cold, commanding glare cut him off mid-sentence. “We are not friends. Do not speak to me so informally.”

Seviathan’s face paled, and he quickly corrected himself. “Right. Of course, your highness. It’s not as bad as it looks, you see, I—”

But before another word could escape him, Lucifer raised his hand, a simple dismissive motion, and Seviathan fell silent. Confidence crumbling under the King of Hell’s gaze.

Alastor remained where he’d fallen at Lilith’s feet. A faint, unsettling smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes black and bottomless, brimming with something dark and unreadable. But it was the wound on his body, an injury that mirrored Charlie’s that drew Lucifer’s gaze.

Lucifer turned to Alastor, his crimson eyes narrowing dangerously as he stepped closer, walking just beside Lilith. “And you, Alastor?” What role did you play in this?”

Alastor did not look up, refusing to meet Lucifer’s gaze and offer him even a shred of satisfaction. He stared straight ahead, his expression composed yet steely. “I did what was necessary,” he said smoothly, though the faint edge in his tone betrayed his readiness to act again. Shadows coiled restlessly around his hand, flickering like serpents eager to strike.

Seviathan sneered weakly, edging a step away as if Alastor’s presence alone burned him. Still, Lucifer’s gaze didn’t waver. His attention remained locked on Alastor, and the silence between them grew thick.

“You took matters into your own hands?” Lucifer’s voice was even, but his tone carried the weight of a blade pressed to one’s throat. Alastor’s jaw tightened, his shadows curling tighter, but he didn’t respond.

Suddenly, Charlie’s voice broke through the tension, soft and trembling as she hurried to her father’s side. She placed a shaky hand on his arm, her wide eyes still haunted by what had happened. “Dad… Alastor saved me. Please.”

Lucifer’s gaze flickered briefly toward his daughter. He said nothing but gave a single nod, his hand closing gently over hers in a silent reassurance.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant. Slowly, Lucifer’s demonic form began to emerge a terrifying display of his raw, unyielding power. His horns darkened and twisted as they lengthened, his claws sharp and black as obsidian. The temperature in the room plummeted as he turned to face Seviathan, the force of his presence suffocating.

“You dare lay a hand on my daughter?” Lucifer growled, his neck cracking sharply as he rolled his shoulders, an almost lazy preparation for what was to come.

Seviathan forced a weak laugh, a desperate attempt to stand his ground in the face of pure wrath. “You mean my wife?” he shot back, though his voice wavered and faltered, betraying his fear.

Lucifer’s eyes burned like twin suns. “Not yet, she’s not,” he snarled, his lips curling to reveal sharpened fangs. He rolled up the sleeves of his regal coat, the gesture casual and deliberate, yet deadly.

“That may not be wise, my sweet,” Lilith purred, stepping forward to rest a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder just as he made to advance on Seviathan. Her tone was smooth, almost soothing, though the sharpness in her eyes betrayed her intent. “With your temper, you’d reduce him to ash in a heartbeat. Tempting, I know, but let’s not forget Seviathan and his family hold influence we still need. We can’t go slaughtering every suitor that comes around, now can we? After all, no true harm was done.”

Lucifer turned to her sharply, his voice a low growl. “No harm? Look at what he did to our daughter.” His tone vibrated with barely restrained fury, his glare flicking briefly to where Charlie sat, still trembling, her face marked with evidence of the violence that had unfolded.

Seviathan, saved by Lilith’s intervention, smirked smugly as he finished dusting off his coat and dabbing at the blood smeared on his lip. “Your Majesty,” he addressed Lilith smoothly, inclining his head in thanks.

Lilith’s smile turned cold as her gaze pinned Seviathan in place. “Oh, don’t mistake my words for leniency,” she said icily. “You’ll still be dealt with, dear. Just… more appropriately.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, the unspoken threat unmistakable.

Seviathan straightened, his smugness faltering as he nodded stiffly. “Of course.”

“Lilith.” Lucifer’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding as he pointed toward Alastor. “Let him up.”

Lilith arched a brow, her lips twitching in faint amusement. “You’re issuing commands over my soul now, are you?” she asked, her voice lilting with mockery as she tilted her head.

Lucifer didn’t so much as flinch. “He’s still bound to my deal,” he bit out, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And he has a job to do.”

Lilith regarded Lucifer for a moment longer, clearly irritated but wise enough not to push further. With an exaggerated sigh, she flicked her wrist lazily. The chain around Alastor’s neck shimmered and vanished, releasing him.

Slowly, Alastor rose to his feet, his movements eerily composed. With his ever-present grin just a touch sharper, he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves and dusted a bit of invisible dirt from his pristine suit. 

Lucifer turned to face Alastor fully, his tone curt and authoritative. “Get Charlie out of this room. Somewhere safe.” Looking over at his daughter. “I need to have a few more words with these two. I’ll find you later.”

Alastor squinted in annoyance “As you wish,” he replied smoothly, his voice laced with unsettling calm.

Seviathan’s eyes flashed with anger as Alastor walked past him, his fists clenching, but Alastor ignored him and walked right over to Charlie. His expression remained neutral, composed as he noted Charlie’s shaken form and the torn straps of her dress. With Lilith’s sharp gaze fixed on him, he managed a slight, courteous smile before slipping his jacket off with practiced nonchalance. Without a word, he draped it over Charlie’s shoulders, his movements quick and efficient, careful not to linger or draw attention.

“Here,” he murmured, his voice soft yet businesslike, almost as if he were commenting on the weather. He adjusted the jacket around her shoulders to cover her fully, his hands steady and unhurried, his face a mask of professional courtesy. He could feel Charlie relax slightly under his touch, but he kept his gaze respectfully forward, pointedly ignoring the quiet tension between them.

Lilith’s gaze sharpened watching every subtle move but Alastor didn’t flinch. “Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, with a polite incline of his head to indicate his departure. His tone was level, his expression perfectly placid, showing no hint of the fierce protectiveness he felt bubbling just beneath the surface. Almost as if to undo the emotions he let slip through earlier.

Holding out his arm he allowed Charlie to take lead on leaving the room first. Once out of the room full of the royals he felt his rage returning as he allowed himself a subtle, knowing glance toward her, seeing her condition. Placing his hand on her lower back for support as he took lead in guiding her down the halls towards his room.

Chapter 18: Obligations

Notes:

*** MATURE CONTENT ***

Alastor led the way down the dimly lit halls, his hand resting protectively on Charlie’s back. The silence felt thick as the weight of the evening lingered around them. The only sound that could be heard was the faint humming coming off the flickering wall fixtures that casted eerie shadows in front of them. But one shadow refused to behave like the others.

Alastor’s silhouette stretched and warped unnaturally, slithering up the walls beside them. It's movements an unsettling mimicry of its master but yet seemed to crawl of its own volition. The shadow slipped into the corners as they walked, pressing into the dark recesses like a living thing that could taste the tension in the air. 

Charlie’s eyes flickered toward the shadow, unease curling in her stomach before she glanced up at Alastor. The dim light barely softened the sharp edges of his face. She searched for anything in his expression a glimmer of tension or anger that mirrored the turmoil churning inside her. But there was nothing leaving her to wonder if the evening's events had unsettled him at all.

“Alastor…” she began softly, but her voice faltered as his shadow flickered sharply beside them as if her talking had disturbed it somehow. It slithered closer now watching her with an unsettling awareness.  She glanced back at Alastor, hoping to find some clue that he noticed it too but he reminded silent. His gaze fixed straight ahead as though he hadn’t heard her, clearly his shadow’s erratic movements were of no consequence to him. Yet its restless behavior felt almost like a warning to Charlie.

Refusing to look down at her, Alastor's grip remind steady on her back. His crimson eyes never strayed from looking down the dark hallway ahead of them since leaving her room. If anything his steps felt more deliberate and steady as though the shadows themselves were pushing him forward. The silence dragged on, punctuated only by the faint scrape of their footsteps and the whispering of his shadow slithering behind them.

When they reached his quarters Alastor pushed the door open with a sharp decisive motion, making the hinges groan in protest. His shadow darted in first, gliding across the threshold before sinking into the deeper corners of the room where it twisted and coiled settling into place. Alastor stepped aside and tilted his head sharply toward the open door. A unspoken command to enter laced with a hint of impatience. The sharpness of his motion made Charlie hesitate briefly before she finally stepped past him entering the room.

The room was simple yet unmistakably his. Dark wood, vintage furnishings, and an ambiance steeped in something both eerie and oddly inviting. He motioned toward the plush couch near the center of the room. Wordlessly Charlie sank into it, her shoulders slumped forward as the events of the night were finally catching up to her.

Alastor disappeared into the adjoining area returning moments later with a small ceramic bowl in hand. Without ceremony, he summoned a flame into his palm heating the water within. Charlie stared, wide eyed, but said nothing. Once satisfied Alastor extinguished the flame with a flick of his fingers making his way back to her. Wordlessly, he lowered himself to kneel before her, dipping a cloth into the warm water and gently pressed it to her split lip. She flinched instinctively at the first touch, though the pressure was far softer than she’d anticipated.

“Hold still,” Alastor murmured, his voice quieter and devoid of its usual playfulness. The cloth traced over the cut with surprising gentleness, and despite herself, she relaxed just slightly beneath his touch. He was entirely focused on the task at hand. The warm cloth brushed against her lips, dabbing away the dried blood with meticulous care. Yet for all his composure, the air around him felt heavy. For a man who thrived in chaos there was an unsettling stillness about him now.

From the corner of her eye, Charlie once again caught movement from the shadow behind him. Normally, she found a strange comfort in its presence. It was an extension of Alastor, playful and mischievous, reflecting his moods in subtle almost harmless ways. But tonight was different. The shadow’s movements were jerky, almost aggressive, as if it were alive with impatience and anger that Alastor himself kept buried. Its edges shifted unnaturally, writhing as though it wanted to break free from the confines of his still figure.

She couldn’t stop herself from staring at it, the unease clawing at the edges of her mind. When she looked back at Alastor he remained focused on tending to her lip, his calm, composed expression felt out of place when compared to the agitated form that loomed behind him.

His fingers snapped her out of her thoughts as he tilted her chin up slightly, angling her face so he could better see the cut on her lip in the dim lighting. And then Charlie noticed it... a faint tremor in his hands. It wasn’t fear. It was rage, simmering just beneath his composed exterior.

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she watched him. The crimson in his eyes burned darker now, the corners of his mouth pulled just slightly, like the ghost of a snarl he couldn’t fully suppress.

Gently, Charlie reached out, her fingers curling softly around his hand, halting his movements. 

“I’m okay, Al,” she whispered, the faintest quiver betraying her own uncertainty. “I promise.”

His eyes flicked over to meet hers before trailing downward to her shoulders. He took in the torn fabric barely hidden beneath his oversized jacket he’d wrapped around her earlier, seeing the broken straps of her dress, before returning his gaze on her busted lip. The faint tremor in his hands stopped replaced instead by an icy dangerous stillness once more.  

“I should have been faster,” he said more to himself. 

Charlie shook her head, cupping his cheeks gently making him meet her gaze. “You stopped him before it got to that point. You saved me, Al. Thank you.”

The rage in his eyes clearly didn't disappear with her words so she tugged gently on the collar of his shirt, drawing him forward until he was close enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck. To her surprise, she felt Alastor release the towel, letting it fall as his hands came up to grip the back of the jacket she wore, holding her tightly against him as though he were afraid she might slip away. Charlie’s hand gently traced the back of his neck feeling the tension in Alastor’s shoulders began to ease. Her touch steady and familiar, grounding him in a way he wasn’t used to. He leaned into her ever so slightly, letting the silence linger for a moment longer

When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, barely above a whisper. “Never again, Charlie... No one touches what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone made Charlie’s heart skip a beat, but it didn’t deter her. If anything, it strengthened her resolve as a idea popped in her head. She pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “...Then marry me.”

Alastor froze, the silence stretching uncomfortably as he stared at her. Then, with a hollow laugh that dripped with biting amusement. “Marry you?” he echoed, the words sharp enough to sting. Without waiting for a reply, he stood abruptly, stepping away from the couch as though putting distance between them would help dismiss the idea entirely.

Placing the bowl on a nearby counter with a deliberate clink, he turned slightly, his grin forced and humorless. “My, my, Princess, I knew you were prone to fanciful ideas, but this?.”

Charlie ignored him. “I'm serious, Al. Think about it! It’s not just a ceremony. It’s a contract. One that can override all others. Including your deal with my parents.”

Alastor’s grin twisted into something cruel, his usual composure cracking as the frustration simmering beneath the surface from earlier in the night finally began to bleed through. “A contract?” he repeated, mockery dripping from his words like venom. “Ah, yes, leave it to you to believe marriage could solve all of Hell’s problems.” His words dripped with condescension as he loomed closer. “What is it exactly were you expecting from doing something so drastic. A fairy tale ending with the Radio Demon as your dashing prince?” He laughed hollowly.

“Hell’s laws don’t care for your sweet little dreams. I am a Sinner, Charlie. Damned. Cursed. Rotten. I’ve torn through high ranking Overlords, slaughtered angelic pests all without so much as breaking a sweat. I’ve earned my place in this wretched hierarchy through sheer strength and calculation alone.” He stepped closer his shadow stretching behind him like a monstrous silhouette. “But you? You’re Hellborn royalty. That blood flowing in your veins makes you untouchable to the likes of me, no matter how high I rise. I could drag the entire Overlord courts to their knees, rule all of Hell’s domains, and yet it wouldn’t change what I am,  damned Sinner, unworthy by Hell’s very laws."  He scoffed, his tone turning biting “And even if those laws didn’t forbid it, your reputation would crumble into ash the moment you tried to tie yourself to me. No Overlord would follow you. No Hellborn would respect you. And your precious father?” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a venomous growl. “He would disown you faster than you could say ‘I do.’”

Charlie forced herself to stay still. She knew his anger wasn’t truly aimed at her but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Whatever softness had lingered between them from earlier was gone, buried under the weight of his cynicism and sharp edged mockery. Still, she refused to falter. Blinking away the sting building behind her eyes, she lifted her chin steadying her voice.

“I don’t care what my family thinks. I don’t care what Hell thinks. If marrying a Sinner drags my status through the mud, so be it. Titles and politics don’t matter to me. Protecting the people of Hell, this hotel, you, that’s what matters to me. And I'll do it with or without status. If you think I’d let you suffer just because it’s inconvenient for me, then you don’t know me as well as I thought. I’m not looking for some fairy tale, Al. I’m offering you a way out.”

Her words cut through his sarcasm making Alastor’s mocking smile faltered ever so slightly. She continued.

“My father and the overlords designed Hell to run on deals and bargains, you know that better than anyone. Use the favor I owe you. Rewrite the rules of my arranged marriage. Command me to marry you if that’s what it takes. If you did, you'd make the rules and conditions included in our marriage. Then, legally speaking, it wouldn't matter what's in our blood. No one in Heaven or Hell would be able to do anything about it. I know it wont be easy and we would still have to exchange souls as part of the ceremony but at least I would hold your soul, not my mother. The deal she has with you would predate our union meaning she would lose her control over you. She wouldn’t be able to touch you, Al. You’d be safe.”

She leaned closer, her eyes searching his carefully guarded expression. “I would never. NEVER. Use your soul against you. No one could force you to serve them again. You'd be free.”

Alastor laughed. The tenderness of the moment she tried to create evaporated, snuffed out like a candle’s flame. Leaving only Alastor’s already simmering frustration in its place. He tilted his head the faintest smile tugging at his lips, though there was nothing warm about it. His eyes burned into hers as he spoke.

“You’re offering me freedom, are you?” he said, his tone mocking the very word. “You would take my soul from her hands and put it into yours? And then what, my dear? You think you wouldn’t become tempted? That you wouldn’t use it” Alastor leaned closer, his shadow stretching unnaturally across the walls, its jagged edges curling like claws. “Let me tell you something, Princess. If I held your soul, I wouldn’t cling to lofty ideals of restraint and mercy. No, I’d use it. I could make you do anything. Anything I wanted. Sing, dance, smile, cry, kneel at my feet like the obedient little pawn you would become. And if you think I’d grant you the same mercy you’re offering me, then you truly don’t understand the man you’re dealing with.”

Charlie flinched slightly but her gaze remained fixed on him. “You wouldn’t do that,” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t I?"

“I’m trying to help you, Al! I'm not-,” Charlie shot back, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. “You deserve to be free to live how you choose. How she treated you back there... it's not right!””

Alastor froze for a moment, turning away from her he ran his hand down his face as if to wipe away the lingering anger threatening to surface. A low, disbelieving laugh escaped him. “That’s what you took from tonight?” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. He took a steadying breath before turning back to her, the fire in his gaze dimming just slightly. “Of course you did.” He strode toward her with a slow deliberate step. Reaching down Alastor took her hand gently patting the top of her hand in a playfully dismissive gesture. “My dear,” a hint of exasperation threading through his words, “I am fully aware of the power our deal grants me.” looking down at their joined hands for a beat before glancing back up at her. “But binding yourself to me for all eternity? And for what? To save me from a little inconvenience?”

“It’s not just an inconvenience!” Charlie shot back, her eyes pleading.

He let out another faint, humorless laugh as if trying to make light of it, but the strain in his expression gave him away. Her concern disarmed him more than he thought possible. Alastor looked as though he might say more (something real) but instead, he shook his head releasing her hand and stepping away from her. “Freedom is a charming fantasy. But tell me, what do you gain from this arrangement? Why willingly shackle yourself to a creature like me? You think you wouldn’t regret it? That you wouldn’t wake up one day and realize the man you tied yourself to thrives on chaos, on deals, on torment?”

“You’re not a monster you claim to be,” Charlie whispered again, her voice steady now, though her fingers trembled slightly. “You’ve protected me, Al. You’ve stood by me when no one else would when it gained you nothing. Nothing you can say will change my mind about how I see you.”

For a moment, Alastor said nothing, his expression unreadable, though the smile remained frozen on his lips like a mask. “You didn't answer the question.” turning his back to her wandering deeper into the room, gloved fingertips grazing over the edge of a nearby shelf as though inspecting it for dust.

Charlie inhaled deeply to steady herself. “I will never truly have freedom being who my parents are. Because of that I will always have obligations, soul or not, but what I’d gain is respect, something you’ve always given me. You treat me as an equal. You listen and let me feel heard as well as challenge me to do better. Even if we don't agree on how exactly to achieve a similar goal you respect my decision and let me stand on my own but are still willing to lend me a hand if needed. That’s more than anyone in my life ever has.”

He paused by a section of the wall where framed artwork hung in crooked precision, pretending to admire the décor with a curious tilt of his head. “You think you’re offering me salvation, but all you’re doing is sacrificing yourself for a fantasy. You can’t save me, Charlie. You shouldn’t want to save me. Once I’m free from your parents’ chains, I have plans... Plans that I intend to pursue with or without your approval. My new position would allow me to wield absolute power over every soul in Hell. Torture and torment would be mine to command, and you would have no way to stop me if you do not plan on using my soul against me like you suggest.”

“I know exactly who you are, Alastor. I see you for what you are and for what you’ve done. You don’t believe in redemption, but you’ve shown you’re capable of it… whether you realize it or not. You’re careful. Calculated. Even with the all the power you already have, you don’t act recklessly. I don’t think you’d waste it just to satisfy some fleeting desire for chaos. You’d use it like you always have, deliberately and with purpose.”

She paused, her expression softening. “Hell wouldn’t be some playground to you. It’d be an investment, the way you see the hotel. You’d protect it, control it, make sure it served your interests. You might act like you don’t care, but I’ve seen how you guard what’s yours. I don’t think you’d let Hell crumble under your watch not when it’s something you could shape and command.”

The weight of her words striked a nerve as he turned around to face her once more. “I’ve shown nothing of the sort. You’re projecting your naïve ideals onto me, Princess. Don’t mistake my practicality for mercy.” he hissed, his tone dripping with disdain. “I am not good, Charlie. I do not want to be good. And your insistence on seeing something noble in me is as insulting as it is foolish.”

"You want examples, fine!" Charlie held his gaze, her tone steady and unwavering. “You shielded Husk and Niffty from my mother’s wrath when she first arrived. You had no obligation to.”

Alastor scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please, my dear, they’d only milk their injuries for sympathy and use it as a convenient excuse to shirk their duties. I was merely preserving efficiency.”

Charlie frowned but pressed on. “You’ve known Vaggie was an angel from the start. You could’ve exposed her or worse, yet you kept her secret.”

He chuckled darkly, tilting his head. “Ah, but timing is everything. A secret like that is far more valuable when held over someone’s head. Exposing her outright would have been wasteful.”

Undeterred, Charlie leaned forward. “And Angel? On his hardest nights, you sit with him at the bar, even if just for a little while, until someone else shows up so he’s not alone.”

“Unintentional, I assure you. That bar just happens to be where my bourbon is, and I won’t apologize for enjoying a fine drink in peace.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “And Sir Pentious? You’ve fought him countless times but never once delivered a killing blow, even when you could have.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Ah, but your dear snake was a source of endless amusement. Watching him flail about in his doomed attempts to claim my title is a form of entertainment. It would be terribly dull if I put an end to him.”

Charlie’s voice softened. “You can downplay it all you want, Alastor, but I see through you. You’ve protected everyone here, even if you won’t admit it. You might call it convenience or strategy, but those moments mattered to them, to me. They show a side of you you’re too proud to acknowledge.”

Alastor’s grin faltered for a brief moment before he recovered. “Believe what you will, my dear,” he said smoothly. “ But I am not some storybook villain waiting to be saved by a kind heart and a clever speech. Overlords do not play the hero."

Charlie’s voice finally wavered, her gaze dropped to the floor. Letting out a heavy sigh, she murmured, “Maybe you’re right... I didn’t think this through. I’m supposed to be the daughter of the King of Hell, but I can’t even defend myself, let alone run a hotel without everything falling apart around me. I can’t protect anyone… not my friends, not the people of Hell, not—” She broke off, her throat tightening as the next words slipped out. “Not you.”

Her voice was now barely above a whisper, trembling with unspoken regret. “I’m sorry for being pushy, Al. I wasn’t trying to trap you or force you into anything you don't want to do. I wouldn't expect- ” Her voice cracked as she forced her words out. “But maybe I am just… desperate. Desperate to help you, to believe that someone like you would ever want to be with someone like me." Charlie’s voice wavered as the words poured out, unfiltered and raw.

Alastor’s grin stiffened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Don’t,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous.

Her hands curling into the fabric of her dress as if holding herself together. “What could I possibly offer someone like you? You, who’s powerful and clever and doesn’t need anyone. While I can’t even get my own life under control.” She managed a bitter laugh, though the sound barely carried. “It’s ridiculous. I never even stopped to think if this is something you’d want. I just… assumed, didn’t I?" Charlie risked a glance upward, just enough to catch the flicker of shadow across his face quickly averting her gaze again. “Maybe I’m no better than my mother-.”

That was it. Before she could utter another word, Alastor moved. His hand shot forward, seizing her chin and tilted her face upward. Charlie froze as his eyes bored into her burning with a controlled fury that stole the air from her lungs.

The room darkened further the very light itself was retreating from his fury “Enough!”

Alastor’s command sliced through the air as the cursed chain around Charlie’s neck glimmered into existence faintly as if responding to his voice. Suddenly, thin emerald threads unraveled from the chain like serpents, twisting and writhing through the air before weaving tightly over Charlie’s lips creating a pattern that resembled the crude needlework of a voodoo doll. Each loop tightened just enough to silence her, binding her protests in place without causing pain. The threads pulsed softly with energy echoing Alastor’s anger as they vibrated with every sharp breath he took. Charlie’s muffled voice reduced to silence the magic devouring her protests.

“You think you can speak of yourself like that, in front of me?" he said, each word laced with quiet fury. “You diminish yourself as if you are nothing, mean nothing. And then—then,” he snarled, his voice breaking into something that sounded far too much like hurt, “you have the audacity to compare yourself to her?" The shadows seemed to quiver, recoiling into the corners as though even they were afraid of him now. "You think I’d waste my time on someone so insignificant?” His usual grin now a tight, frustrated line. "I’ve seen your strength firsthand, so don’t you dare insult me by acting like you’re powerless.” 

His face hovered close to hers. "You just assumed I’ve never considered this idea of yours... never considered you ?” He let the question hang. “You’re wrong. So very wrong," releasing her chin suddenly as though the contact burned him. His shadow crawled back toward him as he turned, pacing a few steps away before spinning back around, his teeth bared in frustration. 

"You think I don’t see it? How you give when there’s nothing left to give. How you fight for those who don’t deserve it. You would burn yourself to ashes just to keep the rest of this miserable place warm. And you do it gladly” His chest rose and fell with the force of his words. “Here you stand. Offering me redemption I do not want. Offering yourself like some foolish little sacrifice.” 

Charlie flinched at his words, her brows furrowing as if she wanted to protest, but the magic still bound her lips. 

He took a step toward her again, his voice laced with a bitterness she hadn’t heard before. “You have no idea the hold you have on me, Charlie. No idea how maddening it is to feel this way... how infuriating it is to be dragged into your insufferable light I’ve spent my entire existence avoiding. For making me weak." Alastor dragged a hand through his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. “Do you think I don’t know how much of a fool I am for letting you in? For keeping you close?” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “to know I’ll never let you go.”

He took her face in his hands again, trembling slightly as his thumbs brushed over her cheeks. "You ask what you could possibly offer me? Everything. And that is the cruelest joke of all.”

Before she could try and respond, he leaned in and crushed his lips against hers fierce and unyielding, as if it were the only way he could express everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. The shadows seemed to hold still silent around them until he finally broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he pulled away, hands still trembled slightly as they framed her face.

“So go on, Charlie,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Keep trying to save me. Keep offering yourself up like some damnable little light in the dark. But know this, I will not let you condemn yourself to save me or anyone else. Do yourself a favor and give up on me, before I drag you into the dark."

Snapping his fingers he released her from his command, the stitching disappearing from her lips. Charlie’s first breath came sharp and determined as her voice followed.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she shot back, her tone trembling, not with fear but with conviction. Charlie's hands darted forward, gripping the front of his shirt with surprising strength pulling him closer in one swift motion initiating a kiss of her own.

Alastor's quickly leaned in returning the kiss as his hand slid to her neck, his fingers ghosting over her skin as if to anchor himself. The air between them ignited, charged with emotions ie: anger, passion, defiance. His lips claimed hers with a rough hunger grazing the small cut on her lip and tasting the blood that was there. She gasped as he sucked gently on the wound, a frustrated groan escaping him, a sound she’d never heard him make before.

“Your blood…” he breathed, his voice heavy and strained. “Is dangerously delicious, sweetheart.” His eyes now black as ink met hers with an intensity that should have scared her. “I’m having a hard time holding back.”

“Then don’t,” she replied breathless, as she pulled him closer, her back pressing against the couch as she brought him down with her. Charlie pushed him back on the couch just enough to straddle him, her fingers sliding up his jaw as she cupped his face, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was deeper, more insistent.

Alastor responded, his hands trailing down her waist and slipping to her thighs, slowly inching her dress higher. Her breathing quickened as she shifted her hips against his drawing another guttural groan from him. His hands mapped her body with a rough urgency, tracing the curves and fabric of her dress as if he needed to memorize them.

When his breathing grew uneven his fingers tangled into her hair tugging just enough to tilt her head back and bare the delicate curve of her neck. Charlie gasped softly, her breath hitching as his mouth descended to her skin, lips and teeth leaving a slow, burning trail down to her collarbone. His hot breath fanned over her, each kiss, nip, and lingering pull against her flesh sending heat coursing through her veins. She shifted, grinding her hips against him, and his answering groan vibrated against her skin, rough and unrestrained.

Driven by impulse, Charlie tightened her fingers in his hair pulling his head back off her neck in order to meet her eyes. His gaze was wild and she felt a thrill rush through her as she leaned in, brushing her lips along his ear. “My turn,” she whispered, her voice husky.

She caught his earlobe between her teeth, letting it slip free before her lips trailed down his neck, her fingers working deftly to unbutton his shirt. As her hands found the warm skin beneath, they traced the lines of old scars with a featherlight touch. He tensed but said nothing, allowing her to explore. Her mouth followed, leaving a slow path of kisses down to his collarbone, lingering just long enough to draw a sharp inhale from him as her lips wandered lower.

Just as he began to shift beneath her, seeking to reclaim control, Charlie slowed holding him still under her touch refusing to let him steer the moment. Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his chest, then bit down, just enough to sting.

Alastor stilled completely, a sharp breath slipping from his lips followed by a low rolling chuckle that sent a shiver through the air. The sound was both a warning and a challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement and dark promise.

Charlie felt the satisfaction of his reaction as she smiled against his skin, savoring the faint taste of his blood on her lips. She ran her tongue over the small mark she’d left, her warm breath grazing the spot as she soothed the bite with a slow lingering kiss before trailing up to meet his mouth again.

Alastor wrapped his arms around her waist and thighs, effortlessly lifting her before lowering her back onto the couch, his form now looming above her, nestled between her legs. His darkened eyes, still swirling with lust, roamed over her flushed face as he hovered there breathlessly. One hand braced against the couch by her head while the other rested possessively on her thigh, her leg still hooked around his waist.

He didn’t move further, merely staring down at her. Charlie’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath uneven with anticipation. Unable to wait any longer, she reached between them, fumbling with the buckle of his pants, her fingers clumsy in her eagerness.

A chuckle escaped Alastor’s lips. Gently caught her hand, pulling it away and pinning both of her wrists above her head with an almost teasing care. Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head, his voice a smooth murmur against her hair.

“I must say, my dear, I truly admire your enthusiasm,” he drawled, his tone warm with humor, though the hunger in his gaze never faded. “But you see, I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to… certain relations of a more intimate nature.”

Charlie’s face flushed an impossible shade of red. “I'm so sorry,” she stammered, quickly turning her head to the side, her embarrassment practically radiating off her.

“Don’t be,” Alastor replied smoothly, his fingers curling under her chin and gently tilting her head back to face him. He leaned in pressing a soft deliberate kiss to her lips, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before. Suddenly he pulled away standing upright and leaving her breathless on the couch.

Charlie blinked up at him still flustered, watching him straighten his vest and button up his shirt with calm precision. She fidgeted awkwardly adjusting his jacket he loaned her back around shoulders, her voice hesitant as she broke the silence. “I guess… we tend to do things a bit backwards down here compared to how it works in the living world, huh?” She paused, her eyes darting away again. “Does it… does it bother you that I’ve had… you know, relations before marriage?” Her face somehow grew even redder, her words stumbling out faster as her nerves took hold.

Alastor paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, grin curling wider as he rolled his eyes. “I am well aware you’ve lived a life before me. I don’t expect you to be some cloistered saint, nor does it concern me in the slightest.”

Charlie hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “... have you ever, you know... been with anyone? Like, in that way?” She avoided his eyes, the question feeling heavier than she expected.

Alastor froze. “That’s quite the personal question, darling.”

Charlie finally looked up at him, her curiosity mixed with a hint of nervousness. “I just… I want to know more about you, you know about my past when it comes to that...”

Alastor just stared at her for a moment deciding if this was a conversation he was even going to entertain. “That's...fair." He let out a long sigh, "my experiences in that realm have been… limited.” His expression was replaced by something more distant. “But yes. I have.”

Charlie blinked surprised. “Oh.” She began hesitantly, her voice gentle. “You had someone special back when you were human? Before… all of this?”

Alastor paused, “Someone special?” he echoed, his tone light, almost dismissive. “My dear, I was far too busy with more... captivating endeavors to be entangled by such fleeting notions as romance or affection.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “So, no one ever stood out? Not even once?”

He chuckled. “Plenty stood out, sure. A fleeting smile here, a pretty face there. I had my share of admirers. People who thought they were close to me, who believed they mattered.” His grin widened, “But special? No. No one earned that title.”

She frowned slightly, leaning in. “Why not?”

“Because I never allowed it." his words carefully chosen.  "Attachment, my dear, is a vulnerability. It clouds judgment, distracts from ambition. I kept my focus where it belonged, on power, on control. Besides…” He paused, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long. “No one truly knew me. Not the real me.”

Charlie’s expression wavered, caught between understanding and sadness. “You never let anyone in.”

His smile remained, but his voice dropped to a near whisper. “There was no one worth the risk.” He hesitated his crimson eyes locked with hers. “At least, not back then.”

Charlie cheeks turned red, clearing her throat. "So, if not on earth... then here in Hell?"

After a pause, Alastor voice became quieter. “It wasn’t exactly something I could refuse.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” He looked away adjusting the cuffs on his shirt. Realization hitting Charlie, "Wait... my mother..."

His tone flat. “She owns my soul, and there are… 'obligations'. I’ll spare you the details, my dear.”

Charlie’s breath caught, her eyes widening in shock. “She made you?”

He cut her off with a raised hand, his eyes hard. “Let’s not dwell on the semantics, my dear. Call it what you will, but in Hell, power dictates everything." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of bitterness. 

Charlie’s stomach churned, a mixture of anger and sadness swirling within her. “Al… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I wouldn't have-”

He waved a hand dismissively, his usual light tone creeping back. “There’s no need for apologies. But if given the choice. I believe more intimate moments should be shared in wedlock." clearly not wanting to talk about Lilith anymore. "But I understand that's not how Hell works."

Charlie felt her cheeks burn, her heart stuttering in her chest. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “So… Al, I want to ask again. Will you marry me?”

Alastor’s response was immediate this time. “Traditionally, wouldn’t it be me doing the asking? After all, I do have the slight advantage of being the owner of the favor that is owed.”

Charlie’s blush deepened, her nervous laugh bubbling out as she averted her gaze, rubbing the back of her neck. “Oh… right,” she mumbled. “That… makes sense.”

Alastor’s chuckle softened as he stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over her. With deliberate ease, he placed both hands on the back of the couch, leaning in until their faces were mere inches apart, effectively caging her in. “But if it had been a proper proposal…”

Charlie’s breath hitched as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to hers. His voice dipped to a sultry whisper. “… My answer would be…” The pause stretched, her anticipation almost painful, until he abruptly straightened, his grin sharp and unapologetically smug. “No.”

Charlie blinked, stunned. “What?!” she sputtered, her embarrassment quickly giving way to frustration. Charlie tightened Alastor’s jacket around herself, feeling both exposed and embarrassed. Did I push too far?  The thought clawed at her. Am I like my mother?

Noticing her discomfort, Alastor’s tone softened. “Let me clarify,” he began, voice smooth as silk yet guarded. “If I were ever to marry someone, it would be on my terms. Not just to squirm out of a deal.”

“That’s not what I-” Charlie faltered, her guilt flickering across her face as she slumped forward. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, her voice losing its strength. “It was stupid.”

“It was a plan, flawed though it may be.” He paused, his smile flickering as though his words tasted bitter. “But my answer is no.”

Charlie blinked, her frown deepening. “But why not? It would work-” Her gaze snapped back to him, narrowing with suspicion as she caught the subtle shift in his demeanor “You’ve got an idea, don’t you?” she asked warily, leaning forward. “What is it?”

“Perhaps I do,” he mused, red eyes gleaming faintly. “But you’re far too curious for your own good.”

Charlie frowned. “Come on Alastor!"

“Patience, Princess,” he murmured cryptically, standing tall once more. “Let me handle this … my way.”

Charlie frowned, frustration creeping back in. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing,” Alastor said simply, his gaze steady.

Charlie groaned, throwing her head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t do nothing!”

“Oh, but you can and you will. Leave the details to me.”

"Fine." Charlie huffed, crossing her arms.

He tilted his head in mock innocence. “Now, off to bed, my dear” gesturing to his bed in the back room.

Charlie blinked, her face a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You expect me to just go to sleep? After everything that just happened?”

“I do,” he replied smoothly, his voice so infuriatingly calm it made her blood boil.

Charlie narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what about my father? If he finds out I stayed in your room, he’ll-”

“Let me worry about your father,” Alastor interrupted smoothly his voice taking on a dark mocking edge. “In fact, I eagerly await the moment dear old Lucifer realizes his precious little princess spent the night in my company.” He chuckled low. “Can you picture it?” He tilted his head, his grin spreading wider. “Oh, the outrage, the fury. I can see him now, eyes blazing, that dangerous little vein in his forehead throbbing in time with his fury.” Alastor gestured dramatically, as though the scene were already playing out before him.” Alastor paused for effect then let out a theatrical sigh his tone laced with mockery. “Perhaps I’ll even thank him. ‘My dear Lucifer, you’ve done a fine job raising such a spirited little heir.’”

Charlie’s face turned scarlet, her eyes wide with horror. “Alastor!”

He straightened with a wicked laugh, clearly savoring her reaction. “Oh, I’ll be a gentleman, darling.” His voice dropped to a smooth, velvety purr as he leaned closer. “Don't fret, I don’t kiss and tell. Not even for him.” He paused just long enough to let the implication linger. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t let his imagination run wild. Why, it would be rude not to let him entertain the worst of thoughts, don’t you think?”

“Alastor, stop it!” Charlie sputtered, flustered and mortified, her hands flying to her flaming cheeks. “You can’t say things like that! He’ll kill you. He’ll actually kill you!”

“Let him try,” Alastor teased, his voice light clearly savoring her mortification.

“This isn’t funny!” Charlie snapped, her words tumbling out in a flurry of anxious energy. “If my father finds out, he’ll lose it! And what about the others? They’ll—”

“-They’ll do nothing,” Alastor cut her off with an air of finality, a single, sharp finger raised. “And you, my dear, are exhausting yourself with all this unnecessary fretting.” He waved a dismissive hand as though brushing away her concerns like dust.

“I’m not tired,” she muttered stubbornly, though the lingering strain in her voice betrayed her.

Alastor arched a brow. “Ah, but I insist,” he replied smoothly, holding out his hand with an air of finality that left little room for argument.

Charlie sighed quietly and slipped her smaller hand into his as he guided her toward the bed. Reaching it, Alastor pulled back the covers with an exaggerated flourish, as though presenting some grand spectacle. She rolled her eyes playfully before lying down.

Alastor watched her for a moment as she settled in. “Rest now,” he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically soft as he adjusted the blanket around her. For once, there was no biting wit, no jest, just kindness. "I'll be close by if you need me".

Charlie let out a long, sleepy sigh, her body sinking deeper into the pillows. “Fine,” she mumbled, her words slurred with fatigue. Then, with a hint of defiance she cracked one eye open, meeting his gaze “I’m never giving up on you. I'll find another way.” her words slow but determined, as though they held all the strength she could muster. A yawn interrupted her, her eyes fluttering as she fought to stay awake. “This isn’t over.”

Charlie’s head lolled slightly to the side, her breathing already slowing as her exhaustion overtook her. Still, she murmured something unintelligible, stubborn even as sleep pulled her under. Alastor stepped back, his gaze lingering on her peaceful form. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the room darkened ever so slightly. The shadows responded to him instantly eager to obey their master. One peeled away from the others, crawling soundlessly across the floor like an obedient hound.

“Stay with her,” Alastor murmured to the shadow, his voice low and firm. The dark figure curled at the side of the bed, shifting only slightly before settling into place, silent and vigilant sentinel promising to guard what lay within its reach.

He lingered for a moment in the doorway, glancing back at her slumbering form

A faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips. “You’re right, my dear,” he murmured to himself. “This is only the beginning.”

With that, he turned, the door closing behind him with the softest click, leaving nothing but shadows and the whisper of his lingering presence.

Notes:

Next Chapter: Alastor and Lucifer have a chat...

Chapter 19: Hypotheticals

Charlie lay tangled in Alastor’s sheets, her body half-buried in the soft fabric. The room around her felt alive with the subtle sound of static and faint echo of an old jazz melody drifting softly from an unseen radio. The weight of everything still lingered in her chest making every breath feel heavy but exhaustion had eventually won out pulling her into a light slumber.

However, that peace was broken when a thin beam of light had slipped through the door followed by the eerie creak of its hinges, stirring her from her sleep. Charlie’s eyes fluttered open slightly, just enough to see faint movement beyond the doorframe. The low murmur of voices followed, muffled but unmistakable...

Quickly, she shut her eyes again, feigning sleep, her breathing slowing as she forced herself to remain still. The door creaked open wider, the golden light spilling further into the room casting a faint glow over her face.

Alastor’s voice came first, a low murmur just above a whisper, but edged with unmistakable irritation. “See, she’s perfectly fine. Safe and sound, just like I said.”

"I had to see it for myself." Lucifer’s reply came in a harsh whisper, each word laced with restrained fury. “When I told you to take her somewhere safe, this was not what I meant. Your room, Alastor? Really? Of all the places in this entire damned hotel, this is where you thought best to bring her?”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes glinting in the faint light from the hallway. “And why not, exactly? This room is warded, secure, and entirely under my control. No prying eyes, no loose ends.” His usual charm buried beneath cold steel. "She is safest when she is with me and you know it."

Lucifer stepped forward, his golden eyes burning with barely restrained fury. “Don’t play coy with me. This looks improper, Alastor. She is vulnerable, shaken, and you, of all people, have her tucked away in your den?”

Alastor chuckled darkly, a humorless edge cutting through the sound. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d suddenly developed such fatherly instincts. Tell me, was it before or after you let the man who laid hands on your daughter walk free?””

Lucifer’s lack of an immediate response spoke louder than any words could. When he finally did speak, his voice was low, brittle. “More bloodshed wouldn’t have solved anything.”

“Oh, bloodshed wouldn’t have solved anything... In Hell?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Since when has sending a message been considered unnecessary in your grand kingdom? You had the perfect opportunity to remind every demon in Hell what happens when someone dares lay a hand on what’s yours.” Alastor’s voice turned low. “You think you avoided bloodshed, but all you’ve done is invite future challengers. What happens when the next demon, the next royal, decides to test those limits? You don’t maintain control through diplomacy, you do it through power. Through a show of force so absolute that no one would dare try again.”

Lucifer’s tone turned sharp and defensive. “You think you’re the only one who cares about her safety?”

Alastor let out a humorless chuckle, though his grin lacked its usual mirth. “Care? Oh no, dear Morningstar, let’s not pretend sentimentality drives me. I have a deal to uphold, and deals are binding. Her safety isn’t charity, it’s self-preservation. If something happens to Charlotte, if she meets an untimely end, well… let’s just say I’ll be enjoying a very permanent stay in the Void. So forgive me if I take issue with your little display of mercy toward someone who put both our lives in jeopardy.”

“You think I don’t want him dead?" Lucifer said through gritted teeth. "That I didn’t feel every ounce of rage a father could feel when I saw what he did to her? But it’s not that simple. The moment I lay his blood across my throne, every other royal house would see it as a declaration of war, not as justice. Everyone will suffer for it, Charlie included.”

“War?” Alastor cut him off but still hushed. “No one would have the gall to challenge you in the first place if you’d just handled matters like a real king. That spineless royal hurt her, and you let him walk away with nothing more than a fucking warning". He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Or could it be because the Queen wasn’t fond of the idea. It wouldn’t look good in her delicate little political web if the King of Hell acted like one. You let your wife and your precious politics stop you from doing the one thing you should have done, protect your daughter.”

“She is protected!” Lucifer hissed through clenched teeth, his golden eyes flaring in the darkness. “Guards. Supervision. She’ll never be left alone again.”

Alastor chuckled. “Oh, yes. Cages made of gilded bars. That’ll certainly make her feel safe... Just how long until those bars turn into wedding bands? Hmm? Who would look after her then?”

Lucifer hesitated, and Charlie could hear the frustration brewing beneath his silence. Finally, he spoke, though his words came out strained. “What do you expect me to do? There’s no other path. Charlie has to—”

“Has to?" Alastor cut in "Oh, what a fascinating choice of words. Who decided this was the only path? Was it you… or her?”

Charlie’s grip on the sheets tightened as the room plunged into another tense silence. She could practically feel her father seething.

Lucifer’s reply came after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous. "What aren't you telling me?”

Alastor ignored the question, exhaling a deep breath as a attempt to reel back his frustration. “Why don't we continue this little debate somewhere more… fitting. I’ve been meaning to pour myself a drink, care to join?" She could hear the subtle change in Alastor’s voice. "After all we wouldn’t want to disturb dear Charlotte, now would we?"

He pushed the door open wider, the golden light from the hallway bleeding into the darkened room as he disappeared into the corridor beyond. Lucifer lingered a moment longer, his face shadowed and unreadable before he followed pulling the door closed behind him with a low creak.

Charlie let out a slow, shaky breath, her eyes fluttering open as she stared at the now empty doorway. The air felt heavier, the tension still clinging to the shadows like cobwebs. Quietly she pushed the sheets aside and crept toward the door. Her hand wrapped around the handle twisting it as gently as possible.

It didn’t budge. A frustrated sigh escaped her as she tried again, her grip tightening around the unyielding metal.

And then she noticed it.

A shadow, impossibly long and sharp, stretched across the door. It curled and twisted unnaturally, almost playful. Then, with deliberate slowness, one elongated finger rose and wagged back and forth in a silent warning: No.

Alastor.

Charlie’s shoulders slumped, her forehead resting lightly against the doorframe as she exhaled through her nose in exasperation. Of course, he knew. Alastor always knew. At some point, he must have realized she wasn’t fully asleep, and now his shadow stood sentry, barring her from following them.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

Her eyes scanned the room, desperate for another way out, a window, a vent, anything. But Alastor’s quarters were sealed tight every possible exit accounted for. There was no escape.

Defeated, Charlie turned back to the sitting area and spotted his crimson jacket draped over the arm of a nearby chair. With a small huff, she snatched it up and sank onto the couch, pulling the garment around her shoulders. Her head resting against the arm of the couch, and let the distant murmur of their voices and fading footsteps echo in her ears until the noise melted into silence.

---

Back downstairs...

Alastor poured a generous measure of liquor into a crystal glass. With his usual flair he slid the glass across the bar toward Lucifer before pouring one for himself, lifting his glass in a mock toast.

“So tell me,” Alastor began casually, “why does our dear ol Charlie have to marry at all? It seems an awfully outdated notion, doesn’t it?”

Lucifer took a long sip, his golden eyes narrowing at Alastor over the rim of the glass. “Hell needs a ruler, and tradition dictates how that ruler comes to power. She can’t be King, I don't know if you noticed but she's a girl.”

“A woman,” Alastor corrected smoothly, swirling the liquor in his glass. “King is merely a title. Surely you aren’t letting semantics get in the way of your daughter’s fate.”

Lucifer’s jaw tightened. “You think it’s that simple? Heaven and Hell won’t stand for it. They cling to tradition like vultures to a carcass. I helped create the rule. I’m bound to it just as much as anyone else. At the time, it made sense... Hell needed a clear line of succession.” He sighed, his voice dropping slightly. “Then Charlie was born, and now she has to marry to continue the bloodline. Without her, there’s no order. No stability. Hell will tear itself apart.”

“And you, of all people, care about ‘tradition’? Lucifer Morningstar, bowing to Heaven’s rules. I would’ve thought you’d have more spine.”

Lucifer’s gaze turned icy. “Don’t test me, Alastor.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” Alastor leaned forward, his voice laced with mock curiosity. “It’s just so fascinating. Tell me, why are you so afraid of Heaven? They didn’t seem so tough.”

Lucifer scoffed “Tough enough to beat you, if I remember correctly”.

For the briefest moment, Alastor’s smile faltered, his eye twitching as though Lucifer had struck a nerve. But the slip vanished quickly, replaced by that smug, unshakable grin. “Ah,” he hummed, tipping his glass toward Lucifer. “Touché.”

Lucifer didn’t let up, his voice growing quieter but heavier with intent. "Those little foot soldiers are easy enough to dispose of. But the Elders…” His voice dropped even lower. “If you knew them like I did, you would fear them too.”

Alastor leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the side of his glass. “Fear? My, my, what an inspiring speech, your Majesty.” He tilted his head. “But with that attitude your precious daughter remains vulnerable. Shall I assume your strategy is to hide her away forever? Let her live under your shadow like a doll in a glass case?”

Lucifer’s eyes fixed on Alastor as though trying to see through him. “You assume I’ve done nothing. But I stepped back on purpose. I had to. Every move I make is watched. Every shift I take as a ruler puts a target on Charlie’s back. If I act like a proper king, then all of heaven would come down upon us, they're just waiting for me to give them a reason to intervene.”

Alastor’s fingers drummed against the bar in slow, deliberate taps, betraying his restlessness. “What a noble excuse. Meanwhile, your kingdom falls to ruin, and your daughter still suffers the consequences regardless. How many people have you let burn while you’ve sat on your hands?”

Lucifer’s didn’t rise to the bait. “You think I haven’t sacrificed? Do you believe for one second I don’t know the suffering Hell endures? I hate it, every moment. But Charlie’s safety is worth every damn criticism I endure. Just look around, I stepped in this one time to help save Charlie's life and they are already going after my daughter in protest in my intervention. Even Lilith…” He exhaled sharply, his expression softening despite himself. “She came back for a reason. I know she didn't come back for me. But she knows what’s coming, and she returned to warn us. To protect Charlie. That’s what matters.” He looked down into his glass for a moment, his voice quieter now, tinged with something raw. “Whatever Lilith’s done… no matter how many mistakes she’s made… I still love her.”

Alastor’s grin faltered, the light in his eyes darkening lowering his tone. “Oh, that’s touching, really. Love conquers all, as they say.” He leaned in slightly. “It’s curious, isn’t it?” he mused idly, his tone so casual it bordered on careless. “Why now, I wonder? Why would someone who abandoned her daughter without so much as a farewell choose to return at the exact moment little Charlie finds herself at such… delicate crossroads? Who, exactly, arranged that charming little engagement between dear Charlie and her ex-beau? Hmm?” He kept his voice soft but needling just enough to keep the wheels turning. “Surely you’ve asked her about it.”

Lucifer’s knuckles whitened around his glass as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His brow furrowed as he stared at the table in front of him thinking over Alastor's words.

Watching Lucifer begin to piece together the information was almost… fascinating. Alastor couldn’t tell him outright, Lilith’s deal had ensured his silence. 'Ah, but the truth doesn’t always have to be spoken. You only need to ask the right questions.' he thought to himself.

It was a gamble... Pushing Lucifer like this was no small risk. But you can’t play with kings without understanding the board. He was threading this needle carefully dancing along the thin line of what he could reveal and what he couldn’t. The deal with Lilith ensured that the wrong word could cost him far more than his pride. 

Still, he leaned back slightly with his sharp gaze studying Lucifer as the wheels turned in the man’s mind. If anyone could stop Lilith, it was him. And for now, that was enough to point him in the right direction, to plant the questions he wasn’t allowed to answer.

Lucifer’s stony expression falter ever so slightly. 'There it is... The first seed of doubt.' 

Lucifer's voice came out strained, but quieter now, as though he were speaking more to himself than to Alastor. “No one can make a deal like that... to get into Heaven…"

“Of course, I'm sure there is no one powerful enough in heaven to bend the rules. So who am I to speculate?” He gestured broadly with one hand as though brushing the thought away. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly noble explanation. A mother’s love, perhaps. Or maybe a stroke of divine luck. Regardless, here she is." He took a slow sip of his drink, his expression unreadable now. “Unless,” Alastor countered smoothly, "You can think of someone who might benefit from nudging Lilith back into play".

Lucifer didn’t answer, his jaw tight, his thoughts spiraling as the pieces clicked into place. Lilith’s disappearance. Her sudden return. The Elders. A deal. Something didn’t add up. Something was wrong. Lucifer’s glare was a storm barely held at bay. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Alastor replied, his voice laced with venom. He set his glass down. “For all your love, for all the Queens 'warnings', Charlie remains vulnerable. And if Lilith truly cares, you have to wonder…” He spread his hands with mocking innocence, “Why are you the one paying the price for her failures?”

Lucifer’s glare burned through Alastor, his voice a low growl. “Enough! You’re just trying to get in my head.”

Alastor didn’t flinch. Instead, he let out a quiet, almost amused hum. “Am I?”, tapping his finger rhythmically against the bar again as though he were toying with the very air between them. “I only asked a question. Perhaps you have your own doubts, hm?”

“I don’t,” Lucifer bit out, though his words carried more defensiveness than certainty.

“Of course you don’t,” Alastor said breezily. “But I suppose that’s a domestic issue something you and dear Lilith can work out all on your own. Far be it from me to meddle in family matters.” Lucifer’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, Alastor continued. “In fact,” he added with mock cheer, “it’s really none of my concern. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.” He tapped a finger against the side of his neck, his smirk curling into something sly. “Especially when my hands are tied.”

The subtle jab wasn’t lost on Lucifer, but the insinuation was enough to give him pause. He studied Alastor, suspicion flickering behind his fiery gaze. “Then what are you getting at?”

Alastor waved the question away as though it were a passing breeze, his smile unbothered. Leaving Lucifer to figure things out on his own.  

“What matters right now is your daughter, her safety, her future.” He placed his empty glass down with a deliberate, resounding clink, locking eyes with Lucifer. “You’re running out of time. So allow me to offer you another… option.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “An option?”

Alastor spread his arms wide in a theatrical display, as though presenting the most reasonable solution in the world. “Simple. Allow me to take Charlotte’s hand in marriage.”

The room went still. For a moment, Lucifer simply stared at him, as though trying to comprehend what he’d just heard. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” he scoffed.

“Not at all.” Alastor’s voice oozed with mock politeness. “I’m simply offering a solution, one you can’t seem to provide. You want her safe, don’t you? What better way to ensure her protection than to keep her close to someone who… well, let’s say, knows how to deal with Hell’s less savory elements. With me, no harm will come to her. And you will maintain your precious order. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, don’t you think?”

Lucifer let out a sharp laugh. “Safe with you? Don’t insult me. You would use her as a pawn to further your own power, and we both know it. What’s next, the ‘Radio King’ of Hell? No. I don’t think so." laughing once more "Besides, you couldn’t marry her even if you wanted to.”

“Oh?” Alastor’s brow arched, his tone light, teasing. “Can’t I?”

Lucifer froze, his glass halfway to his lips. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the hotel’s lights. “I beg your pardon?” he said finally, his tone flat and dangerous. Lucifer stiffened, his glare hardening as something unsettling dawned on him. "What did you do?”

Alastor’s grin stretched wider fueling the fire. “Oh, me? Nothing.” He tilted his head. “Not yet, anyway.”

Lucifer slammed his drink down. The sound of glass shattering against wood, echoed through the empty bar like a gunshot. Leaning forward, his glare burned into Alastor’s ever calm demeanor. “Is that a threat?” His voice was low and dangerous. “Stay. Away. From her.” eyes darting around the room briefly, scanning the shadows as though searching for unseen answers. His voice came out like a growl. “Did Lilith put you up to this?” Clearly paranoid from their earlier chat.

Alastor’s brow quirked, his tone as smooth as ever. “Lilith? Hardly.” He waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I would much prefer she keep her nose out of our little arrangement. I’m sure you feel the same?” 

Lucifer’s expression darkened. “Leave Charlie out of this,” he growled. “Matter of fact I’ve had just about enough of you.” With a wave of his hand, their contract materialized, glowing faintly in the dim light, the parchment suspended between them. “Sign it,” he growled, “You are released from our deal. Now you can leave this hotel and my daughter out of whatever twisted game you’re playing.”

Alastor eyed the contract tracing the rim of his glass with one long finger. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging out the sound before looking Lucifer square in the eye. “I respectfully decline your generous offer.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “You don't want out of our deal?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Alastor purred, his grin widening. “I simply find that our little arrangement has proven… useful. Why would I end such a fruitful partnership? After all, it takes two willing parties to undo a contract, doesn’t it?”

Lucifer’s fists clenched at his sides. “You really think you can weasel your way into this? How exactly are you planning to marry my daughter, Sinner?” His tone was thick with sarcasm and disdain. “Last I checked, you’re no royal.”

Alastor laughed softly, tilting his head. “With my own deal, of course.”

Lucifer blinked, and for a moment, his shoulders relaxed as a huff of incredulous laughter escaped him. “Shit. You almost had me worried for a moment,” he said dismissively, waving a hand, making the contract disappear. “Charlie would never make a deal with the likes of you.”

“Oh, but she already has.”

The room fell silent once more. Lucifer froze mid-step, his head slowly turning back toward Alastor. “What did you just say?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Alastor’s grin widened, his voice like silk laced with barbs. “I said, dear Charlie and I made a deal some time ago. A favor of my choosing, as long as no one is hurt. Quite generous, don’t you think? And wouldn’t you know it... this does cover it.”

In a blur of motion, Lucifer shot forward, his fist colliding with Alastor’s jaw. The impact sent the Radio Demon flying backward, crashing into a grand column with a force that splintered and cracked it. Dust rained down from above as Alastor slid to the floor with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He slowly stood back upright catching his breath as his antlers began extending slightly as his eyes turned black with faint crimson centers. 

“You dare to make deals with my blood." Lucifer snarled, the sheer weight of his anger warping the air around him. Flames licked up his arms, bathing the room in a molten glow as he advanced Alastor. 

In the blink of an eye he was on Alastor again with a blazing fist streaking through the air. Alastor’s hand flicked out creating a crackling barrier of shadow and static to intercept the blow. Lucifer’s fist connected shattering the defense like glass but it was enough to knock him off course and have Lucifer stumble a step. This allowed Alastor a opening to create distance between the two before his next attack. 

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as the flames on his arms flared in irritation. With a sweep of his arm, a torrent of flames surged toward Alastor engulfing the room in blinding light. Alastor’s grin curled wider as he snapped his fingers. Shadows poured from beneath him, rising like a tidal wave to meet the inferno. Fire and darkness collided with an ear-splitting crack, the two forces snarling and snapping as they pushed against one another.

“Is this your power? Hiding behind tricks and shadows like a coward?!” With a roar, he pushed his flames harder, the sheer force of it sending Alastor skidding backward across the floor. Alastor planted his feet, his antlers growing slightly as the shadows around him twisted into jagged spears. He raised a hand, and the spears shot forward, streaking through the air like black lightning. Lucifer flicked his wrist, his flames incinerating each projectile before they reached him.

“I've been waiting a long time for this..." rolling up his sleeves further. "You think I’ll let you use my daughter to further your own personal goals? Marry her? Just to use her like a pawn? You’re delusional”.

The room was a battlefield of clashing forces. Flames scorching the marble, shadows splitting and reforming in the air. Alastor’s defenses were relentless, shadows curling into walls, waves, and spikes to divert every strike. Yet for every step Alastor took backward, Lucifer advanced, pressing harder and harder with his overwhelming power.

Alastor let out a low, mirthless laugh. “Is that not what you’re letting that royal do now?” he asked, his voice cool and venomous. “Charlie doesn’t get a say in any of this, does she? You’re prepared to pawn her off to the highest bidder, all to keep your precious throne intact.” He tilted his head, his tone turning mocking. “The great Morningstar, letting his kingdom decide the fate of his own daughter. You’re such an inspiration.”

Lucifer hesitated. A faint crack in his unrelenting fury.

It was all the time Alastor needed. With a dramatic flourish of his hand, a massive wave of shadow erupted from beneath his feet, engulfing the room and plunging it into darkness. The swirling static roared like a thousand radios gone haywire, disorienting and consuming.

Lucifer’s flames flared brighter in response, a blazing sun trying to burn away the suffocating dark. The shadows rippled, and dozens of illusions flickered to life of grinning silhouettes of Alastor surrounding Lucifer on all sides. Lucifer’s flames lashed out, incinerating one after another, but the illusions kept reforming, multiplying like ghosts.

Hot flames lashed out in a final wave, scorching the air and obliterating every trace of shadow Alastor had summoned. When the blinding heat receded, Alastor was right where he’d begun with his hands in his pockets unscathed from the flames, eyes gleaming with an unnerving calm.

Lucifer stood in the smoldering ruins of their clash, his fiery aura simmering down to something almost cold. His golden eyes fixed on the Radio Demon. “You’re toying with me.”

“And you’re holding back,” Alastor replied smoothly. He stepped forward, the faint hum of static accompanying him like a phantom. “It’s not because you can’t kill me, is it?” His voice dropped, smooth and dangerously even. “No, dear Morningstar, you’re far too strategic for that. Killing me now would be... counterproductive. After all, I understand the delicate predicament you’re in. Your precious relationship with Charlie hangs in the balance. Fragile, isn’t it? It would be such a shame for your daughter to hear that you snuffed out one of her... allies.” He paused just long enough for the word to linger, grating against Lucifer’s pride.

Faint crackle of static began to curl around his words. “Tell me, Lucifer... what story would you spin for her? Would you tell her that I was a threat? A monster that had to be put down?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “She wouldn’t believe you. You’ve seen how she trusts me. Even after all your warnings.”

Lucifer’s flames flared, his control wavering just for a moment as his teeth bared. “You can't be trusted.”

“Perhaps,” Alastor replied, his grin razor-thin. “But Kill me, and you confirm every suspicion she’s ever had about you. You sever what little trust remains.”

For a long moment, the two demons stared each other down, power radiating from both sides. The blistering heat of Lucifer’s fire clashing against the creeping chill of Alastor’s shadows. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken threats.

Finally, Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose, his flames receding ever so slightly. "So what, is this your twisted way of asking me for her hand in marriage?” Lucifer grit through his teeth.

Alastor chuckled darkly. “No, I don’t need your permission. If she were to accept my offer, I’d marry her regardless of what you want.”

“She would never agree to that.”

“Oh, don't be to sure,” Alastor purred, his grin widening to something almost inhuman. “It was her idea, after all.”

Lucifer froze, doubt flickered across his face. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” Alastor replied smoothly, his voice dropping to a sinister murmur. “Charlie doesn’t know about this little conversation of ours, of course, but sneaking off and eloping with me? That was her idea. In fact…” he added with a sickeningly sweet smile, “she begged me to.”

The fire surrounding Lucifer’s fists flickered away, his expression shifting from fury to something far more vulnerable. “She… didn’t want me to know?” His voice faltered, barely more than a whisper taking back a step away from Alastor.

Alastor straightened his vest with a satisfied grin. “Why would she tell you? You haven’t exactly been the picture of fatherly support, have you? Let’s not forget, you paired her with an abuser. A man she warned you about. And when it all came crumbling down, what did you do?” He clicked his tongue. “Nothing. Father of the year, truly.”

Lucifer stood motionless as his hands trembled at his sides. Alastor watched him, tilting his head in mocking pity. “But don’t worry, Lucifer. If you refuse to protect her, I will. After all…” He spread his arms theatrically, his voice dropping to a sinister purr. “That was our deal, wasn’t it?”

Lucifer’s jaw clinched. “Why tell me all of this if it’s meant to be a secret?”

“Because I wanted to see your reaction. To watch the realization dawn on you that you’ve failed your daughter. Again. Tell me, how does it feel to know Charlie would rather entrust her future and the fate of Hell to a sinner like me, someone she barely knows, rather than her own father?”

Alastor's words hit their mark. Lucifer’s gaze dropped to the floor, the flicker of fire in his eyes dimming under the weight of guilt shadowing his face. For a brief, fragile moment, the great Morningstar looked small, even fallible.

Alastor’s low chuckle broke the silence, curling through the air like smoke from a dying fire. “Oh, now that’s rich,” he began, his voice lilting with false cheer. “I do so love watching those who deserve it squirm under the weight of their own failures.”

Lucifer’s didn’t look up.

“But unlike you, my dear King, I actually see her.” Alastor’s grin faded slightly, "I see how much she wants to believe in you. But with every cold dismissal, every biting word, every godforsaken moment of silence, you push her away,” Alastor continued, his smile a razor’s edge. “You confirm her worst fears, that she’s alone. That you don’t believe in her. And the best part?” His eyes glimmered with something between mockery and pity. “She’ll blame herself. Not you. Oh yes, Charlie will carry the weight of your failures like chains wrapped around her own neck. She’ll convince herself she wasn’t good enough. That she wasn’t worthy of her father’s love. And you…” Alastor’s voice lowered to a hiss, “…you’ll let her.”

Lucifer flinched at his words. 

“For all your power, you’ve really set the bar astonishingly low,” Alastor quipped, his voice smooth as velvet but carrying the faintest edge of scorn. "You’ve failed Charlie in every way that matters. “Is it any wonder she came to me instead? You might wear the crown, but you’re nothing more than a shit father.”

Lucifer’s flames crackled at his fingertips, but they lacked their usual fury. But Alastor stood unflinching, staring him down with a challenging gleam in his black and crimson eyes.

“Do better,” Alastor said simply, the taunt replaced by something unnervingly genuine. “Because whether you deserve it or not, she’s still giving you a chance. But if you keep this up, you’ll lose her. Forever.”

Lucifer stood frozen in place. For a moment, the weight of Alastor’s words pressed down on him like chains forged from guilt. “I’m trying to protect her,” Lucifer said through clenched teeth, his voice tight with restrained emotion.

Alastor feigned innocence. “And you’ve done such a stellar job so far,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. “Truly. Give yourself a pat on the back.” giving a slow, mocking clap.

Lucifer stepped forward, his presence suffocating once more. “What makes you think I would ever let her marry someone like you? Deal or not.” he thundered, his voice echoing like a storm. “You. A sinner. A monster, think you’re worthy of my daughter?”

Alastor’s grin widened slightly, though his eyes darkened. “Oh, I never said I was worthy,” he replied with eerie calm. “But I offer her something you never have: a choice. And that is what frightens you most, isn’t it? That she might choose me, someone outside your control.”

Lucifer faltered, his voice colder now. “Then tell me, Radio Demon. What do you expect me to do? Let you waltz off with my daughter like she’s some prize to be won? I will burn this entire realm to ash before I let that happen.”

Alastor’s grin turned sly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, perish the thought, dear Lucifer. Believe it or not, I’m not here to play matchmaker.” He waved a hand dismissively before his tone dropped, sharp and calculating. “In fact, I’m willing to offer you different solution. Deal for a deal.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

Alastor took a step closer with a chillingly sincere beneath the façade. “I will release Charlie from our arrangement,” he said smoothly.

"The catch?"

The shadows around Alastor seemed to deepen as he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping to a dark murmur. “Simple. You step down. Renounce your throne.”

Lucifer froze. “You want me to step down as King of Hell?”

Alastor’s grin grew sharper, the static hum of his presence thickening like a storm in the distance. “Yes,” he purred. “You hand over the crown, and I’ll sever my deal with Charlie. She’ll be free to chase her little dreams." He spread his hands, as if presenting a simple choice. 

Lucifer’s face twisted with fury but also conflict. “You’re delusional. I can’t do that. There’s no one to take my place"

“Isn’t there?” Alastor ignored the protest entirely, his voice calm and measured as though explaining something obvious to a child. "If Charlie remains unwed and something happens to you, the Holy Council people you’re so afraid of would have no choice but to crown her as King, woman or not. Unlike you, Charlie’s not bound by any deals with Heaven or Hell. She can rule freely. A queen without chains if you will.”

Lucifer watched him skeptically. “If I did do this. And she becomes king... You’d stay away from her?”

“HA!” Alastor laughed sharply. “Oh no, my dear Morningstar. I’ve decided Charlie is far too entertaining to leave alone. Even if you marry her off to one of those stuffy royals you’re so fond of, I’ll still be here, lingering like a bad habit. Thanks to you, of course.” He shot Lucifer a smug look, enjoying the anger simmering behind his golden eyes.

Lucifer's his glare unwavering. “And if I refuse?”

Alastor’s smile thinned slightly, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous. “Oh, but you won’t refuse. Because beneath all that fire and brimstone, you’re not just the King of Hell... you’re a father. And a father knows when the odds are stacked against him.” He took a deliberate step closer, shadows curling at his heels as his grin stretched impossibly wide. “But let’s indulge in hypotheticals, shall we? If you do refuse… well, then she stays bound to me. Indefinitely. My leash wrapped tight around her fragile little neck. And oh, the favors I could ask of her. Little errands. Little… performances. None of which would require a wedding band, mind you.” His voice dipped into something sickly sweet and venomous, eyes glinting with malice.

Lucifer’s wings flared out slightly, the shadows around him trembling under his fury, but before he could snap, Alastor straightened and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, ah, ah! Temper, Lucifer! We’re having such a productive discussion, let’s not ruin it with outbursts. I’m offering you something rare, my King. A choice. Something, dare I say, you’ve been rather stingy about granting your darling daughter.” He tilted his head, his smile sharp and cold. “You can cling to your crown, your pride, and your precious control. Or… you can be the father she deserves. Someone who secures her freedom, her safety, and a future untouched by the mess you created.”

Alastor stepped back slightly, hands folding neatly behind his back as his crimson gaze bored into Lucifer’s. "Either way, I win.”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened, suspicion creeping in. “If you’re so confident, then why not just try to kill me? Remove me from the equation and use your deal with Charlie to pull the strings. Why offer a choice?”

Alastor placed a hand over his chest in mock daydreaming, his expression exaggerated. “Oh, what a delightful idea.”

Lucifer smirked faintly, the barest flicker of amusement breaking through his scowl. “What’s wrong, Alastor? Don’t think you’re strong enough to take me on in a real fight without your all your smoke and mirrors.”  Clearly trying to get a rise out of the radio demon.

“Perhaps another time,” Alastor replied smoothly. “I wouldn't mistake patience for weakness. You see, killing you now would be… problematic for me at the moment. If I kill you, then I would find myself in precisely the same predicament you are in now.” He took a step closer, “Charlie’s bad side.” placing his hands behind his back, leaning just slightly toward Lucifer with a sly look. “And we can’t have that, now can we? You, the doting father, and me, the ever-charming Facility manager both stripped of her trust. Oh, she may be forgiving, she’s quite the optimist, your daughter...but this?” He gestured vaguely between them. “This would be a line crossed she wouldn’t soon forget. And that wouldn’t do neither of us any good. So no, I’ll pass on theatrics... for now. I’ll wait, because unlike you, I have time. And when the moment comes, that’s when the real fun begins. Don't you worry about that."

Lucifer’s expression hardened, though his fists loosened at his sides as Alastor continued.

Alastor went on, his voice softening with a sly edge, “I’m not interested in working against Charlie. Quite the opposite, actually. I want her little dream to thrive. Because if she succeeds…” He leaned in slightly, his crimson eyes glinting. “…then so do I.”

Lucifer stared him down, searching for deception, but Alastor’s expression remained unreadable. Lucifer’s confidence faltered “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “What do you want out of this? If Charlie becomes King before marriage, whoever she chooses to marry, if she marries at all, will hold no power, no title. They’d simply be… a partner."

“Exactly.” The word hung heavy in the air, quiet and purposeful.

Lucifer blinked, the realization settling uncomfortably as Alastor continued.

“Oh, she’d have her advisors, of course,” Alastor went on, “her trusted confidants to help guide her. A voice she can rely on when the weight of the world grows heavy on her shoulders. The one she’ll turn to when everyone else has failed her. After all…” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “It’s far easier to guide one mind than two. Wouldn’t you agree.. But as far as her throne goes? That will be hers and hers alone. A husband would merely be a figure at her side nothing more.” He grinned devilishly, his sharp teeth glinting. “Which, you must admit, is a rather brilliant way to avoid any power struggles.”

“You wouldn’t waste this opportunity for power such as that." Lucifer snapped, though there was uncertainty in his voice.  "What's your angle. Why do you want this hotel to succeed so bad? ”

"Who says its a waste?" Alastor’s smile returned, full force. “Besides, Luci, I can’t very well give away all of my secrets, can I?” He tsked, wagging his finger. “Here’s the deal, plain and simple: I’ll release Charlie from our little arrangement, and in return, you’ll step down as King of Hell. When I tell you to.”

Lucifer’s brows furrowed. “You don’t want me to right now?” voice dripping with suspicion.

Alastor chuckled softly. “No. Not yet,” he said cryptically, eyes narrowing with sinister amusement. “Timing is everything. See, there are other matters I must attend to first. You’ll continue to play your part as the King, as though we never had this delightful little conversation, until I say otherwise that is.” Alastor began to circle Lucifer like a predator, his smile unsettlingly wide.

"And my power?" Lucifer asked through his teeth looking straight ahead.

“No need to fret, your power is of no concern to me. You can keep it when you step down for all I care. When the time comes, and it will come, you will step down. The throne will pass to your darling daughter. And when it does, she will rule without the weight of your sins on her shoulders. No royal arrangements chaining her to some sniveling noble. No Heaven breathing down her neck. No chains holding her back.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a faint snarl. “And you standing at her side, whispering poison in her ear?”

Alastor stopped his pacing and turned sharply, his grin curling. He let out a dark, musical laugh. “Of course. After all,” he added with a glint in his eye, “I do so enjoy her company.”

Lucifer turned away slightly, his expression hardening as the weight of Alastor’s words settled over him. “You expect me to just trust you?” Lucifer bit out, his voice low and furious. “To let you stand at her side and play confidant, protector, and whatever else your twisted mind has imagined?”

Alastor chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Certainly not. But you see, our goals align, whether you like it or not. I need her alive. I need her safe. And if you get to keep your throne warm and your power intact in the meantime, well… isn’t that just a lovely little bonus for everyone involved? So … Do we have ourselves a deal?” Alastor prompted, holding out his hand as though the matter were already settled.

Lucifer’s fury was barely contained as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. Every fiber of his being screamed at him not to trust the demon in front of him, but the truth was clear: Charlie’s freedom, her future, depended on this uneasy pact. His glare flickered to Alastor’s outstretched hand, then back to the ever-present smugness plastered on his face.

Finally, Lucifer exhaled slowly. “If this is the only way to secure her future, her safety… then so be it. But mark me, Alastor. If you ever betray her, if you ever twist this deal to suit your own ambitions, I will drag you into the deepest pits of the Void myself. And I’ll make sure you stay there.”

Alastor’s grin remained unshaken, as if Lucifer’s threat amused him more than it concerned him. “Yes, yes, of course,” Alastor replied breezily, his tone dripping with mock politeness. “Now then, let’s make it official, shall we?”

Lucifer reluctantly extended his hand, grasping Alastor’s firmly. He braced himself, expecting some flare of magic or infernal spectacle, some sign that his fate had just been sealed. But… nothing happened. No ominous glow, no flash of green light. The room remained unchanged, eerily quiet. Lucifer’s scowl deepened as he released Alastor’s hand, his fiery eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Nothing happened,” he said coldly. “Why?”

Alastor’s grin only widened, his amusement practically radiating off him. “Oh, come now.  Surely you didn’t expect fireworks? This is far too delicate for theatrics.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We wouldn’t want the Queen to find out about our little arrangement now, would we?”

Lucifer’s frown deepened. “You’re saying this is just…a handshake?”

“Precisely!” Alastor’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction. Adjusting his glove with deliberate care, “think of this more as…” He waved a hand in a casual flourish, “a gentleman’s agreement. No theatrics. No magic to give us away. Just two reasonable parties making a little arrangement for the good of a certain young princess. How very noble of you.”

Lucifer’s fists clenched at his sides, anger bubbling beneath the surface at Alastor’s condescension. “I don’t need your commentary.”

“No, but it certainly makes things more entertaining,” Alastor quipped, his tone infuriatingly light. He gestured toward the bar with an exaggerated bow. “Now then, how about a toast? After all, we’ve just ensured a bright future for dear Charlie, haven’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t move, his glare locked on Alastor. “If you betray her trust—”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be smote from existence or whatever grand threat you prefer,” Alastor interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “You’ve already said as much. But we’re both smarter than that, aren’t we? Besides, I have no intention of breaking our agreement.”

Lucifer followed Alastor back to the bar, his expression dark and unreadable. Alastor hummed a lighthearted tune as though nothing were amiss, wiping at the faint smear of dried blood on his mouth with the back of his glove. He moved with practiced ease, pouring two new drinks for the both of them.

Lucifer eyes fixed on the swirling liquid in his glass, “you have an irritating knack for getting under my skin.”

Alastor chuckled, the sound low and musical. “Well, it is one of my finer talents."

Lucifer finally reached for his drink and downed a long sip before replying. “So,” he started bluntly, his tone edged with irritation, “how are you planning on asking her?”

Alastor froze, his glass halfway to his lips. One crimson brow arched high as he turned his gaze toward Lucifer. “Oh? Asking who, what exactly?”

“You’re planning to ask Charlie to marry you, aren’t you? Deal or not.” setting his glass down with a soft clink against the tabletop. “You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

Alastor said nothing.

Lucifer pressed on, each word sharper than the last. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at my daughter? The way you’re always one step behind, ready to catch her when she falls? I may despise you, Alastor, but I’m not blind.” He leaned back slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’ve found a way to give her what she wants. Freedom. Independence. A life outside this mess I’ve made. And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? It's for Her.” For a brief moment, Lucifer’s voice softened, his next words laced with bitter resignation. “You love my daughter, don’t you?”

Alastor’s ever-present humming had ceased. He blinked slowly, methodically, like he was weighing every possible response before choosing one. “Love?” he echoed, “My, my, Lucifer,” he said with exaggerated cheer, “such bold accusations tonight! Did the whiskey loosen your tongue, or are we simply skipping straight to the grand finale of this little soirée?"  

Lucifer’s gaze shifted sideways, locking onto Alastor ignoring his comments. “Let’s make one thing crystal clear, Alastor. If you ever propose to my daughter, if you so much as think about putting a ring on her finger, you will never have my blessing.”

Alastor leaned back in his chair, draping one arm casually over the bar while holding his drink with the other. “Oh, you seem to be under the mistaken belief that your permission, or your blessing, would ever factor into such a decision. If I were to propose to dear Charlotte, it wouldn’t be because you approved of me. It wouldn’t even be because you hated me. It would be because she said yes.”

Lucifer studied him for a long moment, his eyes flickering as he searched for something, anything, in Alastor’s expression. But the Radio Demon’s mask of mirth and shadows never faltered.

“So… are you going to propose?” Lucifer asked, his tone deceptively casual.

“Oh, who’s to say? Hypotheticals are such fun little things, aren’t they?” He drained the rest of his glass and set it down with a faint clink.

Lucifer sighed and leaned back in his chair, raising his glass in a loose toast.

“To hypotheticals, then.”

Alastor mirrored the gesture with his empty glass. “To hypotheticals.”

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter is was really fun to write. I know it was long winded but I wanted to keep true to Alastor/ Lucifer distaste for one another while still getting to a point where they both want what's best for Charlie … all while setting up story plots for future chapters. (a lot going on lol) I just love their bickering plus I felt with everything going on Lucifer needed to see the error of his ways before he could start turning things around and who better to point out those errors than Alastor. Now we can get more healthy fatherly love between Lucifer with Charlie thanks to some ruthless truth bombs from Alastor. :)

Chapter 20: What are friends for

Charlie sat curled up on the couch, Alastor's oversized jacket draped around her shoulders like a ill fitted shield as she watched his shadow continue to dance across the door. Flickering and writhing like some restless creature tethered to its master. It stretched unnaturally across the floor, curling up the walls in jagged shapes before settling back into an unmoving barricade once more.

She’d tried the door handle more times than she could count but each twist was met with stubborn resistance, and every time she tugged harder, that sinister silhouette would form a crooked hand, wagging one long, spectral finger as if saying ‘No, no, princess.’ But now, without warning, the shadow began to retreat. It slipped away from the door like ink being spilled in reverse, its dark edges unraveling and shrinking until nothing remained but the faint golden glow of light filtering through the crack of the door.

Charlie sat frozen, her breath caught in her chest, watching the final wisp of black vanish beneath the doorframe. For the first time since he’d locked her in, the path was clear. She quickly left the room her bare feet padding softly against the cold floor as she sprinted toward the grand lobby. Her father and Alastor had said they were going to talk there... if you could call it that.

When Charlie stepped into the vast space, she froze, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

The once elegant lobby looked like the aftermath of a war. The grand furniture lay scattered and overturned, upholstery shredded. Scorch marks smeared the walls like jagged black shadows creating gouging lines that spiderwebbed across the surface and climbed up the ornate columns. Shattered glass littered the ground, sparkling faintly under the flickering light of the battered chandeliers, their bulbs swinging gently as if still trembling from whatever force had shaken them. 

Charlie’s stomach twisted into knots as she cautiously stepped over debris and glass, her eyes locking onto the faint glow of the bar at the far end of the room. It was the only thing still standing. Like an island in a sea of devastation.

Her heart pounded as her eyes landed on a familiar figure slumped against said bar.

Lucifer.

Her father sat with one arm sprawled across the bar, the other hanging loosely at his side, fingers still curled around an empty glass. A half-drained bottle of whiskey rested within arm’s reach surrounded by a few other empty ones that littered the counter space.

His usually pristine suit was rumpled and stained with ash. The crimson tie hung crooked around his neck, the knot loosened almost entirely. But it was his wings that struck her the hardest. They drooped low, their feathers disheveled and dragging limply against the scorched floor.

For a moment, Charlie couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

“…Dad?” Charlie’s voice trembled as she approached, her bare feet crunching softly over broken glass.

Lucifer stirred slightly at her voice, lifting his head with an effort that seemed almost monumental. Golden gaze met hers, clouded and distant, but the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Charlie, sweetheart… shouldn’t you be resting?” His voice was slurred, heavy with exhaustion and booze.

Charlie ignored his attempt at deflection, her brows furrowed with concern. “What happened, Dad? The lobby... it’s destroyed. Are you two okay? Wait... where's Alastor.”

Lucifer let out a slow, tired sigh, setting his glass down with a dull thud on the bar. His eyes flicked briefly to the empty glass that sat across from him, the one Alastor was using earlier. He stared at it for a moment, his expression unreadable, before dragging his gaze back to Charlie.

“Sweetheart… let’s not dig too deep into this mess tonight, alright?”

Charlie nodded hesitantly, her arms wrapping tightly around herself pulling the all too familiar jacket tighter around her. Lucifer’s eyes caught on it, his stare lingering for just a moment too long. A flicker of irritation sparked behind his tired gaze, but he said nothing about it. 

Charlie's gaze looked past her father, scanning the room with a flicker of nervous energy, her eyes searching for someone—for him.

Lucifer noticed immediately, his tired smirk curling bitterly at the edges. “And no,” he said with a sharp edge to his voice, answering the unspoken question written across her face, “I didn’t kill him” His voice dripped with venom as he leaned back against the bar, fingers drumming against the polished wood. “But don’t think for a second I wasn’t tempted. That insufferable, smug, radio-faced sideshow had the gall to lecture me. Like I’m some unruly child in need of scolding. I should’ve ripped those stupid antlers right off his head and use them as coat hooks in the foyer.”

The venom in his tone made Charlie flinch.

Lucifer caught the reaction, his face softening with guilt. He dragged a hand through his disheveled blonde hair, exhaling slowly through his nose as he reined himself back in. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler, more tired than angry.

“But… as much as it pains me to admit it, that insufferable arrogant sinner made a few points I couldn’t entirely dismiss.” Lucifer's voice rough and low. His eyes flicked to Charlie, sharp with lingering frustration. “Doesn’t mean I liked hearing them, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean he had any right to say them, but…” He trailed off, jaw tight, before shaking his head.

“He’s fine, Charlie. I let him walk out of here on his own two feet, still grinning like an idiot, no less. Probably halfway across Hell by now, humming one of those cursed little tunes and driving someone else to the brink of insanity.”

Charlie let out a quiet breath as her arms slowly fell back to her sides.

“I know you and Alastor… don’t see eye to eye,” she said softly, choosing her words carefully. “And I’m not asking you to like him or even trust him. But, Dad… he’s important to me. And you’re important to me, too. I’m not going to pick sides. I can’t. I just—” She paused, her voice faltering as emotion welled up in her throat. “I just wish you two could… I don’t know… try.”

Lucifer studied her for a long moment searching her face before softening his voice. "Next time perhaps... Come on, help your old man off this damned barstool before I fall face-first into the floor.”

Charlie offered a faint smile as she stepped closer, gently guiding her father’s arm over her shoulders. With a subtle flicker of magic, Lucifer’s wings vanished, ensuring they wouldn’t tangle awkwardly as she supported his weight. He leaned into her, heavy but not unmanageable, and together they carefully made their way across the shattered remnants of the lobby.

When they reached one of the few surviving couches, Lucifer sank into the cushions with a weary grunt. His body slumped against the worn fabric while letting out a long tired exhale as his eyes drifted shut.

Charlie pulled a dusty throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over him. Her face filled with quiet concern as she knelt beside him on the couch. “Are you okay, Dad? Really?”

Lucifer cracked one eye open, his crimson gaze meeting Charlie’s with a faint, weary glimmer. “I’m fine, pumpkin. Just… tired. And maybe a little sore.” His fingers flexed sluggishly before his arm flopped back over the armrest with an exaggerated sigh.

Charlie’s stomach twisted with unease as her eyes flickered to his lightly bruised knuckles. “Sore? Wait… Dad, did you—did you hit him?”

Lucifer let out a low chuckle, lips pulling into a lazy smirk as he waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. The bastard had it coming. Besides, I promised I’d try to behave… next time. This doesn’t count.”

“Dad!” Charlie’s voice cracked with exasperation, her brows knitting together as she stared him down.

“Relax, kiddo.” Running a hand down his face in a attempt to fight off the feeling of booze flowing through his system. “I pulled my punch, alright? That smug little grin of his was begging for it. And trust me, if I’d really meant to hurt him, he’d still be picking up his shattered teeth off the floor. He’s fine. Maybe a little bruised but otherwise? Right as rain."

Charlie’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression pinched with frustration. “You never let him get under your skin like this. What could he have possibly said to push you that far?”

Lucifer’s smirk faded as he looked away, staring into some distant point in the room. His voice dropped low. “He was lucky to only leave here with only a bruised face. I can handle insults, Charlie. I can handle disrespect, mockery even, you name it. But tonight… tonight, he crossed a line.”

Charlie’s stomach twisted, her voice dropping to a hesitant murmur. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

Lucifer's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might continue. But the words stalled on his tongue. He shook his head, dismissing the question with a sharp wave of his hand. “Forget it, It doesn’t matter" he muttered, forcing a smirk back onto his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, I handled it.”

But Charlie could feel it, he wasn’t telling her something. It gnawed at her but Lucifer’s tone left no room for questions, no space for her to pry further.

She let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as her shoulders tensed. “You two are impossible. You’re both stubborn, reckless, and—ugh!”

Lucifer let out a dry chuckle, but lacking its usual mirth.

The thought of that deal between Alastor and Charlie clawed at the back of Lucifer's mind, festering like an open wound. But he couldn’t bring himself to confront her about it. Not yet. Their deal had been taken care of (for the most part) but now he needed Charlie to open up to him on her own, when she was ready. To trust him enough to come to him if she had a issue like this again without fear of judgment or reprisal. And trust, unfortunately, wasn’t something he could demand, it was something he’d have to earn back and he had some ways to go.

Charlie sighed, her frustration dimming as she reached out, her small hand resting lightly on his arm. Her touch was warm, grounding him from his thoughts. “Thank you, Dad. For not… not killing him. For whatever the reason.”

Lucifer glanced at her hand on his arm, then back at her face, and for a brief moment. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart." he semi-joked "But… you’re welcome.”

But the weight in the air remained heavy. He could feel the ache of his daughter’s worry radiating from her, and despite his anger toward Alastor (or perhaps because of it) he knew there were still things he needed to say. “And sweetheart... I’m sorry I wasn’t there when—” Lucifer’s voice caught in his throat, and he shut his eyes tightly for a brief moment, as if trying to steady himself. “When that bastard put his hands on you. I should’ve been there. I should’ve listened the first time, I should have stopped it before it ever got that far.”

Charlie’s breath hitched bitting her lip as her vision blurred with tears at the memories.

Lucifer continued, his voice trembling with an emotion. “I know I haven’t been the most… present father. Not in the ways you deserved. You’ve carried so much on your shoulders... And instead of helping you carry that weight, I let you do it alone." His eyes lifted to meet hers, glassy with unshed tears. “But that stops now, Charlie. I promise you. You’re my little girl... no matter how grown you are, no matter how strong you’ve become. I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. Not while I still breathe.”

Charlie’s tears spilled over, her shoulders trembling as a sob broke free from her throat. “Dad…”

She clutched his hand in both of hers as the tears kept coming. Lucifer’s strong, trembling hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that stained her face.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered again, his voice breaking under the weight of his guilt.

Charlie shook her head, her voice choked. “It’s not your fault. I—I should’ve said something sooner, or—I don’t know.”

“No.” Lucifer’s voice was firm but gentle. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. That’s not your sin to bear.”

Charlie let out another shaky breath before leaning forward and burying her face against her father’s chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. Finally, Lucifer pressed a kiss to the top of her head and leaned back slightly to look at her.

“I’m proud of you, Charlie,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You’ve grown into an incredible woman, strong, kind, and far more resilient than I ever was. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.” 

A small, fragile smile tugged at Charlie’s lips, but tears still welled in her eyes.

“It’s… hard for me sometimes. To see you as you are now, a grown woman, capable of standing on her own. You’ll always be my little girl, Charlie. My bright star. But I’ll try… I’ll try to remember that you’re not a child anymore. You’ve earned that respect.”

Charlie let out a shaky laugh, brushing at her tear-streaked cheeks as she nodded. “Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me.” She took a steadying breath. “You need some rest, Dad.” Carefully, she helped him shift on the couch, ensuring he was settled, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Lucifer leaned back against the cushions with a soft sigh. He shifted slightly on the couch, lifting the dusty throw blanket draped over his shoulders and patting the empty space beside him.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “There’s room for one more under here.”

Charlie hesitated for only a moment before crawling up beside him, carefully tucking herself into the space under his arm. Lucifer pulled the blanket over her shoulders, wrapping her securely in its warmth.

Charlie let herself relax. The steady rise and fall of her father’s chest, the faint smell of smoke and whiskey lingering on him. It was comforting in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

Lucifer rested his chin lightly atop her head, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. “You’re safe now, Charlie,” he murmured, his voice fading as sleep started to pull him under. “And I’ll make damn sure you stay that way. I love you kiddo”

Charlie sniffled, clutching a handful of his shirt in her trembling hand. “I love you too dad.”

---

The two lied in silence, the crackling remains of broken glass and faint creaks of the old hotel the only sounds filling the space. Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut briefly, but every distant noise kept pulling her back from the edge of sleep. Her father’s breathing grew steady, deep, and slow as he drifted into much needed rest.

Once Charlie knew her father was fast asleep she carefully shifted out from under his arm. Lucifer stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but didn’t wake. She tucked the blanket snugly around him and stepped away from the couch, her bare feet silent on the cold floor.

Charlie stayed there for a moment, watching her father sleep. Wiping at her face, her tears finally slowed as she let out a soft breath. She glanced over at her father, now fast asleep on the couch, his face softer in rest than it ever was awake. But despite his presence, despite knowing that Lucifer Morningstar himself would burn the world down to keep her safe, Charlie still felt… exposed.

Her thoughts drifted to Vaggie, her steady presence, her sharp gaze always watching for danger, her unwavering loyalty. And then to Alastor...the ever-smiling enigma who, for all his chaos and sharp edges, had always stepped in when it truly mattered. Between the two of them, Charlie had always felt protected in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

But now, with Vaggie gone and Alastor somewhere out in the depths of Hell nursing his bruised jaw, Charlie felt a vulnerability she wasn’t used to. Her father was here, sure... but it wasn’t the same. And deep down, she realized something that made her chest ache.

She didn’t want to rely on them, not entirely.

Charlie hugged herself tightly, her nails digging into the fabric of the coat. She loved them, her dad, Vaggie, Alastor, and she knew without a doubt that none of them would ever let anything happen to her. They’d fight tooth and nail, face down armies, and tear apart Heaven and Hell alike to keep her safe.

But she couldn’t keep leaning on them forever.

The memory of her ex loomed in her mind. The way his hand had closed around her wrist, the way his voice had dripped with venom, the way she’d felt so small, so powerless in that moment.

Never again.

The ruins of the hotel loomed around her, shattered glass, charred walls, and remnants of the chaos her father and Alastor had left behind. If this place was ever going to stand again, if the dream of redemption was going to mean anything, she couldn’t keep relying on others to fight her battles. Hiding behind stronger figures, waiting to be protected... it wasn’t enough anymore.

Power like her father’s or confidence like Alastor’s would never be hers, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t carve out her own strength. Determination bubbled up inside her. There was so much to learn: how to fight, how to defend, how to carry herself without trembling in the face of danger. Not because those around her weren’t strong enough, but because she needed to be strong enough, for herself, for them. The thought of losing anyone else because of her inability to act twisted like a knife in her chest.

Her eyes lifted to the crooked portrait of Sir Pentious hanging askew on the battered wall. His proud, smug grin still managed to shine through the scorched canvas, and the sight of it pulled a faint smile from her lips. He’d fought to protect them, and now he was happy, safe in Heaven. Charlie’s heart swelled with both sadness and gratitude. He deserved that peace.

But the others still carried the weight of his loss, not knowing his fate like she did. She could see it in their tired eyes, hear it in the heavy silence that sometimes filled the halls. There had to be a way to honor him, to celebrate the life he’d shared with them down here. A mental note formed in her mind. She would figure out some way to celebrate his life with the rest of the hotel, once all this chaos calms down.

Her gaze lingered on the painting a moment longer. Lost in thought, the faint shuffle of footsteps barely registered until a gravelly voice broke through the fragile stillness of the room. Charlie’s head snapped around turning toward the source of the sound, her breath catching in her throat. From the shadows stepped Husk, cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, the faint ember at the tip briefly casting an orange glow over his weathered face.

“Husk?” Charlie’s voice came out softer than intended, cracking slightly.

His gaze swept over her, studying every detail, before taking in the scene around them. He flicked ash from the tip of his cigarette, the tiny embers scattering across the cracked marble floor.

When he spoke, his voice was gentler in that gruff Husk sort of way. “You alright, kid?”

“I… I’m fine, Husk. Really. It's not as bad as it looks...”

His ears flicked back, and he let out a low sigh through his nose. “Don’t give me that B.S. You look like you’ve been dragged through the nine circles and back again. What happened?”

Charlie hesitated, her throat tightening. Her eyes darted away before returning to meet his. “I… my ex—he… he tried to hurt me, Husk.” The words felt heavy, bitter, and raw on her tongue. “Alastor stepped in, and then Dad found out. They… they talked about it. But whatever they said to each other... well... turned into this.” She gestured weakly to the destruction around them.

Silence settled between them for a moment, broken only by the faint creak of glass under Husk’s shoe as he shifted his weight. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. His tail lashed once behind him, a sign of his frustration, but it wasn’t directed at her.

Charlie offered a shaky smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s… it’s okay now. I’m okay.”

Husk let out a low sarcastic grunt. “Yeah, sure, princess. You look real 'okay' right now.” 

Charlie cleared her throat in an attempt to change subjects. “What… what are you doing awake anyhow? It’s late.”

The flickering light overhead cast jagged shadows across the debris as Husk stepped closer, his usual slouched posture offset by the sharp focus reflecting in his cat-like eyes. Taking a slow drag from his cigarette before pulling it from his mouth and exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

“Alastor,” he said flatly, voice gravelly as ever. “He woke me up. Told me to keep an eye on you while he stepped out.”

Charlie’s brows furrowed, frustration flashing briefly across her face. “He woke you up? For me? That’s so unnecessary, Husk. You should be resting.”

A dry chuckle escaped Husk. Rubbing the back of his neck with one clawed hand. “Sleep ain’t exactly my strong suit, princess. And if the boss says check on you, I check on you. Simple as that.”

Charlie’s sighed. “Where did he go?”

Husk shrugged, flicking ash onto the marble floor. “Didn’t say. Didn't ask.” He paused, his gaze locking with hers. “But clearly, he had reason for concern.”

Her shoulders hunched slightly, “I'm okay, I just… I need to figure things out. I need to make sure this doesn’t happen again... to anyone.”

“Okay... but first, you need to reset."

Charlie’s eyes darted back to Lucifer, still curled up on the couch. Her expression softened with worry. “And… what about him?”

Husk followed her gaze, letting out a long sigh before grinding his cigarette out beneath his heel. “Your old man’s out cold, and he’ll stay that way for a while by the smell of him. He'll have one helluva hangover, but he’ll bounce back. Trust me. But right now, you’re what matters.”

She hesitated, shifting on her feet as her fingers fidgeted. “But—”

“No buts, Charlie.” Husk’s voice was firm, though not unkind. “By the looks of it you’ve been through hell tonight. I'll check in on your old man, too, if it will ease your mind, but your priority. Got it?

Charlie swallowed hard, her tired eyes meeting Husk’s steady gaze. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “Okay.”

“Good,” Husk muttered, flicking the remainder of his cigarette away. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Charlie cast one last lingering look at her father, slumped on the couch, before she let Husk guide her away from the wreckage of the lobby, her bare feet crunching softly over broken glass as they disappeared into the dimly lit hallway beyond.

---

They walked in silence before Husk stopped in front of the door to her room. Charlie hesitated as her hand hovered near the handle.

“Wait… This was… This was me and—”

“Yeah, I know,” Husk interrupted softly, his ear twitching. “But it’s empty now. He ain’t here anymore. You got the room to yourself, kid.”

Charlie swallowed hard and nodded, pushing the door open. Her room was dim, the faint glow of neon lights from the city outside seeping through the curtains. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled, but there was no sign of anyone else. It was empty and silent, yet the air still felt heavy with memories.

“Alright, c’mon,” Husk said as he walked in behind her double checking that they were indeed alone. “Get yourself some clean clothes and hit the shower. I’ll wait right outside.”

Charlie blinked at him, her brows furrowing. “Husk… you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. You’ve done enough already.”

Husk let out a dry chuckle. “Nah. I ain’t going anywhere. Alastor might’ve put me up to this, but this ain’t just about him. I want to make sure you’re okay. And before you argue—” He raised a clawed finger, cutting off the protest forming on her lips. “You’re too tired to fight me on this, and I’m too stubborn to leave. So, you’re stuck with me outside your door until I’m sure you’re safe.”

Charlie’s shoulders sagged slightly, and she managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Husk. Really.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me, princess,” Husk grumbled, though his tail gave a faint flick, betraying his softer side. “Now go on. Get cleaned up. I’ll be right outside if you need me tonight.”

Charlie nodded faintly and slipped into the small adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She turned on the shower, steam quickly filling the space. Stepped under the scalding water she let it pound against her shoulders while it cascaded down her back. Her forehead pressed against the cold tile as the roar of the water muffled the storm of thoughts in her head.

But the calm didn’t last.

After what felt like an eternity, Charlie turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. The mirror was completely fogged over, but she could still see her shadowy reflection staring back. With a shaky breath, she wiped her hand across the glass, smearing away the steam.

Her stomach dropped.

Staring back at her wasn’t just her own face...it was her mother’s. The same tilt of her jaw, the same arch of her brow, the same haunting glint in her eyes when exhaustion crept in. Her chest tightened, her stomach twisting into knots as words echoed in her head. 

“You’re so much like your mother, Charlotte.”

No. No, I’m not her. I’ll never be her. Charlie scrubbed at her face, wiping away the smeared remnants of makeup from the disastrous night. But no matter how clean her skin became, the reflection still felt wrong. Like the woman in the glass was mocking her.

The words echoed in her skull, layered with years of repetition from different voices, her father’s sharp tone, the idle gossip of distant acquaintances, and even her own fragile thoughts whispering it back to her when she was at her lowest. Charlie flinched, her shoulders curling inward as if she could physically shake off the words. But they lingered, dripping down her spine like venom.

Alastor had told her that she was nothing like her... He had said it so easily, so firmly, as if that was the end of it. And for a brief, fleeting moment, she had believed him.

But how could he not see it? How could anyone not see it?

The same sharp curve of her jaw, the same golden hair that caught the light just right, the same glimmer in her eyes that could so easily be mistaken for something cold if looked at from the wrong angle. She looked like her. Every time she caught her reflection, she could see it. And Alastor… Alastor was no fool.

I remind him of her. Whether he says it or not, whether he tries to hide it behind that smile of his, she knew... Charlie had caught it before, the brief flicker in his eyes, the faint pause in his voice. He tries to look past it, she thought bitterly. But he can’t unsee it. And neither can I.

Her fingers trembled as they gripped the sink, her knuckles turning pale with the pressure. She squeezed her eyes shut as if that would somehow erase the image in front of her.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling but firm. “No, Alastor’s right… I’m not her. I won’t be her.”

The words hung in the still air, hollow and uncertain. Her reflection stared back, her mother’s face superimposed over her own. Then a thought hit her like ice water in her veins.

I can’t keep letting this haunt me. I can’t let this version of me hold me back. If I’m going to help anyone, if I’m going to help Alastor, I can’t keep letting this image of myself drag me down.

Her eyes darted to the counter, landing on a pair of scissors lying askew near her makeup bag. A sharp, sudden clarity cut through the fog in her mind. Without hesitating, her hand shot forward, snatching up the scissors with trembling fingers. Her breath came in sharp gasps as she hesitated, the cold metal heavy in her grip.

No more doubts.

The first snip was hesitant, uneven, strands of golden hair drifting down into the sink. But then another cut came, and another, each one sharper, more deliberate. Her reflection blurred with every trembling breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she hacked away at the image staring back at her.

When she finally stopped, the scissors slipped from her fingers, clattering noisily into the basin.

Charlie swallowed hard staring at herself in the mirror, her hair now jagged, uneven, and much shorter. She ran a shaky hand through the uneven strands. The resemblance wasn’t gone, not completely, but it looked much different now. Enough to let her breathe, it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t clean. But it was hers. 

Her breath steadied, her chest loosening ever so slightly. No more doubts, she repeated to herself silently.

Charlie looked over herself in the mirror once more, her expression hardening with quiet resolve. Whatever came next, she would face it. And she would do it on her terms.

But before she could turn away, something else caught her eye in the mirror’s reflection behind her, the broken remains of his staff.

Alastor’s shattered cane, rested tucked away in the corner of her closet where she had placed it the night before. Its splintered wood and cracked handle looked so out of place among her scattered toiletries and neatly folded towels.

She turned around, walking over to carefully picked it up. The weight of it felt heavy and uneven in her hands. I may not know what Alastor has planned, but I can still help. Whatever it takes. I’m going to fix this.

Without wasting another second, Charlie grabbed a change of clothes and a large canvas bag, carefully placing the broken staff inside. Slinging the bag over her shoulder.

She knew where she needed to go...

Quickly leaving the bathroom, she crept back into the dimly lit bedroom. Moving toward the writing desk in the corner, she grabbed a pen and a scrap of stationery.

---

Dad, Alastor, Husk (if you see this),

I’m sorry. I know leaving like this isn’t fair, and I know I should’ve said something before I left. But if I had, I know you all would’ve stopped me, and I can’t let that happen. I need this time. I need to figure some things out on my own. Please don’t worry. I’ll be safe, I promise.

Alastor, I know you have your reasons for keeping me out of your plans. But if you won’t let me help your way, then I’ll find my own. One way or another, I’m going to make this right. And don’t you dare blame Husk. He doesn’t know where I’ve gone and doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your frustration.

Dad, I love you. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay, and I promise I’ll be back in time for the grand opening in a few days.

Please… trust me.

—Charlie

---

She hesitated, rereading the words as her stomach twisted with guilt. It didn’t feel like enough, but she couldn’t stay. Folding the note carefully, she placed it at the edge of the bed where it would be seen right beside Alastor's coat he had lent her.

Charlie turned toward the door but froze.

Through the crack beneath it, she saw shadows shifting against the faint hallway light. The unmistakable sound of a low sigh followed, along with the faint scent of cigarette smoke. Her stomach dropped. Husk was standing right outside her door still, probably still keeping watch. If she went through the hallway, there was no chance she’d get past him unnoticed.

Charlie’s eyes locked onto the balcony doors, the faint red glow of Hell’s eternal skyline seeping through the thick curtains. Her stomach twisted as she stepped forward, her hand trembling slightly as it met the cold glass. She slid the door open just enough to squeeze through, the faint groan of the hinges making her flinch.

The wind hit her first, a sharp, unnatural chill cutting through her oversized hoodie. Below her stretched ten floors of twisted iron and cracked stone, each balcony railing stacked like jagged teeth in a predator’s grin. She swallowed hard, clutching the strap of her canvas bag as the weight of what she was about to do settled into her chest.

You can do this, Charlie.

Gripping the ornate railing, she swung one leg over, her foot searching for the narrow ledge below. Her sneakers barely caught on the lip of the stone as she steadied herself. One deep breath. Then another.

Her knuckles turned white as she began her descent, fingers hooking around the railings and decorative grooves in the stone. Each step down was slow, deliberate, and filled with the pounding rhythm of her heartbeat in her ears.

The wind tugged at her hair, her bag swinging precariously at her side as she fought to keep her grip. Twice, her foot slipped on loose gravel, and her breath hitched as she clung to the cold iron bars with everything she had.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

Balcony by balcony, foot by foot, she made her way down the towering façade of the hotel. Her arms burned, and her palms scraped raw against the sharp edges of the metal. But she didn’t stop, not when her muscles screamed, not when her lungs ached from holding her breath.

Finally, her sneakers touched solid ground. Charlie stumbled slightly as she landed on the cracked stone pavement, her knees nearly buckling under her. She bent over, panting, her chest heaving as she clutched the canvas bag against her chest.

She glanced back up at the towering hotel above her. No alarms blared, no lights flickered on. No one had seen her leave.

Pulling her hood low over her face, Charlie turned and melted into the shadows of the streets beyond. She didn’t know how much time she had before Husk or anyone else realized she was gone, but she knew one thing for certain: She had to move fast.

She avoided the main roads, ducking into alleys and side streets. The underbelly of Hell wasn’t exactly safe, but adrenaline kept her moving forward.

---

Vox's Surveillance Room

The glow of flickering monitors bathed the darkened room in electric blue hues. The air crackled faintly with static as Vox lounged in his leather chair, sharp-edged fingers drumming against the armrest in an impatient rhythm. Every screen displayed the same shaky footage: Charlie Morningstar, Hell’s darling princess, darting through dim alleyways. An oversized bag bounced against her side, and through the camera’s sharp resolution, Vox caught the faint glint of Alastor’s broken staff poorly concealed within.

“Oh-ho!” Vox’s smooth, static-laced voice crackled through his studio as he leaned back, a glowing neon grin stretching wider across his TV screen face. “Well, well, well… isn’t this a sight? The princess, sneaking around the underbelly of Hell, clutching that shattered little relic.”

He zoomed in with a flick of his fingers, one drone dipping lower for a better angle. The staff’s fractured edge jutted out of the bag like an open wound, dripping with dormant power.

“Really, Alastor?” Vox continued, his voice dripping with mockery. “You mean to tell me you’re so pathetically weak that you’ve resorted to sending your precious princess on errands? Couldn’t fix it yourself, could you?" A sharp tsk escaped him, followed by a hiss of static. “Mr. Big Bad Broadcast Demon, reduced to... borrowing power.”

Electric arcs crackled across his clawed fingertips as his grin stretched wide across his TV-screen face, teeth sharp and pixelated.

“But instead of coming to me, someone with real reach, real resources, you turn to her.” The venom dripped from his distorted voice, each syllable edged with electric malice. “The princess. Daddy’s little golden girl. Oh, Alastor, you really are slipping.”

The cameras zoomed out, focusing on Charlie as she paused to adjust her bag, her knuckles white as they gripped the strap. Her golden eyes darted nervously over her shoulder, and Vox’s eyes narrowed with sharp curiosity.

“What does he see in you, huh? What makes you worth the trouble? Your smile? That sickening optimism?” The monitors shifted again, glitching into an endless cascade of Alastor’s crooked grin. Each angle, each frozen smirk seemed to mock him, haunting and smug. Electricity surged as Vox slammed his fist against the side of his chair. The monitors flickered violently, briefly filling the room with white noise before stabilizing.

Vox leaned closer to one of the larger monitors, Charlie’s determined face frozen mid-step on the screen in front of him. His voice distorted with static feedback. “The great Radio Demon refused to join the Vees, refused me. And for what? To play babysitter to you? To skulk around your crumbling hotel like some washed up guardian angel? Oh no… no, there’s more to it than that. Alastor doesn’t do anything without a reason. There’s always a price, a contract, a deal.” 

A drone camera dipped low staying out of sight, catching Charlie as she slipped into another side alley. Her shoulders were tense, her movements rushed and uncertain.

“You’re fragile, little princess. So breakable. And yet, here you are, clutching his precious little stick, scurrying through the streets like some runaway pet. Alone.” Vox’s fingers steepled beneath his chin, electricity dancing between his claws as his grin flickered, morphing briefly into something hungrier.

“How utterly stupid of you.... But don’t worry. I’ll keep watching. I’ll pick at every thread until I unravel whatever bargain ties you two together. And when I do…”

The lights in the control room dimmed as Vox’s grin spread impossibly wide, the sharp glow of his teeth cutting through the shadows. A distorted laugh echoed through the room as the monitors once again focused on Charlie running deeper into Hell’s darkened alleys. The hum of static grew louder, like an ominous crescendo in an unfinished symphony. “I’ll remind him who really controls the airwaves.”

A low, mechanical chuckle bubbled from his chest as the cameras continued their relentless pursuit of Charlie’s shadowed figure, each flickering screen casting sharp reflections across Vox’s ever-grinning face. He leaned forward, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

---

By the time Charlie saw the twisted wrought-iron sign arching over the entrance to Cannibal Town, her lungs burned, and her legs felt like jelly. The smell of roasting meat and acrid smoke lingered in the air, and the streets were alive with sinister laughter and hushed whispers.

Charlie ignored the prying eyes of demons lurking in doorways and corners as she stumbled toward her destination. Rosie’s boutique stood out against the grim backdrop of Cannibal Town. Elegant, with deep velvet curtains framing the tall windows and an ornate brass door handle gleaming under a flickering lantern.

She paused on the steps, doubling over to catch her breath before knocking three sharp, frantic raps.

The door creaked open a moment later, revealing Rosie in a silk floral robe, her bright pink curls pinned loosely atop her head. She rubbed at one tired eye and let out a soft yawn.

“Oh, princess, darling!” Rosie’s sharp eyes quickly scanned Charlie’s disheveled appearance. “What on earth are you doing out here at this ungodly hour?”

“I—” Charlie panted, trying to steady her breath. “I need your help. Please, Rosie. I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

Rosie’s expression shifted from surprise to gentle concern. With a sweep of her arm, she gestured to have Charlie come inside.

Rosie’s boutique was warm and smelled faintly of jasmine and burnt sugar. Rich velvet drapes hung over every corner while golden candelabras flickered softly on polished wooden surfaces. Charlie sank into one of the plush armchairs, clutching the canvas bag to her chest as Rosie handed her a steaming mug of tea.

“Now then,” Rosie began, perching gracefully on a velvet ottoman in front of Charlie. “Why don’t you tell Auntie Rosie what’s gotten our sweet little princess so worked up tonight?”

Charlie sat stiffly in a plush armchair while Rosie perched elegantly on a velvet ottoman across from her, watching the young princess with sharp, discerning eyes while cradling her own cup of tea.

Charlie stared into the rippling tea now in her hands, clearly in distress.

“Easy, sweetheart. Breathe. You can talk to me.” Rosie reassured her.

Charlie's eyes flickered nervously across the room as if she couldn’t bear to meet Rosie’s gaze for more than a second. “I need your help… with something important. Something only you can help with.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward. “Go on, darling.”

Charlie’s shoulders slumped slightly, and her gaze dropped back to the bag in her lap, chewing her bottom lip before continuing. “It’s Alastor’s staff. It’s broken, and… I- I need to fix it. I thought you might know how. You and Alastor are friends. I know he doesn’t trust anyone, but he seems to trust you.” taking the broken staff out of the bag to show her the two broken pieces.

Rosie’s expression softened, and she gave a knowing nod. “Alastor’s not exactly a creature of… openness. But fixing something like his staff, an item that can weld so much power, is no ordinary task." After a brief silence, Rosie’s voice softened again, looking at the broken parts lying across Charlie's lap. “How exactly did you come into possession of his most prized possession, Alastor doesn’t let that thing out of his sight. It’s practically an extension of himself.”

Charlie hesitated, her fingers tracing one of the splintered edges of the wood. “It’s… it’s complicated. Honestly, Rosie, I’m not even supposed to be here right now. He doesn’t know I came to see you. Or that I have this." holding up a broken piece of his staff. "But—” Her voice cracked slightly as she tightened her grip on the wooden handle. “But I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit there and pretend everything was fine. I don’t care how long it takes or what deals I have to make... I need to fix this, Rosie. I have to,” pushing back the hood of her sweatshirt, now staring at the floor.

Rosie set her tea down on a nearby table and crossed one leg over the other, her sharp gaze never leaving Charlie’s face. “Alright, sweetheart. But I have a feeling this visit isn’t just about the staff, is it?”

Charlie flinched slightly but shook her head, her eyes still avoiding Rosie’s piercing stare.

Rosie’s eyes darkened slightly as they swept over Charlie. Her fingers of one hand tapped lightly against her arm, her sharp gaze flickering with a mixture of concern and barely contained fury as realization settled in. She had seen this before plenty of times. Women who came to her shop, desperate to shed their skin, their hair, their identity. Women who walked through her door carrying wounds they couldn’t speak aloud. Her eyes studying Charlie’s face carefully, gaze lingering on the faint bruises marring her delicate face.

“Alright, darling,” Rosie said, her voice low and careful. “I need you to be honest with me... who did that to your face?” Her words were firm, but there was a fragile thread of gentleness woven into them. “Because let me tell you, I do not take kindly to battered women, and if someone laid a hand on you, I’ll make sure they regret ever being born.” gesturing delicately toward the faint bruises along Charlie’s jaw and cheekbone.

Charlie froze, her lips parted slightly, but the words wouldn’t come quickly looking away from her.

Rosie leaned forward slightly, her voice softening, though the steel beneath it remained. “Tell me Alastor had nothing to do with this. Tell me that he didn’t—”

“No!” Charlie’s head snapped up so fast it was almost dizzying. “No, he didn’t Rosie. It wasn't him, I swear, he saved me from-.” stopping herself from oversharing as she gripped the staff tighter. “Alastor would never hurt me.”

Rosie let out a slow breath, her gloved hand pressing against her chest as a flicker of relief passed across her sharp features. “Alright, sweetheart. I believe you. I just had to ask.” sighing deeply. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, I adore Alastor, I do. But if he had hurt you, friend or not, I’d have marched straight up to him and kicked his lanky ass into next week.”

Charlie let out a small, broken laugh. A fragile sound but Rosie smiled warmly at her for it. Charlie shook her head furiously, short blonde strands falling into her face. “Please don’t ask me about it. Or why... Please, Rosie. I can’t... if I start talking about it, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop, and I can’t handle that right now. I just—I need to do something. I need to fix Alastor’s staff. Please.”

“Alright, calm down darling. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to share."

Charlie’s lip trembled, and her chest heaved as she fought back a sob feeling as though she cried enough today.

Rosie’s dark eyes studied Charlie in silence, scanning every slight tremor in her voice, every nervous twitch of her hands, and every subtle flinch in her shoulders. The weight of her gaze felt heavy, but not unkind like she was peeling back every layer of Charlie’s frazzled composure. After what felt like an eternity, Rosie leaned forward, resting one gloved hand gently over Charlie’s trembling fingers.

“You did the right thing coming here, sweetheart,” Rosie said softly, her voice smooth yet edged with undeniable confidence. “But there’s a price for my help of course.”

Charlie swallowed hard, her voice small but steady. “Of course. Name you price.”

Rosie smirked faintly, her head tilting as she regarded Charlie’s unevenly hacked hair with a mix of amusement and pity. “I get to fix that mess you call a haircut. Honestly, darling, did you lose a fight with a pair of kindergarten safety scissors… or was it a blindfolded chainsaw massacre situation?”

Charlie’s face flushed as she instinctively reached up to clutch a jagged section of her hair. “I—uh…I… I was just trying to—”

Rosie cut her off with a wave of her manicured hand, bracelets jingling with the motion. “Oh, hush. Clearly, whatever you were dealing with chopping off your hair was your version of… coping, so who am I to judge? If a fresh style gives you even a scrap of peace from whatever mess you’re running from, then lets just make sure it’s done right. So I will be fixing that mop of yours, or no deal.”

Charlie blinked, her shoulders sagging slightly with relief as she stammered, “Wait… really? You’ll help me? For this?” She held out a crooked lock of her hair as if offering evidence.

Rosie let out an amused sigh, shaking her head as she reached out to gently push Charlie’s hand back down. “Yes, darling. And I’ll make you look divine."

Charlie managed a weak chuckle, "okay deal." her smile fell again as she glanced down at Alastor's staff. 

Rosie waved a dismissive hand, seeing Charlie's concern looking at the splintered wood sitting in her lap, her bracelets jingling in a melodic chime. “Oh, that silly stick? Don't fret we’ll sort it out. Honestly, it’s like the man can’t go two seconds without causing some kind of melodrama.” Winking at her playfully. "Besides... What are friends for."

Charlie nodded, her lip trembling as she managed a small, fragile smile. “Thank you, Rosie...”

Rosie rose gracefully to her feet, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she gestured for Charlie to follow her deeper into the boutique. Shelves of glass bottles filled with shimmering liquids, enchanted tools, and rolls of fine fabric lined the walls.

“Come along, darling,” Rosie said with a sly, comforting smile. “We’ve got a staff to fix and a princess to reinvent. By the time I’m done with you, even Hell won’t know what hit it.”

Chapter 21: Sigils and Secrets

Notes:

Ya'll asked what alastor was up to after the previous chapter, here you go :)

Following Chapter is almost complete, will post soon!

A few hours earlier... Alastor's POV

Alastor perched on the edge of a barstool, one leg elegantly crossed over the other while his fingers tapped a steady deliberate rhythm against the counter. The faint glow of the bar reflected on shattered glass and liquor stained marble, painting a scene of decadence in disrepair. His grin remained razor sharp as he idly swirled the contents in his glass, focused fixed on the figure slouched beside him.

The infamous King of Hell, was a portrait of disheveled magnificence. Reclining against the bar with a lazy sprawl, his chin rested heavily on one hand while the other cradled a half empty glass of amber liquid. Empty bottles surrounded him, scattered like fallen soldiers a testament to the evening's events.

Lucifer tilted his head lazily, eyes flicking toward Alastor. “You’re still here?" gesturing vaguely with his glass, spilling a drop or two onto the counter. "You couldn't shut up a bit ago. What? Run out of shit to say?" 

Alastor chuckled leaning back and resting his elbow against the bar. “Oh no, Your Majesty, I’m merely savoring the rare occasion of seeing you so… domesticated. Whiskey suits you. Makes you almost tolerable to be around." His gaze flicked to the pile of bottles with theatrical disdain. "And far be it from me to abandon a guest who’s taken such a shining to my selection. Hospitality and all that. Wouldn’t want you thinking I’m a poor host now, would we?”

Lucifer barked out a fake laugh. The sound hung in the air between them, heavy and sharp edged. He downed the rest of his drink, the faint clink of glass against the bar filling the lull in conversation.

Lucifer let out a sigh leaning back in his seat as his gaze drifted to the empty corners of the dimly lit lobby. “Hell wasn’t always like this,” his voice weighted with something between nostalgia and bitterness. “It used to be... simpler. Fire, chaos, debauchery, pure unfiltered madness. No games, no politics. Everyone knew their place. Brutal, sure, but at least it was honest.” He swirled the glass in his hand absentmindedly. “Now? Everything’s... layers on layers of scheming. It’s exhausting.”

Alastor’s grin widened as he leaned forward, his voice tinged with mock curiosity. “Simpler, you say? You mean a time before a certain princess graced you with her ambitions?" 

Lucifer snorted clearly unimpressed taking another drink, more than he likely intended, as some spilled down the side of the glass. Sloppy, Alastor noted with a hint of disdain, though his outward demeanor remained unruffled.

“She didn’t just complicate things; she changed everything." Lucifer began, his voice taking on that familiar blend of irritation and begrudging affection. Alastor, ever the opportunist, kept his expression neutral, save for the faint arch of an eyebrow. "From the moment she could talk, it was constant questions. ‘Why is this like that? Why can’t this be different?’ Always poking at things better left alone.” Lucifer let out a sharp breath, his smirk laced with irritation. “She didn’t just change Hell; she challenged it. Exhausting as it was, I’d...” His voice softened for a brief moment, an unexpected tenderness slipping through the drunken haze. “I’d wouldn't change a thing.” 

Alastor tilted his head, feigning contemplation. "She sounds like quite the force to be reckoned with.”

Lucifer’s smirk grew the edges of his inebriation deepening the fondness in his voice. "You have no idea,". He shook his head, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “When I needed a breather, I did what any reasonable father did. I outsourced." Chuckling to himself. "Gave her to some of the Sins to keep a eye on her for me. The worst of the worst. Mammon, Asmodeus, Satan... they all had their turn. Figured they could handle her.” He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Turns out, even they couldn’t."

Alastor blinked, the corners of his grin faltering for the briefest moment, interest piquing despite himself. “The Seven Deadly Sins? That’s quite the roster.”

Lucifer smirked faintly. “You would think. But even as a kid, she could win over anyone. Didn’t matter how stubborn, prideful, or dangerous they were; she’d charm them all eventually... I mean, just look at you.” He gestured toward Alastor with a lazy wave of his hand as if making his point. Alastor eye twitched in annoyance at his assumption making Lucifer chuckle darkly, shaking his head as he continued.  “Oh, it was a sight. Mammon would swear up and down he didn’t have time for her, but somehow she’d leave him juggling trinkets to make her laugh. And Asmodeus? He spent the whole time teaching her to strike dramatic poses in front of mirrors. And then there's Satan…” Lucifer laughed recalling the memory shaking his head. "She told him he should try smiling more. I swear, I’ve never seen anyone turn that shade of red.” 

Alastor placed his glass down on the counter without taking a sip, his expression carefully neutral. “Entrusting your daughter to the very embodiment of sin? Now that’s a bold choice, or perhaps just... careless.” His tone was light, but the undertone of disbelief betrayed his thoughts on such a reckless gamble.

“Maybe both,” Lucifer admitted with a lazy shrug before tossing back the last of his drink. He reached behind the bar from where he sat, searching for another bottle, only to come up empty.

Alastor, ever the gracious host, got up from his seat and stepped around the counter with an easy stride. Plucking a bottle from the top shelf, he uncorked it with a smooth flick of his wrist before sliding it across the bar to Lucifer.

Lucifer sloppily raised his empty glass in silent thanks.

Alastor watched with keen interest as Lucifer poured himself another glass, the liquid sloshing unevenly into the cup. Subtle, but telling, Morningstar’s hand wasn’t as steady as it usually was. Alastor had to hand it to the old king; he could hold his liquor better than most, almost as well as himself. It took patience to get him to this point, to let the drinks pile up without rushing the moment. But the effects were setting in now. The slight miscalculation of his pour, the sluggish blink of his glowing eyes, the faintest hesitation between thoughts. Drunkenness made people careless. It made them talk... 

Lucifer swirled the glass in his hand, the amber liquid tipping dangerously close to the rim as Alastor strolled back to his seat at the far end of the bar. “The Sins weren’t always so… useful in the beginning. They were chaotic, dangerous, a royal pain in my ass when I first arrived.” Lucifer mused, his voice carrying that familiar weight of authority, though now softened by a drunken slur. “For a time, I thought about eliminating them outright.. Just… poof! Gone."  He waved his hand dismissively, spilling a few drops. "But no… I didn’t have the heart for it. Call me sentimental, but they weren’t like some of the others down here. They represented Hell itself... wrath, lust, greed, and so on.  Without them, this place would be… hollow."

Lucifer’s words slowed just slightly, the weight of memory pressing into his tone. He took another sip, rolling the liquor over his tongue before continuing. “So,” he murmured, voice thick with both drink and recollection,  “I gave them domains. Gave them power, freedom to rule their own little fiefdoms. It was structure, order, stability. They stopped being Hell’s problem and became... Hell’s foundation.” He waved his hand dismissively, though the faint trace of pride in his voice betrayed him.

Alastor tilted his head, feigning rapt attention as he folded his hands neatly under his chin. “How very noble of you,” he said, his tone dripping with false reverence. “And what of the others? Surely not everyone fell so easily in line. Particularly the ones who couldn’t be swayed by, say, our Charlie’s endearing charm?” He injected her name with a touch of brightness, a deliberate distraction. 

Lucifer didn’t snap, but the slow exhale through his nose betrayed his irritation, the faintest furrow in his brow as he lifted his glass to his lips. The irritation Alastor had aimed at Charlie’s mention had landed, diverting Lucifer just enough for him to continue speaking without realizing how much he was giving away.

“They didn’t get a second chance,” Lucifer muttered, bitterness clinging to every syllable. “The ones too dangerous, too wild to be reasoned with…” His gaze flicked to Alastor, his words sharpening into something almost pointed as if issuing a veiled warning. “I eliminated them…” He let the statement settle before adding, almost lazily, “That, or exiled them to the Wastelands. Let them tear each other apart rather than undo what I was building. I had to make Hell... manageable for my daughter.” His emphasis was deliberate, a pointed correction to Alastor’s earlier insinuation.

His fingers tightened around the glass, his voice darkening as he continued. “It was either that or wipe them out entirely. And I didn’t have that luxury. Sinners were flooding in faster than I could count. Chaos and fools running wild at every corner. It couldn’t go unchecked. Either they fell in line, or they were dealt with.” The finality in his tone was unmistakable, punctuated by the sharp clink of his glass meeting the counter just a little too hard.

Well, well… now, that’s intriguing, Alastor thought to himself. A land forgotten even by its king. Yes, there was something deliciously enticing about that. Alastor kept his expression neutral, though his mind pounced on every word like a predator stalking prey. But just as quickly as the intrigue surfaced, Lucifer had already moved on launching into a completely unrelated tale. 

“Speaking of fools,” he said with a chuckle, the heaviness in his voice briefly replaced by amusement.

Alastor kept up the appearance of listening offering occasional nods, a polite chuckle here and there. But his thoughts were elsewhere weaving threads into the beginnings of a plan. Whatever this Wasteland truly held, it was worth investigating. Lucifer, for all his power, had dismissed it. A fatal oversight in Alastor’s view.

"—AND THEN, this absolute buffoon of a baron tried to pass off a painted rock as a sacred relic. A rock! Can you imagine? He stood there, sweating bullets, trying to convince me it had 'divine energy' or some such nonsense.” Lucifer droned on, voice rising and falling as he rambled through stories that twisted and turned without any real conclusion. 

“Fascinating,” Alastor drawled, his voice steeped in mock enthusiasm as Lucifer staggered through yet another drunken, meandering tale.

For all his legendary patience, even Alastor felt the frayed edges of his restraint beginning to curl. Lucifer’s stories had dulled blurring together under the weight of too much drink. The mighty King of Hell now slumped over the bar, draped across it like a discarded coat, his former grandeur reduced to little more than a drunken shadow. Yet, Alastor remained, his smile unwavering, his posture relaxed. He was here for one reason alone: Charlie.

Her name was the tether keeping him anchored to this gaudy barstool, enduring Lucifer’s drunken unraveling with polite amusement. He hadn’t intended to linger, nor to indulge the king’s intoxicated ramblings, but circumstances had a way of shifting. Keeping Lucifer’s focus locked on his daughter ensured that Lilith and whatever dangerous ambitions she harbored remained, for now, in check. And if, in the process, Lucifer’s loosened tongue let slip something useful? Well, that was just a delightful bonus.

Lucifer sagged further against the counter, his movements sluggish, his irritation dulled into a haze by the steady rhythm of drink after drink. His glass wavered in his grip, amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to spilling with each careless tilt. Then, with all the dignity of a fallen monarch, Lucifer attempted to take another sip only to completely miss his mouth, tipping the liquor straight down his chin and onto his lap. He blinked slowly, as if trying to process the betrayal of gravity itself, before letting out an amused, slurred chuckle.

Finally.

Alastor had seen enough. Any further conversation would be fruitless and the king’s drunken stupor offered no more valuable information. He had lingered long enough to keep Lilith’s plans at bay, at least for now, now the time for idle chatter had passed. There was no need to stay any longer.

With a smooth tug of his vest, Alastor adjusted himself on the stool before rising to his feet with theatrical flair turning toward the exit. “Well now, Your Majesty,” he purred, drawing out the title as though it amused him to do so, “our delightful fireside chat has been positively enlightening. But alas, all good things must end.”

Lucifer didn’t bother to look up, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, well,” he drawled, dramatically placing a hand over his chest as if struck by a deep, personal betrayal. “And here I thought we were actually bonding. All the drinks, the threats, the oh-so-delightful passive-aggression!” He rolled his eyes, dismissing Alastor with a lazy wave of two fingers before reaching for the bottle. But as he tried to pour, the amber liquid splashed across the counter, missing the glass entirely.

Alastor’s grin widened, the buzz of his radio-static chuckle low in his throat. “Oh, do try to pace yourself,” he teased, the words dripping with faux concern. “It would be such a pity if the great King of Hell couldn’t keep his wits about him.”

Lucifer grumbled, his narrowed eyes barely peeking out beneath heavy lids. “You’ve been full of unsolicited advice lately, Alastor. Like an insufferable little stage director who doesn’t know when to get off the damn set.”

“Of course!” Alastor purred, spreading his arms with exaggerated flourish. “Hell is, after all, a grand production and what a show we have ahead! The grand reopening of our charming little experiment. So much excitement, so much... potential. One might even call it historic!” He cast a pointed glance around the ruined bar and its crumbling surroundings, his grin sharpening. “Although, I do suspect dear Charlie and I will have quite a bit of cleaning up to do before then. So many loose ends to tie, so many delicate details to perfect. oh, the collaboration! The camaraderie!”

Alastor’s smirk curled further as he added, with mock reverence. "You know, before you inevitably swoop in and smother it with your unique brand of fatherly… paranoia.” his voice dripping with amusement.

Lucifer’s head snapped up just high enough to make eye contact with the Radio Demon, the golden glow in his eyes burning a fraction brighter, cutting through his stupor. “Don’t you worry,” he said, his voice low and firm, slurring only slightly. “I’ll be there. Every second. Every breath. She hasn’t agreed to anything with you yet, prick. I agreed to give her a choice, doesn't mean I'll make it easy for you.”

Alastor chuckled “But by all means... do try to keep up.”

… Oh yes, Your Majesty… Keep your eyes locked on Charlie. Because while you’re busy with her, I’ll be chasing something far more dangerous than your little princess’s heart. 

With a theatrical bow, Alastor let out one last spine chilling laugh before turning on his heel and strolling back up the stairs and into the corridor. The static of his laughter lingering in the air long after he’d gone, leaving Lucifer seething in a haze of alcohol and smoldering rage.

---

The hotel halls lay cloaked in an unsettling stillness broken only by the faint flicker of golden light leaking from beneath the doorframe of his room, where Charlie was currently staying. Alastor halted mid-step, his eyes narrowing at the restless silhouette pacing just beyond the thin crack of the door. The flickering shadow moved with an energy that betrayed her supposed exhaustion.

“Still awake, are we, my dear?” Alastor muttered under his breath, his grin faltering into something contemplative. Lucifer’s presence was a powerful deterrent, true, but Alastor had never been one to leave matters in the hands of chance. He liked control. He liked certainty.

A low hum escaped him as he turned away from the door walking back down the hall at a leisurely pace. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the shadows lining the edges of his room whispered in response, unraveling like silk threads from the edges of Alastor's bedroom door freeing Charlie from her shadowy confines.

He didn’t bother waiting for her to emerge. Alastor’s steps carried him further into the dim hallway, each one soundless as shadows swirled around him clinging to his form with a eager energy. And then, with no more than a flicker, his body dissolved into the darkness entirely.

When Alastor reappeared, he was in the heart of his domain: the radio tower.

The neon glow of his world pulsed in vibrant shades of crimson, painting the room in eerie, flickering light. Shadows stretched long and jagged across the walls which were lined with cluttered shelves brimming with crumbling tomes, faded papers, and arcane artifacts that pulsed faintly with dormant power. The air hummed with a quiet, constant crackle of static layered with faint, ghostly voices whispering through the frequencies under his control.

Adjusting his tie with one hand, Alastor moved across the room, every step sending a ripple of tension through the charged air. He stopped in front of a large, boxy intercom system mounted on the wall. His grin stretched wide, gleaming with a predatory satisfaction, as he turned the dial to a frequency he knew all too well.

---

The faint crackle of static sputtered to life in the stale, smoky gloom of Husk’s room. The old tomcat flinched, his ear twitching with irritation as his bloodshot eyes shot toward the glowing red light on the intercom speaker bolted to the wall. His tail lashed once, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

“Oh, hell no—”

“HUSKER!” Alastor’s voice blared through the speaker, the static warping the cheery tone. The sound was like nails scraping against glass. Husk’s fur visibly bristled as his claws dug into the armrest of his already battered chair leaving fresh marks in the scarred material.

“For FUCKS sake” Husk snarled, wincing as the voice practically clawed at his eardrums. “What the hell do ya want, Alastor?”

“Now, now, temper, temper!” Alastor’s voice chimed, dripping with saccharine glee. “I just need a teensy favor from my favorite feline companion! Barely an inconvenience for a seasoned professional such as yourself!”

Husk grabbed an empty bottle from the table beside him and chucked it at the intercom with a sharp clink. “Quit screwin’ around and get to the point, you overcooked jack-o'-lantern! What do you want.”

Alastor’s laugh buzzed through the speaker, light and maddening ignoring his outburst. “Oh, nothing too troublesome, I assure you. Just a simple task: keep an eye on our darling princess. A watchful guardian, if you will!”

Husk frowned, his ears lowering slightly. “Why? What’s goin’ on?”

“Matters have already been takin care of. Lets just call it preventative care, shall we? While I step out for a little jaunt."

Husk leaned back in his chair, his claws tapping against the worn leather armrest. “If the King is here, why do you need me watching her? You don’t trust him or somethin’?”

There was another pause, and Alastor’s voice softened just a hair, enough to make Husk’s fur stand on end.

“Her darling daddy is here, but he seems quite preoccupied with the bottom of a bottle at the moment, and distraction breeds vulnerability. We wouldn’t want any... opportunists taking advantage of the state he is in, now would we?" Alastor’s grin was audible even through the static. "You’re sharp, Husker. And more importantly … I own you."

Husk growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Son of a—fine. Fine! I’ll keep an eye on her. Happy?”

“Ecstatic! But… oh dear, one last little thing!”

Husk froze mid-grumble. “…What now?”

“No drinking on the job, Husker! I want you sober and alert. You’ve got two good eyes and I expect both of them to be glued to our dear little princess. Capisce?”

Husk bared his teeth in a snarl. “Capisce my ass, Alastor! I’ll keep an eye on her, but don't get used to this, I’m aint your damn babysitter!”

Alastor’s laughter crackled through the intercom like broken glass. With a sharp click, the intercom went silent, leaving behind only the faint hum of static.

Husk let out a guttural groan, his head thudding back against the chair. “That smug bastard... Alright, princess,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his rumpled jacket from the back of the chair. “Looks like I’m your damn shadow tonight.”

---

Alastor stepped away from the crackling intercom after leaving Husk with his “request". He clasped his hands behind his back, shoulders rolling with satisfaction.

"There. Two birds, one stone. Charlie’s looked after and Husk is annoyed. A delightful outcome, really."

Around him, piles of ancient tomes teetered like unstable towers, their cracked leather spines sagging with age and parchment spilling out like entrails. Half unfurled scrolls stained with ink and blood lay scattered across the floor, abandoned in bursts of frustration or fleeting epiphanies. The room was more than a workspace; it was a shrine to obsession, a physical manifestation of Alastor’s relentless pursuit in the search of power.

Returning to the task at hand, Alastor’s eyes moved over the disarray of his study honing in on the mess with increasing impatience. Amid the clutter, he found what he sought. With practiced fingers he retrieved a large worn map of Hell from between two leaning tomes, unfurling it across the surface of his radio equipment. The map sprawled wide before him, its surface scarred with frantic scribbles, crude symbols, and jagged annotations slicing through citadels and territories in a chaotic tangle. His fingers hovered just above the faded lines, tracing a path of his own devising, his focus fixed intently on the disordered landscape before him.

Lucifer's slurred, bitter voice echoed faintly in his mind:
“The Wastelands…”

Alastor’s gloved fingers began drumming a restless rhythm against the desk. Around him, the shadows in his tower seemed to stir, almost as if they too could sense the significance of the revelation inching closer.

Not finding what he was looking for he reached for one of the older tomes nearby. His fingers lingered over the books worn fragile spine ensuring this was the one he sought. With deliberate care he opened the brittle book flipping through its age pages. The parchment crackled faintly under his touch, the faded ink whispering secrets of a long forgotten past. Words in dead tongues scrolled past his sharp gaze, some familiar, others maddeningly obscure. Here were the histories of Hell’s courts, the blood drenched alliances of its nobility, and the wars that carved its gilded halls. Fascinating, yes, but irrelevant now.

All this time, he’d been searching in the wrong places. The answers he sought weren’t buried within the crumbling palaces of Hell or the labyrinth of its aristocracy.

His grin sharpened as his thoughts drifted to the edges of the kingdom. A barren, forsaken expanse where storms raged eternal and ash rained from a wounded sky. A place demons feared to tread. The Wastelands, the very ground seemed to rebel against existence. No structure. No order. A domain not forgotten by accident but deliberately cast aside by Hell and lost to time itself.

The pages turned faster now, parchment snapping under his touch. His eyes darted over old names, faded ink, and panicked scrawling's, each a breadcrumb leading him deeper into something ancient. And then… there. Alastor froze. His finger pressed firmly against an open page.

At the center of the page was a sigil.

It wasn’t elegant or ornate like the crests of noble houses. It wasn’t balanced or deliberate like celestial markings. No, this was primal... rough. Claw-like markings circled the sigil, the ink smeared in places, written either in haste… or fear. But beneath it, etched in bold, jagged letters, was a single name.

Roo.

Alastor’s hum of static deepened, vibrating faintly in the back of his throat. Roo. A name that slithered through forgotten whispers and flickered in the dying breaths of those who had dared to ask too many questions. Powerful. Enigmatic. Spiteful. And, if these fragmented notes were to be believed, old. As old as the Morningstar's rein.

His grin began to return as he read further, scanning the crumbling pages with laser focus. Each tale ended in ambiguity, encounters with Roo were not survived, not truly. The scholars who came close enough to glimpse her secrets disappeared, their fates lost in ink smudges and frantic scrawls.

But one passage caught his eye:

"The Weaver of Deals… A path nature would not grant... it was Roo she turned into... Beware the price of possibility; for power granted by... unyielding strings."

The ink was smeared within the passage leaving it unfinished, like a voice cut off mid-scream. The faint hum of static around him grew louder, more aggressive, vibrating through the very walls of the tower in excitement. If Lilith had struck a deal with anyone capable of standing at her level, capable of binding her in obligations she couldn’t easily slip free from, it had to have been Roo. This Weaver of Deals would not be found within palaces or the courts of Hell’s nobility. No, Roo existed beyond the edges of civilization, in the barren expanse of Hell.

But which direction?

The Wastelands formed an endless ring of ruin, circling Hell’s kingdoms like a mocking barrier, stretching to the farthest reaches of existence. North, south, east, west—it made no difference. Beyond the scorched borders, everything dissolved into the same bleak, featureless desolation. Without direction, even eternity could be squandered wandering its void. Time, however, was a commodity Alastor could not waste.

His gaze flickered over the chaotic remains of his research. Scraps of parchment, fragmented lore, and vague warnings lay scattered across the desk like discarded riddles, each one leading to yet another dead end. There had to be more. A fragment, a clue, a name scrawled in the margins of history, something. Looming over his desk, Alastor pushed the brittle papers aside, his fingers twitching with barely restrained irritation as his thoughts churned. Static humming faintly in the air around him, rising and falling with the rhythm of his frustration. “Come now, Alastor, think,” he murmured. The pieces were there, scattered across centuries of whispers and superstitions. Yet none of them screamed the truth he sought.

He paused, his mind sharpening as he considered the threads of the stories told. The victims. The whispers. Desperate souls lured in by Roo’s promises, trapped by her bargains, and ultimately destroyed by her whims. That was the trail. Roo was ancient, shrewd, and elusive, but bargains were never one sided. Her influence would leave echoes of shattered lives and whispers clinging to those she’d ensnared.

Alastor’s grin twisted into something darker. Roo may not reveal herself willingly, but those who had dared to seek her out might point him in the right direction. He needed names, sightings, patterns, anything that could narrow the infinite wasteland into something manageable. The clock was ticking, Lilith wasn’t one to be fooled for long, and her sharp eye would catch wind of his movements soon enough. 

The notes on his desk held no more answers. With a slow, deliberate snap of his fingers they erupted into flames, the fire hissing and spitting as it consumed every last word. Alastor watched the destruction with a crooked grin. No sense in leaving a trail for prying eyes. Whatever came next required discretion and precision. Two things Alastor carried in spades.

There were other ways to get the information he looked for.

Alastor had refined the art of unraveling Hell’s secrets into a twisted symphony, each trembling whisper a note, each broken soul an instrument. Archivists clutching their forbidden tomes, scavengers hoarding scraps of ancient knowledge, and desperate souls willing to barter their agony for a fleeting moment of mercy. Hell was full of them, and their secrets were a currency far more valuable than gold. With the right… persuasion, Alastor could make anyone sing. And oh, how he loved the music they made.

Lucifer could chase celestial intrigues, unraveling the threads Lilith had spun into Heaven’s web. Alastor was more than happy to let him, having already fed Lucifer enough subtle hints to stoke his curiosity. Let the so-called King of Hell keep his eyes on the heavens. Alastor had no interest in such lofty matters. His focus remained firmly below, where the shadows stirred and secrets grew, waiting for the right moment to reveal their truths.

Shadows spilled from his feet, curling and twisting like restless serpents, coiling eagerly as if sensing his intent. He moved with fluid precision across the room as he reached for a spare coat in the corner of his tower.

Adjusting the lapels with care, he ensured every detail was immaculate. After all, the pursuit of knowledge was a performance as much as a hunt, and Alastor never shied away from putting on a show. His grin widened, jagged and gleaming with excitement.  Roo was out there and the Radio Demon would ensure she wouldn’t have to wait long.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will be mentioning and maybe camo a Sin or two from Helluva boss because I feel it's important to the lore/ story building and it is the same universe but do not plan to focus to much on it as I want to keep it about the Hazbin Hotel. :)

I know a lot of characters are making a appearance (or mentioned) but I promise it will all come together lol.