Apples, Airwaves, and Dark Paths

by quantumboogaloo

Summary:

Alastor betrayed the hotel (duh). He freed himself from his deal and abandoned them all. A year later, Charlie realizes she misses him, and the hotel crew bring him back rather forcefully, and try to act like everything is back to normal. Alastor suffers.

Inspired by the Dark Forced Family AU from Tumblr lol

Notes:

This is mostly like a prologue, getting everything set up
CW: brief mentions of violence (non-graphic)

Chapter 1: Time heals all wounds (except it doesn't)

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

For most of Hell, it was just another day of screams, bloodsoaked streets, and indulgence in the most sinful of desires. The sky seemed particularly red. But in the Happy Hotel, it was the first anniversary of destruction and betrayal.

As Charlie woke up and wandered downstairs, she couldn’t shake the lingering feelings of sadness. Sure, she had known that he was there for his own reasons, but over the course of years, she had really felt that Alastor was starting to change. The first time he had met her father, Alastor had said something about how he saw Charlie as a daughter. Later, the rest of the hotel had told her how it was obviously just to get under Lucifer’s skin. Really, it was obvious, but Charlie had been a little giddy to receive such praise from the Radio Demon. Her hotelier, her friend.

But as time passed, he seemed to really take to the role of a pseudo-father figure. Lucifer didn’t exactly like it, but it wasn’t as though he was there all the time. Alastor, though, he had softened. He gave her advice, taught her how to cook. And when they received word that Sir Pentious had been redeemed, he had told her “I suppose it isn’t whacky nonsense after all, my dear!” After that, Alastor had been sure to tell her that redemption was hardly to be expected for the majority of Hell, after all they would still have to actually give redemption a chance, and who would do that?

Well, several folks, apparently.

After there was proof that redemption was possible, and the end of the Exterminations, the hotel slowly began to fill. It was hardly at capacity, but instead of one or two guests, there were nearly a dozen! Everything was going so well.

And then Alastor destroyed everything.

 

Charlie sat down in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and adding plenty of cream and sugar. She could practically hear him chiding her, telling her she’s ruining her coffee like that. “The best part is the bitterness, dear!”

It had been exactly one year since he ruined everything. He destroyed the Hazbin Hotel, and in the process he killed several guests and obliterated not only the building, but the very reputation of the hotel. Fortunately, none of the guests were erased, but after what happened, all of them left. Only Angel Dust stayed, saying anything was better than moving back into Vee Tower.

It was a shame. They had only rebuilt the hotel a few years ago, after the last Extermination, and it was already gone again. It had been difficult to rebuild the first time, when they were grieving Sir Pentious and Dazzle, and when they were worried that Alastor might have died too. But grief was different from betrayal.

Grief hurt deeply, and it never really went away, but at least there were good memories. Before Charlie knew about Pentious’ redemption, she could still hold him in her heart. They hung that painting of him in the hotel, and in a way, they rebuilt to honor his memory.

But Alastor’s treachery hurt in a different way, tainting every memory she had, not just of the times spent with him, but of the Hazbin Hotel in general. Even Husk and Niffty’s presence hurt a bit, since he had been the one to bring them there. After decimating the hotel, Alastor had left Husk and Niffty behind. “I won’t be requiring your services for the time being, so stay if you wish!” he had told them. And Husk did. He said it was for the same reason he fought those years ago, that he didn’t want to find new drinking buddies, but it was clear just as it was then that wasn’t the full truth. Husk and Angel Dust had been close for a while, and not long after Alastor left they had officially started dating. It was really sweet, and one of the few things to bring Charlie out of her state of shock and despair.

Niffty, on the other hand, had been disappointed at the lack of bugs to stab at the empty plot where the hotel had stood. For a while, she had gone to Rosie’s, killing bugs in Cannibal Town, but eventually she returned, and Charlie was glad to see her back. She and Vaggie had been worried about how they would manage the housekeeping when they got the hotel rebuilt.

Normally, Charlie would have been all over it, putting up posters, handing out flyers and empty applications. Vaggie tried to get her interested, suggesting she could hire sinners or hellborn, whoever was capable and willing, but Charlie had just shrugged. She had blamed herself for everything. Honestly, she still did. She had known, she had known that Alastor wasn’t here out of the goodness of his heart. How many times had he laughed at the very concept of redeeming sinners, or tried to make a Deal with her? And she was stupid enough to actually make one!

Charlie had actually started to trust the fucking Radio Demon.

She deserved every bit of fallout that came from that.

At least Alastor was still alive. No matter how angry Charlie might have been, she would never want him dead. Really, there were very few people who could send her into such rage that she wanted them dead. He was alive, but he was no longer their friend.

He never was, Charlie reminded herself for the millionth time, finishing off the last of her coffee. A year had passed, and she still felt that same stab of pain, of gut-wrenching betrayal, that she had at that moment. His smile had stretched wider than she had ever seen it, and if she wasn’t so frozen with shock she would have grabbed Vaggie and just cried into her arms.

She had changed the name back to the Happy Hotel. Anything to distance her passion project from the Radio Demon who had come in and ruined everything. It was nice now. Polished and clean, so unlike Alastor’s incongruous style of classic elegance mixed with rugged charm. No, the new new hotel was sleek and tasteful, modernized but not too much. Charlie had spent weeks trying to make it perfect. She wanted it to feel classy but welcoming, and it did. Everyone said it was great.

So why did it feel so empty and hollow?

 

“Hey, babe.” Vaggie’s voice startled Charlie out of her thoughts. The moth placed a hand on Charlie’s, and with the other she wiped away tears she didn’t even know she was shedding. “You really shouldn’t be wasting your thoughts on that cabrón.”

Charlie had spent a lot of sleepless nights crying into Vaggie’s arms. She had been right about everything, right from the git-go. If she had just listened when Vaggie told her not to let the Radio Demon enter the hotel on that very first day, none of this ever would have happened.

“Hey,” Charlie answered quietly, leaning to rest her head on Vaggie’s shoulder.

“Charlie, I know you’re beating yourself up right now. You’ve gotta stop doing that.” No matter how many times Vaggie told her it was okay, it wasn’t her fault, Charlie never believed her. And no matter what she did, no matter how many of her friends surrounded her, no matter how many activities she hosted, the Happy Hotel felt dull and lifeless.

“I know, I know. I just… If I had just listened to you in the first place, none of this ever would have happened. You were right, you were always right! And I was too naive and optimistic and- and-”

“And… those are some of your best traits, and just because something bad happened doesn’t mean you should feel this bad about it. Hon, he’s a manipulator. It’s what he does. And we won’t let anything like that happen again, right?” Vaggie placed a hand on her back, rubbing it comfortingly.

Now, after a full year, Charlie felt certain she knew why the hotel felt off. She missed Alastor. She was furious at him, yes. Hurt to her core, absolutely. But she missed her hotelier, her friend. His eccentric decor and his cooking, his terrible jokes and even the way he would ridicule her ideas. Because at its core, this wasn’t the Happy Hotel. It was the Hazbin Hotel. But it wasn’t the Hazbin Hotel without Alastor.

“Vaggie, that’s not it. Not entirely, at least. I… I miss Alastor.”

Chapter 2: Loneliness is bliss (until it gets interrupted)

Summary:

Now we get to see what Alastor's been up to!

Notes:

TW for violence because Alastor
I have the next few chapters written out, and I'm really excited about the next one!

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Alastor had quite enjoyed the past year. No more of that pesky Deal looming over his head, no more playing nice for that laughable hotel project. Just a chance to enjoy the chaos of Hell once more. Why, he even brought back his famous radio show, making sure to seize control of the airwaves and broadcast the screams of his victims so loud that it would be nigh impossible for anyone to sleep for a full week after he regained his freedom.

Oh, how he missed broadcasting. Sure, he had broadcasted during his years at the hotel, but that was just talking and music, the things he had aired so much in life. But this, this was broadcasting. The screams of his victims made such a beautiful melody.

One year ago today he had finally freed himself of his Deal. And every second he had suffered in that hotel was worth it. No longer was he a puppet, dancing on someone else’s strings. Now he held the power, did whatever he wanted. And he had never been happier.

Or had he? When he thought back to the moment of his triumph, he felt this sense of… uneasiness that ate at him. It ought to be the proudest moment of his (after)life, and instead, it just left this odd hollowness in his chest. Charlie probably would call it guilt. Hah! As if he could feel guilt for his victory. No no, it was just some lingering sensation of “caring” that he just needed to wait to fade.

He was the Radio Demon, after all. He didn’t care about that silly hotel. He didn’t feel guilt over what he had planned to do that whole time. The idea was ridiculous. It had taken longer than he anticipated to make everything fall into place. Perhaps that was the issue. Had he just been faster, that poisonous empathy that Charlie poured out wouldn’t have infected his mind.

Just to drown out those lingering odd feelings, he decided to find himself a new guest for his show. Jauntily strolling from his home, (his real home, so much better than that stuffy little room in the hotel), Alastor’s smile feels as easy as it’s ever been. His arms crossed behind his back, his staff nestled in his elbow as he practically bounced down the street.

It had been a while since sinners were properly scared of him, his reputation tainted by his “charity work”. Decades of work spoiled by a few years pretending to help with Charlie’s little project. Well, once he resumed his radio broadcast, they started fearing him adequately. Oh, how he loved the screams of the terror from the rabble as he passed by, the way they fled.

 

As he turned the corner towards one of the shops he frequented, Alastor noticed a small demoness with her arms wrapped around herself. She looked shaken. Perfect. Alastor stepped right up to the woman, who resembled some sort of insect, and planted his cane in front of his feet, blocking her way.

“Well, hello, my dear! You do appear to have had quite the fright on this fine, Hellish day. Pray tell what might have happened?” Alastor asked cheerfully, grinning down at her. He might be a sadistic cannibal, but he was also a gentleman . She froze and looked up at him, eyes widening as she surely recognized who he was. Her mouth opened, as though to speak, but no words came out. Scared speechless, no doubt!

“Don’t worry, darling! I might be in search of new guests for my show, but you’re much too quiet! Haha! Now, tell me what has put you in such a state, and perhaps I can ensure it doesn’t happen again.” He may as well plant the seed. If he could solve her little issue, then he may be able to get her soul and some lovely screams. Two birds, one stone.

The insect looked up at the Radio Demon, searching for words. Eventually, she managed to say, in practically a whisper, “T-two men… they stole my purse… threatened me…”

“And what might these twits look like, hmm?” Alastor asked, leaning forward towards her.

She doesn’t speak, just points down the street at two figures stepping around a corner.

“Very well, my dear!”

As soon as the Radio Demon vanished, the woman ran like her life depended on it, almost tripping over her own feet.

 

Alastor melted into the shadows before reappearing just behind the two men. They were hunched over a purse and a scattering of belongings that must belong to the young woman he just spoke to. Lipstick, pens, hair clips, and a wallet. One of the thugs, a reptile demon, opened up the wallet and growled in frustration that there wasn't any cash.

“Great, another bust!” He snarled, throwing it down on the ground.

“Why, what an improper way to treat a lady’s things!” Both of them jumped at the sound of Alastor’s voice, which made him laugh like a madman.

“Who the hell are you?!” The second man shouted, his teeth bared. Alastor wasn’t quite sure what kind of demon he was, some sort of feline or canine, but it didn’t really matter. They’d both be incapacitated soon enough. They both seem ready to fight. Oh, how cute. As though fighting would do them any good.

“Why, I am Alastor! The Radio Demon! Pleasure to be meeting you, sirs! Quite a pleasure!” With a crackle of static, the air around the three grew heavy, and Alastor felt his eyes turning dark. Oh, this would be easy. Barely any fun at all!

The first demon hissed, a tongue flicking out of his mouth, his clenched fist swinging through the air towards Alastor’s face as he charged him. Alastor easily dodged the blow, placing the end of his cane on the ground to trip the reptile, sending him sprawling on the ground. Upon closer inspection, he appeared to be more of a lizard than any other creature. The other demon quickly followed, wielding a knife. Alastor stepped out of his way without a thought, but the dolt unfortunately didn’t fall prey to the same trick as his colleague.

While the lizard recovered, his compatriot, (definitely a canine, ugh), spun on his toes and came towards Alastor again, slashing the knife through the air. Alastor simply tilted his head before catching his wrist with a shadowy tendril. The tentacle pulled tighter, forcing him to drop his weapon, and Alastor laughed merrily, delivering a blow to his gut that robbed his lungs of air and sent the canine falling to the ground, right into his shadows.

The lizard was on his feet again, and Alastor spun his head around to face him. Why, he barely had to move to avoid his attack! Another tendril of shadow emerged from the ground behind the reptile and snaked around his ankle, dragging him easily into the shadows. Within seconds, his screams were swallowed by the inky pit and the only things that remained of him were the claw marks along the ground.

Extremely easy. And not at all entertaining. What a pity. At least their screams in the coming days would make up for it. It was a two-for-one, after all, better than he had expected. Alastor quickly scooped the items back into the purse before dissolving it into the shadows, making sure it landed right in that unfortunate insect’s hands. He even sent a shadow to keep an eye on her. Next time she wound up in trouble, which he suspected would be rather soon, he would step in and propose a Deal, her soul in exchange for protection.

 

Ah, yes. This is the life. Far better than dealing with that silly hotel. It was entertaining for a bit, but ultimately,  freedom is far better, Alastor reflected as he strode along, back towards his home. No one controls the Radio Demon.

As he arrived at his home, his static sharpened into a piercing shriek, displaying his distaste rather too obviously. What in Hell was the naive princess doing at his door?

Chapter 3: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer (but Alastor is both)

Summary:

Charlie finally talks to Alastor...

Notes:

TW violence

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Charlie gave Alastor a slightly sheepish grin as she saw him finally approaching. She had already knocked on the door several times, with no response. She was starting to wonder if he was just ignoring her, but evidently he was just out for a bit. She let out a quiet sigh of relief. If he had been actively disregarding her presence, that would have made this a lot more difficult. It would still be difficult though. Biting the inside of her cheek slightly, Charlie made her way back down the few stairs to Alastor’s home, moving to join him.

At the sight of Charlie, Alastor froze for the slightest millisecond, before resuming his jaunty pace towards his home, seemingly undeterred. His slight hesitation would have been unnoticeable to most, but Charlie had known Alastor too long. She had learned long ago to watch for the slightest signals of his true feelings. Like right now, his smile was just a bit smaller than normal, and he narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his head just the tiniest bit. His ears were even pinned back just a minute fraction. A very select few would have noticed all these things that pointed to Alastor’s absolute displeasure, even if he acted as jovial as ever.

Charlie smiled a little more when Alastor met her and paused his steps. He swung his microphone in front of him, spinning it before planting it on the ground and leaning forward the smallest bit. “Princess Charlotte, whatever might you require?” he asked, maintaining his perpetual air of gentlemanly courtesy, but was that a trace of venom in his words? It must have been, for him to have used both her title and her full name. He had to be doing it purely to spite her.

Still, he preserved the smile, and tucked his cane neatly behind his back as he began to walk towards his home once more.

“Hi, Al…astor.” She almost used the nickname out of pure habit, and the way his eyes had shifted towards her made her rush to finish his name. “So, um, it’s been a year, and-”

"Indeed it has been, my dear! Though it does feel longer, doesn't it? It is quite freeing to no longer be bound to that wretched hotel." His tone was as light-hearted and jovial as ever, but his words struck right at Charlie's heart. "I have noticed you're still pursuing that pointless goal of redemption, even though you haven't got a single guest. Now, if that's all, I will be on my way!" Alastor pulled his microphone from behind his back once more, pushing Charlie to the side so that he could continue towards his home.

Rage bubbled inside of Charlie, and she felt the urge to just yell and move on to plan B. But she pushed down the anger, calmed the magic crackling under her skin and threatening to make her transform. Taking a deep breath, she maintained her usual appearance. There was still a chance she could convince Alastor to come back, right? There had to be. He might have betrayed them, but at least some of it had to be real.

Walking quickly to catch back up with Alastor, Charlie fidgeted with her hands anxiously. "Actually, um, that isn't all. I was hoping we could, ya know, talk?"

Alastor had reached his home, his hand already on the doorknob. He paused, but didn't turn back, and for a moment, Charlie was afraid that he would shadowstep away, or attack her. But instead, he just laughed, lightly. "Well, what kind of gentleman would I be to deny the company of my Princess? Come along, then. I'll send to have tea prepared."
He opened the door, and raised up a few shadow puppets who scurried ahead quickly. When Charlie hesitated, his arm snaked around her, and his clawed hand pushed gently on her back, until she stepped cautiously inside. "Oh, um, okay..."

Alastor didn't wait for Charlie to follow, instead sauntering through the foyer and towards the hall. Charlie took a second to look around, slightly surprised. This was much different than what she had imagined Alastor's home might look like. It was simple and elegant, not at all what she thought his style was.

His room at the hotel was mostly like the others, red and gold, with plenty of decor lining the walls. There were really only a few differences between Alastor's room and the standard hotel rooms. The first was the most obvious: the addition of his bayou along the far wall. Instead of a window and balcony, he had somehow created an extradimensional forest inside of his room. Charlie hadn't understood how he could manage such a thing, and not even Lucifer knew where he got the power for the longest time. But once you drew your eyes away from the bayou, the other primary difference revealed itself. Instead of the artwork adorning the walls of the rest of the hotel, there was a large collection of animal skulls and skeletons. It was eerie, especially with his shadows flitting about. Sometimes, it seemed like the empty eyes of skulls were glowing with green, much like the flames and sparks of Alastor’s magic.

The radio tower, much like his room, was a strange, cluttered place. The princess had only ever been up there once, not long after the battle. Despite the place being brand new, and standing high in the air, dirt filled the cracks between the floorboards, and grass grew from it. It was like the whole tower was meant to look old and abandoned. There were odd papers all over the desk and broadcasting equipment. Charlie had barely had a second to glance around before Alastor noticed her, and needless to say, he was very displeased with her ‘intrusion’ into his sanctuary. Everything Alastor decorated with at the hotel seemed run down and messy, full of little things here and there.

As Charlie was marveling at the comparatively nice, livable space, she felt an odd tug on her hand. When she looked, there was nothing there, and it almost seemed like she had imagined it, until she noticed the shadow on the ground. Alastor’s shadow, tugging at her own. Wiggling a few fingers in greeting, she smiled at the odd entity, but it just pulled more insistently. It wasn’t exactly able to move her, just nudge her in the right direction. Well, she’d follow it’s direction, then. She was here to talk to Alastor, anyway, and it wasn’t like she could do that while standing distracted in the doorway.

The shadow led her through what felt like a maze, lefts and rights that left her dizzy, until she was at what looked like the back door of the house. However, instead of the expected back of the house, there in front of her was the bayou Charlie knew from Alastor’s room. The place had always given her shivers, it just seemed dark in a way that stood out even in Hell, but sitting out in the midst of the trees, at a small, metal garden table with two chairs, was Alastor, tapping his fingers against his cane rhythmically. Clearly, he had been waiting for her, and he didn’t seem very pleased about it, contrary to that permanent grin on his face. Each step into the bayou was unsettling, the hard-packed ground she was familiar with giving way to soft, squishy mud and grass. The bright reds and oranges faded into softer, darker blues and greens. As she sat down, Charlie felt more at ease than she had looking at the bayou from outside. It was dark, yes, but it was also peaceful and… pretty.

Alastor took note of the way Charlie looked around, as though in wonder, and his grin widened slightly. “Do you know why I created this place, Princess?” Before Charlie could even answer, he continued. “Because this was my home, my true home. I remember it better than anywhere else, because of how many bodies I left here.” A snap of his fingers, and with two green flashes a cup of tea and a mug of coffee appeared on the table. “Oh, yes, it was near a tree with a couple of burls like that one where I buried the first.” He took a sip of the scalding hot coffee, raising a finger to gesture towards a particular tree.

 

Charlie looked at him for several moments, not quite sure how to respond. Sure, she was no stranger to violence, it was just a fact of life in Hell, but it was quite different to hear about the end of a human life, someone who wouldn’t regenerate, someone whose family would mourn them. Whoever Alastor’s victim was, he had ended their life early, taken from them who knows how many years on Earth. “Oh, that’s, um… interesting.” Charlie finally settled. “Nice” would have been a lie, and the truth, that it was horrible, wouldn’t have done anything towards her goal of getting Alastor to come back. There wasn’t any point upsetting him needlessly.

She took a sip of her own tea, her nose wrinkling despite her attempts to be polite. “And you can just call me Charlie, you know.”

Alastor’s grin stretched slightly, and he seemed amused by her reaction. “I see you’re still addicted to those overly sugary concoctions.” With another green puff of magic, a bowl of sugar appeared right beside her teacup. “And interesting doesn’t begin to describe it, my dear. Invigorating is the word I’d use! The memories I have of the screams of my victims, the way their blood felt on my hands… those were the best things about my life! Why, I can practically hear them begging for mercy now!”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Alastor’s gaze by dropping a few sugar cubes into her tea. “Right… Anyway… I actually came here because I was hoping that, you know, you might come back?” There was a quiet screech in Alastor’s static, and Charlie rushed to explain. “I just, I know you didn’t want to be there in the first place, and I know you hated the hotel and you used us and destroyed everything. I know you don’t want to be redeemed and I don’t want you to change, I just… I miss you, Alastor. Even though you hurt us, hurt me, I miss you. Please-”

Her rambling was cut off by Alastor’s laughter, and Charlie immediately deflated. “My dear, I wouldn’t return to that rinky-dink hotel if it were the last place in Hell! I got what I wanted from the place, and I have no interest in wasting any further time there. Now, if that was all you wanted, you may leave. I’m afraid I have far more pressing issues, including a brand new broadcast.” He stood, practically pushing Charlie out of her chair and guiding her towards the front door.

Charlie’s eyes widened at the mention of a broadcast, even as Alastor pushed her towards the exit again. Did the idea of going back to the hotel really make him that angry? “Alastor, please, you shouldn’t hurt people just because I annoyed you! Please, just consider coming back? It just feels lifeless without you.”

“Nonsense, princess! I was planning a broadcast before I even knew you were here. Why, I found two voices to add to the show just a few minutes ago! As for the hotel feeling lifeless without me, that’s the exact reason I won’t be returning. It’s dreadfully dull to be the only interesting person around. I want entertainment, my dear, and that project of yours is no longer entertaining.” They were at the front door now, Alastor opening the door and trying to push her outside.

 

Charlie’s heart broke at his dismissal. Did those years mean nothing to him? Well, that was evidently the case, but it still hurt.

“Fine then, Alastor! I… I order you to come back!”

“Ha! That’s charming, my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t take orders from anyone. The only reason I listened to your first order is that it was my plan all along!”

Charlie’s voice from so long ago echoed out of his cane. “As Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I, um, hereby order that you help with this hotel… For as long as you desire?”
“Ah yes, such firm orders you give, Princess. No, I’m afraid I will not be stepping foot in that hotel ever again.”

Tears burned Charlie’s eyes. “Fine then. I... I gave you a chance.” She wrapped her hand around Alastor’s wrist firmly, and he narrowed his eyes at her, the static becoming louder and harsher.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” His voice deepened and layered, but Charlie ignored it, summoning her own power to pull him outside.

“I am the Princess of Hell, and I gave you an order.”

Alastor melted into his shadow, escaping Charlie’s grasp and reappearing in the doorway. “Charlotte, as I told you before. I do not take orders, not from anyone, and certainly not from the foolish, naive, weak princess.”

“What about the devil himself, then?” A booming voice sounded, and Lucifer landed heavily on the ground behind Charlie, all six wings spread wide. Lucifer’s eyes are red, fire between his horns in an intimidating display. Alastor acted unimpressed, but his eyes turned black, resembling radio dials.

“Your Highness,” Alastor said, distaste evident, “I do believe I said anyone, and you are certainly included in that. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have demons to elicit screams from.”

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

The Radio Demon slammed the door shut, but a moment later, a golden portal appeared underneath him, and he dropped through, landing on the street before Charlie and Lucifer. Charlie immediately grabbed him again, trying to drag him with her. With a growl, he shoved her off, and allowed the rage that had been building to bubble to the surface. How dare they? Lucifer had been absent from Hell for centuries, millenia. And Charlie always insisted that she wouldn’t use her status because it felt “too mean.” Yet now they chose to try and order him about? The utter hypocrisy! His limbs extended as his power coursed through him, so much stronger than while he was restricted by his Deal.

He sensed Lucifer rising in the air, flying towards him, before he even turned to face him. He raised three of his large shadow tentacles as a buffer, giving him a fraction of a second more to dodge. But Lucifer didn’t break through the tentacles as expected. Alastor could feel the impact on his shadowy appendages, but the king didn’t even hurt him.
Had he really been so weakened by his Deal? Or had he gained so much power in his betrayal that he could actually defeat the King of Hell? Or, was the short, sorry excuse for a monarch so stupid as to think he didn’t even need to exert himself to defeat Alastor? Well, he’d certainly make him regret such arrogance.

 

Alastor’s grin grew manic as he sent a few puppets after the princess before spinning to face Lucifer. A tendril wrapped itself around the angel’s leg, pulling him towards the ground. Even as Lucifer placed a hand to the limb and shot it with energy to free himself, Alastor barely felt a sting. “I didn’t realize you were so weak, Highness!” Alastor laughed wildly as he fought.

Charlie, still fighting the puppets, kept squealing out apologies with every one she eliminated. She shot fireworks at them, and they melted back into shadows. Alastor resisted the urge to chide her, to tell her not to apologize to the non-sentient extensions of his will. It’d be like apologizing for trimming your hair or scrubbing off dead skin. It was a weakness, especially in battle.

Instead, he kept his focus on the king, swiftly dodging or absorbing blows and delivering his own.

At one point, the devil transformed into a snake, slithering between Alastor’s feet and behind him, before delivering a blow from behind him. And Alastor stumbled forward. Was he weakening? Impossible! Alastor shook away the thought and continued to fight.

 

Charlie came charging towards him, and he easily wrapped a tentacle around her waist and tossed her aside. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to keep her out of the way. It wasn’t because he was weakening, and it definitely wasn’t because he cared about the foolish girl. No, he just had no use for drawing Lucifer’s ire. That was all.

Alastor lifted himself in the air, his form growing as he relished the chaos of the fight. This was actually entertaining, as annoying as it was. Lucifer turned into a hawk, gripping Alastor’s antler tightly and making the deer demon shake his head. The angel’s grip was dislodged and he went flying into the distance, only to return with fire in his eyes.
But as they continued to exchange blows, it became clear that Alastor was, in fact, weakening. He stumbled again, and then Charlie wrapped her hand around his wrist again. He could feel her leeching his power away, and his eyes widened in horror. Instinctively, he raised a tentacle, driving it into her stomach and knocking her away. Charlie fell to the ground, rolling away, and he only had a second to process the guilt before Lucifer came barreling at him. Alastor tried to pry the king off of him, but it soon became clear that he had been holding back the whole time. The last thing Alastor saw before his head cracked against the pavement was the fiery gaze of the devil himself, full of rage for daring to harm his daughter.

Notes:

This is definitely my favorite chapter thus far (and also the longest)! Please let me know what you think. I struggled a bit with writing the fight scene, but I think it turned out pretty well. I wasn't going to post this for another week or so, but I was just too excited to share it!

Chapter 4: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger (or it just... sucks)

Summary:

Alastor wakes up at the hotel, and he is not having a good time

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Everything was dark. Cold. It felt like he was drifting through nothingness. Flashes of memories floated past him, but none of them were solid. They flitted away before he could properly register them. His mother’s voice, chiding him for some foolish behavior. Blood on his hands, his old, human hands. The screams of his victims as he slashed their throat. More screams as he tore apart their souls. The chirping of birds in a muddy bayou. A man yelling angrily. Maman, telling him everything would be alright. Nothing made sense, none of it quite fit together. Some of the memories were of things he had forgotten. Others were of things he wished he could forget.

When Alastor awoke, his head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. He could hardly think through the terrible pain in his skull. He was laying in bed, which didn’t make any sense. He’d slept just a few days ago, so he shouldn’t be needing sleep yet. As he tried to rise, to look around and understand what was happening, his head started spinning, the world looking unstable as he collapsed back into the pillows. They were rather soft, and the blankets covering his body were warm. But not warm enough. He felt cold , colder than he could remember ever being. It was as though his veins were filled with ice. Alastor shivered, and reached to pull the blankets further up. But they felt so heavy, and his arms felt so weak. All of this was wrong.

Everything around him seemed blurry, but he blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision. Eventually, he recognized where he was. His room in the hotel? That didn’t make sense either. He had destroyed that place; he’d laughed as the rubble and ashes of the Hazbin Hotel coated his boots, as Charlie’s tears coated her face. His vision slowly cleared, and he realized that there were a few differences from how he remembered this room. All of his weapons that used to adorn the walls were gone. And across from the door, where his bayou would have been, was just a simple wall, with a single window where the mud and trees used to be.

As he tried to rise again, his limbs screamed at him. He felt weak and sore, but that was wrong. Why was he so weak? He shouldn’t be weak. He’d worked so hard, he’d freed himself. He escaped his deal and got all of his powers back, unrestricted. He shouldn’t be so weak. He tried to fight against the agony and feebleness of his body, but it was too much. His brows furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned down slightly. Wait, what?

That, that was very wrong. His hands shot up to his face, his panic overcoming his weakness. He wasn’t smiling. Alastor tried to force his normal grin, but it hurt. This was bad, very bad. It shouldn’t hurt him to smile, he had used a bit of magic to bind it in place so long ago, he had forgotten how it felt to be without it. And to be without it felt wrong. It was the one thing that he had always, always had control over. Fighting the burning pain in his cheeks, he forced his smile into place. He might not be able to get out of this damned bed, but he could keep his smile in place.

As he fumed, piecing things together, a quiet clock somewhere was ticking, the quiet clicks the only break in the monotony of his own personal Hell. Charlie had come, trying to convince him to come back. He had told her no and made her leave. Then Lucifer had shown up, and they had fought… But what then?

 

Eventually, he heard the doorknob turning, and he snapped his head to see, teeth gritted and eyes narrowing as he glared at Charlie, entering the room with a sad smile and an irritatingly concerned look on her face. “So, um, hi again, Al…” she said, hands fidgeting slightly as she approached.

“P-princess.” His teeth were practically chattering with the cold, his voice sounding frail. But worse than the effect of the cold was the missing static. It sounded almost defective without the nice radio static. He was the Radio Demon! How could anyone recognize him in such a state? Huddled under blankets, feeble and in pain, barely able to maintain his smile, and his voice sounding as natural as everyone else’s. Rage bubbled through him, the warmth of his anger snuffed out quickly by the cold.

“Are you still cold?” Charlie asked, eyes widening as she grabbed another blanket. “Dad said that it would be a side effect, but that it should go away soon. Here, I’ll start the fire too.”

“N-no. I’m f-fine.” He didn’t want anything from her. But Charlie was already laying the blanket down over his body, and with a snap of her fingers, the fireplace began to roar to life. It seemed her control over her powers had improved even further in the past year. Alastor was loath to admit it, but it did help the icy feeling in his blood. Slightly. Then, the young demoness threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. For a moment, the warmth emanating from her was comforting, but then he remembered himself. She had drained away his powers, and now had the audacity to try and hug him?! He barely tolerated her touch when it was the only path to his freedom. He certainly wouldn’t tolerate it more. A nice, crackling spike in static would be perfect right now, but it was infuriatingly absent. Instead, he raised his trembling arms to push her away, and she mercifully relented.

His powers… That was what had happened. He had fought Lucifer, distracted Charlie with a few minions, and eventually realized they were draining his powers. And Charlie… He had sent a tentacle straight through her gut. Why did the idea make him feel like there was a stone in his stomach? It was her fault, after all. If she had just left him alone, she would have been right as rain. Looking at her now, he couldn’t see any sign of the wound. For a moment, he wondered if there was a bandage under her suit, but quickly brushed away the idea of asking. He couldn’t give her any reason to think he cared. Then she’d be even more insufferable.

 

“Al?” Charlie asked, and Alastor’s eyes snapped to hers. He couldn’t even attempt to hide the rage in his gaze, and he didn’t want to. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I could get another blanket, or some water, or maybe something to eat, or-”

“I’m j-just peachy, my d-dear,” Alastor lied, just wanting her to stop rambling and leave him alone. Well, getting his powers back would also be optimal, but he doubted that was a possibility. When he didn’t feel like his veins were made of ice, and he wasn’t so weak he couldn’t rise from the bed, he’d argue that point.

“Are you sure? Dad said that it would be a difficult adjustment, especially for someone as powerful as you, but that eventually it would be okay.” Charlie kept rambling on, and Alastor just glared at her, tuning out her enthusiastic ramblings as he so often had before. With every second, his smile felt harder and harder to maintain, but he fought through the agony in his cheeks. He was the Radio Demon, a bit of pain was nothing. Eventually, he didn’t feel quite as horrifically frozen as before. He was still cold, but not unbearably so.

 

“Skirting around the main point, aren’t we, Princess?” He interrupted her, his teeth no longer chattering. For all her words, she never once directly stated that they had stolen his power from him, even though that was obviously what had happened. Alastor pushed himself up slightly, and rolled his eyes when Charlie reached forward to steady him. He brushed her hands aside. He still felt weak, but it was easier to push through without that terrible chill. “I will not be assisting with this hotel, not even after you… forcibly relocated me.” He wasn’t kidnapped; he was the Radio Demon, much too powerful to be kidnapped. “Now, if you are done with this foolish endeavor, I will be taking my power back and returning home. Enjoy your vacant hotel, I suppose!”

Unfortunately, Charlie did not in fact restore his powers and let him be on his merry way. He hadn’t expected her to, but it was still rather perturbing. He had felt almost proud of her becoming more assertive as the years had passed, but clearly that was a mistake. Now, it was just another barrier to getting what he wanted.

“Al-” Charlie started, but Alastor immediately cut her off.

“Princess, must I remind you that I do not care for that nickname, especially out of your mouth?” He didn’t feel quite as weak anymore. It was almost certain that any attempt to stand would have him toppling over, but he was able to sit upright in the bed now.
“Alastor, right, sorry. Anywayyy, Alastor, we, or really, I, need you here. We’re friends, right? And I know you planned on betraying us the whole time and you didn’t ever plan on being our, my, friend, you were. And I know you can’t really hate us that much. I get you have to act like you don’t care because you’re an Overlord and that can be precarious if-”

“My dear, I assure you, my position as Overlord is hardly precarious. In fact, I believe I’m easily the most powerful Overlord, as I was before I was coerced into that loathsome Deal. The one your little cat helped me escape.” 

Charlie’s face immediately darkened at the memory of KeeKee. Perfect. He had touched on a subject she was still sensitive about. It was oh-so-obvious that the princess was trying not to burst into tears now, and he just had to prod the wound a little further. “I hear you haven’t had a single new guest at this little project of yours since I left. Perhaps they were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to protect them. Just as you failed to protect everyone else from the demon who was supposed to be your business partner.” Oh, that certainly did the trick. Charlie’s tears turned to rage, and her eyes glowed with fury.

“Shut up! Fuck, I can’t believe I missed you when you’re such an asshole!” Charlie glared at him, starting to pace around the room, her hands clenched into tight fists. Those red horns were starting to sprout from her head, her tail snaking out behind her.

Alastor just laughed, enjoying her anger. Good, perhaps she’d understand how furious he was. At the very least, it was amusing to watch the kind-hearted girl hurt so deeply. For a moment, Charlie even looked as though she might attack him, and he didn’t flinch. It would be entertaining to watch her guilt if she did harm him. Instead, she withdrew, hands shaking slightly as she bolted from the room.

 

The deer demon slumped back into the bed. The cold seemed to be fading, or at least, he was growing used to it. He could feel his ears raising up as the warmth gradually returned to his body. They had been pinned back? Dammit. Such a show of weakness was beneath him. Shaking away the thought, he peeled away one of the fluffy blankets he had been wrapped up in. It was a cream colored thing, with cartoon images of forest animals. It was such a childish, ridiculous thing, more suited for an infant than for the Radio Demon. He wrinkled his nose and tossed it away. Another blanket bore distasteful rubber ducks that reminded him of the ridiculous king. That was quickly discarded as well. His attempts to burn away the offensive things were unfortunately unsuccessful. He hadn’t expected to use even such a minor piece of his power, but it would have been nice. But alas, it seemed that they wouldn’t even leave him with such a small scrap of the power that was rightfully his.

Really, neither the king nor the princess deserved the respect of using their titles. But the girl didn’t deserve the familiarity of being called Charlie, either. Charlotte and Lucifer, he would call them, he decided.

Eventually, Alastor mustered the strength to rise from the bed. For a while, he just sat, his legs dangling off the bed, his head in his hands. He had to get out of here, had to escape this… imprisonment. It rankled to even call it that, to admit that he had been bested like that. Which was worse? To think that he had simply been caught unaware and weak, or that he could never have a chance of defeating the rulers of Hell? On the one hand, he didn’t want to believe he could ever be caught off guard, but on the other, he didn’t want to admit such a permanent inferiority. He was the Radio Demon, the terror of the airwaves, and the most powerful Overlord of the Pride Ring. The idea that the naive girl could be so much stronger than him with next to no effort… It made him want to scowl.

He raised himself onto shaky legs, fighting even harder to maintain his smile as he clung to one of the bedposts to keep himself upright. His eyes locked onto his dark silhouette on the ground, waiting for it to come to life. “Where are you, you insolent creature?” he hissed under his breath. He reached out, trying to find the fragment of himself… but found nothing. No, no, no, this shouldn’t be possible! His shadow wasn’t just a power of his, but a part of himself, an extension of his own consciousness and a… a friend. Certainly more of a friend than anyone else in Hell, with perhaps the exceptions of Rosie and Mimzy and Niffty. The shadow was an odd hybrid of him and not-him, a semi-sentient creature that was unlike anything else in Hell. How could Lucifer steal such a thing from him?! Panic began to roil in his gut like a stormy sea. The world spun around him like a record.

Alastor’s claws dug into the bedpost, needing to clutch onto something, needing to focus and center himself. He left deep marks in the wood and splinters under his skin, but he didn’t care. He wrenched his eyes shut and searched, pulled with every ounce of his will. But the shadow was gone. As his legs gave out, he crumpled to the ground, grabbed his hair in his hands, and screamed in frustration.

Notes:

And now we're getting into the Alastor whump part!
And he's gonna keep emotionally tormenting Charlie (and everyone else he can)

ALSO don't worry KeeKee isn't dead or anything!

Chapter 5: It's nice to have a friend

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

“He was just so cruel , Vaggie!” Charlie lamented. After she left Alastor, she had come straight back to their room, where her burning anger was quickly melting into heart-melting sorrow. Well, heart-melting to just about anyone other than the Radio bastard.

“That’s kind of his thing, babe. Remember, he’s not Alastor, some random, friendly deer demon. He’s the Radio Demon.” The fallen exorcist rubbed small, comforting circles on her girlfriend’s back with one hand. With the other, she just held the Princess of Hell tight, knowing her penchant for bear hugs. She could feel the way the heat of her rage was giving way to her sadness. When Charlie had first come bursting into their room and thrown herself facedown on the bed, her skin had been hot to the touch, as though she herself was about to burst into flames. But now, the tail and horns were shrinking away, her eyes now longer glowing redder than fire. Instead, they were wet and shiny with tears, the sight tugging at Vaggie’s heartstrings.

Vaggie wanted to skewer Alastor with her spear. He deserved it, after everything he had done. To Charlie, to her, to everyone. Unfortunately, killing his sorry ass would only make Charlie more upset. Otherwise, she would have done it ages ago.

“I- I know that, but… he brought up KeeKee!” Charlie’s words were shaky and uneven, as though at any moment she might lose her voice entirely to her despair. I love her so much, but did she really expect this to go any differently?   Vaggie mentally shoved away the thought. Yes, Charlie was overly dramatic at times, but nobody was perfect. Especially not in Hell. Vaggie herself knew she was too quick to anger.

“ And ,” Charlie continued, “he said the reason we haven’t had any guests is because everyone thinks I’m weak! That I can’t protect them!”

Vaggie sighed, raising one hand to brush the demoness’s hair out of her face. “Look at me, Charlie. He’s just trying to fuck with you, because that’s what he does. That’s what he always does, ese pedazo de mierda . I know you didn’t see it until it was too late, but that’s what he’s always done. I still don’t get why you missed him.”

Unfortunately, Charlie seemed to only latch onto that last part, wrapping her arms tighter around the moth and squeezing with uncomfortable strength. “I don’t either! What is wrong with me?!”

Vaggie sighed, continuing to rub Charlie’s back as she explained. “No, hun, there’s nothing wrong with you. I know why you missed him, because he was a crucial part of this place for so long, and in the end, we all… loved him. I guess. To varying extents. Hell, he even tricked me for a while. But Charlie, it makes sense. Just because I don’t personally ‘get it’ doesn’t mean I don’t understand it.”

Charlie loosened her grip slightly, her sniffling slowing as she calmed.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

It had been a few hours since Charlie had left his room crying, and Alastor was at least strong enough to stand and walk again. He paced the room, eyes narrowed and ears pinned back in frustration. This couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t.

That was his power. His, and his alone. He needed it. He’d earned it fair and square (ish), and no one should have been able to take it from him. He had killed and bargained. He had clawed his way to that power and to have it stolen away like that, it was completely unfair!

His hands crept back up to his head, tugging at the strands of hair. He didn’t even notice until he heard the doorknob rattling, followed by a knock. He dropped his hands immediately. That was a habit he needed to break. Without his powers, he had no way of hiding the damage he had done to his own hair, and for anyone to see such a weakness was unacceptable.

“Alastor? It’s me, Charlie.” Obviously, Alastor thought. I can, in fact, still hear. Quite well, actually. But he wouldn’t dignify her with an answer. “Would you unlock the door? Please?” For a moment, he was actually a bit surprised she didn’t just unlock it on her own. After all, her sense of decency seemed to have completely spiraled down the drain. But then he remembered that she couldn’t unlock the door anymore, at least not as easily as she used to. She could still just break the door down or use a portal to enter, but she didn’t do that, either. “I have lunch for you. It’s one of the recipes you showed me how to make. Fried catfish? I used extra hot sauce like you like, I know you cut down how much you used when you showed me how to make it.”

Admittedly, it sounded delicious. And for a moment, he felt a pang of… something at the memory of when he had taught Charlie to cook some of his mother’s recipes. Why did he do that in the first place? No, he’d better not allow her to think those moments meant anything. “I’m not hungry, Charlotte.”

His ears twitched, the delicate appendages sensing a quiet ‘clink’, perhaps of Charlie setting down a plate. Then a soft sigh. Alastor could almost see the young demoness leaning against the door, tears in her eyes as she silently begged him to let her in. Ugh, he never realized just how well he had gotten to know her. Sure, he was observant, but he was cunning, not considerate.

After a moment, Alastor noticed a golden-ringed portal starting to open by the desk. His ears pinned back involuntarily and he bristled, as though ready for a fight. But the portal remained small, and all that came through was a porcelain-white hand bearing a platter of food. Then the hand and the portal were gone, and Alastor could no longer deny the rumbling in his gut. The fish admittedly smelled amazing, the hot sauce just detectable by scent.

No. The Radio Demon would not be broken by some pitiful semblance of care by the very person who wronged him. Sure, Charlie wasn’t the sort to do anything to be cruel, but that hardly mattered. Instead, he sat back down on the ground, his claws digging into the floorboards as he desperately reached for any trace of his power, for any hint of his shadow. Eventually, he grew hungry, and dejectedly gave in to the grumbling of his stomach. It wasn’t nearly as good as he was sure it had been now that it was cold, which he took a bit of pride in. It was sustenance now, not a gift from his captor.

 

...

 

It became his daily routine. Ignore Charlie, reach for his power, eventually give in and eat the now-cold food. Just when he had almost given up, when he was truly despairing, he jumped at the sight of a shadow flitting along the wall in front of him. He reached his hands out towards it, and felt it via his normal, inanimate shadow. It wasn’t his shadow, not his main one, but it was one of his shadows. Without his powers, he couldn’t feel it himself, couldn’t control it in the way he used to, but it was his!

With a great peel of laughter, he realized he knew how this shadow could still be here. That little insect demoness who had been mugged by those ruffians! He had left a shadow to keep an eye on her. Something must have happened, and it had returned to him. Perhaps it sensed the loss of its brethren, or perhaps something happened to that dame, but regardless, it was here now. Alastor stepped up against the wall, moving to the corner where the shadow could move more freely. It wrapped itself around him, and he couldn’t feel it against him, but he knew it was there nonetheless. The relief was so great, he could feel his smile stretching into place naturally, no longer forced at all.

“Oh, you wonderful little creature!"

Notes:

This was a bit of a shorter one, but the next few chapters should be a bit longer. I say should because as I was working on this I decided to restructure things a lot so that they flowed better.

Translation

ese pedazo de mierda = that piece of shit

Chapter 6: Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Summary:

Getting some of Charlie's thoughts!

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

With every passing day, it was harder and harder to maintain hope. Charlie could feel the despair growing, and it hurt. It felt like a knife in her gut, or maybe like her heart was twisting into two. Every single day, she sat outside his room, desperate for him to just open his door. She cooked his favorite meals three times a day and brought them to him, and she sat outside his door for hours at a time, just trying to get a few words from him, but nothing worked. At least she knew he was alive. Each time she gave up on the door and portalled the food in for him, she saw that he was okay. Or at least, not dying. He was eating and breathing.

Why did he have to be so difficult? It was so frustrating! He acted like he didn’t care about her, like he wasn’t her friend! But they had been so close for years ! Why wouldn’t he just let her be his friend again?! It’s not like she had hurt him! She did everything she could to be gentle when she… kidnapped him brought him back to the hotel. And she tried so hard to convince him to come back first. She didn’t want to have to take this route!

 

On the ninth day since Alastor’s return, Charlie was stepping into the kitchen to prepare his breakfast when she noticed that someone else had been in there. There was the lingering scent of bacon and eggs wafting through the air, and some dirty dishes in the sink. That was weird. No one else was usually up at this time in the morning. Maybe Angel got called into work early today? But that didn’t quite make sense, he never cooked, not really. Oh, well, it could have been anyone. Maybe her dad had a late night/early morning craving? Or Niffty, her schedule was pretty erratic as well. Charlie went ahead and started gathering ingredients, lining them up on the counter. She was really excited about this recipe. It was new, but it used a lot of the same ingredients and seasonings that Alastor liked.

About half an hour and several dirtied pans later, Charlie climbed the stairs towards the Radio Demon’s room, a tray in hand. The meal consisted of a hash brown patty with some shrimp and a Creole sauce, all topped off with a fried egg. Oh, and some fresh strawberries which she cut to look like hearts, and a mug of hot coffee, and a handmade card with lots of glitter and a long, long note about how much he meant to her. The sauce on the hash browns was similar to the one he had shown her so long ago, one that he used in several recipes. The less-spicy version of this breakfast that she made for herself the other day had turned out great. Hopefully, Alastor would like it.

 

Rapping her knuckles against the uneven wood of his door, Charlie did her best to remain optimistic. Sure, Alastor always said he wasn’t hungry, but eventually, he did eat. She just hoped he didn’t hate the food. Well, she hoped for a lot more than that, but she felt like Alastor would let her know if he hated the food. At least he wasn’t starving himself. “Good morning, Alastor! I have breakfast for you! It’s something new I tried making. I hope you like it!” Her voice sounded as chipper as always, her smile practically audible, but there was a slight hollowness to it.

There was no answer, which was odd. Usually, Alastor at least gave her some snide remark about how he wanted to be left alone, or how he wasn’t hungry before he went silent.

Charlie took a breath, centering herself. She knocked the door again, her voice a little quieter and shakier. “Al?”

Still nothing.

Hesitantly, she tried the doorknob. It had been locked ever since Alastor had woken up, so she doubted anything would come of it. To her surprise, the door swung open easily with a quiet squeak. She stepped inside, searching the dark room for any sign of the deer demon, but he wasn’t there. The room was cold and empty. The wood underfoot creaked as she made her way over towards the bathroom, the door cracked open and the light off.

“Alastor? Alastor!”

A quick survey of the room and the bathroom yielded nothing. Alastor wasn’t here. He wasn’t here! Where was he?!

Charlie almost dropped the tray on the ground, but managed to hold onto it. Not wanting to let the food go to waste, she practically tossed it onto Alastor’s desk before sprinting from the room, her heart pounding, her head whipping back and forth in search of any sign of him.

Where could he be?! He couldn’t have left. Could he? Her dad had made that barrier around the hotel to keep him here and safe. And besides that, the front door was locked, and Alastor didn’t have a key. But what if he did leave? What if someone found him? What if they tried to hurt him and he couldn’t defend himself without his powers? What if he got hurt?! It would be her fault. This was bad, this was very bad.

Charlie’s heart pumped in her chest as she ran through the hotel, calling Alastor’s name as loudly as she could. She had just gotten him back, he couldn’t be gone already! If he got hurt, it would be her fault. She should have been better at convincing him! Or done a better job keeping an eye on him! Maybe she should have gotten a sleeping bag and slept outside his door in case he needed something. Or she could have gotten Vaggie to watch out for him while she was busy. She should have done something, anything to keep him safe.

 

“Alastor!” she screamed as she ran through the lobby. When she whipped her head over to the side again, she saw him. There, in the corner, sitting in a large armchair. Alastor had one leg crossed over the other, a book in hand. Immediately, Charlie felt the relief coursing through her like a river, washing away the panic and replacing it with exhaustion as she stumbled towards him. She planted her hands on the side table nearest him, trying to keep herself upright. She had been so worried about him, her whole body was shaking. “Oh, thank fuck! Alastor, you’re still here! Are you okay? It’s good to see you out and about! Have you eaten breakfast yet? Oh, that was probably you in the kitchen, wasn’t it?”

Alastor didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. His red eyes were glued to the pages in front of him. He had one ankle resting over the other knee, and the mug of coffee on the table steamed.

“Please, please talk to me. I’ve missed you so much, Alastor. I don’t want you to hate me. I want to be friends again. The hotel felt so… wrong without you here. But now, we can make it better than ever!”

The Radio Demon took a deep breath, and for a moment Charlie hoped he would say something, anything . But he just adjusted his monocle and continued reading, acting as though Charlie wasn’t there at all.

“Alastor, don’t ignore me like this. Please.”

Still, nothing. With a sigh, Charlie summoned a small portal, grabbing the tray of food from his room and setting it down on the side table. She smiled slightly when she noticed him tilt his head towards the food ever so slightly, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air, his eyes flitting towards it for just the briefest moment. Charlie sat back on the couch across from Alastor, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“I worked really hard on it, I hope you like it. It’s a new recipe I made just for you. I used the sauce you showed me, but I added some-”

The blonde’s words were cut off when Vaggie barged into the room, spear in hand and fury in her eyes. She immediately brandished the spear towards Alastor, glancing at Charlie briefly before directing her attention back to the Radio Demon. “What did you do?! I swear I’ll kill you, you pompous piece of-”

“Vaggie!” Charlie rushed forward, pushing the spear away. “It’s fine!”

“I heard you screaming!” Vaggie glared at Alastor, distrust and contempt written on her face. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything! I just couldn’t find him and I was scared. But I found him, it’s all good!”

Vaggie slowly retracted her spear, still scowling at Alastor. He hadn’t budged. Even without his power, he didn’t flinch at having a spear of angelic steel shoved in his face. He just continued reading as though nothing was happening.

“I won’t hesitate to kill you. I should have ended you the first day you walked in,” Vaggie threatened, even as Charlie frowned.

“Vaggieee…” She looked at her girlfriend with pleading eyes, and the fallen exorcist finally relented with a huff.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Nearly two hours after she had found him, Alastor finally moved. He snapped the book in his hands shut, and Charlie started, ready to follow him. The deer demon strode over to the bookshelf, putting away the book he had been reading… and grabbed a new one. He returned to his seat, settled into place exactly as before, and cracked the new book open.

Charlie sighed dejectedly. She’d been sitting here for so long, and even Vaggie had left with a kiss after a few minutes, realizing the princess wasn’t going anywhere as long as Alastor was in the lobby. The food still sat untouched on the side table, now cold. Soon, Charlie would need to either heat it up for someone to eat, or throw it away. And she doubted the shrimp would reheat very well.

 

As she sat watching Alastor, hoping for any sign that he might talk to her, Charlie reflected. Had she made a mistake in bringing him back this way? This was the only way to get him back, though! She tried to talk to him, tried to convince him, and he just wouldn’t. And she needed him here. She loved him so much, and deep down, she was certain that he cared about her, too. He’d said so himself, on several occasions.

Sure, that time he actually compared her to a daughter, it had mostly been to upset her dad, but then he started acting like a father. He taught her to cook, and she could tell how big a gesture that was for him. He got this distant, nostalgic look in his eyes anytime they were in the kitchen.

And Alastor was a much better teacher than Lucifer was, especially when it came to her powers. Her powers differed significantly from Alastor’s, but he understood what it was like to not have control over one’s powers much better than her dad. Lucifer was so old and so powerful, and he couldn’t really remember a time when he wasn’t in full control of his abilities. Using them was as natural for him as moving his hands or thinking. And in general, he wasn’t really the best teacher. But Alastor had died, become a demon, gained his powers, and risen up the ranks to be an Overlord less than a century ago. Even if his magic wasn’t the same, and even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was much more familiar with the sensation of being overwhelmed and unsure of his powers than Lucifer was.

He really was a great teacher, even with all the teasing comments. Eventually, Charlie realized that a lot of the time, his teasing was his way of giving constructive criticism. Sure, it was a little meaner than necessary, but he teased everyone, even if he liked them. The way he teased people he actually cared about was just… different. Friendlier, gentler. And she had thought that was how Alastor was treating her. It was like she finally had a best friend, and a mentor. She loved Vaggie, but she needed good friends who weren’t her partner. And she loved Lucifer, but he had too many issues of his own to be able to be a very active father figure. It was like she finally had a parent again.

And then…

He ruined everything.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

He had used their Deal to send her elsewhere. And Charlie trusted him, she trusted him so much. Vaggie was already out running errands, Angel was at work, at a long shoot, and Alastor asked Charlie to go and lie to the Vees. That was all. She just had to tell them that Alastor had abandoned the hotel, and ask if they had any interest in sponsoring it.

It was weird, but Alastor assured her that he had a plan. A plan that might help Angel Dust. After seeing him come back later and later, more and more miserable and withdrawn, she felt like she couldn’t leave him to suffer any longer. After all, she had grown since that first time she confronted Valentino. She was more assertive and confident, and her powers were much more under her control.

So she did as Alastor asked. The meeting was short, and somewhat awkward, with all three Vees laughing in her face.

That wasn’t the betrayal, though. The betrayal came when she returned to the hotel, and found Alastor holding KeeKee’s unconscious body. At first, Charlie hadn’t known what to think, and ran to his side, arms outstretched to take her cat, the spirit of her hotel. But Alastor had wrapped a tentacle around her body and pushed her aside.

Charlie had screamed at him, struggling as she watched his green magic wrapping around KeeKee, becoming stronger and stronger, until he dropped both the cat and princess to the ground. Charlie had cradled KeeKee in her arms, glaring at Alastor as he cackled maniacally.

They had fought. The hotel had been destroyed. Vaggie and the others had stood beside her as Alastor laughed triumphantly from atop the rubble of the hotel. He had been trapped in a Deal. A Deal he made years ago in order to survive. And when he came to the Hotel, his goal the entire time had been to manipulate Charlie, to use her power to free himself. But that didn't work. Not even Charlie or Lucifer were powerful enough to sever a soul-binding contract. He’d spent years in frustration, trying to figure it out, until he realized that the solution was right under his nose. KeeKee, the spirit of the very hotel he was running. And he had drained every last drop of magic from the cat, from the Hazbin Hotel itself.

The hotel was gone, KeeKee was barely still alive, and Alastor had betrayed and abandoned her.

Notes:

Okay so I'm not sure if it came across well in the actual chapter, but I wanted to clarify why Charlie's memories of Alastor's betrayal are so bland. Basically she's tried to separate herself from what happened because trauma. I hope this actually came across well and I will be going further into this in the future

Chapter 7: The secret of happiness is freedom

Summary:

Alastor makes an escape attempt

Notes:

CW: violence and torture

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

It took Alastor two more days to finally get some useful information from the little shadow. It was hilarious, really, that all he had to do was eat food and read, and Charlie was completely distracted. She’d watch him for hours, going out of her way to cook him food that he never ate, writing letters he never read. Now that he was out of his room, he may as well prepare his own meals. The stuff Charlie prepared admittedly wasn’t horrible, but she never got the balance of seasonings quite right. He most certainly preferred to prepare his own food, exactly the way his Maman had shown him. Exactly the way he had shown Charlie.

It had been a mistake to allow the girl to get so close to him, to develop such feelings. Playing up the part of a father figure was a useful manipulation, that was all. She was so desperate for a real, active parent (not like that pathetic excuse for a king), and all it took was a few hours in the kitchen, and a few bits of constructive criticism, and she was eating out of his hand. He’d thought it had all worked out so well. He had molded Charlie into exactly what he thought he needed, and when that route failed, he was sure the betrayal would be enough to make her leave him alone forever. He expected his perfidy to make her hate him. He underestimated just how tender-hearted she truly was.

Sitting in his room, he looked at the pile of cards that Charlie had given him. One with every single uneaten meal she had made for him. Some of the cards were more like booklets, with multiple pages filled with words like “love” and “forgive”. She was impossibly naive, even after everything that had happened, Alastor mused. He could still use that to his advantage.

He flipped over the card on top, eyes squinting in distaste at the word “friends”. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t need anyone. The only things he needed were his shadows and his powers. His red claws left small dents in the paper, and after a moment of consideration, he dropped it into the fireplace, watching as it dissolved into smoke and ash. It was much more fun to burn things in his hand than in the fire.

 

It didn’t take long for Charlie to come back to his door, her sweet voice slipping through the door and into his sensitive ears. Blasted things. He’d hated them ever since he arrived in Hell. A deer? A damn deer?! He was the predator, the hunter, not the prey! But he had managed to turn this cursed form into something terrifying with the help of his magic. Without that, his face looked too soft, his ears flitting about all the time. He couldn’t even grow his antlers to a proper size! If he’d expected something like this, he’d have left them larger. He mostly kept them small like that because he didn’t want to knock them on things clumsily. But he could have adjusted, if he had just known .

 

He wasn’t entirely sure what Charlie said, probably more incessant chatter about how much she cared about him and missed him. But he did know when she left, when the sound of her breathing faded and the floorboards creaked as she walked away. He supposed the sensitive deer ears were useful for something, at least. Even without his powers, he quite adept hearing. This place was brand new, how were the floorboards creaking already? He supposed it was another little detail to try and make him feel “more at home again.” That, or Lucifer was as incompetent at construction as he was at everything else! Ha!

Not long after Charlie left, he felt a familiar pull on his shadow. Not his real shadow, not the one that mattered. Just the inanimate one that was a result of the light. But regardless, he turned to face it, smiling broadly at the sight of the little formless creature thing. Perhaps he ought to name this shadow. It was his, but it wasn’t his Shadow. Or, perhaps he was just growing too sentimental, a side effect of being in the proximity of Charlie, no doubt.

Alastor carefully lowered himself to the ground and planted his hands on the floor, allowing the shadow to swirl around them and up his arm, until it swirled around near his ears. It was so much more difficult to understand his shadows without the aid of magic, but he closed his eyes and braced himself, pouring his attention towards the thing. Eventually, he was able to understand as it relayed what it had seen earlier. And he beamed with excitement.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

While Alastor was going about his business, easily distracting Charlie and sometimes Vaggie, the shadow slipped about the hotel, in search of anything that may bring its master closer to freedom. Niffty was always busy cleaning, Angel Dust was usually out at work, and Husk was often passed out drunk. Alastor and the shadow hadn’t expected them to be of any use, but it kept an eye on them all the same. Vaggie was often in and out of the hotel, but when the shadow tried to follow, it simply couldn’t.

There was some sort of magical barrier around the hotel, preventing anyone but a select few from entering or exiting the premises. Being trapped was a new sensation for the shadow. After all, it could go anywhere light (or rather, the absence of it) could. Being physically unable to reach someplace was unsettling, even if the space was quite large. The entirety of the Happy Hotel (though the shadow had noticed the sign now read “Hazbin Hotel” once again) was available, as well as a large amount of space in the desolate garden in the back. But only a few feet from the front door was the barrier.

It took a few days to understand how the barrier worked, and even then, it was only a bit of luck. The key wasn’t flight. After all, Angel was able to get to work, and he couldn’t fly. And Vaggie often left on foot. The shadow and Alastor agreed that Lucifer and Charlie were the most likely culprits. After all, they were the most powerful figures involved. But Charlie was inexperienced, and her work would have left chinks in the armor. Weak spots. But it was extremely solid, expertly made.

That day, the shadow had overheard a discussion between Vaggie and Lucifer. The details of it didn’t really matter to the shadow or its master. What mattered is what Vaggie revealed to Lucifer, and, inadvertently, what the two of them revealed to the shadow spying on them from the corner.

Apparently, Lucifer had forged small charms which allowed whoever held them to enter and exit the barrier freely. And Vaggie had lost hers somewhere in the hotel. Lucifer had brushed it off as not being a big deal, after all, they looked just like the hotel room keys, and made her a new one.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Alastor’s grin only grew as he prepared himself for sleep with new gusto. It was quite annoying to have to sleep every single night, but without his powers, it seemed he was once again subject to such mortal necessities. A pity, it would have been much easier to manage his escape in the night, but if he slept through the day in preparation, he might draw attention. Granted, he had only seen Charlie and Vaggie, (and Lucifer, briefly), since his captivity had begun, but Charlie was so concerned with his every move that he couldn’t take any chances. At least he was able to send the shadow to find the charm as he slept.

The next afternoon, as stood in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients, he huffed dramatically, speaking aloud, but not in such a manner as to make his observer think it was for her benefit. “Oh, dear, it appears there aren't even any crawfish. Hmph! What a tragedy. Crawfish etouffee would have hit the spot perfectly.” His voice was barely loud enough for Charlie to hear, but he knew she’d jump at the chance to do anything to gain his favor. And he was right. Only a few moments later, she was out of the kitchen, and the little shadow returned a couple of minutes later, nodding its head. He was free of his watcher.

“Check for the angels,” he commanded it mentally. He needed to make sure that neither Vaggie nor Lucifer were in his way. He needed to cross only two rooms to make his way to the back door of the hotel, but it wouldn’t do for anyone to suspect that he knew how to escape. 

The coast was clear, and Alastor stuck a hand in his pocket, fidgeting with the charm as he made his way out of the hotel. With a deep breath, he stepped towards the barrier… and passed right through.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Charlie had immediately rushed to the Envy Ring. It had oceans, and oceans had to have crawfish, right? Well, Envy also had marshes and rivers and other watery places, so it was one of those that held crawfish. Regardless, Envy was always where she was able to get crawfish, or at least the Hell equivalent. Apparently they were a fair bit larger than normal crawfish, but Alastor had never minded them in the past. Charlie bought a very large bag of the stuff, because she wasn’t sure how much he would need for this recipe, or any of the others he might want to make. Fifteen pounds should be enough, right? She really hoped so. Either way, she could always go get him more.

Dropping the heavy bag on the counter, Charlie craned her neck side to side, searching for any sign of the deer demon. But none was forthcoming. She almost panicked, but reminded herself that he was probably just in the lobby or garden, reading another book. It wasn’t like he had even tried to do anything but cook, eat, and read since he had left his room. She deposited the seafood in the fridge before leaving, not wanting to let her gift for him go bad.

But she didn’t find him in the garden. Or the lobby. In fact, upon a second search of the kitchen, the book he had been reading still layed on the counter, abandoned.

Immediately, Charlie rushed upstairs, doing her best not to completely pound on Alastor’s door. “Al? Al!” The door was locked, and for a moment, she thought he was just isolating himself again. Then, all of a sudden, a horrible shriek of anguish pierced the air, the sound sharp and high-pitched. And the scream was definitely coming from his room. Instantly summoning a golden portal, Charlie burst into his room, only to find his room as empty as the kitchen had been. The radio beside his bed was the source of the screams. He had given it to her, not long after the last Extermination. She’d kept it tucked away all this time, until she decided to bring him back. She gave it to him, something to remind him of their bond. The blonde dashed over towards the radio, spinning the volume dial down, but the screams didn’t stop. The sound brought tears to her eyes and made her heart ache.

It seemed like Alastor had tinkered with the radio, locking the station and volume in place, so that she couldn’t stop the sounds of agony irradiating the room like poison. And beside the radio was a note, written in Alastor’s familiar scratchy yet flowery handwriting.

 

My dear,

I’m afraid that I am quite displeased at being forcibly relocated and having the powers that rightly belong to me stolen. However, just because I cannot use magic does not mean that I do not have my ways. I know how much you care about the loathsome rabble of Hell, so I present you with a little choice. If my powers are not returned to me within the hour, my broadcast will resume, with as many new voices as I can find. I still know how to use my broadcasting equipment, after all, and I was terribly good at eliciting screams long before I became a demon. I’m sure I can remember my way around a blade.-Alastor

 

The screams of agony continued, and in the background, she could hear Alastor’s unmistakable laughter. It was horrible. Falling to her knees, Charlie retched, staining the carpet.

The screams changed, a new victim.

“Please! I didn’t do anything!” they begged. But Alastor just chuckled darkly. Charlie could practically see the manic look in his eyes, the mirth in his smile.

“Oh, my dear, I’m quite aware. Unfortunately, this little exercise isn’t for your benefit. No-no, I’m afraid it’s for Miss Charlotte Morningstar’s. Now, enough talk. Let’s get on with the show!”

Soon, wails of agony turned into blood curdling screams. The princess couldn’t force herself to stand, instead laying curled up on the ground with her hands clenched over her ears. She couldn’t escape the horrible screams of suffering, and soon she was wailing as well.

Eventually, she felt hands on her, holding her. Wings wrapped around her body, fingers petting through her hair. She wasn’t in Alastor’s room anymore, she was in her own room, but she could still hear the screams and the laughter echoing through her skull.

Notes:

Yeah don't forget, Alastor loves torturing people. I love the deer man, but he is objectively horrible in so many ways.

Edit: 9/24/2024
WOW over 200 kudos. I thought only a few people would be vaguely interested in this fic. TBH all the comments have been so helpful in motivating me to write more (and helping me get into the character's heads more). Thank you all so, SO much!

Chapter 8: He who angers you conquers you

Summary:

A fight! Emotional comfort for Charlie! And Alastor being an asshole!

Notes:

CW: Violence, emotional abuse, manipulation (the last two are mainly Alastor being Alastor)

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Three demons. That was how many new voices Alastor added to his show before the roof of the broadcasting station was so rudely broken through. With each new guest, he was careful and deliberate, his sharp knives carving deep into their body, eliciting such a symphony of screams. It was invigorating, really. And when the demon tired of screaming, he easily slit their throat, before moving on to the next. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as tearing his victims apart in soul and in body, but it did the job well enough, he supposed.

He beamed up at the furious angel as he emerged from the dust of the wreckage. He neatly brought his knife through the soft flesh of his most recent guest’s neck. Her hot, red blood poured onto the ground, and for a moment, Alastor regretted the fact that he hadn’t had a chance to taste the hot, red liquid. Ah, well, there were more pressing matters at the moment, anyway.

For example, the devil himself, who was currently diving towards Alastor with a scream of rage, his eyes glowing a brilliant red. Lucifer’s hand formed a fist, swinging forward at lightning speed. The deer demon didn’t even have time to react, especially not without his powers, and the blow hit him with a loud “crack!”, tossing him back against a wall. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, leaving him hungry for air, but worse than that was the stab of pain that shot through his body like a jolt of electricity. He was wheezing, needing air, but his chest hurt so fucking badly, it was like a knife had been dug right into his heart. A broken rib, more than likely. The smile almost fell from his face, but he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing it to stay in place. Alastor managed to push himself up from where he had lain curled on the ground, so that he was sitting with his back to one of the consoles he had been using for his earlier broadcast. Would this injury even heal properly? Or would the loss of his powers make him heal as slowly as he did in life?

 

“Highness.” He spat the title out, venom oozing from the singular word. It was clear he meant anything but respect. He took a second, hand clutching his chest as he took a shuddering, shallow breath that sent an ache through his body. “I’m afraid you won’t be ending this broadcast.” His words shook, pain growing like a roaring fire. It was definitely a broken rib, if not several.

As if to accentuate his claim, a pained cry escaped a nearby speaker, a sound of fear and torment. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at Alastor, and he grabbed the deer by the antler. As the devil jerked his head forward, pulling him closer, Alastor gasped in pain. It took quite a bit to affect the Radio Demon, but those damned ears and antlers were quite sensitive. A fact Lucifer seemed aware of, because his other hand clenched tightly around his ear, claws digging into the soft, fluffy appendage. Alastor winced, he actually winced , in pain.

“How in Hell are you still live?” The blonde demanded, practically hissing at him.

Alastor just grinned, not willing to share the secret. But Lucifer slammed him against the wall, his head cracking against it before he fell to the ground at Lucifer’s feet. The world spun around him, confusion clouding his judgment. “I should kill you right now. You don’t deserve to keep existing, especially after what you’ve done to Charlie.” The devil swiped his claws across his chest, a couple of large slashes forming and spilling his hot, wet blood onto the ground.

 

And suddenly, Alastor was no longer in his well-kept station fighting the devil. He was on a rooftop, ashes floating through the air, angels swarming about as he dodged blows from the first man. He knew what was coming, couldn’t change it. Even as he heard that irritating bastard’s voice calling out again, “Cuz radio is fucking DEAD!” all he could do was watch the energy pour over his body, shrinking him back from his demonic form. “What just happened? …fuck!” God, he remembered that confusion, that bewilderment.

When he first realized just how restrictive his Deal truly was. And then came the axe, slicing through his chest, sending bubbling hot blood up his throat. The taste of his own blood was heavy on his tongue, and he could scarcely breath.His head hurt, he could barely think, barely see. He tried to stand and collapsed to the ground, and eventually gave up. He couldn’t keep fighting. Alastor summoned his shadow, but when he tried to melt into it, nothing happened. He could feel the Holy energy burning through his core, and he needed it GONE. He needed it OUT. Panic overrode his senses, and he started clawing at his own chest, trying to rip the energy out of him before it killed him. Everything spun around him like a gramophone. He was dying, he was dying! He was dying for the people he swore he’d never let into his heart! And in the chaos and confusion and fear, he called out for his shadow, a wordless cry that carried all the information it needed. It’s master was desperate.

The sounds of agony echoing through the air didn’t cease, but they slowed, quieted. A few moments later, the little shadow was there, wrapping itself around Alastor’s attacker as best it could, pulling him away.

But the white and gold clad figure didn’t seem bothered at all, instead reaching a clawed hand down and somehow grabbing the shadow.

 

Alastor watched in horror as he realized that the figure in front of him wasn’t Adam, but Lucifer. The shadow writhed in his grasp, Alastor in a helpless pile on the ground. And the Devil growled at the deer, his ears so flat against his head he could barely hear. “I should kill you, but Charlie cares about you for some stupid reason.”

Flames sprung up in Lucifer’s hands, and the shadow struggled, clearly panicking.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away as the little shadow withered away in the flames in Lucifer’s hands. It was gone. Destroyed.

“Nnnn…!” Alastor mumbled, hands reaching out hopelessly. After a moment, his hands dropped to the ground, claws digging into the floorboards as though the shadow were buried in the ground, and he just needed to uncover it.

Why was the ground under him damp? Water was starting to speckle the ground near his hands. He vaguely realized that the water was tears. His tears. And then something hit him, and the world went dark.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

When the screams finally stopped, Charlie barely even noticed. Those sounds of pain and suffering echoed in her mind, an almost deafening symphony of misery. And Alastor had done that. Her friend had done that. It made her feel sick, but there wasn’t anything left in her stomach.

Vaggie said something about her dad handling it. Good. Charlie didn’t think she could stomach having to stop Alastor right now. The idea of seeing the people he hurt, or even his face right now was impossible. “Don’t let him kill him, Vaggie,” Charlie mumbled, even though she knew it was too late for any such requests. The screams had stopped, so Lucifer had already confronted Al. Either he was dead, or he wasn’t. But he’d been stopped, at least.

“He knows not to, babe. If he managed not to kill him when he hurt you before, I’m sure this is nothing in comparison.” Charlie mumbled some sort of agreement, burying her face in Vaggie’s shoulder.

Slowly, eventually, Charlie recovered at least somewhat. Just as she was releasing Vaggie from her tight hug and wiping her nose and eyes, Lucifer returned. Before Charlie could even ask, he wrapped his daughter in his arms, squeezing her a little too tightly. “Don't worry, Char-Char. I got him back. And we won’t let him do anything like that again, I promise.”

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Before Alastor could even open his eyes, he was aware of a horrible, splitting pain in his head. It felt like his skull had been cracked clean open. His attempts to open his eyes left him reeling, the world whirling around him in a blurry mess that he had to screw his eyes shut to escape.

It wasn’t just his head that ached and throbbed. His ribs felt as though they were on fire. Running a hand down his body, he felt bare skin and bandages. His stomach and chest were bandaged up thoroughly, it seemed. Someone had undressed him. They had taken him while he was unconscious and stripped away his shirt just to wrap a few measly bandages around him. He’d kill them. He’d fucking kill them.

Of course, in order to do so, he’d need to be able to stand, and he couldn’t even open his eyes. He attempted to prop himself up into a sitting position, but doing so left him gasping and wheezing, his ability to breathe stolen by his injuries and his pain alike. But wasn’t dead. He wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t dying on the roof of the hotel, watching the irritating first man float and prance about like an idiot.

Pain burned in his lungs and stabbed through his skull, his thoughts rattling around. Dammit. He’d panicked. That blow from Lucifer had made him panic, and he messed it all up. He knew they’d come find him, he knew a fight would ensue. But the shadow was supposed to keep the screams going until Charlie gave in. And he was stupid enough to call it back towards himself.

And that killed it.

Killed it? Ugh, the sentimentality that had infected him during his time at the hotel was infuriating. That shadow wasn’t a living thing. It was just a tool. No, his real shadow, that was much closer to a living creature.

But the little shadow, it had been useful. It was a tiny remnant of his power, in some ways, it was a comfort. And now it was gone.

 

An unfamiliar feeling washed over Alastor, something he’d never felt before. An emptiness in his chest, a numb sensation of something missing that he couldn’t quite place. Wait. Yes, he had felt this before. Once, over a century ago, when his mother had died. Grief.

Not for the shadow he had just lost, of course. -not entirely- No, that wasn’t the true loss. His power, his freedom, his self. Who was he, really? Who was the Radio Demon if not powerful?

He’d never been without power, not since he first arrived in Hell. The lives he’d ended in life had given him great power as a demon. But now… now it was gone. Claws wrapped around his hair and tugged, the red locks coming free as he violently jerked them. A pathetic whimper escaped his throat, and the sound enraged him so much that it morphed into an animalistic growl. Who was he? Who was he?!

 

He was ripped from his thoughts when a white-haired figure burst through his door, practically shaking with fury. Ah, it was the fallen exorcist, likely here to yell at him for hurting Charlotte’s little feelings.

“How dare you?!” She demanded, face red with fury. If Alastor wasn’t in the middle of an existential crisis, he’d probably find it amusing. He ignored the string of insults and expletives that poured from Vaggie’s mouth, until: “...you arrogant, ugly, self-centered son of a bitch!”

Normally, Alastor would brush it off. After all, she was just spouting off insult after insult out of anger on behalf of her girlfriend’s poor feelings. But between Alastor’s frustrations and his exhaustion, he gritted his teeth, ears pinning back in anger. “Aha! You’ve certainly no idea what my mother was like, dear. I suggest you leave her good name alone!”

Vaggie’s eyes narrowed, her fists tightening beside her and the ends of her bow sharpening into points. “Well, she must have been pretty lousy, or you wouldn’t have turned out so awful, huh?!”

Oh, that was it . Alastor would not allow the memory of his dear, wonderful mother to be insulted by some hot-headed moth. His eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at Vaggie. “If we go based on pure numbers, I do believe you’ve ended far more lives than I have. And certainly more of your victims were erased! You know, it is rather fortunate that your change of heart came at such a convenient time. I’m sure Charlotte believes your little story about not wanting to harm that young demon, but I don’t.”

 

The look of fury on her face was so delicious, Alastor was almost able to forget his circumstances. Oh, it was so easy to make Vaggie angry! And she displayed it so vibrantly! It’s a shame, really, that he hadn’t stayed around a bit longer, just to bait her.

“What the fuck are you talking about, you maldito?!” she practically screamed. Oh, her eyes were practically glowing! Alastor actually managed to laugh when she brandished the angelic spear in his face again.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure the princess would love to hear that you’ve destroyed the soul of yet another of her beloved people!” Her hand was shaking, the spear mere inches from his face. With a little more strength, Alastor pushed the spear away, speaking a little more quietly. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he voiced the fear he knew the moth carried with her. “She’d forgive you, of course. She’d forgive anyone for anything, as long as they apologized. Even if they don’t deserve it. Like Adam. Like you .”

A loud crack resounded through the room as the fallen exorcist slammed her fist into the bedpost. Splinters of wood flew about, some scratching Alastor’s face and arms. But the pain was nothing compared to the wonderful scream of rage she gave as she stormed out of the room. He hadn’t laughed this hard since he regained his freedom.

Notes:

Hello everyone!

I am so sorry for the long pause between chapters. So much has happened in my personal life (an illness, a family emergency, two hurricanes, lots of writers block, AND a job change for medical accommodations) over the past month and a half (I had other chapters prewritten). I am NOT abandoning this story, but life be crazy sometimes.

On a happier note, this is a chapter I was looking forward to writing for quite a while, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, despite the struggles. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

IF you are okay with possible spoilers for the story (I ramble sorryyy) and have questions/wanna discuss the story, feel free to send me a dm or ask on tumblr! I made a Hellaverse specific sideblog to stay organized, and it's @hazbinwithquantum. The blog is very much a WIP because of the chaos that is my life.

Anyway, thank you all for sticking with me, and have a wonderful rest of your day or night!

Chapter 9: The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury (That's not what Vaggie's doing, though)

Summary:

Vaggie is pissed. Charlie is pissed. Alastor makes it worse

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

When Vaggie returned from Alastor’s room, Charlie couldn’t believe how angry she was. She’d never seen her girlfriend so furious, not even when Alastor had betrayed them all a year ago. Her face was flushed red in pure rage, the ends of her bow and hair pointy and jagged. The angel’s hands were clenched into such tight fists that Charlie could even see blood pooling from where her nails had dug into her palms. With a gasp of shock and concern, Charlie jumped up, running over to her. “Vaggie! What happened!?”

The moth gave a frustrated huff that almost sounded like a feral growl, rubbing her forehead as she muttered something in Spanish under her breath. Taking a deep breath, she then looked up, giving the most forced smile Charlie had ever seen.

“Vaggie…” Charlie whispered, looking into her partner’s eyes with so much love and worry that it hurt. She took her hands, inspecting them carefully. Her palms each had several tiny punctures, as expected, but the back of her left hand was bleeding too. Her knuckles were busted up, and there were even a few splinters of wood buried in them. “What did he do?!” she exclaimed, starting to pick loose the splinters.

Vaggie shook her head, waving her free hand dismissively. “It’s… It’s nothing babe. Alastor was just being his usual, insufferable self. I got a little heated. I’m fine, though, really.” Charlie bit the inside of her cheek. She could tell there was more to it, but she didn’t want to press the issue too much. If Vaggie needed to tell her something, she would. Right?

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Charlie acquiesced quietly, dislodging the last few splinters from her knuckles. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.” She wrapped her hands around the angel’s, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You should ask my dad to fix those. I… I’d try, but I’ve only ever tried to heal demons and it might be different since you aren’t from Hell and I wouldn’t want to hurt you or anything-” Vaggie stopped her rambling with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

“Remember to breathe, Charlie!” She reminded her with a light laugh. The princess nodded, sucking in a few deep breaths. “I get it, hon. But I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna go take a walk. I’ll be back in a little while, I promise.

 

୨୧⁀ᘛ𓆩Ⓧ𓆪ᘚ⁀୨୧

 

As she marched down the streets of Pentagram City towards the outskirts, Vaggie could feel her feathers bristling as she thought back on her conversation-slash-shouting-match with Alastor. She was absolutely livid. It had taken so much energy to convince Charlie that it was no big deal, that she was just angry at Alastor. But that was a lie. Or, at least, it wasn’t the full truth. She was mad at him for being an ass, yes, but she was also furious with herself, for lying to Charlie those years ago. If she had just had the courage to be honest, so much could have gone better. They wouldn’t have had that terrible argument right before the extermination. Maybe if Charlie knew, she wouldn’t have insisted that she join her in Heaven for the trial. Maybe Adam wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off and targeted the hotel specifically. Maybe Dazzle would still be alive.

And she hated herself for what she had done. Alastor was right, wasn’t he? She was no better than Adam and Lute, murdering human souls mercilessly just because they made a few mistakes in life. She’d been an exorcist for so long, erased an unknowable number of souls with no remorse. Sure, she was going to let that child go, but then she would have returned with her sisters only to bring forth another extermination the next year. And the next, and the next. She was a monster.

If Lute hadn’t taken her wings and left her in Hell, would she have ever changed? Would Vaggie have ever seen that the exterminations were wrong, and that there could be a better way? Would she have listened to Charlie’s plan, to her passionate pleas, had she still been an exorcist at the trial? Something deep in her gut told her no, she wouldn’t have. She would have sat with Lute and Adam, mocking the very idea.

 

Alastor was right, wasn’t he? She wasn’t a good person. She was no better than the sinners of Hell who stole and killed for no reason. And Charlie… she only forgave Vaggie because she forgave everyone.

With a growl of frustration, Vaggie barged through the door of her first destination, a list in her hand of all of Alastor’s known hideouts from the past year. There were a few radio stations around Hell in unclaimed lands and in the districts of his Overlord allies, similar to the one Lucifer had destroyed earlier, when he brought the Radio Demon back a few hours ago. There was his mansion, where he resided most of the time. Charlie had told her about the oddly nice place. She’d destroy every single one of his possible refuges, making sure he had nowhere to hide. She owed it to Charlie, to make sure that even if Alastor escaped again, he wouldn’t have a lair to bunker down in. Besides that, she was pissed, and this seemed like a good way to let off some steam.

 

But the first destination wasn’t a lavish mansion, or a cluttered broadcasting tower. It was a quiet, almost serene wooden cabin deep in the woods that surrounded Pentagram City. The place was about as ramshackle as the bar he’d made when he dragged Husk into the hotel, but it didn’t have the same level of despair to it. As Vaggie looked around the place, the only word she could think of to describe it was quaint. The main room held a small kitchen area with a coal-burning stove, an old-style icebox, and a tiny wooden table with two chairs. It didn’t even have a tablecloth, just a glass bottle with a small yellow and red flower.

On the other side of the room was a small sofa, and a third wooden chair. The rug on the ground was torn and dirtied, as were the curtains over the window.

Vaggie couldn’t help but briefly sate her curiosity. There were two, very small bedrooms, so small that the beds barely even fit inside. The first had a floral quilt on the bed, and it looked to have been hand-sewn. The second was a plain shade of red. Throughout the whole place, decorations were few and far between. This little cabin, it was shabby but homey. Why did he even have this place? Who slept in the second bedroom?

The angel pushed away the thoughts, instead pulling a can of some flammable liquids from the same extra-dimensional pocket where she stored her spear, and dumped them all over the cabin. As she walked out the back door, she instead found his bayou. The sight reminded her of the time she walked in on him eating a raw, rotting deer for breakfast. The memory made her shudder, and she tossed the rest of the gasoline she had with her into the place. It probably wouldn’t be affected, the freaky pocket dimension it was, but still. She stormed back out the front door and lit a match, not even stopping to bask in the destruction before marching on to the next hideout.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

After his lovely victory over Vaggie, Alastor laid down, his eyes shut. He needed to relax his body, calm his racing heart. He wouldn’t be able to plan properly if he was still in such an agitated state, after all. Deep breath in, hold it, breathe out. Again and again.

He could feel his ears perking back up, his tail stilling, sure signs that his technique was working, until he was interrupted by an unexpectedly angry voice.

“What did you do to her?!” Charlie demanded loudly, her voice shaking with fury.

Alastor half-opened a single eye, smirking victoriously as he weakly shrugged his shoulders. “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest clue what you are referring to, my dear Charlotte. Why, you and your father have ensured that I am quite… incapacitated at the moment, so I’m not sure what you think I could do, anyway.” He couldn’t hide the bite in his tone, but then again, he didn’t really attempt to. Seeing Charlie enraged for such a long time, and at him, why, that was interesting.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Charlie yelled, her eyes glowing with rage as she slammed her hands down on the bed beside him. “What did you say?! What did you do to upset her?!”

Alastor didn’t flinch, he didn’t. His ears definitely didn’t flick back for the tiniest moment, no sir. He raised a hand and waved it dismissively, a monumental effort in this state. “Come, now, my dear! It’s hardly the first time the girl has gotten enraged over nothing. Perhaps she just needs to let off a bit of steam! Why, that always does the trick for me. I do get so irritable when I haven’t had a good meal. The perfect remedy is to swallow a few sinners whole! Oh, the blood! The fresh meat! Such fun indeed!” His mouth was watering a bit at the mere thought.

 

Charlie let out a disgusted scoff, and she shoved Alastor. Her hands pressed against his bandaged chest, sending fresh waves of agony searing through his body. His lungs, his ribs, his stomach, they all screamed with pain at the forceful pressure from the supposedly kind-hearted princess. He couldn’t hide the wince, or the tiny, revoltingly pained sound that escaped his throat.

The blonde’s eyes softened, her voice becoming squeaky as she attempted to apologize. “Oh! I- I’m sorry! I didn’t want Dad to hurt you, but we had to make you stop, and he was already mad at you anyway, and-” She cut herself off, shaking her head. Her eyes faded from the brilliant, glowing red to their usual color as she took a few deep breaths, her hand rubbing her forehead in exasperation.

“I’m still mad at you, Alastor. But… I don’t want to hurt you, either. So, um, just stop being an asshole, and if you need something, you can use this.” Her hands delicately placed a small, golden bell on the rickety nightstand. He recognized the little metal trinket. If he recalled correctly, it had once been at the front desk of the Hotel.

“I would have just gotten you a phone, but you would hate it. You’d probably smash it or flush it down the toilet or something, even though I would never get something from Voxtek or anything. Um, yeah…” Trailing off awkwardly, Charlie just stood there, her now soft, gentle eyes feeling like they were boring into his soul with unwanted compassion.

 

“Oh, how kind of you!” Alastor laughed, ignoring the stabbing pain it brought to his lungs. “You stole my powers, stole my shadow, and locked me away like a prisoner! But at least you don’t want to hurt me! Ah, except you have!” Oh, the look of horror in her eyes was brilliant!

“You were hurting people, Al! We had to stop you!”

“Oh, are those tears? How sweet! You didn’t seem so dedicated to stopping Valentino when you watched him abusing the spider firsthand. Oh, and don’t tell me it’s just because he wanted you to stay out of it. He was trying to protect you, you foolish girl!” Oh, Charlie looked on the verge of tears, now. “He didn’t realize that you really could help him. Oh, your father might have told you not to use that power, but you so easily could! I suppose there is one thing the Princess of Hell cares more about than her people: herself.”

“You didn’t seem to care about people dying when they were protecting your hotel. Why, even during the exterminations, you never lifted a finger to do anything. You sat inside your palace and watched and listened and cried as thousands, millions of your people were brutally erased!”

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Charlie’s eyes widened, anger and despair warring inside her. How did he know? How was he so easily able to find her deepest, worst fears and shove them in her face.

“I didn’t have a choice! I couldn’t do anything!” She wrapped her arms around herself, nails digging into her arms as she tried to remind herself that she did what she could. “That’s the point of the hotel! T- to actually do something! To help my people!”

“Oh, you couldn’t fight back, hmm? Not until Heaven threatened you and your passion project. You could have had your friends hide, and the angels wouldn’t have been able to touch you. But you cared so much about your stupid little plan, about that worthless building, that only then did you fight. And look how that worked out! It was all destroyed anyway!” Alastor’s laughter as he jabbed at her was bordering on hysterical. Each word drove knives into Charlie’s heart, but he just kept going. Even with her hands clamped over her ears, she could hear his taunts.

“Why, you let Pentious die, and that little hellborn servant of yours, and so many of the cannibals. You can pretend all you like, my dear, but deep down, you’re selfish. You care about yourself, and only yourself. You act kindly because it makes you feel good. You protect your people when it’s convenient for you. And you’re keeping me here, what, because you missed me? Because you felt lonely? You’re nothing but a spoiled, selfish child.”

“Stop!” Charlie screamed, flames erupting from her hands as she tried to force away the terrible thoughts. “Just shut up! Fuck!” It was all she could do to keep the flames from engulfing everything around her. She knew she’d morphed halfway into her demonic form now, eyes glowing red, claws extended. Her horns were protruding from her head, her tail whipping behind her.

Charlie stumbled away from Alastor, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself. She had to prove him wrong. She had to prove to him, to herself, that she wasn’t just a child.

Reaching the far wall, she created a portal and stepped through, collapsing on the ground of her room.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

As Alastor watched Charlie leave, a smug, satisfied expression on his face, he finally realized what had felt off since he had woken up here an hour or so ago. His room no longer had a door. Just a flat, plain stretch of wall where it once was.

Notes:

At this point this feels more like Alastor dishing out emotional whump to everyone else but it's because he's suffering too.

Curious what y’all think of the little dividers? I was starting to get to too many POVs and I wanted something other than just character names to differentiate sections.

As far as the things going on in my personal life, they’re getting worse, but I’m coping by traumatizing my favorite characters. Yay!

Chapter 10: Some nightmares don't end when we open our eyes

Summary:

Charlie and Alastor have some bad dreams :(

Notes:

CW: descriptions of alcoholism and domestic abuse. I'm not super in detail, but please avoid if that would be upsetting for you. This portion is surrounded by '~~~'. If you would like a summary of that portion, skip to the bottom of the end notes.
Also, more off-screen torture because Alastor

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

As the evening approached, the dread in Alastor’s gut only grew, blossoming like a flower. No, it was more like a strangling vine wrapping around him, crushing him.

Even in life, Alastor had never particularly cared for sleep. It always felt like such a waste of his time. He was a busy, busy man, and he would much rather use the evening hours to be productive. He had his Maman to take care of, a radio show to run, and his more… unsavory hobbies. Plus, he’d always take time out of his week to spend at a speakeasy enjoying a glass or two of whiskey. Mimzy insisted, and it was the easiest way to get a hold of some giggle water. Besides that, it was an exceptionally effective way of finding unsuspecting victims. No time for sleep, and yet he had to do it anyway.

When he arrived in Hell, his newfound power as an Overlord allowed him to do away with sleep to a great extent. Once a week or so, he’d sleep for a few short hours, and that was all he needed. And he didn’t even experience any negative effects from it! He was able to accomplish so much more. Plus, sleeping made him vulnerable.

With the little shadow, even if he had to sleep, it didn’t. It was able to slip around the hotel unnoticed, searching for the information that would mean his freedom. Even if he had to sleep, something was still being accomplished. It wasn’t a total waste of time.

But now, he had nothing to do, and it was maddening. He could feel exhaustion tugging at him, his eyelids growing heavy. But he refused to give in to something so common as sleep. If he could just stay awake, this would be his best chance to investigate without anyone knowing. And he couldn’t be vulnerable without even the little shadow to assist him.

 

That wall, that blank expanse where the door should have been… There had to be a secret to it. Perhaps the door was there after all, and the blankness of the wall was an illusion. Or maybe he could activate the portal out. If he could just stay awake, if he could just rouse the strength to rise from this infuriatingly comfortable bed.

His limbs felt heavy, leaden, and his eyelids were sliding shut against his best efforts. And when he tried to force himself to rise, the pain shot from his chest so vibrantly it made him grit his teeth. He’d adjusted at least somewhat to his lack of power, but the growing fatigue and his burning injuries left him feeling nearly as weak and frail as the first days without it.

They’ll pay, he thought. I’ll make them suffer for this. And then he fell into a deep, restless slumber, once again facing the nightmares he desperately wanted to avoid.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

~~~~~~~~~~

This nightmare began as they always did. He was small. Alastor wasn’t sure just how small he was, but he was young enough to fit under the bed, hiding as his father screamed at Mama. But he was old enough to understand what was happening. His father had stormed into their home angry and reeking of alcohol. Before he had even opened the front door, Mama had grabbed Alastor and taken him to his room, coaxing him under the bed. “Be quiet, mon coeur,” she cooed sweetly, her hand running through his dark brown locks briefly before pushing him to hide under the bedskirt. “Your father is in another bad mood. But it’ll be okay. I promise.”

 

And then the angry, drunken, sorry excuse for a man that was his father was bursting into the room, raging at Mama. Mama, who was always so kind and patient with everyone. Mama, who taught Alastor to read and write, to cook and play piano. “Yes, yes,” Mama nodded along with whatever drunken ramblings the man spat out. “Those bastards deserve Hell. But you ain’t the law. Why don’tcha sit down, have a cigarette? I’ll cook you something hearty to eat.” 

Mama was trying to calm his father down, but it was no use. The man was always in a bad mood. On the rare occasions he made the trek into the bayou to see them, it was always because he was angry. Alastor had never seen his father anything but inebriated and furious. He knew that parents were supposed to love each other, but there was no love between Mama and Father. Not like his friends’ parents, who would hold each other's hands and kiss each other on the cheeks, who would tease and laugh with each other easily.

 

Father yelled something about not eating Mama’s nasty food, and that was what sent the child over the edge into quiet tears. Mama’s food wasn’t nasty at all, it was so good! She worked so hard on it, and no one could cook better than Mama!

A pair of rough hands grabbed Alastor by the hair, dragging him out from under the bed. He let out a quiet squeal of pain, despite his attempts to muffle the cry. Father didn’t like it when he cried, it just made him angrier. A loud cracking sound pierced the air like gunfire, and a moment later, the pain shot through Alastor’s cheek where he’d been slapped.

 

“George!” Mama yelled. “Unhand that child!” And he did. Alastor’s relief was short-lived as he fell to the ground shaking, and watched his father shove Mama so hard, her head hit the bedpost. Then his hands were in her curly, black hair, and he was screaming at her again, more infuriated than before. Things about how Alastor was a worthless waste of space. About how Mama was too. About how the two of them were the worst mistake of his life, and maybe he’d just fix everything and kill the both of them.

His father had made those threats a million times, but it always terrified Alastor. At least he didn’t have a gun or a knife in his hands this time. That always made it even scarier. He knew it scared Mama, too, but she always pretended it didn’t. She tried to be brave and strong for him, telling him it could have been worse, that she’d survived worse.

She told him to cover his eyes, and he did. He didn’t remove his hands from his face until Mama pulled them away for him, the room quieting as the drunkard left. Even as Mama’s face bled and bruised, she sat on the floor with Alastor and rocked him, singing a sweet, quiet lullaby.

 

For the millionth time, Alastor silently wished that he was big and grown up, so that he could protect Mama from the bad, cruel man who hurt her so often. He wished he was strong enough to kill him and make sure he could never hurt her or scare her again.

~~~~~~~~~~

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

A piercing scream from the radio beside her bed jolted Charlie into awareness. It was early in the morning, but Vaggie wasn’t there anymore. As the pained shriek turned to quieter whimpers, a horribly familiar voice chimed up, the static even thicker than in person. “Good, morning, listeners! Why, I wasn’t planning on such a special broadcast this morning, but this lovely little fool thought he could pick a fight with the Radio Demon.” The last words were so heavily riddled by static that they were barely audible, but it was obvious what they were.

Another scream rang out, making Charlie cover her ears. The lovely little radio Alastor had given her sat so prettily on her nightstand, worlds apart from the terrible sounds it was broadcasting. She knew any attempt to change to a different channel would be fruitless. Alastor was master of the airwaves, and he could take over every single frequency, which he always did for these “special” broadcasts. He’d only left the hotel a few weeks ago, and already he’d done this so many times. She couldn’t change the channel, but she could turn it off. She could spin the dials and lower the volume or turn the thing off in its entirety.

But she couldn’t bring herself to touch the fragile little thing. This was her fault. The demon suffering for Alastor’s sick enjoyment… it was her fault. She was the one who had let her guard down, who had trusted him.

 

“Oh, oh God, please! Fuck, please! I didn’t know, I didn’t know!” The man was begging desperately for mercy that wouldn’t come. There was a squelching sound intermingled with his screaming, and Charlie couldn’t help but imagine what was happening to him. What Alastor was doing to him. A knife in the gut? Or perhaps drawn shallowly along his skin. Or maybe… maybe the earlier scream was the knife in the gut, and now, Alastor was rummaging around his innards, squeezing and tugging at the red gore inside the demon’s stomach… She’d seen how gleefully he killed, how he practically bathed in the blood and gore of those foolish enough to attack the hotel.

 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Alastor scolded lightly, and Charlie realized that the cries of pain had quieted, the nameless victim likely nearing unconsciousness. “My dear, this isn’t any fun if you don’t pay attention! I knew you were weak, but not this much so. Pathetic! It seems you’ll need a moment to recuperate. No matter, I suppose a nice tune would do well!”

A quiet moment passed, as Alastor likely rifled through his collection of music for something suitable to play. A short, jazzy musical introduction began before a man with a thin but sweet voice began to sing.

 

Heaven

I’m in Heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

About halfway through the song, the screams began anew, the melody underscoring the horror in the worst way. When the song ended, Alastor waited a few moments before announcing, “And that was ‘Cheek to Cheek’ by Fred Astaire, 1935! Next up, a lovely little tune by Bessie Smith. ‘Backwater Blues’, 1927!”

As the next song started up, Alastor punctuated the completion of each line, each little gap in the lyrics, with new screams of agony. Each new song was the same, until Charlie eventually realized that she was screaming too. Screaming and crying as she wished desperately to be able to just reach through the radio and save whatever person he was hurting.

Logically, she knew she couldn’t. He had so many broadcasting stations, and the order that he used them was completely random. Even with her dad’s help, Alastor would probably kill the sinner before they found him. And if Al didn’t put him out of his misery, if they did manage to find the man, that would be all he would want, anyway. Just an end to his suffering. But that didn’t make this nightmare any less awful.

 

---

 

When Alastor and Charlie awoke from their nightmares, their memories, they both found tears drying on their cheeks.

Notes:

This is a short chapter, but as we get towards Christmas, both my work life and my personal life get more and more busy. I promise I won't stop, but updates may be sporadic.

Also, I know about the Season 2 spoilers, but I am willfully ignoring them. I already know how I want my story to go, and the leaks won't change that. Not specifying here for the sake of anyone who has managed to escape them, but it will be obvious what I'm ignoring as the story goes on.

 

Summary of domestic abuse section: Alastor has a nightmare in which he is a small child and his alcoholic father comes home, primarily harming his mother.

Chapter 11: Fear leads to anger

Summary:

Alastor is falling apart. Lucifer is mad. Alastor can barely care.

Notes:

CW: Torture. Like graphic violence. Also self-harm kinda?

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Alastor quickly wiped away the lingering tears and hardened himself. The nightmare was just that. A trick of Hell to bring him back into his suffering. He’d handled his father, made him suffer for every sin he committed against Maman. He closed his eyes and relished the memory for a second. Back when he was a young man, when he had snapped and decided to finally save Maman from his father’s rages, once and for all.

 

He’d led his father out into the bayou, with some excuse about a hidden stash of moonshine. The man didn’t look so scary now that Alastor was grown. Father’s muscles were weakened from years of disuse and abuse, his movements uncoordinated as Alastor trussed him up like a turkey. He started with his knife, slowly cutting away ribbons of skin, rubbing the blood on his face. It was so good, finally making the sorry waste of air feel the fear he’d known for so long. In a moment of pure, righteous fury, Alastor had leaned forward and bitten away a chunk of flesh. The screams the action elicited were almost as delicious as the raw, bloody meat in his mouth.

He’d had his fun, butchering him like wild game while he was still breathing. Eventually, the pain and shock and blood loss killed him, and Alastor tossed his remains into the waters where he knew the gators would handle everything. He held onto a single, large cut of meat. Taking it home, he tossed it in a pan, and cooked it like he would a fine steak, ignoring the blood he left all over the cabin he’d grown up in. He was alone here, now. He’d moved Maman to a nice little house in town, leaving the cabin completely uninhabited, except for his hunting trips.

He sat down at the table, still coated in his father’s blood, poured a glass of whiskey, and dug into his meal.

 

Reliving that much more pleasant memory calmed him down immensely. Unfortunately, the wounds and weakness of his body were still there. No expedited healing whatsoever. It seemed that Charlotte and Lucifer had drained every tiny bit of magic from him, including that common to all demons. He might as well be mortal again. With slow, painstaking movements, Alastor managed to rise from his bed, peeling away the covers like they were made of lead. Step by step, he made his way to the bathroom, clinging to the walls as if they were the only thing keeping him upright. In fact, they probably were. In the bathroom, he turned on the sink faucet, splashing the cool water onto his face.

This wasn’t happening. It was simply impossible. He snapped his fingers, waiting for the spell to take hold and change him out of these… infuriatingly comfortable pajamas and back into his suit. But nothing happened.

He snapped again. And again. Still nothing. With a low growl of frustration, he ran a claw along his hand. Blood trickled from the wound, and he quickly drew a series of symbols. Even if I can't properly snap my clothes on, surely I can use this more crude form of magic, right? he wondered. But evidently not. The crumpled, sweaty pajamas remained in place on his body. Alastor could feel his tail and ears twitching in exasperation. I must be too tired. That’s all. A good rest and I’ll be able to do this. Perhaps… perhaps a smaller spell. Yes, that’s all! I’ll be able to use my smaller spells, then I can go rest and regain my abilities until I am at proper strength.

 

A hot bath. A hot bath and then he could try a small spell and go lay back down. That’s all. That’s all! He twisted the knobs of the bath until the water was scalding hot, wisps of steam quickly filling the room. Alastor’s smile twitched as he had to undress himself. Ugh. Peeling off the layers of fabric until his body was bare in the cool air of the bathroom. He never much cared to be nude, not even while he was alive. And especially not with this… disgusting demon body.

He was able to cover most of his animalistic traits with his clothing, but as he lowered himself into the water, he could see it all. It was so hot it almost hurt, but he didn’t care. He relished the discomfort. Anything to distract him from the thick, black fur coating his legs and arms. The black and red hooves that clacked painfully against the porcelain tub. The tail that he knew everyone would think was cute if they saw it. Red and black with white spots, a fluffy thing that he couldn’t control at all. His ears he could force to stay upright, but his tail twitched and wagged of its own accord.

Thank the stars this form was mostly humanoid. If he resembled a deer half as much as Husker resembled a cat… Well, it would be rather difficult to maintain his position as a fearsome overlord. The ears alone proved to be more than enough trouble in that regard.

 

Alastor gnashed his teeth as he quickly bathed himself, speeding through the process as quickly as possible. How absolutely beneath him to need to clean himself in such a way! One sort of soap for his humanlike skin, another for the fur of his limbs and ears. Another for his hair. Then he was out of the bath, draining away the water and wrapping a towel around his battered body. The second he was at least somewhat covered, he instantly felt better.

He fought a scowl when he realized that he didn’t have any clothes to change into in this damned bathroom. For a moment, he just sat on the ground, feeling… defeated.

 

But no. He was Alastor, he was the Radio Demon. He wouldn’t be defeated. Vox couldn’t kill him, and neither did the First Man. Lucifer most certainly lost when he first showed up to the hotel. Forcing himself onto shaking legs, Alastor pulled himself back into the main room, rifling through the dresser and grabbing the first things he could. Another pair of pajamas. It was really far too revealing for his tastes. The neckline of the shirt exposed his neck, and even part of his collarbone. The sleeves ended just above the wrist, and he didn’t have any clean gloves. Nor shoes or socks or slippers to cover the hooves. The worst part, though, was that the shirt was much too short to cover his tail. He ended up stuffing the fluffy appendage down inside of his pants. It just felt better for it to be hidden, even if there was no one else around. It was horribly uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t on display.

Thoroughly exhausted by his brief period out of the bed, the deer demon practically crumpled into his armchair, his belly still sore and aching. Snapping his fingers again, he tried to summon a glass of whiskey. Nothing.

Perhaps that was too much. A simple cup of coffee? Still, nothing.

A book to read, a newspaper, a single sheet of blank paper? Nothing!

He was growing frantic, snapping his fingers over and over until his fingertips were sore and still he hadn’t accomplished anything . Eventually he stumbled away from the chair, hunching over the ground and drawing symbol after symbol with his blood on the carpet. But it was all to no avail.

 

⊰━━❦━━⊱ꨄ︎⊰━━❦━━⊱

 

It had been a week since that radio asshole had tried to escape, and Lucifer was only getting more pissed. He ought to be grateful that Charlie cared so much about him, for whatever reason. If it weren’t for her, he would have killed the tacky bellhop or whatever he did the day he met him. Really, acting like he was Charlie’s new dad? Stealing his musical number?! The audacity!

Yeah, he probably should have just killed the prick on day one. But he didn’t and now Charlie was attached to the jerk. What even was his name again? Alexander? No, that wasn’t it. It was definitely Al-something, though.

Charlie just acted more and more miserable with every single day. Apparently, Al-whatever wouldn’t even talk to her. Lucifer would have been grateful that the idiot had finally shut his smart-ass mouth, but Charlie wasn’t. She was sad, worried that he wouldn’t ever forgive her and open up again. He could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. The busboy really ought to be apologizing to his wonderful daughter, begging her forgiveness. Not the other way around.

I mean, the sheer amount of power he stole from KeeKee, that alone is more than enough reason to erase him. And he hurt my little girl! Lucifer seethed at the thought, his eyes starting to glow red. With a deep breath, he forced himself back into his usual form.

Actually, I’ll just go pay him a visit, instead of sitting here, getting angry with no results.

As he portalled into the room, the first thing Lucifer noticed was the smell. Rotting blood. Everywhere. His nose wrinkled as he looked around, spotting the deer demon sitting hunched over on the floor. His hair was a mess, his ears twitching wildly. As the devil approached, he saw what the cause of the stench was, at least. All over the carpet, there were symbols drawn in blood. And it was obvious whose blood it was. Allen’s (no, that wasn’t his name either) skin was even paler than usual, a sickly grey rather than its usual khaki.

“Fucking hell…” Lucifer muttered, and the demon whirled around, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. How could he even tell? The fucker’s eyes were already red, for Hell’s sake!

“Lucifer,” the red-clad man practically growled, almost sounding more like a feral animal than a person. Lucifer could swear he almost felt a pang of sympathy, before he pushed that away. No, this was the bitch who hurt his daughter. And he upset Maggie, too! Oh and all that torturing sinners stuff, but the sinners of Hell were awful anyway. Charlie and her girlfriend were great, though. Absolutely no sympathy for this dipshit!

“Alton,” he flatly responded, even though the name sounded wrong as soon as it left his lips.

“It’s Alastor,” the deer’s eyes narrowed in unconcealed rage, though he didn’t make any move towards Lucifer. Not that he could. The pompous ass was barely stronger than a human, and certainly no contest for the devil himself. Though that didn’t stop him from trying last time.

 

“Do I look like I care?” Lucifer stepped closer, watching with quiet triumph as his ears pinned back ever so slightly. So, he was afraid of him, like he should be. What a shame it took so much to scare some sense into him. Another step closer, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. “What I care about is Charlie. You upset her. You hurt her. And you think you get to act like you’re still some big, scary overlord?!”

Alastor puffed his chest ever so slightly, feigning confidence he surely didn’t feel. “I believe Charlotte recovered just fine from whatever injuries I may have inflicted upon her in the past. This… captivity is unreasonable. Furthermore, it’s pointless. I will not grovel just because a short little chipmunk like you demands it. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon, Master of the Airwaves and Overlord of the Pride Ring-”

 

“And I’m the fucking Sin of Pride!” Lucifer’s voice boomed as he cut off the annoying fuck. “God, I can’t figure out why Charlie can stand you! If I were her, I would have just killed you the second you showed your ugly, yellow grin at this hotel. I mean, why would anyone wanna listen to you ramble about… whatever the Hell you talked about on that radio broadcast you go on and on about?! She shouldn’t even care about you anymore, even if you did try to take my place as her father. Don’t act like I don’t know you just did that to piss me off!”

Spit was flying from Lucifer’s mouth as he glared at the Radio Demon, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that the bastard was flinching ever so slightly away from him, that he looked so weak and pathetic that it seemed like he might snap in half. All he cared about was that he hurt his baby and didn’t even seem to care.

“She’s too good for you! She’s too good for any of you worthless sinners! She spends all her time trying to help you and make things better and none of you thankless fucks even try to act grateful!” Lucifer stepped closer, ready to rip his sorry head off his body, before the sight of what Charlie might think stopped him.

But no. That would upset her more. The idea of Charlie’s teary face, of her body trembling as she mourned this so-called friend… it stopped him from doing what his protective instincts were practically screaming at him to do. Somehow, Lucifer pulled himself away, looking down at Alastor coldly. “You should feel completely indebted to her. Because if she didn’t care about you so goddamn much, I’d erase you right this minute.”

 

With that, Lucifer teleported back to his room in the hotel, staring down a pile of ducks. He grabbed a red one and waved it about, mimicking Alastor’s earlier words.

“ ‘Oh, she recovered just fine!’ Bullshit! He practically tortured her for a year with all those damn broadcasts!” Lucifer flung the duck away, listening to it squeak sadly as it hit the wall. That sad little squeak seemed to drain away the rest of his anger, and he deflated into a cold, empty sadness.

The fallen angel lifted the duck and patted its head gently, as though to apologize. “Hell, at this rate I’ll be more the Sin of Wrath than Pride…”

Notes:

It feels like it's been forever since I've updated, but this is a bit of a longer chapter compared to my usual!

I know it feels like everyone is always angry, but that's kind of intentional. Alastor hasn't even hit anger mode yet, just mild frustration with everything. But he's not going to be able to get the angry reactions he wants from everyone for long...

Also, yes, I used a Yoda quote for the chapter title. But it's ~true~

Chapter 12: Anger builds nothing, but it can destroy everything

Summary:

Charlie checks up on Alastor at Lucifer's behest. Things aren't going very well

Notes:

CW: More description of self-harm. Basically the results of Alastor trying to use his magic when it isn't there

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Even though it went against every instinct in her body, Charlie had been trying to give Alastor some space. She knew he was probably pissed, and deep down, she knew it wasn’t entirely unreasonable of him. But what choice did she have? Especially if his immediate instinct upon leaving the hotel was to torture sinner after sinner, broadcasting their agonized screaming and wailing across Hell just to blackmail her! He was too dangerous to just let him wander about, he’d definitely proven that. And she couldn’t let someone kill him, she loved him too much for that! Why did he have to be so damn difficult?!

Charlie just wanted to march in there and explain until he listened. Surely if she just explained every little moment of fear and worry and anger she’d felt over the past year, he’d understand a little, right? No, probably not. So she gave him the space she knew he wanted.

But when her father expressed concern over the hotelier, Charlie knew she had to at least check up on him briefly, even if it would make him more furious. Lucifer had refused to give her any details, just saying that he’d stopped inside Alastor’s room earlier and it ‘wasn’t good’. At least her dad had confirmed he wasn’t dying or dead, just in bad shape. That was fine. It was fine. As long as he wasn’t dead, there was time to try and fix him up and make things better, right? Right?!

 

Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, Charlie first knocked lightly on the wall where his door had once been, doing her best to be polite. It was still Alastor’s room, after all. Just because they had to change it didn’t make it less his.

“Al-lllastor?” She corrected herself halfway through yet again. She really had gotten used to the nickname, but she didn’t want to do anything that might upset him. Nothing that wasn’t necessary, at least. She didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to have to do any of this, but he was just so fucking difficult!

“Um, it’s me, Charlie… Dad told me that he came by earlier, and that he thought I should check up on you. So, uh, yeah, here I am! Checking up on you!” She waited for a quiet, hopeful moment, but didn’t get an answer. She knew that he’d be able to hear her. Just because the door wasn’t physically there didn’t mean the sound couldn’t still travel with a bit of magic. All that had really changed was the method of entering the room.

“I’m, um, I’m gonna come inside, okay?” Still nothing. With a sigh, Charlie waved her hand in the air, the portal instantly opening up for her. The second the warm stench of the room hit her nose, she gagged. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was awful, like something rotting. She stepped through and closed the portal behind her, wrapping an arm over her face to protect it somewhat from the smell.

 

What had happened in here? Had Alastor not bathed? Or was he on a hunger strike, letting the food they provided him rot? That didn’t make sense, she always retrieved the empty plates. Unless he was storing the food away somewhere? As she approached his huddled form, neither seemed to be the case. His hair was messy and unkempt, but not terribly dirty. Nor was his skin. And as she got closer, that smell didn’t seem like food. It was too metallic.

“Alastor?” The demoness asked quietly, stepping slowly towards him. She moved quietly and slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Are you okay?” The lights in the room were dim, and when she gently touched Alastor’s shoulder, he jerked back, spinning to face her with wild eyes. As he moved, something from the carpet stuck to his pajama pants, peeling away with a disgusting squelch. And when she saw the color, she realized what it was. Blood. As she looked at Alastor, she realized just how ill he looked. His hands were injured, scabbed over cuts absolutely covering his palms. His skin was sallow and loose, hanging from his face as if it didn’t quite fit properly. As she conjured a wet washcloth to clean them, she noticed how cold his hands were. They were absolutely frigid, despite the warmth of the room.

 

Alastor barely seemed to notice her attempts to help him, instead reaching his hands up towards his head, pulling loose a few strands of red hair. “It’s gone. It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone…” he mumbled to himself.

“Hey, hey, whatever happened, it’ll be okay,” Charlie reassured him, taking his hand and wiping away the dried blood. She glanced down briefly at the carpet, realizing that there were patterns drawn with the blood on it. Over, and over, and over again. A faint memory of the symbols that adorned the walls when she made her Deal with him clicked. Oh, and the shield he made to protect the hotel during the last Extermination! With great relief, she realized that he wasn’t hurting himself, at least not with that intention. He was just trying to use his magic. Though it sent an unpleasant twist through her gut that he had hurt himself as a direct result of her actions… No! He made it necessary! He was the one who refused to talk or listen or anything! She just had to stop him from torturing her people, this was just the best way to do that. The only way to do that without killing him.

“Alastor, let me help you, okay? We can get you cleaned up, then maybe we could talk? This… isn’t healthy.”

Something about what she said seemed to spark recognition in his red eyes, until he started laughing hysterically. The same way he did when he was murdering dozens of demons at a time. He shoved her away weakly, and she scowled, grabbing his arms and pinning them to his sides as she pulled him away from the rotting, bloody mess.

“Stop! This is disgusting! At least let me get rid of that!” Frustrated with his continued struggles, Charlie eventually just snapped her fingers, exchanging the carpet in this room with the one next door. She’d have to enlist Niffty’s help to get all the blood out, but she’d probably be happy to have such a difficult job to keep her busy.

“Seriously, what the fuck?! God, you look like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” She’d have to figure out some sort of treatment for that. Maybe some water would help? Yeah, that sounded right. And then… then something to eat. Yeah, okay, that seemed like it would help.

 

Charlie hesitated for a moment. Really, Alastor needed a bath, but that seemed rather… weird. Maybe she could get Husk to help him? He’d probably bandaged him up after battles in the past. Overlords were always getting into spats, and they’d never let anyone but one of their most trusted underlings or maybe friends attempt to help. Yeah, getting Husk made sense.

Although…

Would Alastor try to hurt him? He might not have magic, but he still had his teeth and claws, and he was sure to be pissed regardless of who tried to help him bathe. At least Charlie could heal the damage quickly.

“Okay, Al, I’m going to get you some water and something to eat. Then we can try to figure this out. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m here for you.” The demoness quickly conjured a glass of cool water, holding it out to him. Unfortunately, Alastor simply snarled and shoved her again, spilling the water on the two of them.

“Dammit, Alastor! I’m trying to help you!” With a frustrated growl, Charlie hauled him up onto the bed, pulling the covers over his flailing limbs. She left another glass of water on the bedside table as she hurried down to the kitchen. Something simple and easy to digest seemed good. But, as Charlie prepared a sandwich, she realized she was making something she would like. Not Alastor. He’d probably prefer the carcasses of a dozen sinners, raw and whole. That wasn’t going to happen, but maybe she could cook him a small steak. Yeah, and add some fluffy mashed potatoes and spinach. Spinach had iron, right? He’d need that after losing so much blood.

 

Charlie cooked the cut of meat as rare as she felt comfortable serving it, then added it to a plate with some reheated mashed potatoes and spinach, left over from meals the past couple of days. She took a second, then pre-cut the steak into bite-sized pieces, the insides of the steak red and bloody. Alastor didn’t need access to any kind of knife.

She portaled back into the room, a smile on her face. “Hey, Al, I made you some food. Steak, mashed potatoes, and spinach. How does that sound?”

The Radio Demon turned his head to her, eyes narrowed in burning rage, but at least he wasn’t flailing and laughing hysterically anymore. And the water she’d set out for him was almost all gone. Charlie took a seat on the bed beside him, laying a large cloth napkin on his lap before placing the plate of food on top. “Here you go! Bon appetit!” She absolutely beamed at him, waiting for him to take a bite of food. When he didn’t, she paused a moment, before grabbing the water glass and taking it to the bathroom to refill. She took a long, long time to refill it, and when she got back, all of the steak was gone. However, Alastor hadn’t even touched the potatoes or the spinach.

“Here, Al. Um, you should eat the rest of the stuff too. I think spinach is good for you when you’ve lost a lot of… well, you know…” She put the glass down and gestured to the untouched food.

“I absolutely will not put something from that wretched… kitchen box into my mouth. The only thing it can do is ruin perfectly good food.” Alastor spat, in a tone that left no room for argument. Then he completely ignored her presence, glaring at the wall as though it had committed some grievous sin against him.

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

His power was gone. It was actually gone. Alastor had been denying it for days, trying desperately to use even the slightest bit of magic, but it was all for naught. He’d nearly killed himself trying to accomplish the impossible, and he couldn’t decide if it was worse that he had failed to use his magic, or that people had seen him in such a pitiful state. Lucifer, at least, didn’t pity him, but Charlotte clearly did. When he got out of here, he’d gouge out their eyes and force feed them back to them. He’d tear out their nails, flay them alive, rip their souls apart and let them scream in agony in the airwaves for all eternity. Never mind how his stomach turned at the thought of hurting the girl.

Admittedly, the food she had prepared for him wasn’t awful. Well, at least the steak was fine. It would have been better raw, but he supposed the thought of that made her squeamish. The potatoes and spinach, however nice they may have been the first time, had clearly been reheated in that lousy microwave, an absolute insult to the culinary arts. He could practically smell the metallic aura, and he definitely could smell the old, stale food. The kitchen abomination probably hadn’t been cleaned in ages. No, he absolutely would not eat anything that had spent even a second in that insult to cooking.

When Charlotte had finally left, he downed the glass of water again, before slumping back into his bed.

 

Without the power that had allowed him to rise the ranks of Hell, who was he? He wasn’t the Radio Demon who had struck fear into the hearts of every sinner with a lick of sense. He was just… Alastor. He hadn’t just been Alastor in almost as long as he could remember. Before dying, he’d been the unknown killer haunting New Orleans, and the famous host of the best radio station in the city. It was only before that, before he had killed his father, that he had only been Alastor.

 

What did he even have left? His charm, sure. But being charming wasn’t the same thing now. Now, he was weak. The weak had to rely on such tactics in order to get food, shelter, and protection. After all, a likable fellow was much more likely to get a few handouts. The weak often had to be charming.

The strong didn’t. Most others who were secure enough in their station didn’t bother with such a guise anymore. They were callous and dangerous because they could be, and to pridefully boast about themselves. His mind flashed back to Vox’s tantrums, or Velvette’s flippant antics.

It was the truly powerful who had the luxury of being truly charming. Himself. Rosie. Zestial. Carmilla, perhaps. Charlie, though her charm had long worn off in his eyes. Plenty of people were charming, but without that power, it meant nothing.

 

Who was the Alastor then? Cruel? Evil? This was Hell! Everyone here was cruel in some way or another. Even the sweet princess herself.

Sure, he was eccentric, but everyone acted a bit more exaggerated when there weren’t any consequences.

Murderous? Violent? A cannibal? There was the entirety of Cannibaltown, that hardly seemed like the essence of who he was. And he was hardly able to commit much violence as restrained as he currently was.

Manipulative. He was smart. Perhaps not at those bookish pursuits, but he understood people. Many could claim such skill, but not as many.

And his smile. Now that, that was truly his. No one in all of Hell managed a grin like his.

 

His mind and his smile. Without his powers, that was all he really had. And that didn’t seem like it would be enough to get him away from this damned hotel, and the Princess who insisted on being his friend.

Notes:

My Alastor 100% views any technology he doesn't like as [derogatory] [function] box. TV = noisy picture box, cellphone = flashing communication box, microwave = wretched kitchen box. He hates them all.

Tbh writing this chapter made me feel bad for Charlie. Not nearly as bad as for Alastor, but still. She's losing it too, just in a less visceral way.

Chapter 13: Cleanliness is next to Godliness

Summary:

Alastor has to take a bath. He fumes.

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

Charlotte brought him food at least three times a day, every single day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Usually a few snacks of freshly baked bread and butter or a mug of coffee, too. The food was always good, at least what he ate of it was. After the first few attempts, she realized that he could tell if she used a toaster oven or microwave or air fryer, or any of the other electronic kitchen gadgets, and that Alastor would adamantly refuse to even touch anything that hadn’t been cooked ‘properly’. So she started cooking every meal fresh, from scratch, using only the oven and the stovetop. Even the toast she brought with breakfast. It took a few attempts to learn how to toast bread in a pan without the color being uneven or the toast burning, but she figured it out, bringing him perfectly toasted bread with breakfast every morning, alongside a couple of eggs and a plethora of bacon and sausage.

For lunch and dinner, she usually cooked either steak or one of the dishes he had taught her, back when he was pretending to care about her, pretending to be a father figure. Pretending. That’s all it was. None of it was real , he reminded himself a dozen times a day. He didn’t actually love Charlie, the very notion was preposterous. But she clearly cared about him.

That was perhaps the most infuriating part of this captivity: it wasn’t done out of malice. It wasn’t done to hurt him or punish him. It wasn’t anything like those seven years had been. Every plate or bowl or mug that Charlotte gave him was so thoughtful. She even brewed the coffee with a French press rather than a drip machine. Occasionally, when the food she provided was lighter, he could tell that she used the pour-over brewing technique.

But all the careful thought and care she put into his food was nothing compared to the saccharine words that he knew she meant whole-heartedly. Every time she brought him the food, Charlotte just rambled on and on about how much he meant to her, and how much she had missed him. She called him family, explained how he had been there when her own father wasn’t. She told Alastor how even if he hadn’t meant it, what he told her about viewing her like a daughter meant so much to her. She cried as she swore she didn’t want to hurt him, that she loved him and just wanted to have him back and stop him from hurting her people.

With every thoughtfully, carefully prepared dish, with every sweet, loving, kind word, Alastor remained silent. He just ignored her inane nonsense, ate the food and hid the fact that he actually enjoyed it.

 

It was working, distancing himself from her. He was guarding his heart, letting her kindness be lost on him so he could focus on plotting his escape, his revenge. Until a certain winged cat came through the portal, bearing no food, no coffee.

 

“Husker,” Alastor said, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

“Alastor,” the scowling sinner replied, full of scorn. Not ‘Boss’, as the man used to call him. Just his name. Because even if Alastor still owned the gambler’s soul, it wasn’t as if he could exert any power over him.

 

“Why did she send you?” the deer demon asked skeptically, rising slightly from where he had been sitting in bed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was doing much better than he had been last week. All the food and water that Charlotte brought him had filled him out, made him regain the blood he had lost in his vain attempts to summon his magic. “Has the princess tired of me so easily?” He asked with a short laugh.

Husker rolled his eyes, unamused. “As if. In case you haven’t noticed, Charlie doesn’t give up on anyone. Ever.” The cat stuck out a thumb and pointed it over his shoulder, towards the bathroom door. “She’s just worried sick about you. Thinks you might need some help, and that’s why you haven’t showered since you nearly bled to death. I told her you wouldn’t fucking care, but she still saddled me with tryna wrangle you in there.”

“Ha! I simply have more important things to do, my fine feline friend!” Alastor forced his usual charm and bravado, but the cat just shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Husker, I’m warning you, if you dare to so much as touch me, I will-”

“Put me on your broadcast? Tear my soul apart? Cut off my wings and fry them in a pan?” Husker listed off most of Alastor’s favorite threats without any sign of fear or concern. “Yeah, you’re not in the state to do that. Just shut your damn mouth and let’s get this over with.”

 

Apparently, the Radio Demon wasn’t nearly as intimidating without his powers, not even to Husker! Oh, once he escaped and got his powers back, this insufferable drunk would learn to regret this recalcitrance! Alastor didn’t embarrass himself by trying to struggle or resist, even as one of his own servants flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He just grinned sharply, glaring daggers at the wall as Husker hauled him into the bathroom and tossed him haphazardly into the tub.

If he could have, Alastor would have sharpened his usual static like a blade until the ex-Overlord’s ears were bleeding. But instead, all he could do was glower at him, murderous intent clear in his eyes.

“You can close the curtain, dear Husker! It’s not as if I’ve forgotten how these things work! I simply had better things to do with my time!”

Husker just shrugged, pulling the curtain shut as he grumbled. “Whatever. Ain’t like I haven’t seen it before. Charlie figured out I was the one you always made patch you up when you couldn’t do it yourself.”

And the girl was right. Well, Alastor didn’t think there was ever a time he couldn’t fix himself up, just times when it was more convenient to have his lackey do it. After all, it just wouldn’t do to give himself uneven stitches when he had someone to give him neat ones. Especially when that someone was bound to secrecy. That was all.

 

…⛀⛁≽ ♤ ♡ - 🂾 - ♢ ♧ ≼⛁⛀…

 

For the first time in decades, Husk had actually felt happy. He’d felt… free, light in a way he hadn’t since before the Radio Demon won his soul. He’d spent years being dragged around on that sickly green chain, serving only Alastor’s whims. Fighting Alastor’s battles, pouring Alastor’s drinks, patching up the idiot when he went and got himself hurt. Alastor, Alastor, Alastor. It felt like his entire afterlife revolved around the smiling jackass.

And then he went missing. At first, Husk didn’t think it’d last. Alastor had always been flighty and mysterious. Sometimes, he’d leave Husk alone for months, just to pop up at the most inconvenient time with some other task he wanted him to do. And it was never anything important, just something to remind him of Alastor’s control. But that time, months turned to years, the burden he felt on his neck and shoulders slowly but surely easing… until he pulled him into the Hazbin Hotel, the weight of his contract felt in full force once more.

Oh, the way that bastard had beamed at Husk as he taunted him made him want to gut him like a fish. But he couldn’t. He was powerless. Alastor held all the cards, pulled Husk’s strings like a deranged puppeteer.

 

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Alastor was up to something . Only someone as naive as Charlie would think he didn’t have some ulterior motive. Husk knew the Radio Demon had some further plan from the moment he talked about doing “charity work.” The Radio Demon would do a lot for entertainment, but he’d never give up his broadcasts unless he had a good reason. Wouldn’t risk his life for friends or fun. Oh, no, that wasn’t the kind of man Alastor was. He had some grand plan, and Husk couldn’t even warn anyone. Not that he cared at first.

But by the time Alastor betrayed Charlie, he did.

Husk had grown fond of the once-annoying ragtag group of losers. Even Alastor. Once he realized that Alastor was stuck under someone else’s control, as much a puppet as Husk was, the gambler couldn’t help but feel bad for the man. Well, he felt bad until he knocked him onto the ground and threatened to torture him. That nice little chat in the hallway got rid of any sympathy Husk might have had for the deer demon.

 

And now, with all of Alastor’s powers gone, Husk was basically free. Technically, Alastor still owned his soul, but without any magic, he couldn’t do anything with that fact. Couldn’t order Husk around, couldn’t summon him, and he couldn’t manifest that heavy chain. Literally, he couldn’t feel the weight of the chain any longer. And as long as Alastor’s powers weren’t restored to him, Husk could more or less do whatever he wanted. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. Terrifying mostly because if Alastor ever did get his power back, he’d make Husk suffer for being any part in his captivity. But it didn’t seem that that would be happening anytime soon.

 

The only thing that would make Husk’s life better right now would be if Angel were free of Val. If Angel were free, if he held his own soul in whole again, then they might actually have a chance to, well, be together. As of right now, what they had was all too weak, too fragile. A tenuous friendship that they both knew they both wanted to become something different, but couldn’t do anything about.

 

When Charlie came to Husk, asking him sweetly for some help with Alastor, he expected her to tell him that the Radio Demon was being violent or dangerous, that he was throwing things or swiping his blood red claws at her face. Not that she was worried because he didn’t talk. Because he didn’t seem to be bathing, and she didn’t want to infringe on his privacy by bathing him herself, and could Husk maybe at least try to get him into the bathroom to wash himself?

So Husk groaned and made his way upstairs, knocking on the door before stepping through Charlie’s portal.

 

After about ten minutes of Alastor sitting in the tub with no sign that the man had even attempted to wash himself, Husk grunted, speaking up. “You… need help?” Obviously, Alastor wouldn’t accept any kind of ‘help’, so he rephrased. “I just mean, you haven’t run any water yet. Have you at least taken off your clothes? That’s kinda necessary to clean yourself.”

 

There was no response, save for the quiet rustling of fabric and occasional tapping of hooves against the porcelain tub. Then a bundle of clothes tumbled to the ground under the curtain. Husk took the bundle and tossed it in a hamper in the corner of the bathroom, but he noticed that Alastor’s gloves weren’t in the bundle. “Al, the gloves too.” There was a long, quiet moment where nothing happened. Then, with a sigh, Husk grumbled, “I’ll get you a new pair after you take your damn bath.” That seemed to work, because a few moments later, a pair of black gloves, the insides sticky with old blood, fell to the cold, tile floor. Jesus, had he been wearing the same pair ever since he got here?

 

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

It took more effort than Alastor cared to admit to pull the gloves off of his hands. Beyond how they stuck in place with the old bandages, it was hard to force himself to remove them. He’d never liked the sensation of having his hands bare, saving it only for the most sacred rituals. But he supposed a clean pair of gloves wouldn’t hurt. As long as Husker was true to his word. If he wasn’t, he might have to invent some new threats to enact on the cat. Maybe he’d issue a new command for his subordinate, enforce some sobriety. Never mind the fact that he had to get his powers back, first.

 

With shaking hands, Alastor dropped the gloves under the curtain, onto the bathroom floor. That was every stitch of clothing he’d had on him. He couldn’t think about that. He just needed to run the water, clean himself quickly, and then he could dress once more.

Run the water, quickly scrub with soap, and then he could put on new, fresh, clean clothes.

 

It shouldn’t have been so hard to bathe himself, but Alastor managed. He managed to dry himself off in place. He managed to dress himself and climb out of the tub unassisted. At least he didn’t need help. Was that what he was settling for now? Just managing to do things independently?

No. No, he was just biding his time, passing the time until he could figure out his plan. That was all.

 

Husker mercifully left once Alastor sat himself back in the bed. And, less mercifully, Charlie soon returned, talking about how proud she was of him for doing something so hard . It sickened him, the way she acted like doing something so basic was some monumentous feat.

 

The rage bubbled up with every visit, until he decided, damn it all. His ego was already wounded, there was no sense in hiding what he felt and posturing and pretending any more. He let the rage loose. He snarled at her like a caged animal, threw things at her. Alastor could see the hurt reflected in those big, hopeful eyes, and it felt good to know that he had hurt her back, that if he must suffer, at least he could make someone else suffer for it. But it also left him this hollow feeling in his chest where victory should have reigned. He didn’t like the sensation at all. These small victories of hurting Charlie, of making her leave his room in tears, they were all he had right now, and he couldn’t even appreciate them properly. It only made him angrier and more bitter.

More desperate to get away from the damned Hazbin Hotel.

Notes:

Husk POV! I didn't expect this to come so early, but as I was rereading what I've written, I decided to reorganize my bullet list of the order of events on the fly! Whee!

I promise, I won't abandon this fic. But my life is continual chaos, so idk how often I'll be updating. But I will do my best!

Chapter 14: Not the Same

Notes:

CW: Emotional manipulation, brief discussions of torture, threats of violence.

𓄋 ━▣━🎙━▣━ 𓄋

 

After that visit from Husker, Alastor made sure to bathe himself at least once every couple of days. He had no desire to repeat that humiliating experience, and he certainly didn’t want to see the drunkard’s face. He enjoyed pulling him along on every misadventure, enjoying how despite the cat’s stubbornness and irritation, he always fell in line, always submitted to the inevitability of Alastor’s power over him. But right now, he wasn’t under his control.

Charlotte, the infuriatingly kind and patient girl, continued her sweet platitudes, even after his outburst. And the several that followed. No matter how he raged at her, no matter how he clawed and screamed, she continued to spout sickening ramblings of love and friendship . Sometimes, he returned to outright ignoring her, but today, he was getting annoyed. Even more so than usual. He wanted to hurt her, cut deep at her soul more than screaming or throwing things could.

 

She was sitting on the side of his bed, facing him slightly. She ran her hands over the covers as she quieted a bit. He could sense by her tone that she was broaching something she felt was important, and he stopped tuning her out for a moment. “Al, um, I wanted to apologize.” He could feel the sincerity in her voice, and he couldn’t help but be a bit intrigued. This was interesting. “I… I shouldn’t have given up on you. When you hurt me? I should have expected it, yeah, but I shouldn’t have given up. You’re my best friend, just because you betrayed me doesn’t mean I should have let you leave like that.”

She stood, wrapping her arms around herself as she continued her heartfelt apology. “You were clearly hurting, and I… I let my own hurt get in the way. All the way back before the battle, you were asking for my help, weren’t you? And I didn’t hear you. You betrayed me, and it felt like you tore out my heart, but you were desperate to be whole again. I understand that.”

Alastor remained still and silent as he listened to her impassioned speech. Yes, he had been willing to do anything to reclaim mastery over himself. And that’s what he had done. He had no regrets.

None.

“I shouldn’t have been silent like I was. A whole year… I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

 

The stupid, sentimental ramblings of a girl who didn’t understand that he had never cared about her. That’s all this was. A possible opening to get what he wanted. That was all.

He stiffened as the girl wrapped her arms around him, her face wet with tears. He could feel the dampness soaking into his shirt. Disgusting.

At first, he wanted to raise his arms and shrug her off. Make this moment of all too real affection end , but then he recognized this for what it was. A golden opportunity.

“Why, Charlie, my dear! You have nothing to apologize for! I was rather brutal after all. The whole point was to be rid of you forever. Perhaps… perhaps I owe you an apology.” His tone was just as cheery as his usual, but he did his best to infuse the words with a little bit of meaning, tried to sound at least somewhat sincere. It worked. Charlotte looked up at him, her big red eyes shiny with hope.

 

“Really? This is a huge step! I’m so proud of you!” She was practically bouncing with excitement, but forced herself to calm down and listen to him. “What did you want to apologize for, Alastor?”

She was absolutely soaring with a mixture of pride and hope and excitement, he could tell. He could push it a little further. “Oh, yes, darling! What can I say? I suppose this silly hotel of yours really has changed me! Especially after this little… display of devotion!” Perfect. A squeal of elation escaped the girl as she squeezed him tighter. Stripped of his own powers, she was practically crushing him. Good, she had her hopes up. Time to dash them thoroughly.

 

“I suppose I should first apologize that I ever gave you any impression that I cared about you, your friends, or your dreams. And I should apologize that any of my actions led you to believe that there was any chance of me even attempting to better myself. My intentions with this hotel were always selfish. I planned to destroy your dreams long before I ever stepped inside those tacky halls.” The shocked look on Charlotte’s face was priceless. Watching the hope drain away, leaving her in a stunned state of confusion… it was almost everything he had wanted.

But he was far from finished. Pushing further, he continued: “My only regret, dear princess, is that I somehow didn’t manage to completely crush your spirit. I would have thought such betrayal would have been enough. Perhaps I should have gone ahead and killed that cat when I drained its power. Or maybe I should have killed that angel of yours instead.” If he had killed Vaggie, perhaps the girl would have realized that he was irredeemable. If she understood that, then she wouldn’t have engaged in this ridiculous plan of hers. Besides, it had been rather tempting at the time. The ex-exorcist had always been annoying to his plans. Constantly giving the princess good advice and standing as an obstacle at every turn. Every time, he’d narrowly managed to subvert the moth’s good sense. Really, the best thing she had ever done for him was serve as lovely bait on that fateful day.

“I did consider it, you know. But eventually I reasoned that every glance you took at her would remind you that she was right . She was oh-so-right to tell you not to trust me, and yet you did anyway. But it would have been rather satisfying to off the irritating little bug.”

 

He sat upright, grinning as he saw despair washing over her face, replacing her earlier hope like the turning of the tides. “Ah, yes, you understand now, don’t you? I am a monster, Charlotte. I am the Radio Demon, the terror of Hell. I cannot and will not become a better person. I believe I told you on that very first day, redemption is nothing but whacky nonsense!” He laughed darkly, relishing the horror in her eyes. “So, my dear, I suppose you have a choice! You could release me, restore my powers and let me continue my reign as Hell’s most charming and powerful Overlord. You could just kill me, and put this whole ordeal behind you. Or you could keep me here, knowing that I will always hate and torment you. But no matter what, you will have failed .”

He cocked his head, ready to deliver the final nail in the coffin. “You know, for someone who hates soul contracts so much, you have ensnared me here on a far more strangling leash than my once-master ever did.”

 

Charlotte took a few shaky steps away from him, and he relaxed instantly as her hands left his person. “So, what will it be, my dear? Will you finally find the strength to just put me out of my misery, or will you continue this ridiculous farce of sentimentality?”

Unfortunately, Alastor’s fun was cut short as Charlotte staggered to the portal, tears streaming down her face as she left him alone once more. A pity, he was enjoying her misery so thoroughly! Enjoying it, yes, like he was supposed to!

He didn’t feel bad. His heart wasn’t aching. His eyes were not burning with tears that threatened to spill over.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

The sight in Vaggie and Charlie’s shared bedroom was a familiar one. Charlie lay bundled up under the covers, sobbing miserably. Only her face peaked out from the mass of fluffy red and gold blankets and pillows. But unlike the first time she’d been in such a state in their room, Charlie wasn’t alone. Vaggie sat on the bed beside her, comforting her. Just like Alastor had come to do years ago, after that disaster of a meeting with Heaven. But Vaggie wasn’t tormenting her, wasn’t manipulating her for her own selfish goals. Instead, she actually cared. She was actually trying to help.

“Look, babe, I know he said awful things.” Vaggie’s voice was low and quiet. “But remember, this is Alastor we’re talking about. Awful is kind of his whole thing. He literally likes to torture people live on air. Because he things it’s ‘entertaining’.”

“Because I let him, Charlie answered miserably. “He’s right, you know? I could have stopped him years ago. Before we started the hotel, even. But I was still listening to what Dad had said. ‘Interfering in the afterlives of those sinners is a waste of time. It’ll just make you miserable for no reason.’” Charlie mimicked her father’s voice, lowering her pitch a little. “I could have saved so many people, and I just… didn’t!”

Vaggie pulled the blankets away slightly, revealing Charlie’s tearstained face. She sighed, before holding her girlfriend’s cheek fondly. “Hon, you can’t blame yourself for his actions. Alastor chose to hurt people, not you.”

Charlie threw her hands up in exasperation. “But Vaggie, I let him! He’s right! If I killed him back then, he wouldn’t have hurt anyone. Or if we had caught him and brought him back here as soon as we finished rebuilding! Imagine how many people we could have saved!” The princess rolled over, burying her face in the pillow, which was thoroughly soaked from her tears.

 

Vaggie laid a hand on her back, rubbing slow, gentle circles as she spoke. “Don’t let him put that kind of stuff in your head. He’s just trying to upset you for the sake of it. He made his decision, and you made yours. You’re not the kind of person who kills people. You wouldn’t have been able to kill Alastor, not even when he stabbed us all in the back. You cared about him too much for that. You still do.”

Charlie could hear the ex-angel’s tired sigh as her hand ran through her golden hair “You have always done what you thought was the right thing, and that’s better than anyone else in Hell. Don’t like Alastor change that, okay?”

 

The blonde turned her face slightly, ready to argue further. “Vaggie, you don’t-”

But Vaggie could practically read her mind, holding up a hand before Charlie could continue. “I promise, babe, I do understand. He knows exactly what to say to hurt you. That’s it, really.” The moth took a deep breath, looking out the window for a moment before meeting Charlie’s gaze once more. “Do you remember a couple weeks ago, I went and talked to him? I was so pissed after that, but I never told you what he said.”

She laid down beside the hellborn, wrapping her arms around her gently. After a moment of thought, she spread her wings over the pair like a blanket, moving Charlie’s hand up to rest atop the feathers. “Oh, go ahead. I know you like it.”

The princess managed a small laugh, even through the tears. She slowly moved her hand down along the feathers, the feeling softer than anything she had ever known. Even softer than KeeKee’s fur. “Thanks. What… what did he say to you?”

“I don’t remember exactly what he said. He was just saying whatever he could to make me mad, but it made me think, too. I was terrible, before. Before I fell, before I met you. If Lute hadn’t caught me when I let that kid go and cast me down for it, I would have kept killing Sinners. I- I don’t even know how many thousands, maybe millions, of souls I erased as an Exorcist. In a way, I’m worse than Alastor.”

Charlie listened, her crying slowly fading to occasional quiet sobs and sniffles as she continued to stroke the downy feathers of Vaggie’s wings.

“If I hadn’t been stuck in Hell, if I hadn’t met you, I would have been just like Adam and Lute were at the trial. I would have laughed at the idea of redemption. I would have tried to kill you in the battle on Extermination day.”

The fallen angel closed her eyes, squeezing her girlfriend tighter. “But I didn’t. Because of you . Charlie, you changed me. You saved me from myself.”

“Oh, Vaggie, don’t say that. Y- you’ve always been amazing.” Charlie sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I overreacted back then, when I found out who you used to be. I felt like you were hiding who you were, but… this is who you are.”

“And you brought out the best in me, babe. You helped me find out who I really am. I guess my point is, Alastor’s a dick and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You were in a tough spot, and you made the best decision you could. There’s not an easy answer, but we’ll make the most of this. We always do.”

Charlie looked up at Vaggie, her red eyes still shiny with tears, her lip trembling. “You really mean that? You… you don’t think I’m a monster.” It was less of a question, more of a quiet, personal reminder.

 

୨୧⁀ᘛ𓆩Ⓧ𓆪ᘚ⁀୨୧

 

“No, babe, I don’t think you’re a monster.” A quiet ‘okay’ was the only response she got, but she could feel the tension dissipating from Charlie’s shoulders. God, Alastor was the fucking worst, making her golden ray of sunshine so upset. Making her question if she was a good person or not. Obviously she was. She was certainly better than Vaggie, lying for years about her own identity because of an irrational fear that Charlie wouldn’t understand. It took her less than a day to forgive her. Three years of constant lies, forgiven in a few hours. It made her feel like an idiot every time she thought back to that fight.

 

When Charlie had cried herself out and fallen asleep, Vaggie extricated herself from the princess’s tight grip. She smoothed her blond hair before standing and slipping quietly down the hallway. The layout of this hotel was the same as the original. Charlie and Vaggie had a shared room on the top floor, and Alastor had taken the room at the far end on the opposite end. Originally, he’d modified his room heavily, with his freaky magic and adding that whole swamp. And he’d added the radio tower, its entrance right beside his room.

Before they brought Alastor back, the room had remained vacant. No new demons had been interested in trying for redemption after his betrayal. They were too afraid of Alastor. So the room sat, exactly the same as it had been constructed, for a year.

But Charlie was nothing if not thoughtful. Before she and Lucifer caught Alastor and brought him back to the Happy Hotel, they had recreated his room to the best of their ability. Minus the things that seemed dangerous and the swamp that they still had no clue how he’d added.

Vaggie stood at the blank stretch of wall where Alastor’s door should have been, clenching her fists before rubbing the ring she now wore on her hand. Slowly, the portal began to open, gold sparks surrounding the edges as she stepped through and into Alastor’s room.

 

It was late now, around midnight, but of course the red bastard wasn’t asleep. His eyes glowed red in the dark as Vaggie approached, before she pulled the string on the lamp and the light clicked on. His grin was unbearably strained, even moreso than usual. Even when he seemed genuinely happy, the smile on his face made Vaggie’s cheeks hurt. But he looked downright miserable, the smile more like a grimace. It almost made her feel bad for him. Almost. Until she remembered that it was his fault Charlie was so distraught. Then, she wanted to punch him in his smug face.

“What is it now, hmm? Surely you aren’t here just because you’ve missed my smiling face?” Alastor asked, tone thick with arrogance.

 

“Hardly,” Vaggie scowled at him as she approached. “Actually, I just wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? Why, whatever for? I would be remiss if I’ve done something to help you, my dear. That would be quite antithetical to my intentions.” Alastor let out a weak chuckle, propping himself up slightly into a sitting position. Vaggie deliberately ignored the time it took him to do that, the sharp exhale as he settled himself.

“For what you said the other day. I know you were just trying to piss me off, but I needed to hear it.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, listening curiously as she spoke.

“But don’t worry, what you said worked. I was pissed. I went and destroyed all of your little hideouts. All those radio stations, that big, gaudy mansion,” He looked unbothered, until she mentioned… “And that shabby little cabin. I burned them all.”

It was hard to read Alastor’s expressions, but something akin to despair flashed in his eyes when she mentioned the cabin. “They’re all gone. Even if you somehow manage to escape here, you won’t have anywhere to go.”

She felt a little cruel, rubbing salt in the wound like this, but the bastard deserved it. He’d done basically nothing except torture them, so what was the harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine?

“I see.” That was his entire answer. No attempt to turn it around to his advantage, no outward expression of sadness. Just a quiet ‘I see.’

Vaggie felt like she could burn holes in his head with her glare. “After that, I came home, and I thought a lot. And after you made Charlie cry today, I talked to her.”

 

Alastor tilted his head slightly, and she continued. "I told her how wonderful she is. How much I love her. You know, she doesn't trust you anymore. You were able to manipulate her because she was kind and optimistic and she gave you a chance. She started to trust you. But you ruined that. You can't play the puppet master with her anymore."

"Is that the case?" Alastor raised an eyebrow. "Because I think I was able to pull her strings rather expertly."

Vaggie stuck out a finger, scowling at him. "You hurt her, but that's all you can do now. You can't get her to agree to a Deal with you, you can't trick her into trusting you again. Everytime you try to break her down, I will build her back up. You're powerless. The magic doesn't matter. You don't have any power over us anymore. I won't let you."

With that, Vaggie strode out of his room, sealing the portal efficiently.

Notes:

Reread the chapter after lunch and hated it, I edited the ending AGAIN

SORRY

Chapter 15: Friends are the family you choose

Notes:

CW: This takes place in Cannibaltown. There's some (lightly described) violence/gore (?)

 ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ˗ ⎚ ⌁-⚡︎-⌁〘🗲ᯤ🗲〙⌁-⚡︎-⌁ ⎚ ˗ˏˋ⚡︎ˎˊ˗ 

 

Something was wrong. Vox tried to distract himself, gaze darting around dozens of monitors, clicking the buttons to change channels on the television feed, alternating camera views on the security system, keeping tabs on his district and his company.

But something was wrong.

He’d known it for weeks, ever since Alastor did that weird broadcast that ended so abruptly. Going missing for a while was normal for him. Before that long seven-year hiatus, he’d often vanish to God-knows-where for days, weeks, even months at a time. But ending a broadcast early, cutting his show short without even finishing off his victim? That wasn’t normal at all.

He’d been trying to understand it for several days now, puzzling it over endlessly. At first, he tried to justify things, reason them away as being Alastor’s usual, stupid theatrics. But the pieces didn’t fit together. Even if something came up, even if he did have to end the show early, he wouldn’t just let his victim off the hook. Even if it wasn’t as entertaining a death, he always, always killed them. He would have slit their throat quickly, given an actual sign-off, and then run off to do whatever.

Alastor was missing, and something was wrong.

 

It wasn’t like Vox cared about the smarmy, red asshole. He hated his guts. But he didn’t want Alastor to just vanish again. He wanted a good, clean fight, with both of them at their best. Then Vox would be the definite winner, kill him, and then he’d never have to think about Alastor again. If he just went missing, he could come back and try to humiliate him again.

The mere thought of the way the red fucker had sabotaged his warning made his screen freeze and skip for a moment. He was in charge of Hell’s entertainment, how dare the Radio Demon just reappear after seven fucking years and try to win everyone back over?! Vox’s screen was glitching now, and he had to stop and take a breath, willing himself to keep a cool head.

 

With a sigh, Vox picked up his phone, scrolling through the list of contacts. He knew whose help he needed. Or at least whose help might be somewhat useful. It wasn’t like he really needed anyone. He tapped the name, dialing.

One ring. Two. Three.

“Rosie’s Emporium, Margaret speaking! How may I help you?” a bright but well-mannered voice answered.

“Hand the phone to Rosie already. Or tell her to call me back. It’s about the Radio Demon.”

“Of course, sir. And who should I tell her is calling?”

Vox’s screen glitched again for a moment. How could this sinner not know who he was? “It’s me. Vox . The most important Overlord. The leader of the Vees. Are you stupid?”

“I’ll tell Ms. Rosie, sir.” And with a click, the line disconnected.

...

If Vox had still had a nose, instead of just a television screen for a face, he would have turned it up as he strode purposefully through the streets of Cannibaltown. It was so beneath him, all this ancient technology and old-fashioned architecture. All the frumpy clothes, too. The whole place was just so… depressingly old-timey. Just because everyone here was dead didn’t mean they had to cling uselessly to the memories of how things were when they were alive. Why couldn’t these people just move on, grow with the times? It was pathetic, anyone getting stuck in nostalgia and refusing to accept the potential of the future.

So of course this was Alastor’s favorite part of Hell. And of course Rosie had to be so difficult and stubborn, and make him trek all the way here, instead of meeting him at VoxTek, or even in a neutral territory, like he had initially suggested.

The electronics in Cannibaltown were so sparse and so primitive, he actually had to walk. He was able to teleport through Hell until he reached the edge of Rosie’s territory, but then he had to walk on his feet, like some sort of weak, loser nobody.

 

By the time he reached the Emporium, Vox was ready to kill someone. All the freaky cannibals had stared as he walked past. He wouldn’t have minded the usual looks of awe, the flashes of the cameras of his adoring fans, but that wasn’t how the cannibals looked at him. They watched him as if he didn’t belong, as if they didn’t know who he was. He hated it.

Inside, Rosie was waiting for him, a grin almost as big as Alastor’s plastered on her face. She thought she was so much better than him, with all her fake manners and this warm ‘welcome’. She and Alastor both were so irritating with all their stupid posturing. He was above pretending to be some simple gentleman. He had power, and he made sure everyone knew it, without playing all the mind games.

 

Rosie strode over to the door, escorting the guests in her store outside, hanging a little sign that said “Back soon!” on the doorknob. “How can I help you, Vox?” sitting daintily at the tea table at the side of the store. She poured two cups of tea, setting one in front of herself, and one in front of the chair opposite her. She gestured with her hand, inviting him to sit. Vox just scoffed, instead standing near the chair, his arms crossed.

“Would you care for a canapé?” Rosie asked, gesturing to a plate of sweet and savory pastries. She slid several onto her own plate. They did look tasty enough, but Vox knew better than to eat anything in Cannibaltown. “The rudest little pig sinner walked into town yesterday, but his bacon has been rather tasty!” Ugh, cannibals.

Vox rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Yeah, no. I have better things to eat than some random sinner. You can quit your showboating.” Disgust laced his words like cyanide.

The cannibal narrowed her black eyes, dropping at least some of the pleasantries. “Well, then. What exactly do you want here, Vox? You know you aren’t exactly welcome in Cannibaltown.” Her voice might sound as sweet as ever, but he could sense the underlying edge.

“You’re the one who wanted me to come to you,” Vox countered.

“Because I’m not stupid enough to wander into the territory of an enemy Overlord at their behest. What do you want from me?”

To a lesser man, it would have been chilling, the contrast between how Rosie normally acted and the venom in her voice right now. But Vox had always known that her sweet old lady act was just that, an act. The implication that Vox was stupid chafed at him, and he almost let himself get distracted by it. No, she was trying to provoke him. With no small effort, Vox brushed the comment aside, forcing himself to stay on track.

“Alastor’s missing, and not in his normal ‘fucking-off-just-to-be-dramatic’ way. Something’s wrong.” He said, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Oh? What makes you so sure?” Rosie said it nonchalantly, but he could read people. All those subtle little tells. An anxious twitch of the fingers as she sipped her tea. “Why would you care if he was gone?” There was just the tiniest hitch in her breath, the slightest look in her eye. She knew Alastor was missing. And it would seem that she was worried.

“Are you stupid? He went off the air in the middle of torturing someone. Didn’t even kill whoever it was, just… stopped.” He wanted to electrocute this stupid cannibal, but he needed her. Vox gritted his teeth, squeezing his hands into fists. “I want Alastor back, and at his best! So that I c-can fight him and k-k-kill him once and for all! And everyone will know that I’m the most p-powerful Overlord!” His screen was glitching, and he could barely get the words out. Just thinking about Alastor’s smug, ugly face made him want to stab someone. The Radio Demon, mainly. Though stabbing Rosie was also looking more and more attractive.

 

“Dear, I highly doubt that that’s how it would go,” Rosie said coolly, before popping what looked like a candied tongue into her mouth. Right. He was supposed to be getting her help, not planning his revenge. Once Alastor was back and at his strongest, he could plot that out.

Vox took a deep breath, forcing his fists to unclench before he continued. “Whatever.” The eye roll felt a bit forced, but it was necessary. “My point is, he’s missing. You know it as well as I do. Something’s not right, and we both want him back. Even if it’s for different reasons.”

The cannibal overlord looked at him scrupulously, but didn’t move to stop him.

“Before the transmission got cut off, at the beginning of the broadcast, he said something about Lucifer’s brat.” Vox’s screen switched over to display an audio recording, and Alastor’s voice filled the room. “Unfortunately, this little exercise isn’t for your benefit. No-no, I’m afraid it’s for Miss Charlotte Morningstar’s. Now, enough talk. Let’s get on with the show!”

Vox’s face flickered back into place. “That was exactly what he said. The torture on that broadcast, he did it ‘for’ Charlie. Probably to piss her off. Now, I don’t know why he’d decide to randomly fuck with her a year after he ditched her lame hotel, but he did. Really, I just think he can’t ever let things go. Pathetic loser, always stuck in the past, trying to-” Vox cut himself off before he started ranting again. “Point is, he decided to mess with Charlie, then vanished. He killed three sinners, started torturing his fourth of the day, and then just disappeared before he got anywhere close to killing the last one.”

 

Rosie’s face was unreadable. Vox blamed the creepy black eyes of the cannibals, not his agitation. “And you think the Happy Hotel is involved. That’s why you came to me. Because my relationship with the Princess is less… tumultuous than yours.”

Vox nodded. “Bingo. Sending in my own spies to the place hasn’t exactly worked out in the past. You might not be as close with her as you were before Alastor ditched the place, but you’re not enemies.” Was she actually going to hear him out? Vox relaxed a bit, finally pulling the chair out to sit down across from her. He propped his elbows on the table, pushing the plate of canapés a little further away from himself.

 

Rosie looked at him appraisingly, voice neutral. “I am not going to help you hurt Alastor. We’re… allies.” Right. Allies. That must be why they always sat together at the Overlord meetings, gazing into each others’ eyes and laughing at each others’ unfunny jokes. The two were inseparable. Whatever they wanted to call it, they were a lot closer than ‘allies’.

Vox scoffed, laughing derisively. “Oh, please! You’re practically besties. You know, Val thinks you’re fucking.” He ignored Rosie’s glare, waving a hand dismissively. “Val thinks everyone is fucking. Point is, you’re a lot closer than just ‘allies’. But right now, I don’t want to hurt Alastor. I want him at his strongest for our final battle. We don’t have to have the same end goal. Right now, we both want him back. It’s fine that it’s for opposite reasons. So, what do you say? We work together, figure out what happened, and get him back. Deal?”

 

Rosie actually laughed then, and Vox could only assume she was rolling her eyes. It wasn’t like he could tell. “Vox, really, do you think I’m so dense? Of course we don’t have a Deal. I don’t need your help. Not with anything .” She took another sip of her tea, raising an eyebrow at him. “In fact, it seems that you are the one in need of my help, and you certainly wouldn’t be very agreeable to the terms of any Deal I might propose to you.”

She set down the teacup, dapped at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, then stood up. “Now, you will leave my territory forthwith, and I will make sure my cannibals know not to bother you. If you continue to linger without my welcome, I make no promises.” Vox’s eyes narrowed as she continued, smoothing her skirts as if she were discussing something unimportant, not threatening the most important Overlord in Hell.

“It’s a shame, I doubt there’s any flesh on your bones that would be any good to eat. No matter, even if there’s nothing good to eat, the cannibals do love a good evisceration.” The Victorian demoness smirked, lowering her voice just a little bit. “Ya know, I do believe Susan would particularly enjoy ripping the cables from your head.”

 

“Fuck no!” Vox spluttered, standing and slamming his hands on the table. The chair he’d been sitting in tumbled along the ground. His teacup, still full and untouched, tipped off the table, sending shards of ceramic and puddles of tea raining onto the ground. He was not going to let this pretentious old woman try to sic her cannibals on him. His screen started glitching again as he snapped at her. “Y-you fucking bitch!”

Rosie just cupped her chin in her hand demurely, sighing dramatically. “Oh, and that was one of my favorite tea sets.” She paused a moment, before gesturing to the door. “I’ll send you the bill, dearie. I know you wouldn’t intentionally damage my property and start a war between all the Overlords.”

“We’d win, you- you-” Vox’s screen shone brightly, different colors flashing on his screen as he glitched and buffered, stumbling to the door. He had to get the fuck out of here before Rosie did try to set her cannibals on him. She’d probably be able to get away with it too, claiming he came into her territory to attack. Shit. No wonder she wanted him to meet her here. She always spun things to her advantage, the conniving, manipulative hag.

 

⊱⋅•────•⋅⊰ ༻𖥸༺ ⊱⋅•────•⋅⊰

 

Rosie watched, satisfied, as Vox stormed out of her shop. She could understand why Alastor liked to tease him so much. It was so easy, and the results were so immediate and tangible.

But that feeling of satisfaction faded quickly. Because while Vox might be an idiot, he was right. Something was wrong. Rosie had suspected it for days, but she hadn’t been sure where to start. She’d assumed that Alastor was simply gloating, celebrating the one-year anniversary of his freedom (albeit a few days late) with a few jabs at Charlie before someone had gotten to him. She presumed his old master, though someone else might be possible.

But Vox seemed to think it was Charlie, or, at the very least, someone at her hotel. Well, Rosie needed to do something . Vox could proclaim that all he wanted was a clean fight and victory against Alastor, but she knew better. He reeked of sick obsession. That sorry excuse for an Overlord couldn’t find Alastor, not under any circumstances. She needed to act.

Rosie smoothed her skirts and powdered her face, readying herself for an outing. After a moment of thought, she grabbed a half-packed box. When she stepped outside, the customers she had escorted out for Vox’s arrival were still waiting. She kindly, patiently informed them that something of importance had come up, and that she would be back by the evening. Rosie flipped the sign at the door from ‘Welcome’ to ‘Come back soon!’ and strode purposefully down the streets, towards the hotel.

 

Even after Alastor had destroyed the Hazbin Hotel, Rosie had managed to maintain a somewhat friendly connection with Charlie and the others. Alastor had wanted freedom, so badly he distanced himself from everyone. Even her. It hurt more than a little. They had always been so close, though not in the romantic manner that others so often assumed. If anything, Rosie saw him more like a son than anything. Oh, she could still remember when she first met him, an ambitious, foolhardy young man with an exquisite taste for violence. He wasn’t nearly as confident back then, though he certainly pretended to be. But the constant flicking of his ears gave away his anxiety. She took a liking to him though, offering him shelter in Cannibaltown while he settled into Hell. As it turned out, he was a fantastic cook, especially when he branched out into using the flesh of sinners.

He’d flourished, thrived, even. It gave her no small measure of pride to watch him grow into a powerful Overlord in his own right. And yet… He’d done such a stupid thing, trapping himself in a Deal with a cruel Master. Selling his soul for power like a moron. It was a wonder that he was able to become an Overlord in light of that.

Rosie sighed as she remembered the way he’d appeared, gloating about how he had done the impossible. She wished he had told her of his circumstances years ago. She could have helped him. She’d have had her price, of course. Rosie might be kind, much kinder than many Overlords. But selflessness didn’t keep you in power. She supposed that must be why he didn’t even give her a chance to offer her assistance. Alastor wanted to be completely free, beholden to no one. Even if the spot in her heart for him was soft enough that she couldn’t ever bring herself to ask for his soul.

 

Still, after his grand declaration, he avoided her for months. Seven whole years without seeing him, and he couldn’t even be bothered to visit from time to time. She’d hoped that he might be as happy to see her as she was to see him.

Sweet little Niffty did come by briefly, but Cannibaltown wasn’t nearly decrepit enough for her. There were hardly any bugs for her to stab, and the residents always cleaned up after enjoying their fun. Things Rosie prided herself on, but it seemed Niffty needed her hands busy. So, after a few weeks, Rosie suggested Niffty return to Charlie’s hotel.

 

Of course, Rosie cared more about Alastor than she did Charlie, but she’d be stupid not to maintain the favor of Hell’s royalty. The denizens of Hell might not respect her, but maintaining a friendly relationship cost her nothing, and might one day be very beneficial. After all, just in the time Rosie had known her, she saw how she changed and grew stronger. It gave her the inkling that one day, the Princess would not be as spineless a ruler as her father.

At first, both Charlie and her girlfriend had been suspicious of Rosie’s continued attempts at friendship, but that was more than understandable. They had surely been hurt deeply by Alastor’s betrayal. But after a few discussions where she carefully mentioned that Alastor still hadn’t resumed their friendship, they began to trust her again. Even Vaggie seemed not to completely hate her. She hated Alastor, but it didn’t seem to extend to Rosie. As it turned out, giving Charlie that advice and helping mend her relationship bore more fruit than initially expected.

 

But, finally, three or four months after he left the hotel, Alastor had stopped by the Emporium, once again resuming the weekly tea that had been their tradition for years. Rosie would have a cup of tea, Alastor a mug of black coffee, and together, they’d laugh and gossip and munch on scrumptious Cannibaltown delicacies. Everything was going just swimmingly.

Until he went missing once again.

 

So, Rosie would visit the hotel, under the guise of bringing gifts for Charlie. Vaggie might have been suspicious about that a year ago, but Rosie had made a habit of stopping by from time to time, giving Charlie and the other residents random little gifts. Really, they had just been a polite, friendly gesture, but now, it seemed that would come in rather useful.

It was time to find out what exactly the fuck had happened to her friend.

Notes:

Vox POV AND Rosie POV

I hope I did them both justice! Vox is a little scatterbrained, but he's able to control himself for the most part. Alastor might piss him off, but he's able to maintain face USUALLY

And Rosie. Oh, Rosie. This woman might seem like a sweetheart, but she's a GODDAMN OVERLORD. She is MANIPULATIVE. She is VIOLENT. But also Alastor is her bestie.

I know that last little bit was a little info-dumpy, and tbh it's not all completely necessary, I just love being able to characterize Rosie as a nice lady who is still DEFINITELY manipulative and serving her own purposes but also she wants to protect Alastor. This is how I've seen her from minute one, and I hope I'm not alone in loving this side to her. Also it's kinda fun to see a 3rd-party perspective of how the last year has gone. Charlie and Alastor are WAY to personally invested to have any sort of reliability on the issue. Rosie is a bit more stable.

Chapter 16: Desperation can make a person do surprising things

Summary:

Rosie tries to find out if anything is going on at the hotel. Alastor is deteriorating.

⊱⋅•────•⋅⊰ ༻𖥸༺ ⊱⋅•────•⋅⊰

 

Rosie’s initial pace was somewhat hasty, but after a few steps, she slowed herself. There was no rush. This was just a normal day in Hell, and she was stopping by to give a little gift to the Princess. That was all.

Yes, it was better to convince herself of that so thoroughly, no one else would even think to question her appearance. So she maintained a steady but leisurely pace. She was an Overlord. She had all the time in Hell.

 

The demoness raised her parasol, rapping the handle of it lightly against the door to the Happy Hotel. She waited a moment longer than usual. Interesting. Usually Charlie was practically falling over herself to open the door, hoping for a new resident looking to check in. Ever since she’d learned to teleport via those golden portals, she was never more than a few second from the front door.

Finally, the door opened, and even more interestingly, it wasn’t the chipper princess who greeted her. Rather, it was a tired, albeit less-drunk-than-usual Husk.

“Oh, Husk, dear! How lovely to see you! Is Charlie out? I was hoping to talk to her!”

Husk snorted, speaking in a low, gruff voice. “Nah, she’s not out, just busy upstairs. I’ll tell her you’re here.” He gestured vaguely to the sofas scattered about the lobby, then slunk off before she could offer to join him. Charlie was busy? That was normal. Too busy to answer the door, though? Rosie set her parasol down in the umbrella stand, before sitting down on one of the sofas, facing out towards the room.

 

A few minutes later, Charlie bounded down the stairs with her typical zeal, taking Rosie’s hand and shaking it energetically. “Rosie! It’s so good to see you!” The girl’s voice was as cheerful and enthusiastic as always, but something felt off. She was as energetic and bouncy as ever, but there was a tense quality to it, as though she were eager to get back to what she had been doing before Rosie’s arrival. 

 

“Likewise, Charlie,” Rosie agreed warmly, pulling the girl into a gentle hug that she oh-so-readily returned. “Husk said you were busy. I’m not distracting you from anything important, am I?”

“Oh, no! Nothing important at all! Well, I mean, it’s important, but not urgent or anything like that. I’ve just been working on some ideas for advertisements. We still haven’t had any new residents since… well, you know.” Her eyes darker for a second, but then she bounced back into her usual enthusiasm. The poor girl had been so easily distracted ever since Alastor betrayed her. But so diligent, so determined not to let it drag her down. It was an admirable quality. No wonder Alastor had been so fond of her. Such determination was rare for someone so powerful. It wasn’t difficult to become complacent, to become used to things being easy.

 

“Yes, I know, dearie,” Rosie patted her hand gently before sitting back down, waiting for Charlie to join her. “I know the past year has been hard on you.”

Charlie sat down, looking up at Rosie with shiny eyes. Oh, on the verge of tears already? But why? Gratitude , grief, a combination of the two? It had been a while since Charlie had been so quick to tears. But, then again, this was just after the one year anniversary, which must have been difficult for her. No need to jump to conclusions. Baseless presumption helped no one.

“Thank you,” Charlie said, voice soft and sincere. “So, um, what brings you by? Do you need help with something? Ooh, or do you have an idea for the hotel?”

“Well,” Rosie started, brandishing the small gift box and earning an excited squeal from the girl. “It’s nothing much, really.” She watched Charlie open the box, pulling out a few small prints, each the size of a small photograph.

“A lovely little artist moved into Cannibaltown a few weeks ago, and I convinced her to sell prints of her paintings in my emporium. These are just a few of the samples we had printed off, to make sure they would look alright. Some of them have some issues with artifacts, but, overall, I think they turned out rather well, don’t you? I thought I might send her your way once she settles in a bit. She’s frightfully timid, but…” Rosie trailed off meaningfully, and it had the desired effect. Charlie’s eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of having a new guest at the hotel.

“Oh, Rosie! That would be so great! I’d love to meet her!” Charlie hugged the prints to her chest, smiling. “These are so great, especially this one of the forest. I bet-” She cut herself off.

“Is something the matter, darling?” Rosie asked gently, probing subtly.

“Oh, no! Everything’s fine! I was just thinking where I could hang these, that’s all!” The girl’s eyes were darting around, as if she weren’t fully focused on their conversation.

“Are you sure? You seem… distracted. I’m not bothering, am I? If something urgent needs your attention, then go attend to it. I can wait.”

“No, it’s okay!” Charlie insisted. “Really, everything’s fine! Like I said, it was just some brainstorming for advertising the hotel, nothing super pressing. I’m sorry if I’m acting distracted!” Her voice was pitching up ever so slightly. Rosie knew she was close to divulging something. Perhaps something completely innocuous, but something.

“Babe, relax.” Vaggie had entered the room quietly, gently laying a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, making her settle down almost immediately.

 

“I know you’re focused on those plans. Go upstairs, it’s okay.” Charlie turned to face Vaggie, away from Rosie, before nodding and scurrying towards the stairs. “Thanks again, Rosie. Sorry, I, um, yeah. Just really excited about those plans!”

 

Vaggie sighed and gave Rosie a knowing look, her eye filled with a sort of protective sadness that, were she a softer woman, would have made her heart ache in sympathy. “It’s been hard, the past few weeks,” the angel said quietly. “One year since it all happened. She’s trying to grin through it all, but, well, you see how that’s going.”

“I see.” Rosie’s tone was carefully neutral, soft and sympathetic. “I imagine that broadcast didn’t help things, either.”

Vaggie furrowed her brow for just half a second before agreeing “Oh, yeah, that. I covered the radio before she heard too much, but… Well, it’s just been hard. Especially with the nightmares.”

 

Charlie had told Rosie about the nightmares before, when the wound was fresh and she teared up over every little thing. But it had been a while since she’d mentioned them. “Oh, the poor dear. They’re back?”

Vaggie nodded in confirmation, holding her hand to her forehead.

Rosie tilted her head slightly, smiling gently in sympathy. You must be exhausted. If you need to talk, I’m all ears. Now, or in the future.”

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Grateful for Vaggie’s intervention, Charlie quickly bounded up the steps, peering briefly behind herself. Satisfied that no one was following her, she opened the portal and slipped into Alastor’s room.

 

The deer demon was laying on his side, facing away from where the door used to be, but his ears perked up slightly as Charlie entered. She took a few, careful steps over to the bed, setting down the prints and sitting down gently on the side, but not forcing things. Maybe if she was gentler, less forceful, he wouldn’t be so cruel. Well, this was Alastor, he did enjoy cruelty for cruelty’s sake, but she had gotten through to him before. It couldn’t have all been an act, could it?

Regardless, after the disaster that was last night, she was determined to do things better this time. "Hey."

No answer, but his ears twitched slightly at the sound of her voice. “I get it, you don’t want to talk. That’s okay. I just wanted to check on your hands.”

 

She could see the way he tensed at the suggestion, and she sighed, a little tiredly. “I know you don’t like it, Al, but I don’t want them getting infected. I just want to change the bandages and get you some clean gloves. That’s it. Same as always.” Still no verbal answer, but she could hear his sharp exhale. After a long, quiet moment, just when she was about to open her mouth to say something else, he rolled onto his back, resting his hands on top of the blanket.

 

“Alastor, please,” Charlie whispered. “I promise, I just want to help you right now.”

 

“I do not want your help.” His response was short. Not overly hateful, but straight to the point.

“I… I know. But you need those bandages changed and I’m gonna doubt you’d rather Vaggie or Husk do it.” Charlie reached out delicately, her fingertips brushing his. He didn’t move, and she knew that was the closest to his permission she would get today.

“I promise, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll just do what needs to be done and then you can go back to ignoring me.” He didn’t resist as she slowly tugged the gloves from his hands, baring his bandaged, scarred hands. As she unwound the bandages, she was relieved to see that the wounds were healing up well.

“Almost better,” she told him with a weak smile. “Probably just a few more days.” Alastor was tense and alert, but cooperative as she wrapped clean bandages around the wounds and slipped a clean pair of black gloves back onto his hands. Once she was done, she laid his hands down on the blanket once more, and withdrew her own hands from his person. “There, see? Just like always. Nothing to be… worried about.” Probably best not to say ‘scared.’

 

“Who’s gloves are these? Your father’s? They’re terrible.” Alastor still wouldn’t meet her eyes, even as he complained. “Polyester. Useless material. Cotton, maybe silk, I’d even take wool, but these are just pitiful.”

At first, Charlie wasn’t exactly sure how to answer him. He was complaining sure, and his voice was full of venom, but it almost sounded like he was asking for help. “I could get you different ones. Like your old gloves, if you want. Would you have some in your old radio stations? Or your house downtown? What about your little cabin? I’d be happy to go get them for you.”

 

The glare Alastor gave her was unexpected. He’d told her his issue, and she was offering the solution. But he looked furious. “Alastor, I’m sorry? If you’d rather I don’t go to your places, I understand, I can just buy you some new gloves?”

A few more moments of awkward a silence, and then Alastor said, almost scoffing at her. “You really don’t know, do you? Why don’t you ask your dear angel about my… hideouts?” Charlie was feeling more and more confused. He sounded disgusted with her, as if he thought she was stupid.

“Fine! I’ll ask Vaggie later! Anyway , I can still go to a store and buy you some gloves. God, I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to do something nice for you!” She took a breath, rubbing her temples. “Sorry. You’re just… infuriatingly stubborn, sometimes.”

 

“As are you,” he answered, watching her almost warily. He remained quiet a while, before speaking quietly. “If you’re going to purchase them, go to Rosie’s. Hers is one of the only stores with decent wares.”

Charlie offered a small smile. “I should have guessed the Emporium. Oh! Speaking of Rosie, she came by a little bit ago!”

 

Emotions flashed through Alastor’s eyes faster than Charlie could identify them. Was that concern? Fear? Worry? She couldn’t be sure, because he reigned himself in and simply responded. “Oh? I didn’t realize you were still on speaking terms. I assumed that her association with me would have been enough to make you sever any connection to her.”

 

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, that was what Vaggie wanted, at first. Me too, honestly. And I was going to cut ties, but then Rosie explained how you hadn’t come to see her once. We’re… friends, now, I guess. Anyway, she brought me these!” Charlie snatched the prints from the bedside table where she’d left them, and held them out to him.

“She said they had a new arrival in Cannibaltown, an artist, and she’s going to start selling prints of her art in the store. I… thought you might like this one.” She pointed at the painting at the top of the stack. A forest, eerie and dark, but tinged in blue and seemingly desolate, but peaceful. “It reminded me of your bayou.”

Alastor looked it over skeptically, raising an eyebrow slightly. “And…? You think that a painting will make me forgive all your wrongs? That I want your second-hand gifts?”

First hurt, then anger, welled in Charlie’s chest, threatening to consume her as she stood and took a few stumbling steps away from him. She was fighting the urge to yell at him. Why was he such an asshole, always saying the cruelest thing he could just to make her upset to make everyone upset? But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The yelling, the anger? In light of the argument they’d had the night before, the realization dawned on her. He felt hurt, and he was lashing out. That’s what he always did, now that she thought about it. No matter how hard she tried to get him to open up, he instead just decided to hurt others in retribution. He wanted her to get angry and storm off. Maybe it was easier for him than actually processing his feelings and maintaining relationships. But she wouldn’t do that this time.

 

“I think that I want to do whatever I can to make this better for you. You’re mad, and… you have every right to be.” She knew this wasn’t exactly optimal. “But I don’t have any choices about this. You made sure of that. You know I can’t kill you, you know I can’t let you go and kill and torture more of my people. This is the option you left me. So if I can extend a few small kindnesses here and there, by putting up decorations you’ll like or by tending your wounds, then I will! Because I love you. You’re my best friend, Alastor, and I don’t care how much you hate me. I don’t hate you! I can’t!” She wasn’t quite yelling, but she was definitely loud at this point, tears of passion welling in her eyes.

 

Alastor didn’t respond at first. Just sat there, watching her, completely unmoving. Charlie looked back at him, waiting, feeling a bit guilty when she saw his ears had pinned back the slightest bit from their usual position. “Alastor, I’m sorry if I startled you, I just…” She trailed off, unsure how to put her feelings into words. She was a bit angry with him, yes, but not really because of anything he’d said since they brought him back. Even if it was unnecessarily cruel of him, she could sort of understand it now. But she was still definitely mad at him for what he had done, his betrayal. It didn’t matter if that had always been his intention, he’d hurt her. But she also cared about him. He really was her best friend, aside from maybe Vaggie. But that was a different kind of bond from what she had with Alastor.

She was jerked from her thoughts by Alastor’s quiet voice, barely louder than a whisper. “If what you said is true, then return my shadow to me.”

 

Charlie frowned, a bit confused. His shadow? What did that have to do with anything? She knew he wanted his magic back, but she thought it was pretty clear why that couldn’t happen. So why would he ask? There was no way they could trust him with his primary shadow, especially not after his escape attempt before. Even with that tiny little nothing of a shadow, he’d managed to get away. And hurt and killed several more of her people. “Al, you know I can’t do that.”

Alastor’s grin sharpened into a grimace, and she heard the hiss of air past his teeth. “No, just listen. What if I swore I wouldn’t use it? No magic, no trickery, no teleportation. I just want it back. It’s… part of me.”

 

That was news to Charlie. She’d always assumed it was just another facet of his power, like the shadow tentacles or conjured fire. If the shadow was a part of him… she would feel a bit bad about taking it from him. She was about to open her mouth, to say that she could talk to her dad and maybe figure something out when she remembered. This was Alastor. He could well be lying. He probably was, actually. He phrased it as a bargain, but his tone made it sound like he was begging. Alastor would never beg, not for anything. He was trying to play on her emotions. Trying to manipulate her again.

Vaggie’s words from that very first day came back to her. ‘ Charlie, listen to me. You can't believe this creep! He isn't just a happy face! He's a dealmaker ! Pure evil! He can't be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we're trying to do!’ She hadn’t listened to her girlfriend, not that time, and not so many others. And she’d paid the price for it. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

 

“I… I’m sorry, Alastor. But you’ve proven we can’t trust you. But I promise, I’ll find a way to make this better for you. More comfortable.” She pulled a chair over close to the bed, sitting down in it and gently reaching a hand towards him, not quite touching.”

Alastor’s hand darted out and grabbed hers, squeezing hard. If he wasn’t so weakened without his powers, the tightness of his grip would have hurt. “What if I bound myself? A Deal, a contract. I could write it up. You could have complete assurance that I wouldn’t attempt anything, and if I did, I would lose my shadow again.”

 

For a moment, Charlie was tempted. He seemed so miserable, so desperate. Maybe he really did just want his shadow back. Maybe he was telling the truth? But she had given him the benefit of the doubt before, and every single time, that had been the wrong decision. “I’m sorry, Al. But I know you. You’ve probably already thought of a loophole. That’s got to be why you’re even suggesting this.”

 

“And there it is!” Alastor let go of her with a humorless laugh, instead grabbing his hair in his hands. “You won’t even let me have the barest of comforts, because you’re too afraid of me. Or maybe you enjoy tormenting me?”

“No!” Charlie obviously protested. “No, of course not! I just… Maybe I could talk to my dad, see if there’s a way to prevent loopholes.” Of course she would never hurt him intentionally. She was doing what she had to, nothing more!

“Ah, yes, because he’s such a reliable and knowledgeable guide in these things. Lucifer isn’t an Overlord, my dear. He wouldn’t know the first thing about Deals.” Alastor shifted slightly, turning away from her. “Forget I said anything.”

 

Charlie stayed with him for nearly an hour, but he refused to speak or even look at her. No matter how she tried to engage him in conversation, he remained silent. Eventually, she stood, crossing the room back towards where the portal always opened. “I’ll talk to Dad. I promise,” she swore, before leaving him alone once again.

Notes:

A little longer than usual, but that conversation between Charlie and Alastor got away from me. She was THIS close to giving him back his shadow, but she remembered how Alastor had betrayed her before. She's really struggling to trust anything he says. All the manipulation and lies from before are really coming back to bite him.

I can't believe I've been working on this for over a year (I wrote quite a bit of the first five or so chapters before I started publishing them). I keep beating myself up about being such a slow writer, but if you've been along for the journey, you know that my life is chaos. Family deaths and health scares, job changes, hurricanes, and two moves have all happened in the time I've been working on this story. Sorry that the updates are slow, but thanks for sticking with me anyway! I think we're over halfway through the story at this point, and I'm working on coming up with ideas for new fics! I'm really hard on myself, so I've actually written and deleted several outlines for stories that I just couldn't get to work in the past year. I have one idea I'm working on that might actually come to fruition, though!

Chapter 17: Choosing to stay in love is the hard part

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

When Charlie returned downstairs, Rosie was nowhere in sight. Looking around, Charlie smiled slightly to herself at the changes. Originally, when Alastor was the facility manager, Husk had always been relegated to his position behind the bar, endlessly polishing glasses and bottles. But with Alastor gone, he wasn’t able to order the bartender to stay there. Charlie actually hadn’t even realized that was what Alastor was doing, and she felt really bad that she hadn’t talked to the hotelier about it earlier.

Now, Husk would also man the front desk, or just take a nap if he felt like it. That’s what he was doing right now, napping on an armchair, the warmth glow of the fireplace on his fur. It wasn’t like there was much work that needed done around here with less than a dozen people living in the hotel. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, Angel Dust, Frank, Razzle, and KeeKee. And, now, Alastor. Nine people. She had tried so hard for so long, and in the end, nothing had really come of her efforts. Well, no. At least one soul had been redeemed. Sir Pentious was in Heaven now, and saving even just one soul made this all worth it.

She just wished she could save more. Unfortunately, people were wary of the program since Alastor’s threats against the hotel on his show. Maybe she could convince him to eventually publish a retraction? If he went on his show and told everyone that he wasn’t going to attack the hotel, then surely the sinners of Hell wouldn’t be so scared…

Vaggie was sitting on a couch in the opposite corner of the lobby from Husk, flipping through the pages of a book with a focused look on her face. Charlie smiled and walked over in front of her, resting her chin on top of the book and drawing out a slight smile from her girlfriend. “Hey,” Vaggie said, one corner of her mouth turning upwards as she met Charlie’s eyes. Charlie felt giddy anytime she was able to coax a smile from Vaggie. Especially that tiny lopsided one she gave when she was trying to stay serious.

“Hey!” the princess answered, sitting down beside the angel and resting her head on top of hers. “I take it you got rid of Rosie then?”

 

Vaggie let out a soft huff of air, not quite chuckling, but close. “Yeah. You know, it’s a good thing I got down here when I did. You’re terrible at lying, babe. Not that I’m much better.”

Charlie smiled, thinking of Vaggie’s hesitance to go with her to Heaven before the extermination a few years ago. “Yeah, well, if it helps, I never suspected anything.”

 

Vaggie did give a slight laugh at that. “I don’t know that that’s a very high bar, babe.” She closed the book and set it aside, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulder. “Anyway, I don’t think Rosie suspects anything now. Um, I did want to talk to you about what I told her, though. She was really insistent, and I managed to deflect, but I had to talk about your nightmares to do it. I’m sorry, I really should have asked if that was okay first, but-”

“Hey, Vaggie, it’s fine. Really! I mean, Rosie knew about them in general anyway, and that was probably the best way to distract her. It’s okay, I trust you.” Charlie sat upright, meeting Vaggie’s gaze with complete sincerity. “I trust you and I love you. More than anything.”

“More than anything,” Vaggie agreed, pressing her forehead to Charlie’s. She withdrew after a moment, brushing a strand of golden hair from her porcelain skin.

“Now, I told you about my conversation with Rosie. How did yours with Alastor go?”

 

“It was good! Well, as good as it can be! Better than some of them have gone, at least!” Charlie stood up, pacing in a combination of excitement and agitation. “It only took like five minutes to get him to answer me, and then he actually let me check his hands. He didn’t even argue that much!” Husk stirred in his armchair, and Vaggie stood, holding Charlie’s shoulders.

“Hun, just relax. Why don’t we go upstairs and talk about this? Wouldn’t want to wake Husk, you know?”

Charlie focused back on the present, nodding. “Oh, yeah, good idea.” She continues rambling as she and Vaggie climbed the stairs together. “Sorry, it’s just… any little bit of progress is huge with Alastor, you know? He’s so stubborn and difficult, so if he lets me do anything to help him, it means a lot.”

As they reached the top of the second flight of stairs, Charlie smacked her forehead. “Sorry! I should have just made a portal. I’ve gotten a lot better at it, Y’know, since that’s how I visit Alastor.” The princess focused her magic, and a golden, shimmering portal formed, revealing their shared bedroom just beyond it.

 

Sitting on the bed, Vaggie listened patiently as Charlie recounted every minute detail of her conversation with Alastor, breezing past his comment about asking Vaggie in lieu of continuing the story. Finally, Charlie stopped jumping back and forth, and collapsed onto the bed, where the angel gently stroked her hair.

“What do you think? It seems like he’s calming down, understanding why I had to do this and maybe things will end up okay?” Charlie was optimistic, but not that optimistic. But she couldn’t bring herself to voice her concerns.

“Well,” Vaggie said carefully. “He might not be fighting, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about this.”

“Well obviously he’s not happy , but he doesn’t seem so miserable anymore. And he was much nicer. That’s progress, right?”

Vaggie sighed, frowning slightly. “I don’t know. It sounds a bit more like he’s depressed and tired, not like he’s warming back up. But I wasn’t there, so maybe?”

Charlie’s heart sank at the thought, but then she brightened back up. “Well, even if he’s sad, if he’s not actively causing issues, then we could maybe start giving him the things he wants again, make this all more comfortable for him. And then, eventually, maybe things will turn out alright!”

 

“Maybe,” Vaggie said noncommittally, undoing Charlie’s hair with deft fingers. “But this is Alastor we’re talking about. You can’t give him too much leeway, or he’s just going to try to escape again, and you know he’ll torture more of your people if he gets the chance.” She said it gently, but it still stung. She was right, after all. Alastor wouldn’t change, at least, not that easily. They’d thought after years at the hotel, that he had started to become a better person, but that had all been a lie.

The princess sighed, relaxing as her girlfriend ran her fingers through her hair. “I know, I know. I just can’t help thinking how nice it would be, for him to be my friend again.”

The angel smiled gently, coaxing Charlie to lay her head in her lap as she massaged her scalp. “I know. And I love that about you. That you’re so forgiving and kind, so…” she struggled to find the right words. “Even though you grew up in Hell, only seeing the absolute worst people humanity had to offer, you’re still able to see the best in everyone. No matter who it is, no matter how evil and cruel and hateful someone is, you see a rainbow inside them. It’s amazing. Optimistic… that doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

 

“Vaggie!” Charlie laughed, her cheeks warming at the compliments until those pink spots must have been redder than blood.

“It’s true, though. Really.” Vaggie smiled down at her.

“Well, you’re amazing too, you know.” Charlie returned. “You’re always so brave and strong and good in a fight. You keep me grounded. You’re the one who made this hotel possible. I had the idea, but you’re the one who helped me work out the details and get everything set up. I wouldn’t have been able to make it all work without you.”

Vaggie shook her head, that slight smile on her lips. “Oh, you would have figured it out, hun.”

Charlie sat up, grabbing Vaggie’s arms a little too tightly. “No, really! Even if I had gotten it running, you’re the one who always knows what to do. You knew that singing wouldn’t convince anyone, you knew we couldn’t trust Alastor, and you knew that Heaven wouldn’t listen.” Charlie wiped her eyes, not quite crying, but her eyes were burning and she was starting to feel a little agitated. “If I had just listened to you this whole time, things would have gone a lot better.”

“Hey, hey, Charlie, none of that. You can’t keep beating yourself up over this stuff. You made mistakes, sure, but you’ve grown and changed since then. The same way I made a mistake lying about who I was, but you helped me grow and change and be a better person. If you wouldn’t hold something like that against me, you shouldn’t hold your own mistakes against yourself. You should be just as kind to yourself as you are to everyone else.” Vaggie cupped Charlie’s face in her hands, and the princess took a deep breath, calming a bit.

“You’re right. I know, I know, you’re right. It’s just hard, sometimes.” The blonde smiled weakly, and Vaggie gave her a warm smile in return.

“I know. And this situation is hard, too. But we’re doing our best, and that’s all we can do, right?”

“I guess,” Charlie answered, a little glumly. “It’s just sometimes, I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. With the hotel, with Alastor. I can’t understand what he could possibly be thinking. Like, what made him so angry about offering to get him gloves he’d like better? Why did he say for me to ask you ?”

 

Vaggie’s face darkened, and Charlie could immediately see how uncomfortable she was. “Look, Charlie, I… I messed up. I did something stupid and impulsive, and I already regret it, but last night I was pissed and I decided to rub it in Alastor’s face.”

Charlie’s stomach dropped, her hands feeling cold and shaky as she tried to stay calm. “Vaggie, what did you do?” This didn’t sound good. It actually sounded really, really bad.

“Please, just listen to me, okay, babe? I promise, I feel bad enough about it, and I know it was the wrong thing.” Vaggie sighed, leaning forward to rest her forehead in her hands.

 

“Vaggie, it’ll be okay. Please, just tell me.” Her voice trembled, and she didn’t know how worried she ought to be.

“When he escaped and did that broadcast, after your dad brought him back… I went over to visit him, and we- Well, we had a bit of an argument. It was just supposed to be a conversation, but it actually ended up more like a yelling match. I got so mad, and I started thinking about what would happen next time he tried to escape. Because I knew he would do another broadcast like that. I knew he would try to hurt you again…” she trailed off, and Charlie knew she was struggling to word it. But she had to know.

 

“Vaggie,” Charlie could barely get the words out. “ What did you do ?”

“I went, and I found all of his little hideouts, and I burned them all down. All of them. All of the radio stations, that mansion near Cannibaltown, even that stupid cabin out in the middle of nowhere.” Vaggie’s face was red, burning with shame, her eye squeezed shut. “Look, Charlie, I know, I know I messed up. Horribly. I… I shouldn’t have done it, I know, but I was just so angry .”

 

Charlie slowly pulled back, away from Vaggie’s arms. “You really did that?” Her throat felt so tight she could barely breathe. “Why would you do that? Vaggie, I… I want him to trust us again. To trust me. He’s not a threat. Not anymore. He can’t do anything. That’s just so… so needlessly cruel.”

 

Vaggie shook her head. “No, no, he’s always a threat. I shouldn’t have destroyed all his hideouts, but I did it for a reason. I was afraid he would hurt you again. That he would escape and do another broadcast just to upset you, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch you suffer like that again.” Vaggie reached out, and as much as it killed her, Charlie pulled away. She didn’t want to be comforted by her girlfriend right now. She needed to think, to process this.

“Vaggie, stop. I… I can’t, not right now. I need some space.” Tears welled in Charlie’s eyes as she stumbled towards the door. “I’ll stay in one of the vacant rooms tonight. Maybe we can talk tomorrow. But right now, I just... can't”

It broke her heart to see the anguish in the angel’s eye, but she just couldn’t be near her right now.

Notes:

Look, it was a very sweet Chaggie scene, but ANGST

I'm setting myself the very ambitious goal to finish this story before the end of S2 of the show, we'll see how that goes, lol. I need a lot of motivation, because this is going to be a very busy few months for me at work, too.

Chapter 18: Don't do what you can’t undo

୨୧⁀ᘛ𓆩Ⓧ𓆪ᘚ⁀୨୧

 

Vaggie was mentally kicking herself. Why did she have to be so stupid and impulsive sometimes? She knew even in the moment that she shouldn’t destroy all of Alastor’s places like that, but she had just been so furious with him, she hadn’t really stopped to think about the consequences. She hadn’t cared that it was the wrong thing, because the anger was overwhelming, boiling in her gut. All she’d cared about was hurting Alastor like he’d hurt Charlie, and preventing him from hurting her again. And in the process, she’d managed to hurt Charlie herself. In trying to protect her, she’d effectively done worse than the thing she wanted to prevent.

As much as she hated Alastor, what she’d done really was needlessly cruel. Charlie was right, he was more or less harmless now. In taking away his powers, they’d essentially declawed him. Imprisoning him took away his last chance at doing any real harm. All he had was words, and those weren’t so bad. As long as they had each other, they could stand his cruel barbs and remind each other of the truth, that Alastor was just saying whatever he could in an attempt to hurt them.

Vaggie had always known she could be too quick to anger sometimes. Really, she was almost always too short-tempered, and she knew she needed to work on that. But she had never anticipated that she could upset Charlie like this. She buried her face in her hands for a long while, fighting back the urge to cry. Her wings were still spread across the now-empty bed, and she couldn’t muster the energy to tuck them away. Then, steeling herself, the angel stood, crossing the room and rifling through a drawer full of various gifts from her girlfriend. The keychain from Cannibaltown. A lot of drawings. Several pens. But what she pulled from the drawer was a book.

 

A few months ago, Vaggie had briefly mentioned in conversation that she needed to work on her anger issues, a half-joking, off-hand comment that she figured Charlie probably forgot about entirely. But the ever-thoughtful princess of Hell didn’t. A few days after that conversation, Vaggie found a gift-wrapped box on their bed, with a note from Charlie, promising that she didn’t mean to offend, just wanted to give her a tool to do with as she wanted. And inside was this book. “Healing Anger and Coping with Rage”.

Vaggie had thanked her, but set the book aside, thinking she was too busy with everything else in her life to read. Now, she opened the book up for the first time, turned to the first page, and sat down to read.

 

…

 

After reading the relatively short book, Vaggie was skeptical of whether it would actually help, or if it was just a mess of pretty sounding words that didn’t really convey all that much. It did seem to take the writer ages to get to the point, telling a bunch of flowery stories over and over before giving vague, unhelpful suggestions that really seemed like common sense. Advice like trying to focus on the positive things around you, and understanding the real source of your anger.

Well, Vaggie already knew the source of her anger. Alastor. And it was hard to focus on the positive, like Charlie, when Alastor was threatening those things.

But it was at least worth a try. Besides, she supposed she did owe Alastor an apology. Or, at least, Charlie would want her to apologize to Alastor. Vaggie didn’t really care that she had hurt him, but she did care that she had upset Charlie. Either way, trying to talk to him could be good practice at controlling her temper. In the morning. Right now, she needed some sleep.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

At first, Charlie didn’t know where to go. She just knew she needed some space to process things. She was initially just going to grab a key for a different room in the hotel, but she was beginning to feel claustrophobic, suffocated by the hotel surrounding her. So she found herself walking out into Pentagram City, wandering the streets. Eventually, she found herself somewhere she hadn’t actually set foot in years. Over a decade, actually. Her childhood home. Lucifer’s palace.

 

Any time Charlie had suggested she come by to visit, he always showed up at the hotel. Never the other way around. She raised a hand and knocked on the grand doors, practically whispering, “Dad?”

It only took a few moments for the Devil to show up at the door, wearing a pair of red pajamas patterned with yellow rubber ducks. “Heyyy, Char-Char,” he said, slipping outside and closing the door behind him quickly.

“Hey, Dad.”

Lucifer frowned at the exhaustion written on her face and in her voice. “Charlie, what’s the matter?”

Charlie shook her head, trying and failing to force a weak smile when he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s complicated, Dad, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I just… needed some space. From the hotel and everything. Could I stay here tonight?”

Lucifer looked a bit awkward, shifting his weight back and forth before nodding his head jerkily. “Oh! Sure thing, sweetie! Do you, uh, need anything else?” He asked, opening the door and ushering her in anxiously.

 

The castle was more or less the same as it had always been, needlessly grandiose but clean. It would have been dusty if not for the dozen imps Lucifer employed to keep the place clean.

“No, thanks, Dad. I just want to go to bed. Thanks, though.” She gave him a weak, tired smile that he returned sympathetically. At least she knew he wouldn’t question her uninvited. He returned her smile, though, wrapping her in a tight hug before opening the door to her old room.

“I love you, Char-Char. If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

Charlie squeezed him back, smiling gently. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

Her room was exactly as she had left it when she moved out. Back when she wore a lot of black lace and heavy eyeliner. She smiled slightly at the deep, dark reds of the bedding and the bed canopy. Several shades darker than the standard red they used in the castle, but her Dad had been so eager to make it exactly how she wanted, even when she was acting moody and distant. She just wished he had been more a little more forceful about being a part of her life when she was going through that phase.

Charlie got ready for bed quickly, curling up in the middle of a bed that felt far too large to occupy alone.

 

୨୧⁀ᘛ𓆩Ⓧ𓆪ᘚ⁀୨୧

 

Vaggie awoke feeling less rested than she had the night before. She wasn’t used to sleeping alone, hadn’t done so in years. Before she and Charlie even started dating, Charlie would stay close by as she slept. Was always there to comfort her during the nightmares. Nightmares she still to this day hadn’t described to the bubbly blonde. And then, not too terribly long after they started dating, they properly shared a bed.

So Vaggie wasn’t at all used to sleeping alone, and ended up with her arms locked around Charlie’s pillow, inhaling her lingering scent and ignoring the tears staining the pillowcase.

 

She’d messed up. Really, truly messed up. She’d known that when she burned down Alastor’s stations and homes, and even more so when she told him about it. But he just pressed every single button she had. He infuriated her more than she had even known was possible prior to meeting the Radio Demon. Hell, he was almost as irritating as Adam. At least the first man had been comparatively easy to ignore. Well, Alastor had been, too, before he ruined everything. After all he’d done, it was a lot harder to brush him off.

 

Sighing, Vaggie dragged herself out of bed and started the task of putting herself together enough to leave their bedroom. She ran a brush through her hair, hardly even noticing as she yanked it through a few slight tangles. The ex-exorcist was too distracted by the guilt that was starting to feel like a series of waves, lapping at her toes and slowly rising higher and higher, until it was pulling her under and drowning her in its waters. And the worst part was, she wasn’t even sure what she felt guilty for. Was it actually for wrecking Alastor’s places? Was it for hurting him? Or was it only for hurting Charlie?

Did it even matter?

She changed out of her pajamas and made her way down to the kitchen, where she made herself a bowl of cold cereal. Vaggie barely even tasted it, eating it hunched over as she dreaded the inevitable conversation with Alastor.

 

When she entered Alastor’s room, he was lying on his back, his eyes closed, but it was obvious that he wasn’t actually asleep. She knew that he knew that she was there. Even without his powers, Alastor’s hearing was excellent. Under normal circumstances, he seemed able to control the fluffy appendages atop his head, but recently, they seemed to twitch towards any sound in the area. But he remained silent and otherwise motionless, as if hoping she would just leave.

“Hey,” Vaggie said softly, and she could have sworn he sighed before opening his eyes and turning to face her, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Ah, and here I expected Charlie with my breakfast. She’s late.” It was Vaggie’s turn to be curious, now. Charlie had been remarkably attentive to Alastor’s needs. She felt a pang when she realized that the abnormal behavior was her fault. Charlie must be even more distraught than she had seemed last night.

“Yeah, she’s busy,” Vaggie said vaguely. “I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit.” She was not about to tell him about her and Charlie’s fight last night. Was it a fight? Whatever it was, it was at the very least a speed bump in their relationship, and it was none of Alastor’s business. “Look, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh? How lovely. Do tell, what does Charlie think a conversation between you and I could possibly yield? Alastor had propped himself up on the pillows to sit up, trying to sound casual, but Vaggie didn’t miss the way his hands were clenched into fists, holding tightly to the edge of the blanket draped over his legs.

 

“Charlie didn’t send me. You know, she really isn’t out to get you. Seriously, do you have some delusion about her being some puppeteer mastermind? That sounds more like something you would do than she would.”

Alastor hummed noncommittally, watching Vaggie as she approached him. “Oh, I suppose. Then again, it certainly seems like she’s learned a few torture techniques since my departure. And I don’t think she picked that up from her worthless father.” He gestured broadly, indicating himself and his room.

Vaggie gritted her teeth, scowling at him, which only seemed to brighten his mood. “Oh, shut the fuck up! This isn’t torture! This isn’t anything like what you do, you-” she cut herself off, realizing that, once again, he was just trying to push her buttons. “Look, I just thought we should talk about what I did. That’s all.”

“What you did? My, now, that’s quite an extensive list, isn’t it. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, my dear!” Alastor laughed, but it was humorless, slightly forced and hollow.

Vaggie sighed, throwing up her hands in a sarcastic shrug. “You know, wrecking all your places?”

What she got in response was another, louder, faker laugh from Alastor. “Oh, yes! Destroying every abode I’ve established for myself over my ninety-odd years in Hell with reckless abandon! Yes, I suppose that does ring a bell. Are you here to gloat some more?”

“No. And I wasn’t trying to gloat the other day, either. I’m not some sadistic creep like you.” Vaggie had to bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something harsher.

 

“Oh? What would you call what you did, then? I wouldn’t call it a sympathetic retelling. As I recall. It was vaguely threatening.”

Vaggie scowled at him. “I was angry. I wanted to make you feel bad for hurting Charlie. And when I did it, that was out of anger, too. I did something stupid and impulsive, that’s all.”

“And I’m sure your hatred of me had nothing to do with it.”

 

Vaggie clenched her fists before trying to take a deep breath, eventually shrugging as if he wasn’t so annoying that she wanted to materialize her spear and stab him. “It did, I guess, but that doesn’t mean I did it just to spite you. I did it to protect Charlie. I just don’t happen to care too much that it upset you.”

“And there it is, the delusion. Let’s be clear, darling. You can try to lie to yourself, but you absolutely did do it to spite me, at least a little. I know retribution when I see it.”

Vaggie glared at him, throwing her hands up. “Whatever! The point is, Charlie would want me to apologize, so that’s what I’m doing!”

“It’s not exactly a very heartfelt apology, is it, then?”

“I guess not. Because I still hate you!”

“I expected nothing less.”

Vaggie was irritated now. Alastor wasn’t even being that awful, but this whole thing was just rubbing her the wrong way. “Glad we’re on the same page, then!” With that, she stormed out, wishing there was still a door to slam.

Notes:

So, I actually had this mostly finished a few days ago, but I got a little sidetracked by something important.

YouTube (and Google as a whole) recently implemented an incredibly flawed AI-powered age-estimation policy. If the AI thinks you watch childish content (or, apparently, search for childish things), it can lock your account down into teen mode until you provide either a credit card or government ID to prove your age. I, and many, MANY others believe that this is a huge infringement of privacy. If you want to learn more, I've been posting about it a lot on Tumblr .

If you want, there's a petition you can sign here .

Next chapter is already well in the works!

Chapter 19: To Love Another...

୨୧⁀ᘛ𓆩Ⓧ𓆪ᘚ⁀୨୧

 

As Vaggie marched down the hallway, intent on returning to her and Charlie’s room, she remembered that Alastor still hadn’t had breakfast. For a single, terrible moment, she considered letting him go hungry until lunch. But she didn’t really take the idea seriously. It was more an idle “what-if,” not something she could really bring herself to do. So she turned her course down the stairs, towards the kitchen, brushing past Husk on the way.

“What’s got you so hot under the collar?” He asked with a grunt, and Vaggie sighed tiredly.

“Alastor. That stubborn pendejo, I just want to…. gah!” Vaggie threw her hands up in frustration.

Husk seemed unphased, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled a bit cynically before taking a swallow from the bottle in his hand. Vaggie frowned at that a bit. He wasn’t drinking as much as he used to, but he still drank way too much, in her opinion. “Yeah, well, the best way to avoid getting pissed off is to avoid him,” Husk suggested, his voice a low rumble.

“I mean, agreed, but it’s not exactly like I have a lot of options.” Vaggie huffed. “Charlie’s… busy, so now it looks like I have to take care of the red bastard’s food today. And whatever else she does for him.” She groaned at the thought. “Ugh, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

 

Husk smirked, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll help,” he offered. “He wouldn’t eat anything you could cook, anyway.”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised. “Really? I would think you’d hate him even more than I do.” He certainly had reason to. Decades of being under the Radio Demon’s thumb, as opposed to a couple years of mild annoyance and one big betrayal.

Husk shrugged, starting down the stairs. Vaggie had no choice but to follow. His steps were heavy but even. He really wasn’t that drunk, then. “Yeah, well, I guess I do. But getting pissed doesn’t really accomplish much. Never did. It just wears you out for no real reason. I mostly just tried to avoid him where I could. He dragged me around, into plenty of shit, but I distracted myself with booze and gambling in between. Not the best habits, but, hey, it was something.” Husk shrugged as if it didn’t really matter.

Once in the kitchen, he set the bottle down on the counter, beginning to rummage through the pantry. He haphazardly tossed some veggies onto the counter. Onions, green bell peppers, celery, tomatoes, garlic. Vaggie had to catch several of them before they rolled off the edge of the counter and smashed onto the ground.

“I’m guessing we should go ahead and wash these off, first?” Vaggie asked, holding up a bell pepper. Husk grunted in affirmation and started peeling garlic and onions as she rinsed the other vegetables in the sink.

Husk tossed a cutting board in front of her before grabbing one for himself, selecting a large knife and quickly mincing the garlic. He was about halfway through slicing the onion when he looked over at her.

“Are you gonna cut those? Tell me you at least know how to slice vegetables.”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Vaggie chose a knife at random and began sawing into a bell pepper.

 

Husk watched, seemingly horrified, before grabbing her wrist and stopping her. “No!” He cried, prying the knife from her hands. “That’s terrible,” he scoffed. “I thought an exorcist would be better with a blade.”

Vaggie bristled momentarily at the insult, until she realized. He was joking. Teasing. Then she smiled, a little. “Yeah, well, I always used a spear. The closest thing to a knife any of us used was a sword. Knives were… inefficient.”

Husk smiled back ever so slightly, the corner of his lip turning upwards. “Guess it makes sense. But here, let me show you how to do it properly. Alastor would rather starve than eat improperly prepared food.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Vaggie remarked. “I mean, I didn’t know you could cook beyond the normal stuff everyone can make.”

Husk really smiled at that, a slight blush showing on his face. “Well, Ant- Angel’s been showing me. Thought I needed a new hobby besides drinking and gambling.”

That drew a genuine smile from Vaggie, too. Angel and Husk hadn’t been able to be together until Alastor fucked off, and over the course of the past year, they had all but officially started dating.

“Anyway, here, watch.” Husk took a completely different type of knife from the one Vaggie had grabbed, the sharp blade easily slicing through the pepper. “You don’t use a serrated knife on a bell pepper, you use a chef’s knife.

Vaggie picked up another blade similar to the one in Husk’s hands, and tried to copy his technique. The result was little better than a pile of pepper pulp. Really, this was impossible! Every time she almost had it, she realized that the knife was going crooked and she was getting uneven slices. Then she’d move it over and shave off the tiniest little corner. Groaning in frustration, she shoved the cutting board away. “I can’t do it! What are you making, anyway?”

“Just some shrimp and some eggs. Nothing fancy,” Husk answered. “If you can’t cut the peppers, that’s fine. The celery will be easier.” He pulled the cutting board back towards them, transferring the remaining bell pepper to his own cutting board. He chopped a few pieces of celery, then handed the knife over to her. “Like that. Doesn’t need to be perfect.”

“If we’re making shrimp, why do we have peppers and onion and celery?” Vaggie asked skeptically, starting to chop up the celery. Her pieces were still uneven, but it was easier than the pepper had been.

“We’re cooking the veggies with the shrimp. Bell peppers, onion, and celery are the holy trinity of Creole cuisine. Normally you’d dice the veggies, but slicing them like this is how you make it look nicer with the same ingredients,” Husk explained. His hands moved quickly as he finished slicing the onion and green bell pepper. When Vaggie finished with the celery, he dumped all of the cut veggies into a pan and put it over the burner, tossing in a thick pad of butter.

“Not bad,” he commented, looking over the celery pieces, which weren’t nearly as uneven as her attempts at cutting the bell pepper, before stirring the contents of the pan. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Just takes some practice.” He nodded he head to the tomatoes still laying on the counter. “Go ahead and crush those.”

Vaggie shook her head. “Oh, no, I really don’t care about learning to cook. I’ve got enough going on, taking care of Charlie and dealing with Alastor and all of that.” But she did roughly chop the tomatoes and smash them with a fork in a bowl.

 

Husk nodded, continuing to stir the veggies in the pan, the kitchen quiet save for the sizzling of the pan. Eventually, he said, almost thoughtfully, “Your whole world doesn’t need to revolve around Charlie, you know.”

Vaggie startled at that, narrowing her eyes at Husk. “Meaning?” Her voice was a little lower than she intended, and she shook her head. Husk wasn’t her enemy, she didn’t need to growl at him. “Sorry, but Charlie’s the best thing in my life. Really she’s the only good thing in my life.”

Husk nodded, but he frowned a little at that. “Yeah, I gathered. And that’s cute, sweet, whatever. But you gotta be able to live for yourself, too. If you two broke up. God forbid, if she died, what would you do?”

Her first, immediate instinct was anger. How dare he?! Just because they were fighting didn’t mean that they were going to break up! And Charlie was the Princess of Hell! She was practically immortal. Her fists were clenched, her teeth gritted so hard it hurt as she tried to fight the urge to snap at Husk.

And then she thought. What if? Even if it wasn’t likely that things would fall apart, if they did, what would she do? If she and Charlie couldn’t move on from this, where would she go?

Husk's hand on her shoulder jerked her back into reality, out of that momentary spiral of what-ifs. "Kid, relax. I'm just saying, you should pick up a hobby, figure out who you are outside of her. Nothing drastic. But you can't rely on anyone else to make you feel complete."

Vaggie was still glaring at him, searching for words. It was like her stomach had turned to ice, dread practically stealing her breath. That's how she was, wasn't she? Charlie was the center of her world, the one person who made her feel whole. Husk patted her back roughly, continuing on, "I'm sure you two'll be fine." Despite his bluntness, despite the underlying grumpiness, there was a sort of comforting warmth to his low, gravelly voice.

The ex-exorcist nodded her head, still unsure. "Yeah, it'll be fine. But, um, maybe you're right. A hobby might be good. Probably not cooking, though."

Husk nodded, before turning back to the food on the stove. "If you aren't interested in it, then you're not interested. But give it a chance, you never know."

 

Vaggie went back to smashing the tomatoes, while Husk added herbs and spices to the veggies in the pan. After a few minutes, he reached out for the tomatoes, and she handed them over. He poured them into the pan, along with chicken broth and a healthy helping of hot sauce. “You’re good at this. Angel must be a good teacher.”

A faint blush crossed his furry cheeks for a moment, and he kept his gaze firmly locked on the pan. "Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of practice."

Vaggie smiled at that. Everyone in the hotel knew how the two felt about each other, even if they hadn't made things official. At first, Husk clearly couldn't stand Angel, which was fair. But something changed a few months in, after Charlie had gone into the studio to try and help with Angel's boss. No one knew what had happened, but after that night, they had grown friendly, even flirty with each other. "You could make things official now, you know?" Vaggie suggested quietly. "It's not like you have to worry about Alastor ruining things, now."

Husk shook his head, sighing. "Nah. It's not that simple. Even if Val weren't a threat. Because someday, he’s gonna get out from under Valentino’s thumb, and then it’ll only be a matter of time until he’s redeemed. But me? I’m staying here. Without his power, Al can’t free me.” Husk shrugged like it didn't matter, and tossed the shrimp into the stew he had created in the pan.

 

This was something real to focus on, something she could fix. The gears in her mind started spinning. “Oh, no, Husk. Trust me, Charlie and I can find some way to deal with that. Maybe in a few years, we’ll be able to trust him enough to give him just enough power to free you. Or maybe with Lucifer to supervise, we could do it sooner.”

Husk shook his head. “Nah. Doesn’t even matter. The kind of things I did? When I was an overlord? Before that, when I was on Earth? Heaven ain’t for me. Angel’s only here as a fluke, really. Me? I belong down here.” He smirked. "Could be worse, though. I've got… friends, now. My life's been a whole hell of a lot better than it was before the hotel." Husk pulled the pan off the burner and began to scramble two eggs in a second, smaller pan.

“Don’t say that. You barely qualify as an alcoholic anymore. You could change, if you wanted.” Vaggie's fingers twitched, and she felt the unfamiliar urge to reach out to him. Squeeze his hand, or pat his back, or something. Charlie had really rubbed off on her, huh?

“Nice to think about, Vaggie, but it’ll never happen. Even if you could somehow do the impossible and free my soul, I’m too far gone. Anyway, don’t worry about me. I got all I need here. You ain’t getting rid of me. Forget about it." The cat dumped the eggs onto a plate, topping it with a good amount of the stew. "Point is, picking up a hobby and making some friends might go a long way to making you happier.”

“I’m plenty happy.” Vaggie crossed her arms, brow furrowing slightly.

“Except you’re constantly worried about Alastor, because if he hurts Charlie, or if he drives you two apart, he could destroy everything you care about. If there’s other things you care about, then he’s not as much of a threat. He’s one man. A powerful asshole of a man, but just a man. Here, take him his damn breakfast, then go do something for yourself, for once." Husk shoved the plate into her hands and grabbed his bottle from the counter. He took a long swig before lumbering off, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

 

༻♡ - ꘏ ꘏ - ১❤໒ - ꘏ ꘏ - ♡༺

 

Charlie sat at the counter, picking at an absurdly tall stack of pancakes as her father kept trying to cheer her up. She had only eaten a couple bites, but he kept spinning around the kitchen, trying to entertain her, then throwing another pancake onto the platter in the middle of the counter. A pile of ducks sat discarded in the corner, one of his earlier unsuccessful attempts to distract her.

She loved her dad, but it was getting annoying, how he wouldn't just take this seriously. He was alternating between terrible jokes that reminded her too much of Alastor, and rambling on about unimportant, irrelevant things. With a sigh, Charlie spoke up, "Dad, I know you're trying to help. But I'd like to finish eating, and then just… talk. Like adults. I'm not a child anymore."

Lucifer's eyes widened, and he bobbed his head almost violently, "Oh-ohh, yeah. Yeah! Right! Sorry, Char-Char. I just thought, maybe cheering you up would be a good thing!" He set down the spatula he'd been holding in his hand, and circled around the counter to her side, gaze downcast.

Charlie smiled weakly for a second, "It's okay, Dad. I know you're just trying to help." Then she sighed, and skewered another bite of pancake on her fork. "Um, if you want to keep cooking, maybe some sausage or bacon would be good? I think there's enough pancakes."

Charlie knew her dad. He didn't like to hold still. He liked to keep his hands busy, always doing something or other. So he readily agreed, practically throwing himself across the room to start frying bacon. "Yeah! Yeah, okay!"

By the time she was done eating, Charlie did feel marginally better. Nothing felt quite as hopeless once you had a full stomach. "Vaggie and I had a fight," she started slowly, "Um, last night. She did something, something terrible."

Before she could continue, her dad's arms were wrapped around her, and he was pressing kisses to her forehead. "Oh, Charlie…" He didn't have to say more than that. She knew his intent, could feel his love and concern in her soul. "It's Alastor. Last night she told me that a while back, she got mad at him. She destroyed all of his radio stations, his house, everything." She threw her arms around him in turn, tears starting to stream down her face.

"How could she do that, Dad?! I wanted Alastor to trust me, and she might've completely ruined that chance!" The princess's body shook, half from crying, half from anger, and Lucifer spread his wings, wrapping all three pairs around her. "I trust her so much, and she just went behind my back and did something she knew I wouldn't be okay with!"

Lucifer squeezed his daughter tight in his arms, hushing her gently. "Shh, shh, just let it all out, Char-Char. It's okay. Let it all out."

After a few minutes, Charlie took a shuddering breath. "I just don't know what we're supposed to do now. She said she regrets it, and I know she feels bad about it, but is that just because I'm upset about it? I don't think she really cares about hurting Alastor."

Lucifer took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was softer and gentler than usual. He was normally so loud and energetic, but when it came to his daughter, he knew when to tone it down. Mostly. "I wouldn't." He saw the way her frown deepened, and he hurried to explain himself. "I wouldn't care all that much about hurting him. I mean, that guy is the fucking worst. I don't understand why you like him. I probably never will. But that doesn't make me care about you less. So if I upset you like that, I'd feel bad mostly about it hurting you."

"Dad!" Charlie pulled back, feeling an uncomfortable mix of horror and gratitude. He was trying to help, he really was, but she didn't like to think about how he viewed sinners. "That's not helpful."

Lucifer sighed, tucking away his wings and rubbing his neck. "That sounds worse than it is. What I mean is, I can understand how Vaggie feels. Besides, knowing her, knowing the way you bring out the best in everyone, she probably does feel at least a little bad for hurting Alastor. I probably never would."

The devil smiled at her, a little forced. "Besides, it's probably for the best, anyway. Now, if something goes wrong, Alastor won't be able to hide away. It'll all work out, sweetie."

Charlie did her best to move on and have a nice rest of the morning with her dad, but the whole time, she felt off. She had never liked the way he talked about sinners, but it made her stomach twist, the way he spoke about Alastor. She knew they didn't get along, but that didn't mean it was okay to do something so cruel. She didn't know what else she had expected, in all honesty. But she just needed out and away from the hotel for a bit.

 

୨୧⁀ᘛ𓆩Ⓧ𓆪ᘚ⁀୨୧

 

Vaggie marched back into Alastor's room and dropped the plate on the nightstand. "There. Food." The deer started slightly at the sudden clatter of the dishes, his ears flicking back momentarily. He made no move towards the food, just kept his red eyes trained on her skeptically.

To her own surprise, she sunk down in an armchair across from Alastor's bed. She had planned to drop off his food and leave, but something was keeping her here. "Aren't you going to eat?" she snapped, crossing her arms and sinking further into the chair.

He raised an eyebrow at her, tapping his fingers against the blanket covering his lap. "Well, that's not a very welcoming invitation, now is it?" Still, he looked ofer the dish, his nose turned up in distaste. "What is this mess even supposed to be?"

Vaggie snorted. "I don't know. Husk made it. Scrambled eggs with shrimp stew or something on top." She threw her hands up. "Look, that's what I've got for you, unless you want a bowl of cereal. I'm not a cook."

Alastor hummed disapprovingly, and skewered a shrimp with his fork. He ate it slowly, thoughtfully. "Shrimp Creole. Or at least, Husker's attempt at it. Why exactly did he pair it with… scrambled eggs?"

"Maybe because eggs are a breakfast food? How should I know?" Vaggie shrugged, propping her feet up on the small matching ottoman. "Look, you can either eat that, some cereal, or you can go hungry until Charlie gets back."

That seemed to pique Alastor's interest. "Oh? She's not here? Where is she then?"

Cursing internally, Vaggie tried to play it off like it was nothing, "Just out running errands. I told you earlier, she's busy." She wasn't going to give him anything he could use as ammunition.

Alastor waited a long moment, his read eyes boring into hers with unnerving intensity. Then he just hummed in acknowledgement and took another bite of food from his plate. "Well, then, I suppose I'm resigned to eating this lackluster dish."

 

The two of them sat in silence, watching each other warily as Alastor ate his food. Long after he had cleaned the plate, Vaggie finally spoke up, her voice a little quiet, but earnest. "You've always hated me. And it's not just because I could see through most of your bullshit."

Alastor nodded, setting the empty plate aside and folding his hands on his lap. "Hatred is such a strong word, my dear. I prefer to call it detestation."

Oh, she wanted to punch him in the face! That smug look, that arrogant tone, he was completely insufferable. "That's not the point," she snapped.

He seemed to bristle at that, practically snarling back at her. “Oh? What then? You want to know why I hold such distaste for you? We could start at the beginning, I suppose, when you held an angelic spear to my throat after I so kindly offered to help with this sad little project." He straightened up, waving his hands dramatically. "Or perhaps when you demanded my help with that ridiculous television commercial, after insulting the first one I made. Maybe the way you constantly offloaded the tasks that you had no interest in doing on me, like disposing of that snake fellow’s egg creatures or repairing that same wall seventeen times a week. Really, what a waste of powerful magic that was." He laughed humorlessly, a sort of wild look creeping into his eyes. "Or perhaps the way you suggested that I fight Adam alone, and nearly died in the process. Not a single one of you tried to find me after the battle, if I do recall correctly. And, as I’m sure you now know, the constraints I was under meant I couldn’t refuse any of that. And yet you still have the audacity to hold a grudge against me!”

Alastor was in a state Vaggie hadn’t ever seen him in before, eyes wide and his hands in his hair now, tugging at the strands.

“And that was all before I even did anything to you and your precious princess and this ridiculous hotel! Since then, you’ve screamed at me, threatened me, and destroyed every home I had in Hell, including my cabin!” Alastor was shaking at this point, and it was creepy. He was still grinning, but he looked on the verge of a mental breakdown. Or maybe this was the middle of a mental breakdown, it was disturbing to see the radio demon so affected by anything.

 

“Chill the fuck out,” Vaggie settled on saying, grabbing a hold of his wrists and pulling his hands away from his hair. He struggled against her, but he was so weak without his magic that it was feeble and pointless. It was pitiful. “Maybe I was harsh on you when you were the facility manager, okay? Back then, I didn’t know what you’d do, and based on the information I did have, I was kind of an ass. But I can’t really feel that bad about it, because you were even worse than I thought you’d be. I always knew you’d betray us."

Alastor's red eyes met hers, and for a moment, she could have sworn they looked wet, like tears might spill down his cheeks. And it hit her. The Radio Demon, the most fearsome Overlord in the Pride Ring, had been reduced to this. Reduced to a terrified, panicking man on the verge of tears, and it was at least partially due to her.

There were words on the tip of her tongue, an apology she didn't quite know how to word, one she wasn't sure she wanted to speak aloud.

The moment passed, and she dropped her hold on his hands, stepping back. She looked back and forth, grabbed the empty plate, and left without another word.

Notes:

I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, mainly because the last half felt a little choppy, but I am going to be away from my computer this week and I wanted to get something out. Especially since I kept getting stuck, and I don't know that I could ever get this to the point I wanted it. And I really, REALLY want to finish this story by the end of October. Good news, though, is that it's nearly twice as long as my chapters usually are, so yay for that, I guess?

Anyway, yeah, Alastor is doing worse than ever. Lucifer has terrible advice, but Husk’s is pretty good.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I have been writing for a long time, but this is the first time I have ever shared my work. I know that I am not the strongest writer, but I'm eager to work hard and improve!

Suggestions and (kind/helpful) criticism are more than welcome.

I know that right now, I struggle most with dialogue and romantic relationships (probably because I'm an introverted aroace lol)

Again, thank you so much for reading! <2