Chapter 1: That's the Tea
Summary:
The day the hotel reopens, a surprise guest makes a surprise appearance; Lilith. Charlie is excited, Lucifer is not, and Alastor panics.
Notes:
*rises from the depths of Hell like the goddamn goddess of chaos I am*
Hello my children (yes, if you're reading this, you are now my child, I am illegally adopting you, deal with it; I adopt everyone, including my favorite characters... even if they are 100+ year-old serial killer demons). This is an attempt at a Hazbin Hotel fanfic because SOMEBODY (you know who you are) got me into this show and now I'm obsessed. I also now have an unhealthily obsession Alastor, uh oh, but it's like a totally normally unhealthily obsession, not whatever weird obsession Vox has (get help, T.V. man and also, keep your unholy thoughts to yourself, no one needs to hear that).
Anygays (yes I did just say anygays instead of anyways, sue me), your favorite (or maybe least favorite after you finish this fanfic) writer will like to give you some warnings before you start. This story will get very dark at times and I'll give a warning before any chapter that deals with topics that could be triggering for people. But, as a whole, this work deals with strong emotional, mental, and physical abuse; mentions of sexual assault and attempted sexual assault; non-consensual touching; trauma; domestic violence; child abuse; traumatized characters getting more traumatized; and Alastor being put through the wringer by yours truly. Honestly, Alastor suffers a lot and doesn't stop suffering until this fanfic is over. #Sorrynotsorry
But! Don't worry, my dear children; fear not, for it's not all pain! We also have: bad people getting what they deserve; Alastor having feelings and a heart; Alastor and Niffty friendship; Alastor getting attached; genuinely happy Alastor; slow burn Huskerdust (they tried to claim that wasn't a word! Homophobic, much?); Lucifer being a supportive dad; Charlie being Charlie; Niffty being a menace to society; Vaggie and Charlie being adorable (#couplegoals); redemption; and traumatized characters finally having a safe place.
Anygay (yes I said it again) enjoy, leave a comment, and don't forget to broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear!
*sinks back down into the depths of Hell, giggling like a gremlin*
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The day of the hotel's grand reopening, Charlie was up at the crack of dawn.
"Today's the day, today's the day, today's the day!" Charlie loudly sung as she skipped down the halls, awakening the other residents and staff much to their dismay.
Angel groaned and buried deeper into the covers, snuggling closer to a sleeping Fat Nuggets. Vaggie hid her head under her pillow, grumbling and calling out at her girlfriend to be quiet. Husk pulled the covers tightly over him, cursing at both the hangover headache he could feel starting to form and the woman who was way too cheerful and loud this early in the morning. Niffty hissed and curled up even more into the fort of pillows she built up every night to sleep in.
The only one who didn't wake up in annoyance at her singing was Alastor. Alastor who rarely slept and who woke up even earlier than the crack of dawn every day to start on breakfast for the hotel. The Radio Demon stood by the stove, humming, as he listened to Charlie frolic through the hotel, waking everyone from their slumber. Annoyed groans and yells rose as she made her way to the kitchen. He glanced over at the princess as she skipped through the kitchen, singing about how today was gonna be a fucking happy day in Hell.
"Good morning, Al!" Charlie squealed, way too excited, in the hotelier's opinion, for someone who had just awoke. Even Alastor wasn't this excited this early and he hadn't even slept last night.
"Morning, Charlie," the Radio Demon said back, much less enthusiastically but still with a smile and a fond look on his face. "Slept well, my dear?"
"Couldn't!" Charlie answered, stopping beside him and glancing at the stove he was slaving away at. "I was too excited! Today's the day!!"
"Yes," Alastor responded. "So that was you I heard up last night, pacing around your room at an ungodly hour."
"I wasn't pacing!" Charlie protested even through she was. It wasn't a nervous pace, though! She was excited and she couldn't stand still. Alastor gave her a look. "Fine! Maybe I was! But that's just because I'm so excited about the hotel reopening!" She paused, then glanced at her friend. "Wait, what do you mean you heard me last night? Where you stalking me? Creepy."
Alastor laughed; he was wondering when she would realize what he said. He gave her a grin as he teased her, "That took you way too long to realize, my dear. And no, I wasn't stalking you. It's Tuesday, remember?"
Charlie looked at him, confused. What does Tuesday have to do with anything? Then she grinned. "Oh! Your show!" Charlie kept forgetting that Alastor's radio show ran Tuesday night at midnight. It wasn't like she listened to it; she loved her friend but not enough to listen to his murder broadcast or whatever he called it. She still felt creeped out by it. Of course, she wasn't going to say that, that was rude. Also, she didn't want to upset the overlord; he could be terrifying when he was angry. "How did it go?"
"Wonderful," the Radio Demon drawled, "as always." He noticed that Charlie was moving ever so closer to the plate of pancakes that were already done. "Charlie."
"What?" the girl feigned innocence. "I just wanted to see what you were cooking."
"With your hands?"
She glared at him, "Fuck you."
"Don't let Angel hear that or he's going to make another one of those wretched jokes I don't understand," the deer just shook his head. "Now, scram, shoo. Go bother your friends elsewhere."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Charlie asked, pouting slightly.
"Yes," Alastor said, deadpanned. The princess' face fell. "My dear, you just woke everyone up before the sun has even risen and they're all get very grumpy when you wake them. I would rather not have everyone in the hotel come in here annoyed or I will have no choice but to eat this entire plate in pancakes in front of all of you and leave you all hungry."
"You wouldn't dare," Charlie gasped.
"Wanna bet?" Alastor leaned forward, giving Charlie one of his signature creepy grins. She playfully yelped and stepped back.
"You know what? You're right! Have fun!" Charlie called over her shoulder as she left the demon to finish breakfast. She had barely been gone for more than a couple of minutes before Husk slinked into the room. He grumbled a greeting to the man by the stove then dug around in the fridge for water.
"You're up early, Husker," Alastor pestered the cat demon, with a mocking smile on his face.
"Don't test me," the bartender hissed, waving the glass in his hand towards the demon who owned his soul.
"Or what?" Alastor continued. "You'd throw that at me?"
"Maybe," Husk muttered. "I haven't decided."
"Have fun with that!" the Radio Demon retorted. "And be careful, Husker, I could have you skinned for that comment."
"But you won't," the cat shot back. Alastor was cruel and mean and horrible, but he rarely went through with his threats towards the souls he owned. If he really wanted to hurt Husk, he wouldn't threaten, he just would. The threat was more of a way to remind Husk who was in charge, as if he could ever forget. Besides, Alastor had never actually done so much as raise a hand in the direction of the other demon. He had tightened the chains, yanked on them, risen his voice to an angry snarl, even shoved the man when he was being difficult, but Alastor had never hit the man. He was fiercely protective of Husk and Niffty in that sense.
For all his problems with Alastor, for all the times Alastor acted like then worst asshole in hell, Husk knew he was lucky in some sense. Alastor could be cruel, but he never treated his souls too badly. Not like the horror stories Husk had heard about the extreme punishments some owners of souls gave to their souls for as much as not immediately doing what they were told; Valentino was the first that came to mind, God he hated that man, but so did whoever owned Alastor's soul. Husk knew very little about that deal or even who it was — Alastor never told anyone, not even Niffty — but he did know whoever it was, Alastor was absolutely terrified of them. Whoever it was kept Alastor on the tightest leash Husk had ever seen or even heard about. So yeah, Alastor was a shitty asshole, but considering it could be worse, Alastor was actually a good boss. Not that the cat demon would ever admit that to the man's face.
"Perhaps," Alastor purred as he started on the last batch of pancakes. "Husker, my dear feline fellow, be a dear and go tell everyone breakfast is almost ready."
Husk grumbled in annoyance, rolling his eyes, but he stepped out of the room to do as he was told. It was too early to start arguing with the Radio Demon and Husk was way too hangover to even bother.
Alastor watched the cat slunk away, then hesitated, waiting for yet another sinner to trot into the kitchen to start pestering him about one thing or another, but no one did. With a smile, Alastor began his humming again and turned back to finish breakfast.
There was a knock on the door. Charlie perked up; maybe their luck had finally changed!
Charlie pranced over to the front doors, excited. The hotel had opened three hours ago and not a single soul had come knocking. Charlie knew that she shouldn't have expected anyone to come when the hotel first reopened, but she was hoping that with the failed extermination a month ago, sinners would've seen the light and wanted to make a switch. So far, they were proving her wrong, but now there was someone on the other side of the door. She gave herself a shake, put on her best award-winning smile, and opened the door.
Lucifer was standing on the the other side of the door.
Charlie felt her smile fall away; sure she was excited to see her father, but she was hoping for a new resident, not the King of Hell finally arriving to help with the hotel. To say she was disappointed would be an understatement but hey, at least her dad was here now. "Dad!" Charlie squealed, a new smiling taking place of the fallen one as she pulled her father into a tight hug. "You made it!"
"Char-char!" Lucifer responded with almost as much enthusiasm as his daughter. "Sorry I'm late."
"It's okay!" Charlie shrugged. "You made it, that's all that matters. Come on, come on, no one's here yet so you can say hi to everyone!"
Charlie pulled her father into the hotel lobby. Husk and Angel, both at the bar, barely glanced over at the King of Hell, giving him a slight nod, then turned back to each other, engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. Niffty, who had been in the middle of cleaning, stopped what she was doing and was watching Lucifer was some strange, lowkey terrifying, fascination, vibrating as if she was about to explode. Vaggie began to make her way over to the pair, with a smile on her face.
Alastor was smiling too, as always, but it was certainly not a welcoming smile. The deer demon was sitting on the couch, flipping through the daily paper, giving the King of Hell a deadly look. Lucifer felt it and turned to the hotelier. Their eyes met and the two began glaring daggers at each other. Charlie noticed and sighed; she was hoping the two were over whatever feud they had the first time her father had arrived at the hotel but she guessed they weren't. She should've known better; Alastor could hold a grudge like it was nobody's business. She wasn't even sure why the two hated each other so much but she was going to have to keep a close eye on the two to make sure they didn't do anything stupid, like try to murder each other in cold blood.
"Lucifer," Alastor growled.
"Alastor," Lucifer snarled right back.
Charlie nervously leaned from side to side, placing a hand on her father's shoulder, glancing between the two, "Can you two maybe, I don't know, don't start ripping out each other's throats?"
Alastor tsked, "I won't, if he doesn't start acting like an asshole." He nodded towards the king.
"Me?!" Lucifer laughed. "Act like an asshole?! Yeah right! You're the one who acts like an asshole!"
The two glared harder at each other.
"OKAY!" Charlie stepped between the two so they couldn't keep glaring at each other. She turned to face her dad, "Dad, look, I know he pisses you off but can you please not start a fight with him?"
"Ha!" Charlie could hear Alastor's laugh of triumphant behind her. She turned to face him.
"You too, Al," Charlie retorted and the demon in question rolled his eyes.
"Ha right back at ya!" Lucifer grinned. Charlie groaned; goddamn it! Couldn't the two go five minutes without trying to one up each other or threaten murder?
"Sir!" Vaggie was suddenly next to Charlie and Lucifer, resting a comforting hand on Charlie's arm. Charlie glanced at her girlfriend, who gave a comforting smile before turning back to the king. "Why don't I take you on a tour of the newly renovated hotel?"
"That sounds great, Maggie!" Lucifer smiled at his daughter's girlfriend; this would be the perfect time to get to know her better.
"Vaggie," Vaggie corrected.
"Yeah, that's what I said," Lucifer laughed. "Lead the way, Maggie!"
Vaggie sighed, annoyed, but turned to take the king on a tour of the hotel. Charlie grabbed her arm.
"Thanks, Vaggie," Charlie whispered.
"Of course, love," Vaggie responded, giving her girlfriend a quick peck on the cheek, then led the King of Hell out of the lobby and away from the glaring Radio Demon. Charlie let out a sigh of relief; Vaggie had that under control. Charlie turned to stare at her friend on the couch.
"Alastor, what the fuck?" Charlie hissed as she made her way over to the overlord. "Look, I know you two hate each other but can you maybe not?"
Alastor placed the paper down on his lap, rolling his eyes, "Can't make any promises, my dear."
Charlie sighed; she should've known he was going to say that. She sat across from him at one of the chairs, crossing her arms. There wasn't much she could do to stop the Radio Demon but maybe she had an idea.
"Al, I'm not asking you to like him, I'm just asking you to not rip his throat out or try to murder him," Charlie explained. "Think you can do that?" She paused, then, "For me?"
"Fine," Alastor sighed. "I'll play nice... only if he plays nice too."
Charlie bit back a sigh; it was a start.
Niffty came running over, chasing a roach. She bumped into the coffee table and a vase of flowers teetered, almost falling over and shattering. Before Charlie could even blink, Alastor grabbed the vase at the last second with one hand and the cuff of Niffty's dress with the other, lifting her out of the way of the falling water from the vase.
"Niffty," Alastor warned as he placed the vase of flowers right side up again. "Careful."
Niffty giggled at being held up in the air, "Sorry, sir!"
Alastor just shook his head, giving the little maid a soft smile as he placed her back on the ground. She giggled again and then scampered off, immediately going back to chasing the roach. The deer demon watched the cyclops demon vanish down one of the hallways, a fond look on his face, before going back to read the paper. Charlie remained silent, thinking and watching.
Time passed and before she knew it, her father and girlfriend were returning from their tour. Charlie got up and started making her way to the pair, to give her father the same spiel she had given Alastor, but before she could get close enough, there was another knock on the door. The princess barely had time to process the knock before the door flung open and someone stepped inside.
"Oh!" Charlie blurted out, surprised. That wasn't very nice. Even Alastor had waited to be invited in when he first came to the hotel. "Um, hello, not to sound rude or anything but-"
The words died in her throat as she looked at the person who just walked in. A woman, tall, with blonde hair and eyes that look so similar to her own. Charlie felt her mouth dropped open. She knew this woman; knew her as well as she knew herself. She should say something, but words weren't forming.
Charlie could hear a sharp intake of breathe from her father as he put the pieces together but unlike her, Lucifer wasn't shocked into silence at the woman who had just invited herself in.
"LILITH?!"
Every part of Alastor tightened and he froze, ironically, like a deer in headlights. He dropped the paper he was reading in his lap and, absentmindedly, started tugging at his hair, a nervous habit he found bothersome. It took everything in him to keep his face blank, his smile tight and forced. He kept tugging at his hair, he should stop, but no one was paying the hotelier any attention. Everyone's gaze was on the Queen of Hell who just made a surprise reappearance.
Lucifer was frozen too, eyes wide. He felt sick, his stomach churning wildly at the sight of his former wife, in the flesh, after she abandoned him and his little girl all those years ago. Lucifer glanced down and realized his hands were shaking. He tried to stop them but couldn't. Why is she back?
Had anyone been watching Alastor and Lucifer when they realized who it was who had just stepped in, they would've immediately realized that similarities and the look of pure fear in both of their eyes. Had anyone pointed that out, they would've been immediately shut down by both, told they were just imagining it. Lucifer wasn't scared of his former wife (he most certainly was) and Alastor barely knew this woman (he most certainly did). Lucky for them— and for the rest of the hotel residences and staff, for that matter— no one was watching how the rest of the hotel reacted. Everyone's eyes were drawn to Lilith.
"Mom?!" Charlie gasped, eyes wide too but unlike the two men, they weren't wide with fear. Charlie had been waiting seven years for her mother to return and here she was, standing by the door of the Hazbin Hotel, the day in reopened, inviting herself in. Maybe Charlie should be more upset with her mother for letting herself in, but she wasn't. She was too happy at the presence to care much about the fact that her mother just broke it. Besides, it wasn't breaking in if it was her mother, was it?
"Charlie!" The first woman gasped, her voice as high-pitched and excited as Charlie's normally was. Lucifer flinched; he hated how similar the two were. Lilith dove towards her daughter. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Charlie!"
"Mom!" Charlie squealed just as her mother pulled her into a bone crushing hug. She yelped, giggling. "You're back!"
"Yes, my sweet, sweet daughter, I am!" Lilith pulled back, taking in her daughter, hands on her shoulders. "My, have you grown in the last seven years. I am so sorry, my sweet Lee, for leaving. I didn't want to but things came up and I had to."
Charlie opened her mouth to say it was okay, even if maybe it wasn't or should be, but suddenly Lucifer was next to her, gently pushing her away from the other woman.
"Lilith," Lucifer snapped. Charlie was startled by the icy coldness in his voice.
"Dad!" Charlie laughed, nervous. The tension between the two was thick and Charlie felt as though she could cut it with a knife. "It's just Mom."
Those words seemed to snap Lucifer out of whatever trance he was in. Truthfully, he just cursed at himself for letting his emotions run away with him. "You're right, duckie, I'm sorry. I'm just... surprised." Not a total life but not the total truth either.
Charlie shrugged; she wasn't angry. Confused, yes, but maybe she shouldn't be. The woman, her mother and Lucifer's former wife, had been gone for seven years, and now she just appeared back in their lives. Lucifer was bound to feel all sorts of emotions, Charlie knew she was. She reminded herself that it was easier for her to be willing to forgive Lilith; it was her mother and Charlie always was the forgiving type. It was harder for Lucifer to.
Lucifer cursed himself again. He had to pull himself together, had to act like he didn't hate this woman's guts, even if he did. And he definitely had to act like he wasn't absolutely terrified of her, which he also was. Now was not the time or place to warn Charlie about Lilith.
Lucifer wasn't the only one panicking at the woman's presence.
Alastor needed to get out. Lilith was too distracted by her daughter and husband, to notice him but that wouldn't last long. He was still tugging at his hair, yanking at it really. Stop! A voice snarled in his head. Pull yourself together, will you? Stop acting like a coward for once in your pathetic life and act normal. You're tugging at your hair like a madman, which, you are, but no one needs to see this. Fucking weak, you know that?
He dropped his hands to his side. He just needed to get out of this lobby, this fucking lobby, and get to his room. There he could have a panic attack. Not here, not in front of everyone.
Not in front of her.
As Alastor turned to leave, he slammed into the same coffee table Niffty had bumped into not too long ago, and the vase that she had nearly smashed teetered again. He dove to grab it but he was too slow, hesitated for just a moment at the pain that shot through his right leg, that the vase immediately fell off the table and shattered. It rang, loud in the silence, almost echoing, and now everyone was looking at him.
Including Lilith.
The woman and him exchanged a glance and Alastor felt his stomach drop at the glare she gave him. No, glare wasn't the right word. If looks could kill, he'd be dead (again). It was the type of look she had given him countless times, the look that reminded Alastor of him, the look that made Alastor feel like that little boy again, powerless and scared. Luckily no one was paying attention to Lilith anymore, their gazes now momentarily on the deer demon who just broke a vase. No one noticed the look in the woman's face and it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Alastor only noticed it because he was looking for it, because he was used to it, because he was staring at the woman, unable to tear his eyes way. Alastor fought to keep his face blank, save for his signature smile. It was bad enough she was back, he doesn't need to broadcast (heh heh, pun) his fear for everyone to see, thankyouverymuch.
Charlie was beside him; she must've made her way over when he was distracted trying to calm himself down. "You okay Al?" Charlie asked her friend, worried, breaking him out of his thoughts. For a second, he believed that she could tell something was wrong, that it was written all over his face, but then she nodded toward the broken vase. Alastor sighed in relief and nodded.
"Yeah, my dear, just a little startled! I'll have Niffty clean it up."
Alastor barely got the words out before the little demoness was beside him, sweeping away at the glass shards. Maybe he should make sure she doesn’t cut herself but Alastor couldn't break his gaze from the woman who owned his soul, who seemed to be enjoying his panic. She had also made her way over towards him; must've followed her daughter.
Charlie wasn't sure if she should believe the Radio Demon. He was acting... odd. Well, odder than usual! She reached out to touch his arm, a gentle touch, to let him know she was there for him, but the moment her handed brushed against him, he pulled away.
"CHARLIE!"
Charlie startled; Alastor hated being touched, Charlie knew this, but she had always been on of the few who could and he always, always, told her, gently, on the days he wasn't in the mood to be touched he was having a bad day. She always respected that. Why wouldn't she? He obviously had some trauma around being touched, that much was obvious; some days, he seemed in his own world and those were always the days he refused to be touched, even by Niffty. She never pressed; he didn't let anyone, not even her, in often, so she knew he must trust her enough to show her this part of him. He never outright said anything but he didn't need to. Charlie got the message loud and clear. Whatever happened, he'll tell her when he's ready, if he was ever ready. Charlie could respect that. Charlie could respect someone putting up boundaries. This was odd, though, because he had never, ever yelled at her for touching him on those bad days. Never pulled away from her like she shocked him. Not even on the really bad days. The demon was acting so weird today.
"Sorry!" Charlie squeaked out, immediately cursing herself. She should've known he wouldn't want to be touched. He seemed to be tense as a live wire; that should've been a hint that today wasn't one of his good days. Still, it must be really bad if he was yelling at her. Really bad if he hadn't mentioned it until now.
"It's okay," Alastor lied. It wasn't, though. He really didn't want to be touched by her today. It was bad to hold it against Charlie, but she looked so like her mother. Some part of Alastor knew she was just trying to comfort him but when she had reached over and touched him, all he could see was Lilith. Lilith with her cruel, hard touch. Lilith who always hurt him when she touched him. Lilith who was one of the main reasons, besides him, that Alastor hated being touched. "Today's just not the day, my dear. I shouldn't have snapped though, I am sorry."
"It's okay," Charlie responded because it was. He shouldn't be apologizing for not wanting to be touched. She should've asked. She shook her head, trying to clear of her mind, and returned her attention to her friends.
Charlie noticed Alastor still staring at her mother and her staring at him in return, but in her Charlie-like way, she didn't feel the tension between the two. Maybe no one did, Alastor thought, maybe it wasn't as obvious as he thought it was. No one was looking at him strangely. They were looking at him, sure, but that was because he just broke a vase, not because they could tell something was wrong. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding; he was still in control of his emotions. At least he still had that going for him.
"Oh!" Charlie laughed. She should introduce the two! Put what happened behind them. "Alastor, this is my mom. Mom, this is..." Charlie paused, searching for the right word. How would she describe her relationship with Alastor? Mentor was how she really viewed him but she knew he'd bite her head off, figuratively (she thinks) for even thinking that, so she doesn't dare say that. Besides, that would piss off her already fragile father and the man was not having a good day now that his ex-wife returned. "This is my good friend-" close enough, she did consider him one of her closest friends, despite his strange ways and cold, slightly unethical actions "-Alastor."
Alastor forced his smile to widen. It was the smile he used when meeting new souls to unsettle them, even though he knew it wouldn't work on Lilith. They already met and she was never uneasy around him. Never would. It was always the other way around. Still, he had to keep up appearances. Had to act like this woman isn't different than any other person he met, even if she was Queen of Hell. Fake it until you make it and all that crap. "Hello," he drawled, "Pleasure meeting you, my dear, pleasure. The name's Alastor but everyone calls me the Radio Demon." He might as well give the whole greeting; couldn't raise suspicion by not giving her the whole Radio Demon spiel.
"The pleasure is mine," Lilith purred right back. "I'm Lilith." So they were on the same page, that's good to know, at least, acting like they were. It was also good to know that she wasn't about to lose her shit at him in front of everyone. He's going to have to deal with that soon, he realized with a sickening feeling, but at least not at the moment. At least not in front of everyone. Lilith holds his gaze one second too long before turning back to her daughter. "Lee, you're going to have to introduce me to all of your friends! Well, your other friends."
"Of course!" Charlie squealed. "Ooh! I should tell you about the hotel! Have you heard about the hotel?"
"Just the barest minimum," Lilith answered and Alastor rolled his eyes. Well that was a fucking lie; she was, after all, the one who sent him back here to try to stop it! She knew a lot more than she was letting on. Alastor eyed the woman who owned his soul, trying to figure out what game she was playing. She was acting nice, too nice, and Alastor didn't like it one bit. Seemed like Lilith was playing the keeping up appearances game too. "Tell me about this fine establishment, Lee."
Charlie squealed, a high-pitched, annoying noise that everyone in the hotel was used to. She jumped into explaining all about the hotel and what they were trying to do, excited. So excited that the woman didn't notice that Niffty was crawling all over Alastor and that the overlord didn't seem bothered.
She didn't notice that he had only freaked out when she touched him.
Alastor wasn't really paying attention to Charlie as she explained to her mom all about the Hazbin Hotel; he heard it enough times and besides, he was much more interested in Lucifer. The fallen angel was nervously watching his wife and daughter, following after them as if he didn't want them out of his sight, but at a distance that made Alastor think he didn't want to be seen following. Odd. Alastor watched with a mix of understanding and fascination. Whatever the deal with Lilith and Lucifer, there was some obviously drama and Alastor loved his drama. With a snap of his fingers, a steaming hot cup of tea appeared in his hands. Time to do one of his favorite things; sipping tea while watching the tea unfold. He couldn't leave without raising suspicion so might as well enjoy the drama.
Who know how much longer he's going to be able to enjoy things.
Besides, it took his mind off what just happened. Took his mind off snapping at Charlie because he let his fear get the best of him for just one moment. Weak, weak, fucking weak.
"So, what do you think?" Charlie asked, wrapping up her presentation on the hotel. She watched her mother, expectingly. How is she going to react? Charlie thought to herself.
"I..." Lilith began and Alastor took a big sip of the tea, waiting for her to crush Charlie's dreams just like everyone else. Niffty had crawled off of him and was back to chasing roaches "Love it!" the demoness finished.
Alastor chocked on his tea. He was not expecting that. He tilted his head to the side and took in the tall woman next to Charlie. Alastor kept staring at the blonde woman who looked so much like Charlie it hurt. He did not like the game she was playing.
"You do?" Charlie was just as surprised as Alastor, but for a different reason. "Really?!"
"Yes!" Lilith purred. "I support this dream of yours. Not only that, Lee, but I want to help! I believe sinners can be redeemed too."
Alastor nearly laughed out loud at that; she certainly didn't believe that. What was that she always told him? That sinners were the scum of the earth and they all deserved to burn? Well, she never said sinners, it was always him who was the scum of the earth and deserved to burn but he knew she despised sinners, even if it was her fault that they existed in the first place. Hypocrite! What was with the sudden change? Was it just for her daughter or was there something more sinister going on?
Oh, there was definitely something more sinister going on, Alastor knew, he just had to figure out what.
"Really?!" Charlie hugged her mother again. Finally! Someone who shared her belief. She knew her mother was a kindred spirit. So what if she had to leave for seven years, she must have a very good reason and Charlie knew that she would eventually tell her, when she was ready. "That's great! Really! Oh, I need to introduce you to everyone! You already met Alastor, but he's helping me run the hotel!"
The two glanced over at the Radio Demon again. Lilith stared at him, a look, to anyone else, that would just be a look but Alastor was not everyone else. Alastor knew that look; she was not happy. Well, what was she expecting? For him to destroy the idea right away? No, the best way to destroy Charlie's idea would to let her think he was on her side and then turn against her when the time was right.
Although, now, he wasn't so sure about that. Maybe he didn't want to crush Charlie's dream like that.
Well shit. Now he was feeling attached to the girl. Better stop that before it gets out of control. But maybe he didn't want to stop it. Maybe he wanted to get attached again.
Maybe he was tired of being so lonely.
But no, he couldn't. He couldn't get attached to Charlie or the hotel. He had a deal and he need to get out of it, even if it meant hurting Charlie. He didn't care about the girl, he couldn't. He really couldn't. Attachments were dangerous, deadly. Emotions even more so. He was just acting strangely because he's worried about Lilith, that's all.
Wasn't it?
Whatever, he'll figure out what he wanted later. Now was not the time. As of now, he had to act like nothing is amiss even though everything was.
Charlie began introducing everyone else to her mother, nodding towards each individual as she pulled her mother over to greet them; Husk and Niffty, Angel, Vaggie. Everyone smiled and greeted the woman with opened arms, Niffty quit literally. The little maid crawled onto of the Queen of Hell when she bent down to great her. No, get away from her! Alastor wanted to scream, wanted to scoop the little demoness off the other, hold her far away so the woman couldn't touch her. She's dangerous, Niffty! He said nothing; what could he say without telling everyone why he knew it?
Everyone liked Lilith. Why wouldn't they? She knew how to manipulate a room, that was for sure.
Of course they liked her. No one had any suspicions; why would they? Fucking Lilith, winning over everyone with her charm.
It made Alastor sick. And worried. Oh so very worried.
On the outside, everything looked fine with the Radio Demon but on the inside, everything was starting to shatter and he knew it wouldn't be long before it escaped and started to destroy everything in the hotel too. Relationships, himself, Charlie, the hotel itself.
A storm was brewing, Alastor knew, and some part of him was positive he wouldn't survive when it finally made landfall.
Notes:
So...
First chapter. What did you think? Did you like it?
*tries to lean seductively on the table but ends up falling off and smacking my face on the corner like the dumbass I am*
Well, um, anyway, we're going to ignore that fail.
The next chapter should be out soon. When, well, I don't know, but it will be out at some point in the future. I'll try to upload once a week but I can't make any promises, especially since it's the holidays.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
*eats a wig and refuses to elaborate*
If you know, you know.
Chapter 2: Inside Every Demon Is a Lost Cause
Summary:
An angry Lilith punishes her pet for slacking, Lucifer panics with his ducks, and Husk is faced with a difficult dilemma. As for our favorite radio demon, Alastor has a Bad Time.
Notes:
I won't have a note at the beginning of every chapter, but, as I mentioned, I will have one at the chapters where I want to give a warning.
There will be mentions of abuse, non-consensual touching, panic attacks, and self-destruction drinking in this chapter, all of which are (mostly) directed to or suffered by Alastor. In other words, Lilith is a piece of shit and Al pays the price. I warned you; Alastor was going to suffer and this is one of the chapters where he's going to suffer greatly. Please read at your own risk.
Anyways, enjoy the chapter (try to?), comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Alastor managed to spend the entire day avoiding Lilith. This was a lot less impressive than one would think. If he managed to make it to his room and avoid her, now that would be much more impressive.
It was also going to be next to impossible.
So far, Alastor had been untouchable, safe. Lilith couldn't try to "talk with him"— that's what she called it, anyway, he called it torture because that's what it was, pure, sadistic torture— in front of everyone without raising questions or suspicion. Couldn't disappear for who knows how long to "teach Alastor a lesson"— one again, those were her words; Alastor had other words to describe her so-called lessons, words that were much closer to the truth than hers— while Charlie was all but physically clinging to the woman. Poor Charlie was so excited her mother had returned and Alastor knew it hadn't even crossed her mind to be suspicious or on edge. He wasn't even sure if the girl —she wasn't even a girl, technically speaking she was older than him, but he still viewed her as a child... maybe because she was a child in hellborn standards or maybe it's because of her childlike belief that sinners could be redeemed— had even been that upset with her mother for abandoning her for more than a few minutes. If Alastor was in Charlie's position, the woman would have to bend over backwards to gain his trust again but this was Charlie. Charlie who saw the good in everyone.
Including him.
The point was, Alastor didn't have to worry about Lilith dragging him away for most of the day. She was too occupied with her daughter, with the hotel, with lying right through her teeth with empty promises and praise on how they were going to make the hotel work. Alastor still didn't know exactly what her plan entailed by playing this game, but he knew the woman well enough to know it couldn't be anything good. She had a plan up her sleeve and Alastor knew if it succeeded, it would destroy the hotel.
Him too, probably, now that he thought about it.
Alastor quickened his pace. He just needed to get to his room. His room was his safe haven; from the eyes of the staff and resident, from the persona he forced himself to play, from her. If he could make it to his room, he would be safe. And not only from her and from keeping up his reputation, but from shoving down the panic that had been rising all day. Once in his room, he would finally be able to break.
Too bad he never got there.
Alastor turned the corner and there, in the shadows, was a figure. He froze. It was tall, so it couldn't be Niffty. Husker, Angel, and Vaggie where all down by the bar when Alastor had finally slipped away for the night; Husker, of course, behind the bar serving drinks, and Angel and Vaggie both in the middle of one. The latter two couldn't have finished and made it up here before him and the former, for all his flaws and annoyances, took his job seriously. He wouldn't leave the bar unattended and he wouldn't trust either one of them to keep an eye on it. So that left Charlie, Lucifer, or her.
Alastor knew it wasn't Charlie; she wasn't one to lurk in the darkness and besides, she would've greeted him with an attempted hug already if it was her. He knew it wasn't Lucifer either; the figure was too tall. Also, the king had vanished hours earlier, not too long after Lilith had made her grand entrance, and no one had seen him since. Alastor knew the man was probably locked in his room, playing with his rubber ducks, like a child.
God that man annoyed him.
The figure stepped into the light. His suspicions were correct; tall, cold eyes, sharp snarl. Lilith.
Alastor took a step back, as if that would do anything. Lilith just watched him and, with a snap of her fingers, the chains appeared; tight, heavy, short, and looking more realistic than most people knew even existed in soul owning.
Most sinners assumed that all chains were made of materials other than metal; smoke, magic, the blood of your enemies. Few people knew that for some strong deals, the chains were practically real, minus one or two things.
Most people who knew this ended up dead. Except, of course, for the owner. So far, Alastor was still kicking. For how long, well it seemed like his days were getting more and more numbered. Then again, killing him now would be mercy and Lilith was not knowing for being merciful.
The chains yanked Alastor back to the queen and the sudden whiplash caused him to stumble, almost falling flat on his face, but he managed to catch himself before he did. Lilith watched, amused, silent for a few minutes before she spoke, her voice dangerous and cold.
"Oh, Pet," she purred. "Where do you think you're going? We need to talk!"
Alastor forced his smile to stay in place as he remained silent; Lilith hated that he always smiled. There wasn't much he could do to have control over their situation, but he could do this. Her eyes flashed as she saw that he was still smiling.
"I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your goddamn face!" the woman growled, glaring.
"I would like to see you try!"
The taunt slipped out before Alastor could stop it. That was the wrong thing to say. What had gotten into him? He hadn't spoken back to her in ages! He had always kept himself so unsarcastically quite and meek to avoid her anger growing even more.
The slap came before he could even register her hand moving.
Alastor flinched at the stinging on his face. Lilith smirked.
"That's what I thought," she retorted. "Remember your place, Pet. Now, come on, we need to talk privately. Can't risk my daughter stumbling upon us... or that little maid of yours. It wouldn't be that hard to end her if I had to, and you know I'd enjoy it."
Niffty.
Alastor forced himself to nod, his head swimming with worry. Lilith had threatened Niffty before but it had rarely ever concerned the demon because he knew the small demoness was untouchable in Hell while Lilith was in Heaven.
Now that Lilith was also in Hell, Niffty was no longer truly safe. Alastor would have to be careful.
Lilith's smile widened at seeing the panic flash across her pet's face. Without another word, she yanked on the chains and started to move, causing the overlord to stumble.
The Radio Demon had no choice but to follow.
The woman dragged the deer demon down the hall slightly, to a door of a room that had been unoccupied. "No one will bother us in here," Lilith explained as she opened the door and stepped in, pulling Alastor along with her. "My sweet little daughter gave me this room."
Alastor flinched; it was so fucking close to his own room. Goddamn it, Charlie! The sinner thought to himself, even through he knew it wasn't the princess' fault. She didn't know that she just made it a shitload worse for him.
He wondered if Lilith had requested a room close to his. How she would've without raising suspicion was beyond him but maybe it wouldn't have been too hard to convince her daughter. Lilith could come up with realistic lies. Although, Alastor wondered exactly what the woman said. When Lucifer had asked for a room close to Alastor because the king "didn't trust the man", Charlie had quickly come to the serial killer's defense. Lilith would've had to come up with something really good to get Charlie to give her a room this close to Alastor without raising suspicions or getting Charlie defensive. Alastor had to give the princess that; she was defensive and protective when it came to her friends and apparently, he fell into that category.
Once inside her room, Lilith closed the door behind her. Locked it. Alastor felt his breath hitch.
"Pet," she drawled, slightly sing-songy. "I'm so very disappointed in you. You failed me, my sweet little puppet. Whatever shall I do?" She paused for a moment while the other remained silent. This was just a tactic of hers; she didn't want him to answer. "I should kill you, you know. But I won't. You have been proven to be useful in the past and you are a good little pet... when you aren't talking back to me... it would be such a shame to have to replace you. Tsk, tsk, guess you're going to stay alive... for now. Consider yourself lucky I guess!"
She laughed. Alastor just glared. They both knew it wasn't luck.
"But you do need to be punished," Lilith continued. "Can't have you think what you're doing is okay... nor that little talking back you did a few minutes ago. Hmm... but what punishment shall you receive for slacking? I thought I gave you very clear instructions on what I sent you here to do and yet, this fucking hotel is open and running, a sinner is in heaven, and Adam is dead!"
"Wait, a sinner is redeemed?" Maybe that wasn't what Alastor should've taken away from what Lilith hust told him, but it was. Because this was big news. "Who?"
"You think I bothered to learn his name?!" Lilith snarled. "Besides, Sera and the older elders are trying to keep it quiet. Sinners have never become winners and now people are going to be asking questions. Can't have that, now can we?" The deer demon remained silent, trying to process the new information. What sinner could've possibly been redeemed and sent to Heaven? "Why else do you think I returned, Pet? Because of that... and to remind you of your place... because your sure as hell need the reminder." She tightened her grip on the chain and in Lilith typical fashion, it tightened around Alastor's neck. It wasn't too tight to be strangling him but it was tight enough to be uncomfortable. "So, you see, Puppet, you have messed up greatly and you should be punished as such. You're lucky I need you, or I will send you back into the Void without a second thought."
Alastor felt his breath hitch. Again. No, not the Void. Anything but the Void.
The Queen of Hell was silent for a few minutes as she debated on what to do about the sinner in front of her. To say she was pissed would be an understatement... even more so now that her little pet had tried talking back to her. She had put him in his place quickly but she couldn't risk him getting too cocky. Her plan would fail if he got too cocky and she couldn't have that. The Void would've been the perfect punishment but that would also cause her plan to fail. Unless...
Yes, that could work, Lilith thought to herself, pleased.
"I've come up with a suitable punishment for you, Fawn," Lilith purred. "Well, a suitable first part of punishment. Don't think this will be the only part, oh no. You've messed up far too greatly to have a quick punishment."
This was going to be a long night.
Lilith snapped her fingers and suddenly she, and the room, disappeared into blackness. The ground fell away and Alastor plummeted, for a moment or two, before crashing into blackness. He scampered up, panicked and hoping he was wrong. He wasn't; everywhere he looked was blackness.
Fuck. Fuck no.
Not this.
Alastor threw his hands out in front of him. At least, he thought he did. He couldn't see anything in the Void; just blackness. The overlord desperately moved forward. He needed to find the exit. There was an exit, he knew there was.
It was how he had gotten out after seven years.
Alastor's hands slammed into a wall. He had forgotten that little... quirk of the Void. There were fucking walls. There was a fucking floor. He couldn't see them, but they were there. How the hell was he going to get out?
Breath, he told himself. Panicking wasn't going to help him. He managed to find his way through the Void before. He just had to be cautious, careful. The deer kept his hand out in front of him and felt for the wall. The Void was full of rooms and hallways; he just needed to figure out where there wasn't a wall and walk in that direction.
Feeling the wall in front of him, Alastor ran his one hand along the wall and kept the other out in front of him for another. It didn't take long for him to find it. He spun ninety degrees then, hand on the new wall and back to the first, slowly walked forward.
He lost count of how many times he did it, how many twists and turns he had done. He couldn't keep track; it would make him go crazy. He just had to focus on getting out of here.
If he even could.
With a sickening feeling, Alastor realized that there might not be a way out anymore. Lilith had some weird control over the Void; she could've gotten rid of the exit. She probably did get rid of the exit. Well fuck.
The Radio Demon felt his breathing start to quicken. No, not in here, not in the Void. He wasn't about to have a fucking panic attack— that's what they were called, right? He was still getting used to the fact that they had a name, back when he was alive, they were just seen as another weakness of his, another part of him that made him a pathetic excuse of a son— in the fucking Void. He tried to even his breathing but it didn't work.
Stupid, stupid Void.
Just when Alastor was positive that he was going to drop on the ground because he couldn't get enough air, the blackness all melted away and he was once again back in the room with Lilith. Again, he fell for a moment at the sudden change of his surroundings and fell flat on his face. It took him a few seconds of gasping for breathe, of realizing he was no longer in that goddamn Void, before he was able to push himself into a sitting position. Lilith was looking down on him, an amused expression on her face.
Speak of the devil, the woman bent down so the two were eye level. "Enjoyed the Void, Pet?" she teased. He snarled and she laughed. "No? Well, don't worry, you don't have to go back there... yet." She pushed herself up so she was standing again. "Moving on!" Alastor tensed as she began circling him the way a predator would it's prey, waiting. What was she planning on doing next?
When he felt her caress, he knew he should've expected this.
The queen ran her hand across his shoulder the way a lover would. The hotelier dug his nails into his skin. He hated when she did this, hated when she touched him. Hated her touch period but especially when she touched him like this. She never, fortunately, did anything more than touch him but the implication, the touches themselves, were enough for the deer to start soundlessly obeying. It was mostly subconsciously, mostly a way to disassociate, disappear (hehe), to get it to stop but a small part of him was positive that if he muttered any sort of protest or complaint against it, she would go further. And he couldn't, wouldn't, let that happen. Not if he could help it. So, he remained silent. Silent as she ran her hand across his shoulders and back. Silent when she touched his ears. Silent when her finger trailed down to his chin and forced him to look at her.
"Up, Pet," she whispered and he had no choice but to do so. She kept a hand on his back, the other below his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Look at you, so obedient, such a good little pet. I do so hate when you're difficult." Lilith leaned in close, so close their faces were almost touching. Breathlessly, in an intimate way that made everything in Alastor tense and curl up, she purred, "You'll be a good pet from now on, won't you, Fawn?"
"Yes, of course," he responded, voice barely above a whisper.
"Good," the queen smirked then pulled away but not before caressing his arm one more time. It took everything in Alastor to not scream and rush away from her. He hated her, hated this, and she knew. Knew he hated to be touched and knew he hated it even more to be touched like this. She regarded him for a few moments before she spoke again, her voice back to it's normal icy harshness.
"Will you be good now, Puppet?" The deer nodded. Apparently, this was the wrong thing, because the woman roughly grabbed his arm, nails digging in enough to drawl blood. Well, at least she was done toying with him. "Verbally."
"Yes," Alastor whispered again, voice so uncharacteristically quiet and without filter.
"Good," Lilith dropped his arm. "Now, I will ask you and I want an honest answer... and I will know if you're lying, you know that... why is this hotel still up and running when I told you to destroy my daughter's idea?" She was acting like the punishment was done but the hotelier knew this was just her way. The punishment would resume again soon; he'd just be on edge until it did so.
"I'm working on it," Alastor responded, knowing that was his only choice. It wasn't a lie... but it wasn't the full truth. Or maybe it was. Alastor was still trying to figure out what his next course of action would be with the hotel. He was sent here by Lilith to destroy it and now she was going to be hounding him more than ever to do so. She wasn't going to change her mind. The Radio Demon on the other hand... well, he was still working on that. He didn't have a choice but he wasn't sure if he still felt as strongly about doing it as he had when he first arrived. Damn Charlie and her ways of getting to him.
"But?" Lilith supplied, knowing there was more to the story. God he hated how the woman could read him like an open book.
"But," Alastor echoed, "I can't destroy this idea right away... I mean, I can, but it's not going to keep Charlie down for long. I don't know if you've realized this, but your daughter is stubborn when she puts her mind to something. Annoyingly so." He paused, his forced smile becoming slightly more genuine. He did admire that about Charlie and he could admit that... to himself, at least. "My point is, if you want her to give up the idea and give it up for good, you have to really hurt her... really hit it where it hurts. I need to gain her trust-"
"You've already gained her trust," Lilith snipped.
"Right, right," the overlord responded. "What I mean is, I need to have her think I'm on her side and then, when the moment is right, move in for the kill. Don't worry about it, I got it under control."
"DON'T TELL ME NOT TO WORRY ABOUT IT!" Lilith roared and a wave of magic flew from the woman. Alastor was flung back, crashing into the wall, his head to slamming even harder against it. He dropped to the ground, again, in a mess of limbs as his vision blurred and spots danced on the edge, his ears ringing from the crash and Lilith's angry scream.
Neither one heard the knock.
Lilith moved closer to the tangled deer but before she could speak, or do anything, Charlie's voice from the the other side of the door broke the silence.
"Mom? Everything okay in there?"
"Yes, Lee!" Lilith responded, getting over her shock quickly. She glared at Alastor and he knew what it meant; stay silent or else. "Just dropped something!" Yeah, me, Alastor thought humorlessly. "Do you need me, sweetie?"
"If you're busy, it's not important," the princess whispered.
"Wait, hold on," the queen responded. "Just give me a minute, I'll be out with you soon."
"Okay!"
Lilith dropped her voice, "You're lucky, Pet. You're punishment is done... for now. Count your lucky stars my little daughter came when she did." She straightened. "Coming Charlie!"
With one final glare behind her at the demon in the shadows, Lilith spun on her heel, slipped out the door, and slammed it behind her.
It was the slamming that finally set Alastor off.
After hours of holding his panic at bay, it all came tumbling out.
He couldn't breath. The walls were closing in. The room was uncomfortably hot. Alastor yanked at his hair, curling into a ball as he shook, humming and whimpering. He could feel her touch, everywhere, and he wanted to scream. He was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to die. Realistically, Alastor knew he wasn't going to die, this was just one of those panic attacks, but it was hard to remind yourself of that when you're panicking.
The Radio Demon yanked harder at his hair, his breathing quickened even more. He kept shaking, kept quietly fitting between hums and whimpers, as the walls felt like they were crashing down around him and the room got to be unbearably hot. The radio— there was one in every room, his idea— hissed to life, static getting louder and louder until it broke the sound barrier, breaking itself in the process. Alastor yelped at the sudden sound and the radio smoked. Huh, that had never happened before. Well, as they say, there's a first time for everything.
Alastor had no idea how long it took before his breathing returned to normal. Before the walls stopped closing in. Before the room returned to it's normal temperature and he stopped yanking at his hair. He sat up, suddenly exhausted but not wanting to sleep.
He couldn't sleep.
He forced himself up, stumbled over to the door, cautiously peeked out. The coast was clear. With a quick deep breath, the overlord slipped out of the room, closed the door behind him, and rushed down the hall to his room.
Once safely tucked inside his room did the demon finally relax. Not for long, though, because he didn't want to be in here, alone, for longer than he had to be. He headed towards the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror.
He didn't recognize the demon who stared back; haunted eyes, smileless.
Alastor shook his head, turning his attention to more pressing matters. Like the mark from Lilith on his left arm, his torn up clothes. Well, he could at least deal with those. Silently, yet quietly humming to himself, Alastor cleaned the wound, tended to his clothes. The wound was already starting to heal; it would be fine by the he got downstairs. His torn clothes were a little harder to fix and he couldn't fully fix them now, but he managed to hide the worse of the damage.
No one will know.
With a final glance in the mirror to make sure he look put together, the deer forced his unnerving smile he was known for, turned on his heel, and left the bathroom.
A glance at the clock told him that the bar would be open for another hour, if he hurried.
Good, he needed a drink.
Wait, no, a drink was what you had after you had a long day.
Alastor needed to get blackout drunk.
Lucifer lay on his bed, curled up, surrounded by rubber ducks.
Why was she back?
It had been seven years! He thought she was out of their lives for good. He had finally started to put the past behind him, started to open up again, started to let Charlie in. For fuck's sake, the two finally started rebuilding their bond! Now Lilith was back, and Lucifer knew she was going to cause more trouble than not... even if she insisted she was on Charlie's side. Lucifer wasn't exactly sure what she was planning on doing or why she was back, but he knew it couldn't be good.
Maybe it made him weak for leaving within the hour of Lilith's return. Maybe it made him a bad father that he left Charlie behind to deal with her mother alone. Well, Lilith wouldn't hurt Charlie in front of everyone so Lucifer knew he didn't have to worry too much about that now. Wait, no, Lilith wouldn't hurt her daughter, period.
Would she?
Lucifer realized he knew so little about his former wife. He had thought he had known her for so long it was still hard to remember that he really didn't. Didn't know how cruel she could be, didn't know that she could switch at the drop of a hat, didn't know she would abandon them for Heaven.
He didn't know her at all.
Whatever, he would fix it tomorrow. As of now, all the King of Hell wanted to do was stay, curled up, with his ducks.
And cry.
Except, those tears had run dry awhile ago, so now he was just sort of lying there, staring into space. He didn't want to deal with Lilith today. He didn't want to deal with her in general, but he had to. But now. Now, was time to freak out alone.
Tomorrow he'd be strong. Tomorrow he'd be a good father.
As of now, he was going to panic.
And play with his ducks.
Oh! There was supposed to be a duck wedding today!
Lucifer dragged himself out of bed and headed off to find the two ducks and their family.
Better later then never.
Husk was behind the bar, putting away colorful bottles of alcohol. Vaggie had finished her drink and vanished to find Charlie a while ago, Angel was still nursing one (his third, Husk had kept track... purely because he always kept track of how much drinks one consumed, not for any other reason, he certainly wasn't giving the spider demon any special attention), and Niffty was hopping to and fro, sweeping and chasing stabbing bugs that made the mistake of crossing her path, enjoying herself in that little Niffty way of hers.
Alastor had retired to his room nearly two hours ago so when the cat demon turned back towards the bar to see the Radio Demon sitting there, he nearly dropped the glass he was holding. He waited for the deer's mockery but it never came.
Odd.
"Thought you had gone to bed, Boss," Husk said, recovering from his shook.
"Decided I wanted a drink," the deer drawled.
"Well, you came to the right place," the cat responded. "What can I get for you?"
"Something strong, Husker," Alastor answered. "Strongest you got."
Husk startled... again. It was so unlike the man to request a strong drink; he wasn't exactly a heavy drinker. With his strong, cat-like hearing, he heard Angel choke on his own drink. Well, at least Husk wasn't the only one who though the hotelier was acting odd.
"Trying to get drunk?" the porn star asked. "Didn't know you did that, Smiles."
"Something like that... Also, mind your damn business," Alastor shot back but it was a lot less cold than normal. Angel and Husk exchanged a worried confused look; the hotelier was acting odder than usual. Neither one would dare admit it but they liked the man enough to be slightly concerned for his strangeness. That being said, neither cared about the man enough to ask him what was wrong; that was more of a Charlie thing to do. Besides, the hotel reopened and the Queen had made a surprise reappearance. That was bound to set everyone on edge.
Even if it should've only really affected Charlie and Lucifer, it didn't. It affected all of them. There was some strange family-like dynamic between Charlie, her father, and the rest of the staff and the only residence. If something affected one of them, it was bound to affect all of them. Out of all of them, Alastor might be the most distance and hard to reach emotionally, but even he was still, somehow, a part of this crazy family. So it made sense that he was affected by the whole Lilith situation... even if the woman did seem to want to help. The woman was nice enough but this was Hell; you had to keep people at an arm's length before you could fully trust them. Husk knew to keep the woman at a distance until she had proven herself to be trustworthy and the bartender knew the deer shared the same sentiment. The cat was pretty sure everyone was sharing the same sentiment... except for Charlie of course. The woman was a little too trusting for her own good. Oh well.
"Husker. My drink?"
The man in question was snapped out of his thoughts as the owner of his soul tapped impatiently on the bar. The car bartended gave the overlord a glare. "On it," Husk growled, annoyed. "Give me a minute, goddamn it."
"Careful," Alastor warned and Husk relaxed slightly; there was the Radio Demon the cat knew so well. There was no need for concern; he man was just on edge because of Lilith's return like they all were, that was all.
"Strong you said?" Husk asked as he turned his back to the other demon. "How strong?"
"I told you already," the serial killer groaned. "Strongest you got."
"Think you can handle it, Smiles?" Angel teased. "I never saw you drink anything heavier than liquor."
"Just because you haven't seem it doesn't mean it hasn't happened," the deer remarked.
"True!" the spider laughed, getting up and moving a few seats closer to the hotelier. "Might be interesting seeing you get drunk, Smiles."
"Bold of you to assume that I can get drunk," Alastor drawled. The porn star laughed.
"Everyone gets drunk, Smiles, even you."
"Debatable."
Husk finished the drink; the strongest he knew how to make. It felt weird giving it to someone who wasn't him or Angel; they were the only two who ever asked for something that strong. Vaggie had come close a couple of times but the former angel had never crossed the line. Niffty never drank— at least not to Husk's knowledge and maybe that was a good thing; a drunk Niffty might be too much for any of them to handle— and Charlie only ever drank drinks with little alcohol. Even the couple of times the King of Hell had requested a drink, it had been the average amount. It was unlike the Radio Demon to try to get drunk but, unlike Angel, unlike anyone else in the hotel, Husk had seen it happen before. As the bartender, it was bound to happen; he saw it all from behind the bar. Sure, it had been a shock the first time he saw the man get drunk, but by now he was more used to it. It didn't happen a lot, though, so it always was a surprise when the deer decided to do so.
Also, he had never asked for this strong of a drink before.
Whatever. Who was he to judge? The cat passed the drink to the overlord and went back to putting away bottles.
He wasn't sure how long it had been— but he knew it hadn't been long; Alastor had come with less than an hour to last call and there was still a good fifteen minutes to go before that— before he heard the serial killer call out his name again, his voice ever so slightly slurred as the alcohol began to hit.
"Yes, Boss?" the cat asked, turning back to face his acquaintance.
The demon in question picked up the now empty glass— huh, he downed that fast— gesturing it towards the other. "Think you can get me another, my dear little Husker?"
Husk laughed for a moment or two before noticing the expression on the Radio Demon's face. Oh, he wasn't joking. Husk frowned. "Sorry, no can do," Husk recovered quickly. He was good at that. "Limit of one of those per night. Not even that one can get a second." He nodded towards the spider who nodded, grinning.
"And I've tried!" the porn star laughed. "He's very stubborn."
"That he is," Alastor said, deadpan. "Husker, I mean it. Come on."
"And I said no," Husk stood his ground. He didn't care if the demon wanted to get blackout drunk but he wasn't about to cause the man to collapse from alcohol poisoning. Plus, for all the times the other had gotten drunk, the cat had never seen him get this drunk. Well, as drunk as he would get once the drink actually hit. Husk would rather not have the man burn down the hotel or kill everyone in a ten mile radius because he really had no idea what would happen if the overlord got insanely drunk. "Look, I know it feels like you're fine, but once that drink hits, you'll be glad I'm not giving you another one."
"I'm fine!" the man protested. "I can handle it!"
"No you cannot," Husk explained, matter of factly. "And its nothing against you, Boss. No one can."
He started to turn back around when he saw, out of the corner of his eyes, the glass flying towards him. The bartender barely had time to duck as it soared over his head, hit the wall behind him, and shattered, knocking down another bottle as it did so.
"H̴̛͓̱͔̹̪̑̍̏͝͝ǘ̸̧̺͉̠̯̞̪̬͇̄̈́͂̊̓̉ͅs̴̨̻̰̭̞̱͙͕̔͒͛̊ͅͅk̶͇̰̔͐̾̑̾̉̃̕"
The cat jumped, startled. Not because of the sudden staticiness of Alastor's voice— oh no, the other had done it enough that it didn't startle him anymore— or because of the sudden change in emotion or even because he just had a goddamn glass thrown at him.
Oh no, it was the fact that the demon had called him Husk.
Alastor never called him Husk.
It was always Husker. Annoying, yes, but it was what the sadistic Radio Demon did. Husk hated it, but he had grown used to it. That was just Alastor. There was no point in trying to argue. Husk had tried. Multiple times. He had given up years ago. The nickname sucked and pissed him off but Husk always reminded himself it could be worse. Having a dumb nickname that annoyed him was better than being called something dehumanizing or even a slur. Husk knew some soul owners did that but that was never his and he'd certainly take the annoyingly stupid nickname over any slur.
So the fact that Alastor dropped the nickname was cause for concern. Husk could probably count the number of times the man had done that; once, when he had first owned the feline's soul. Before that, too, but Husk always envisioned the man in front of him as a different man than he had been before that goddamn bet.
Niffty was already on the other side of the bar, hurryingly cleaning up the mess Alastor just made. Husk watched for a moment, trying to snap himself out of his shock. Angel laughed nervously.
"Yeah, I think that's my cue to leave," the spider demon said then downed the rest of his drink. He and Husk exchanged a final glance in which the porn star shook his head— a warning to not give the other man any more alcohol; Angel knew what self-destructive drinking looked like and it was this. He may not care that much about the Radio Demon but he cared enough that he didn't want the man to drink himself to death. Husk seemed to understand, giving his crush friend a tight smile, bidding him a goodnight. Angel returned it and vanished down the hall to his room, leaving the cat alone with his boss and fellow forced staff member (even if the small maid did enjoy it more than the bartender). Niffty kept sweeping at the glass shards, whispering the word clean over and over again, as the two men stared at each other, both so stubborn and refusing to back down.
Husk needed to do something but what? He couldn't give Alastor another drink without risking everyone in the hotel, including the man across from him not that he would dare admit that he cared On the other hand, he also couldn't risk not giving the other a drink; that would put the rest of the hotel in just as much danger, and Husk in for a night of screaming and threats. Such a dilemma; the gambler really hated being a bartender.
The answer came to Husk in a flash. It was dangerous, but it was the best he had and he was at least 75% sure it would work; the other man was drunk enough he probably wouldn't notice. Slowly, cautiously, the cat demon made the hotelier a mocktail of the drink the other had just finished, completely void of alcohol. A dangerous risk, but Husk was known for taking dangerous risks.
It was how he got his soul owned in the first place.
Husk was just about finished when he realized the small maid on the counter next to him was watching with a wide eye. Fuck, she knew what he was doing. The cat froze; she and Alastor had such a weird relationship, some weird level of care that was lacking between the two men. The bartender always found it strange that the Radio Demon seemed to genuinely care for the little crazy cyclops, but then again, the two seemed to both be on the same insanity wavelength sharing the same love for unhinged, probably unethical violence and chaos.
Besides, it was hard to hate Niffty. She was crazy and unhinged and certainly not harmless, but she had moments and, despite the fact that she was a legal adult when she died, she was more of a child than anything else. Husk always thought her childlike way of thinking and acting was off, knew there had to be a (probably awful) reason for it, but it also made it hard to hate her. Niffty wasn't innocent, far from it, but she had such a childlike innocence about her that you would have to be a complete monster to hate her and while Alastor was a cruel asshole, even he wasn't that horrible.
The point was, the two actually talked. Like, shared secrets like they were teenage girls at a sleepover talked. The last thing the Vietnam vet needed was for the little maid to go blabbering to Alastor and get him in trouble.
Their eyes met and Niffty's mouth dropped open. She began to turn, probably to tattle on Husk, but the cat shook his head, desperate. He lowered his voice, "Niffty, please."
"But-" the little demoness began.
"It's for his own good!" the bartender quickly added, hoping that the youngster's admiration for the insane deer would be enough for her to keep quiet. Niffty trailed off, her eye conflicted, but she finally nodded and Husk let out a breath of relief he didn't even realize he was holding. She won't tell on him. She went back to cleaning; she was almost done.
Husk finished the drink and admired it. It looked exactly like the strong drink he had made almost an hour ago now. With bated breath, the sinner turned to his boss and handed him the drink. He waited, heart in his throat, as the other demon took it and tried it.
"See? That wasn't that hard, now was it?" Alastor slurred. Husk relaxed; one crisis adverted.
Niffty finished cleaning up then vanished off to go back to stabbing bugs. The clock near the bar hit two. Last call. The cat made the announcement even though he and the Radio Demon were the only ones around. The other man was nearly finished his non-alcoholic drink but as much as Husk wanted to leave, he knew he should wait until the other left. Better safe than sorry and all that shit. The bartender wiped down the counters as he waited.
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long before the hotelier finished his drink and set his glass down with a clink. "Well, Husker," the deer slurred and Husk had to bit back a smile at the familiar nickname. "Off to my room for real this time." Except, the demon didn't make any move to get up.
"You know you actually have to walk to your room like the rest of us mere sinners, right?" Husk snorted, a weak attempt at a joke that was just as much of a nicer way of asking the other to get off his ass and leave so he could leave too.
"Ha-ha," Alastor muttered but he still didn't get up.
"Look, I can't leave until you-" Husk began then stopped, realizing. He didn't actually have to wait for the other to leave before he could leave. "Fuck it. If you want to sit in her in the darkness by yourself like some weirdo, be my guest. I'm going to bed." The cat didn't get paid enough to be a babysitter for people who've drank too much. Actually, he didn't get paid at all. "Night, Boss."
As Husk began to flick off the lights and leave, the deer suddenly spoke, "Husker..."
The cat in question stopped and spun back to face the serial killer. "Yes?" he asked, impatiently.
"Nothing," Alastor quickly answered and Husk was about to snap at the other for wasting his time when he saw it. The look in the deer's eyes. Oh.
For the second time in less than half an hour, Husk was conflicted. He owed this man nothing (well, except for his soul but their contract said nothing about caring about the other) and he really should just leave the sinner to deal with the consequences of his actions himself but somehow, he couldn't. Stupid Charlie and this stupid hotel, they were getting to him.
Because Husk recognized the look in Alastor's eyes. Had only seen it in the other's eyes once or twice before but had seen in others too many times to count. Had seen it in Angel's eyes after bad nights at the studio. Had seen it in his friend's eyes after Vietnam. Had seen it in his own eyes on the bad nights.
The look of desperation of not wanting to be alone to deal with the darkness.
Husk sighed and without a word, reached over the bar to grab a bottle. He plopped down a few seats away from the Radio Demon, opened the bottle, and took a sip.
"I thought you were heading off to bed," teased the deer.
"Well, I wanted a drink, sue me," Husk snapped back. "It's been a crazy day."
"You can say that again," Alastor laughed humorlessly.
"Lilith is really something, isn't she?" the cat mumbled after another sip and he could've sworn the demon next to him tensed. It was so quick and so unlike Alastor that Husk was positive he imagined it. "What do you make of her?"
The overlord didn't answer for a long moment and the other was beginning to think he never would when he finally did, "She's something alright. Not trustworthy in the slightest."
It was the closest Alastor could say without giving it all away.
"I second that," Husk snorted and the conversation trailed off.
Silent hours passed before the two finally bid each other goodnight and went their separate ways. No other words were spoken. They didn't need to be; Husk knew Alastor's pain well enough that he knew just the few hours of not being alone were enough.
As for the deer, well, he'll never admit it but he was insanely grateful towards Husker for not leaving him alone with the ghost of Lilith's hands touching him everywhere and all the memories that came with it.
Alone now, though, the memories and her touch all came rushing back and once in his room, the hotelier collapsed to his knees.
Shaking, Alastor let out a soundless scream, his smile dropping away.
He didn't know how much more of this he could handle.
Notes:
Oh look, Lilith is a major asshole! Who would've known? (Me... and Alastor... and y'all because I warned you in the opening note she was a piece of shit)
Alastor suffered a lot in this chapter... and this is just the beginning! Poor Alastor is going to be a traumatized little deer by the time I'm done with him. No I won't apologize; suffer, I'm evil.
Also, look at Husker having feelings! No one is safe from me giving them feelings. Hahahahahahahahahahaha! (I swear I'm sane)
Moving on.
I would like to say the Void wasn't 100% my idea; it came loosely from a fanfic I read where Lilith sent Alastor into a void for his seven year absence. I can't remember the name of it or the author unfortunately, but I still give credit where is due, so shout out to that person who's name I unfortunately forgot because I suck at names. That being said, the Void itself, and all it entails, is entirely my creation. Worry not (or maybe worry, depending on how much you liked or disliked it), this won't be the only mention of the Void and it will be explored more throughout the story, as it will play an even bigger role later on and there will be flashbacks to Al's seven years in it.
Vox will also make his appearance soon to be his annoying (and obsessive) little T.V demon self.
On a final note, these first few chapters will be a little slow before the action really starts and then it will be an emotional rollercoaster where no one is safe and everyone suffers.
Until next time...
*spins away*
Chapter 3: Guess Who'll Be Pulling All the Strings?
Summary:
After a (seemingly) heartfelt talk with Lilith and despite numerous protests from her loved ones, Charlie decides to let her mother help run the hotel, unknowingly creating a dangerous tension between her and her father. Alastor isn't thrilled with this news, either, but for an entirely different reason.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
To say Charlie was excited would've been the understatement of the century.
She was exhilarated.
The woman could barely contain her excitement, wildly bouncing on her toes, as she waited for her mother in the hall. At the moment, she was standing by the door to the room she had given her mother, one of the rooms on the top floor, near the end of the hall, along with the other staffs' rooms. Sure, her mother wasn't part of the hotel's staff (yet... Charlie hoped she'd join their little family— because it was a family, no matter what any of them said—) but she also wasn't a resident either. Besides Angel— since he was a... well, their only resident, for now anyway— everyone had a room on the top floor. She thought her mother would like this room; a couple doors down from her own room (ironically, also only two doors down from Alastor's but that had just been an accident; Charlie didn't even mean to put the woman between her and the hotelier) while being as far away from her father's as she could make it.
The rooms couldn't be as far away as possible as Charlie had made sure Alastor and Lucifer were opposite ends of the hall— she didn't want the two to get into a screaming match in the middle of the night or block the hallway with another one of their impromptu, slightly amusing (although she would never admit that to anyone, not even Vaggie) musical duels— and Niffty had the room next to Alastor's so this was the farthest Charlie could've put her mother. She wasn't exactly sure how her parents would react being too close together— especially after how Lucifer had already reacted towards his former wife— so better safe than sorry. Husk's room, along with Charlie's officer, were down the hall, closer to her father's room. The rooms were filling up quickly. At this rate, the entire top floor would be filled before they could even get a second (well, technically third, since Sir Pentious had been their second) resident. Oh well; that was bound to be expected. Besides, the top floor had the least amount of room since they were all only on one side; the other side of the hallway had doors to the balcony.
The blonde quietly hummed to herself as she waited; Lilith was taking her sweet old time coming out but Charlie wasn't about to complain. How could she? It was getting late and her mother had already retired off her room, probably for bed, when the blonde had came knocking. The Princess of Hell knew she was lucky that her mother was willing to talk to her this late at night; Charlie wouldn't have blamed her mother if the older woman had wanted to talk in the morning. She had thought that maybe her mother was a morning person or someone who didn't like to be bothered once she was in for the night. Maybe she was one of those things and had made an exception for Charlie— some part of Charlie hoped that was the case because that meant her mother still loved her... well, her mother had to still love her, right? Charlie was her daughter after all— but the truth was, the young woman had no idea what her mother was like. Not anymore, at least; of course, she had her entire childhood and early adult years with her mother before the woman left, and she knew her mother almost as well as she knew herself for the first two hundred plus years of her life, but people change, especially when they're gone for seven years. Take her father for example; Charlie may not have known him as well as she knew her mother those seven years ago, but she had known him well enough. Then her mother left and her father retreated into himself and now the princess was just starting to finally relearn her father; what he liked, what he disliked, how he acted, his quirks. Even now, there was still so much to learn about the man who was obsessed with ducks.
At least, she reminded herself, her mother seemed to be far more willing to communicate and repair their bond than her father had been, no offense to him. Charlie was sure the woman would have a good explanation on why she vanished for seven years and Charlie was willing to wait until her mother was ready to share. She could wait to learn the reasoning on the seven year absence.
Huh, seven years. Alastor had also vanished for seven years.
Strange that there were at least two people she knew had vanished for the same amount of years but Charlie didn't think too much of it. Sure, it seemed like a random number but maybe seven had some significance in hell. There were the seven rings, after all; maybe sinners who wanted to vanish for a while used that number for some reason.
The door in front of her opened and Charlie was snapped out of her thoughts as the woman who looked so much like herself, just older and taller, stepped out into the hallway. She quickly closed the door behind her and as she started to turn to face the other, Charlie launched into a hug.
"Oh!" Lilith exclaimed, shocked as the weight of her daughter hit her full force.
"Sorry!" Charlie flustered as she quickly pull away; she always forgot not everyone liked to be hugged and it had totally slipped her mind that her mother wasn't used to her impromptu hugs. "I'm just a hugger but I should've asked first! Most of the hotel doesn't really mind that much— well, minus Al, but he really doesn't like to be touched, like, at all, so that obviously checks out, and even he's more used to the random hugs than he used to be— but anyway, I totally forgot you haven't been here as long as everyone else and I have no idea if you even liked to be touched. I know you used to be but that was seven years ago and a lot could've changed in that amount of time and I should've asked first and-"
"Lee," Lilith interrupted and Charlie stopped, looking up at her mother, who gave her a warm smile. "I'm not upset, really. I was just a little startled, that's all." Charlie remained silent, blinking at her mother. The other woman widened her smile. "Besides," she went on, "if it makes you feel any better, I'm a hugger too. Always have been, always will be."
"REALLY?!" Charlie squealed and her mother nodded. The two of them really were alike! Charlie couldn't believe it; she had always felt so out of place in Hell but here was someone who was so like her, in more ways than one, it hurt. And when Lilith opened her arms for a hug, Charlie barely hesitated before launching into the other's arms... again.
The hug lasted for nearly a minute before Lilith suddenly pulled away and suggested the two take a walk around the hotel both so they could talk and so the first woman could get a better understanding for the layout. The shorter blonde agreed almost immediately.
Good, Lilith thought to herself as the two began to move away from her room. She was worried her daughter would question the sudden suggestion and that would cause problems she didn't want to deal with. It would raise questions she wasn't ready to answer.
Because, as they were hugging, Lilith could hear that goddamn little pet of hers in her room, starting to whimper and wail like a kicked dog, and the queen knew he'd probably get louder the longer they stood there. If her daughter had heard the cries, she would've wanted to know who else was in the room and Lilith wasn't sure how long she could've hold off her stubborn daughter from finding out who was lying on the floor of her room having a goddamn panic attack because she just happened to been a little harsh with him.
Lilith would have a lot of explaining to do onto why her daughter's friend was on her bedroom floor, curled up, wailing, and bleeding.
Luckily, for the older woman's sake, Charlie didn't hear the cries nor did she question her mother's suggestion and the two walked down the hall, away from the latter's room.
"So, Lee," the Queen of Hell began once they had been walking for a few minutes, "What did you want to talk about? Is something the matter, darling?"
Right. This wasn't just a talk; Charlie had asked to speak to her mother. For a moment, the younger woman remained silent, trying to figure out how to word it. The truth was, Charlie wanted to see if Lilith would be willing to help run the hotel— well, help run some aspect of the hotel; she and Alastor could handle running the hotel themselves just fine and she wasn't about to kick the deer from the position just because her mother showed back up, he could be annoying and unethical but he had done a lot for the hotel and he had (attempted) to protect it when Adam and the other angels had come down to attack— but she was hesitant on what to say. Sure her mother seemed to believe in the hotel in ways no one else had and seemed to be willing to talk, but Charlie had no idea why her mother was back or how long she was going to stay. She could also like the hotel without wanting to be apart of the staff. The princess didn't want to outright ask, not yet, anyway, just in case her mother dashed her hopes; she didn't want to be hurt... again. "I just... well you see... It's just-" Charlie sighed. It shouldn't be this hard to talk to her mother! "Why are you back?!" Charlie finally spit out then cursed herself for being so blunt. Lilith didn't seem to care.
"I knew you were probably going to ask that." Lilith responded, quietly laughing. "And it's a fair question. I don't... I don't really have a timetable... There's no real plan. I mean!" she quickly added, realizing how it sounded. "There's no plan at all. Like I told you, I had... business... to take care of and it's done. For now at least... But don't worry abut that... and I've returned... well, I've returned because I missed you, Lee."
Charlie grinned; her mother missed her! "I missed you too, Mom! I wished you didn't have to go but I know you wouldn't have left without a good reason."
"Of course I wouldn't," Lilith lied. Although, it wasn't really a lie, was it? She finally got the chance to make it into Heaven and she took it; so what if she had to abandoned leave her family? This was Hell; you had to be selfish. Besides, truthfully speaking, it had been her ex husband's fault that she lost her chance to get into heaven... both her ex-husband's faults, actually. Adam because he wanted her to be a quiet, obedient wife and Lucifer for the whole "let's give Eve the fucking apple!" thing; she had only gone along with it to help the poor woman gain some self-respect and because she thought the whole forbidden fruit thing was stupid. Lilith wasn't expecting that to damn her and Lucifer to fucking Hell. Never mind any of that, everything worked out in the end... or it had, until her daughter started to have this idea that sinners could be redeemed.
Lilith really needed to put a stop to that which was why she had sent that little pet of hers here, but, now he seemed to be slacking so she had to drag herself back into this godforsaken place to remind him why he was here and push him in the right direction. Might as well speed this process up too as long as she was down here and her fawn seemed to be taking his sweet old time.
"And you're back now!" Charlie was saying and Lilith tried to tune back into what her daughter was saying. "So, water under the bridge, right?" Lilith began to respond but her daughter continued. "Anyway, if you're going to be back for the unforeseeable future... and you seem to like the hotel so much... I was wondering... Um, I just thought... that maybe... I don't know, you don't have to agree, don't think I'm going to be disappointed or anything, it's your choice, I just wanted to see if..." Charlie was stammering over her words again. For fucks sake! Why couldn't she talk normally with her mother without making an absolute fool of herself or stumbling over her words like there was no tomorrow? It was her mother, after all; it wasn't like she was talking to one of the higher ups in Heaven! Ironically, she had done a better job talking to them— both times— than she was doing now, talking to her mother. It made no sense.
Maybe she was scared she would say the wrong thing and cause her mother to leave again. But her mother wouldn't do that... would she?
Darn it! Her father's whole "everything sucks and the world is going to end" mentality was really starting to get to her; Charlie made a mental note to talk to her dad about that. The man needed to talk to someone about that. Who, Charlie wasn't sure; it wasn't like there were therapists in Hell.
"Charlie," Lilith began and the women in question was snapped out of her thoughts... again.
"Yeah?" she asked as the two rounded the corner towards the stairs to head downstairs. Oh, right; Charlie forget this was going to be a tour as much of a talk. "Oh! By the way, this floor is the staff floor. I know you aren't part of the staff-" yet, Charlie added silently, "- but I thought putting up here was the best choice... you're closer to me, too!"
"I see," Lilith nodded. "And I do want to talk to you about that, my sweet Lee."
"About what?"
"Being part of the staff... Look, I understand if you don't want me to help, I've abandoned you for seven years and then showed up out of the blue with little explanation. This project obviously means a lot to you and I'll understand if you don't feel comfortable with me joining, but..." Here Lilith paused for a moment; she sure did love dramatic effect. So did her little fawn; it was one of the reasons she hadn't ended him for slacking yet. Not the main reason, of course; the main reason being the fact that he normally did such a good job when she asked him to do something which was why she was so surprised he was struggling with this. Sure, this required more work than most things she had asked him to do but he didn't seem to be slacking because the work was hard or too much; there seemed to be an entirely different reason he was dragging his feet and the reasoning, or the implication Lilith was getting, seemed to be so not like him that Lilith was positive she was wrong. Positive that there was something else that was going on and she was just too out of reach in Heaven to see it.
Yet another reason she returned to check on him.
"I was wondering if you'll allow me to help run this little hotel of yours," Lilith finally finished when she decided she had waited long enough.
Charlie let out a high pitched, ear splitting screech. This was even better than she had been expecting! Here she was, thinking she was going to have to ask her mother— how awkward!— if she wanted to help with the hotel and it turned out, the woman was thinking the same thing. She wanted to help. Charlie knew today was going to be a happy day in Hell but she had no idea how happy today was going to be. "Of course you can help!" Charlie squealed. "I was just about to ask you the same thing!"
"Well, you know what they say," her mother responded. "Great minds think alike."
"True!"
The two had stopped at the landing of the stairs and Charlie began bouncing again, "Oh! This is great news! I can't wait to tell everyone tomorrow and-" She paused, realizing something. "What exactly do you want to help with? Because Al and I are already co-owners and the two of us have everything under control, I don't think it would be wise to add another person... not to mention I'd have to talk to him about that and he's not exactly the most open to change so he'd be totally against it... so that's out of the question... We already have a maid too, you've met her earlier, her name's Niffty... and she does a very good job at what she does, and she loves it, to the point where it's kinda scary, but anyway, for now, at least, that's also out of the question... so is bartender and cook. Husk, he's the cat demon you met earlier, is our bartender and he most certainly does not like the job but he's good at it..." Charlie paused, then under her breathe added, "And it's not like he has much of a say in the matter of being here..." She raised her voice to its normal level again, "And, while Al's our main cook, we all kinda take turns at that, so you can help with that but it won't be, like, your main job... Oh, and I almost forgot, Dad kinda does everything, but he's more or less the one who deals with the higher ups in Heaven and a lot of behind the scenes stuff that Al and I don't handle. Anyway, I yapped longer than I should've; my point was a lot of the roles I can think of are already filled... but maybe I can put you in somewhere... which leads me to the question... what did you have in mind when you asked if you could help? If you had anything, of course, it's okay if you didn't." Finally finished with her spiel that turned out to be longer than she planned, Charlie took a few, much needed, deep breathes as she waited for her mom to respond.
The woman in question didn't respond right away and Charlie was starting to think she had accidentally scared her. Everyone always told her she overwhelmed people when she talked that much, she was trying to tone it down, but it was hard. Luckily, she had found a couple people who didn't seem too traumatized when she started yapping their ear off; Vaggie was the main person she could talk to for hours without the fallen angel snapping at her or telling her to be quiet (well, her girlfriend had told her to tone it down a few of times, but it was almost always a joke... and the times that weren't were the times Charlie had been talking for longer than normal, so that was fair) but, surprisingly, the other person who was willing to listen to her ramble and rant was Alastor. Then again, maybe it wasn't that surprising; the deer could also talk you ear off once you mentioned one of the (many) topics he was passionate about.
Charlie and Alastor might not be alike in many ways but that was one of them
"Sorry!" Charlie squeaked out as the silence got to be unbearable. It was probably no more than a few minutes but Charlie was not the type who like silence. It made her nervous and she always wanted to fill it with something. That something was mostly more rambling. "I didn't mean to talk that much! Everyone always says I talk too much, which, I completely agree with, it's not like I mean to ramble on for hours-"
"Charlie," Lilith interrupted, softly. "It's okay. You always were a chatterbox as a child... and I mean that in the most lovingly way possible. I know it must be hard since some people seem to hate it so much, but you don't have to worry about toning it down with me. I don't mind. It's what makes you... well, you." Well, that was a lie; Lilith most certainly did mind. Unlike her daughter, she loved silence. Silence was golden, as they said. Back, before she left, there had been times were she wanted to strangle (lovingly, of course) her daughter after hours of hearing the young woman drone on and on. She'd never admit that to her daughter, oh no; Lilith was not a bad person nor parent. Just because she had left to go to Heaven or was sometimes tough towards her little puppet, it didn't make her a bad person. She's made bad decisions in the past but who hadn't? No one's perfect, after all.
Charlie beamed; Vaggie was the only one, to her knowledge, who had actually told her that while her yapping could get annoying, it was also who she was. It felt good to not be ripped apart for something she couldn't control and was actively trying to change. She felt bad for every bad thought she had had about her mother in these past seven years and in the past day; her mother was far kinder, far nicer, than she had made her out to be. "Thanks!" She finally whispered.
"Of course, Lee," Lilith smiled back. "Now, to get back to your question... it actually works out. I wanted to see if you need a advertising manager. The hotel isn't going to gain any traction if no one knows anything about it... have you advertised it at all yet?"
Charlie gave a nervous chuckle; ah, yes, the failed advertising. Maybe her mother could finally get that turned around, "Well, Al does advertise on his radio show, but I'm not sure how many people that would reach who would actually be willing to come to the hotel... but it's something and it's better than nothing. We've tried a couple of commercials, but one didn't really work out..." That was a lie; that first commercial had been awful. Alastor had many talents but visual advertising wasn't one of them. "The other was great but we couldn't get Heaven to air it..."
"Well, that's not going to work... that's not going to work at all!" Lilith mused. "No offense to your little... friend... but who listens to radio anymore?"
"He has quite a following," Charlie defended, annoyed. She knew that Alastor's media was more of a thing of the past but people did still listen to the radio. Maybe not as much as they watched T.V. and certainly not as much as they used to nowadays with streaming music, but everyone always acted like no one listened to radio anymore and that simply wasn't true.
She might have been spending just a bit too much time with the Radio Demon; he had literally said that entire spiel to her in the past.
"I'm sure he does," the taller blonder continued. "But I'm sure it's not a huge following... and besides, I've heard about him. His broadcasting isn't exactly for the faint of heart. You mentioned that it probably won't reach many sinners who would be willing to change and I strongly disagree. Charlie, my sweet darling girl, it's not going to reach anyone who wants to be redeemed. That being said, tell him to keep advertising, though; someone might stumble upon the channel who does want to change or maybe one of his loyal listeners would have a change of heart. Unlikely, but not completely impossible."
Charlie nodded, remaining silent; everything her mother was saying was true.
"And truthfully," Lilith was saying, "We do need to get more modern day advertising, commercials and magazine advertisements and such... oh, and lots of social media presence. Do you guys even have a social media page?"
Charlie shook her head; they most certainly did not. Lilith sighed.
"Well, luckily for you, my sweet Lee, I am quite a wiz at social media. Yes, I may have been the first woman, but I've kept up with all the trends unlike... some... people. Besides! I have my ways of getting Heaven to do things. My point is, I can do wonders for the advertising for this hotel, Charlie. Just you wait, sweetie... once I'm finished, this little passion project of yours would've exploded."
Her daughter grinned, thankful, not realizing that the woman had chosen her words carefully nor the double edge they carried. The younger woman thought the older one meant exploded in a metaphorical way. What Lilith really meant was in a literal sense.
This hotel was going to go down in flames, literally, and once it did, Charlie would give up this idea once and for all.
It was the middle of the afternoon the following day when Charlie had asked everyone to meet in the lobby for an announcement.
Charlie was finally going to be telling everyone that her mother was going to be helping run the hotel! She hadn't told anyone yet, not even Vaggie. She wanted it to be a surprise, wanted to tell everyone at the same time.
Maybe that was a bad idea. She was a little worried how a certain somebody (her father) would react, but it wasn't up to him to decide. This was her hotel so it was up to her in the end on who to bring aboard.
Although, thinking about it, she should've talked to Alastor beforehand. She didn't think the demon would react too badly but who knows. He could fly off the handle at the drop of a hat and Charlie really didn't want to get on his bad side. He could be scary when he was pissed and, while Charlie was positive he wouldn't do anything to her, she had to remind herself, not for the first time and probably not for the last, that she didn't really know the Radio Demon as well as she would like to. Maybe he would do something to her.
Fuck.
But, no. Maybe she didn't fully trust him but she trusted him enough. He might get angry. He might scream and threaten her, but he wouldn't hurt her. Charlie knew, despite the fact that she had zero evidence and the protests she could hear from Vaggie and her father in her head, that some part of the normally uncaring and twisted Alastor liked her well enough. Trusted her enough. He had given her his cane-microphone thing in cannibal town, something she knew was no ordinary gesture from the hotelier, he was so protective of that thing, and she was one of the only ones whom he allowed to touch him, not all the time, but more than anyone besides Niffty. Maybe she was being whimsically naive or wildly optimistic, but she was positive her co-host was slowly, but surely, starting to warm up to her, starting to view her as a friend.
She just had to break down his walls.
But that wasn't going to happen at the moment. Instead, she had the announcement to make. And dealing with the emotional fall-out she knew was bound to happen afterward. She knew at least one person here was bound to be upset with Lilith's addition and while she worried how that would affect their relationship, she knew whoever it was wouldn't hurt her.
Charlie glanced around; Vaggie was next to her on one side while her mother was on the other, slightly further away. Husk and Angel were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, both stealing glances at the other that they thought were unnoticeable but weren't. Niffty was sitting on the armrest of the couch, her legs swinging . Lucifer was behind the couch, standing and leaning against the back, making him look smaller than normal. As for Alastor, well her co-owner was sitting in one of the armchairs, watching her with a somehow both bored and entertained expression, his ever-present smile as off-putting as usual.
Everyone was here.
"So, I have an announcement to make," Charlie began and Angel laughed.
"Well, yeah, no fucking shit, that's why we're all here-" he began but then stopped in mid-sentence after a look from Vaggie who then gave her girlfriend a reassuring smile. You've got this, ignore him, it seemed to say and that was all she needed. She took a deep breathe and continued.
"As you all know, my mom returned yesterday after a seven year absence and she is thrilled with the idea of the hotel. I talked to her last night and-"
"I'm going to be joining your little team running the hotel!" Lilith finished, grinning. Oh. Charlie had thought she would make the announcement but one glance at her mother and any negative feelings on her mother stealing the spotlight vanished. Her mother was beaming, practically glowing. She probably just got a little too excited; Charlie would be a hypocrite if she held that against the woman. So what if she stole Charlie's announcement, she hadn't done it to be cruel.
Silence. Radio silence. No one spoke for the longest time, eyes wide, staring at the Queen of Hell as her words fully sunk it. Charlie begin to move her gaze towards Alastor to see his reaction when a sharp intake of breath caused her head to snap in the direction.
"WHAT?!"
Her father was pissed. Charlie felt her face fell; she had been expecting this after the way he acted yesterday but she had been hoping she was wrong.
"Char-char," he gasped as he turned to her. "Have you thought this through? I know this is your mother and I know you love her but-"
"But what?" Charlie snapped. "Dad, come on. I don't know what happened between you two but she wants to help. I thought you said you would, quote unquote, 'support my dream whatever lies in store'?"
Lucifer's face fell. Shit; he did it again! He really needed to stop letting his own feeling regarding Lilith be so open. Charlie deserved to make her own decision about her mother with his influence. But, he was worried for her; Lilith could be so cruel and horrible and while he was pretty sure she would've hurt their daughter, he really didn't know her at all. He was so conflicted! But one look at his daughter's face and he knew; he couldn't break her heart with the truth about her mother. Not now, anyway.
"You're right," he quickly exclaimed, blinking fast. "I know. I just... I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"I agree with Mr. Short King over here." Angel pipped up, the insult flying right over her father's head. "No offense, but like, I don't trust this woman. Nothing against her, but I just met her."
"I second that," Husk echoed.
"Yeah, I like bad boys and I'm sure she's the ultimate bad girl but maybe not!" Niffty added. Charlie felt like crying; she had expected her father to react poorly, probably Alastor, maybe Vaggie, but not everyone.
"Vaggie?" Charlie whispered, turning to her girlfriend, hopeful.
"Look, love," Vaggie began. "I want to think this is a good idea, I really do but..."
"You don't trust her either," Charlie finished. At least Vaggie's response was more expected. Was anyone going to be okay with this idea? Was anyone going at least going to tell her it wasn't horrible? The princess blinked once, twice. Everyone had expressed their feelings... well, almost everyone. "...Al?" she finally muttered. "What about you? What do you think?"
All eyes turned to the hotelier. He didn't seem to notice, staring at Charlie, blinking. "I mean," he began, "yeah, I don't know this woman, I don't trust her..." Charlie's face fell even harder but then he continued. "That being said, if you think she can help than I'm not going to argue. If this is what you want then I'm aboard."
Charlie grinned; huh, she wasn't expecting him to be the one to be okay with this when everyone else wasn't but she wasn't about to complain. "Thanks, Al!" She squealed.
Alastor nodded, his smile wide as ever, but it was starting to falter. He didn't want Lilith aboard. He wanted the woman to go back to wherever she's been hiding for these past seven years, to leave and to stop hovering near him, mocking and pointing out every small mistake he made. But he couldn't tell Charlie any of that, wouldn't. If he did, he'd have to explain why and he couldn't, he really couldn't, tell Charlie about the deal, especially not the part about Lilith. That had been in their contract; Charlie wasn't to ever know about the deal. So, he came up with an excuse, lied.
He didn't have much of a choice, especially not with Lilith glaring daggers at him. She wanted him to act like this the greatest idea ever and he wasn't about to disobey an order. Not now, not again. Not after last night, the slap like a phantom, stinging even now. So, he did what he did best; smile and play into Lilith's games. He could ace her tests.
He almost always aced her tests. Not that she was ever impressed.
The rest of the staff and only resident murmured agreements with the deer demon but none seem happy with the arrangement. Well, Lucifer was the only one who seemed upset about the announcement, the others just seemed distrusting towards Charlie's lookalike. Oh well, they'll warm up to her eventually; Charlie couldn't really fault them too much for being distrusting of her mother. Sure they should trust the woman but she knew trust was hard in Hell, knew trust was hard for her friends who had all suffered some form of trauma. While her mother wasn't like the sinners of Hell— she wasn't cruel and manipulative and evil— it was still trust and her friends didn't give it out freely. No one in Hell did. Well, no one but her.
"So," Charlie began once the whispers ceased. She wasn't completely done her announcement. "As my mom said, she'll be joining out team. I know you guys all don't trust her yet, and that's perfectly fine, but still, please try to make her feel welcomed. For me at least?" The princess waited for the chorus of agreements and promises to die down first before she continued. "She'll be helping with management so you all will be working with her in one way or another. I want her to feel like she's a part of this family and yes, before any of you protest, looking at you, Husk, we are a family here."
"Hey!" Husk protested but he was laughing so Charlie knew he wasn't that upset she called him out. She hadn't lied; out of all of them, he was the most likely to roll his eyes and claim this wasn't a family. None of her friends really liked to admit it but Husk was the one who liked to admit it the least.
"Anyway," Charlie said a couple moments later. She was done. "That was my announcement. Y'all can go back to whatever it is you need to do."
The lobby erupted into an explosion of noise as her friends got up, talking excitedly to each other. Well, most of her friends. Her father was hovering behind the couch, stealing glances at her mother that Charlie couldn't quite place. Charlie was about to go over to talk to him when Alastor suddenly spoke.
Charlie was talking, made some snide swipe at Husk, and normally, Alastor would've been impressed, would've given her a genuine, proud smile, but he barely heard the remark, barely heard Husk's protest. In fact, he was barely even paying attention to what was happening around him. Instead, Alastor was frozen, his smile faltering even more. He managed to keep it fixed on his face but he needed to get out of this room. He couldn't hold it much longer.
She'll be helping with management. She'll be helping with management. She'll be helping with management.
Lilith would be helping run the hotel. Charlie didn't outright say it but Alastor was no idiot; he knew what she meant by management. His soul owner was going to be the new co-owner and they didn't need three of those and this was Charlie's idea so guess who was getting kicked. He wanted to laugh; he should've known this was coming but he honestly had no idea, was totally blindsided. He had been expecting it to be about Lilith joining the staff of the hotel and that had been part of it but it hadn't been the full announcement. He knew, logistically, he wouldn't be a part of the hotel forever, he was setting out (or he had set out to... but no, he was still going to... wasn't he?) to destroy it after all, and he knew that no one here besides Niffty and Charlie really liked him that much, really, tolerated him at all, but he had expected to leave (or ruin it) on his own terms, not on someone's else. Not on Charlie's terms. Because, this was on Charlie's terms; maybe her mother had come up with the idea but the woman could've shot it down, could've talked to him first. She didn't have to agree.
She didn't have to replace him.
But she did. She did replace him. Replaced him with Lilith, her mother, the woman the princess thought was wonderful and amazing and good and could do no wrong. And why wouldn't she? Lilith was playing into a persona that was everything Alastor wasn't; supportive, sweet, helpful, excited. She was playing up that she believed this idea, that she wanted to help, that she wanted to redeem sinners too. She wasn't doing this for entertainment, that was for sure. And the deer knew the Queen of Hell had more say and pull than he could ever dream so there was that too. Alastor would've chosen the woman over himself too if he was in Charlie's shoes but that didn't make it hurt any less.
You would think, by now, he was used to being replaced. He had always been replaced, hadn't he? First by Isabelle when she met and married him, then by the radio station two years before he died, replaced by a fully white, English man. Even fucking Vox had ended up replacing him and with Val-fucking-tino to boot. There were countless others, he knew, names he had either forgotten or forced himself to forget, but none hurt as much as those three; two of the only people he had ever considered friends and by the dream he worked so hard to achieve only to lose because he wasn't fully white, all of them turning their backs on him and replacing him like it was nothing.
And now, Charlie replaced him to. And it fucking hurt. It hurt more than any of the other times he'd been replaced and he knew exactly why.
Charlie hadn't even given him a warning. He hadn't been expecting it. At least the others had the decency to warn him before replacing him.
Isabelle had told him a month before the wedding, but he had known for a while before then, knew since the moment Isabelle had meant Jean-Pierre (such a stereotypical name for a French man... which Alastor guessed suited the man; he was as stereotypical as they came and, even now, he had no idea what his ex-friend had seen in him). Knew their friendship had run it's race. It hurt, but he had tried to be happy, tried to see it from her perspective. He hadn't tried to change her mind, hadn't begged her to reconsidered. He had smiled. He had wished her all the best. He had gone with grace. Well, he had gone with grace until he was out of her sight then he had ran back to his apartment and cried, well, sobbed, really, for that entire afternoon and most of the night. He hadn't cried that hard since his mother had been killed. Isabelle had been his best friend, his only friend, for so long. She had been the one who comforted him after that awful February day. She had approached and talked to him when no one else even acknowledged he existed. She had know about the murders. She never told, not that Alastor knew of, anyway, even after they stopped talking, so some part of her missed him. That's what he always told himself, anyway. It was better than the alternative; that she kept quiet because she was scared she'd get in trouble too. Kept quiet purely to protect herself. He refused to believe that.
The radio station had given him a weeks notice. Less time than Isabelle had given him but he knew he was lucky, especially since everyone was being laid off since the stock market crash, most people not even given a much of a notice before being let go. Then again, they hadn't let him go because of the Depression; after all, radio had thrived during that time. The station was in no danger of shutting down and, had he been another man, he probably would've been there until the day he died, just two years later. But he wasn't another man, he had been him and he had been mixed, and only years after the station had hired him, they had let him go. Had let him go and replaced him. Replaced him with a white man because that's what was going to sell. It had come down to money in the end and their image and, truthfully, the racism that had been in the shadows since he started. He should've known and some part of him had know it wasn't going to last; he felt the glares, heard the slurs, saw the way they refused to get near him. Racism was what had ended his career in radio, in life anyway. He had never gotten hired again after being let go; the stations he applied to didn't even let him talk once they saw him and realized he wasn't white. Granted, he had died two years later, but still. Radio had replaced him. Wait, no; radio hadn't replaced him. Radio had been there for him when no one else was, was still there for him when no one else was, had been and always will be his everything. People had replaced him and tried to blame radio. Rude.
And Vox... well, like with Isabelle, Alastor knew their relationship with over when Vox and Valentino met, when Vox started going out of his way to see the moth demon and brought him up in conversations. Alastor hated Valentino, had since he first heard of him and all that he did. The moth was everything that Alastor despised and Vox knew that and what did the T.V. do? Chose the moth over the deer, chose the man he had known for only a couple of months over the man who he had know for decades, who he had been friends with for decades. How many times had Alastor warned Vox their relationship was over if the latter befriended the creep? Too many and his friend-turned-rival had ended up replacing him! It was almost funny; now Vox was so desperately trying to get Alastor back as if he wasn't the one to ruin them in the first place. Although, maybe Vox was a bad example; he had ended up replacing Alastor with Valentino, sure, but that hadn't been what actually destroyed their friendship in the end. But, then again, claiming their relationship ended because the Vee had replaced the Radio Demon was easier to handle than the truth. Even now, Alastor refused to think about that day nor what had really destroyed their friendship.
The point was, all of them had given him warnings before replacing him. Charlie had not. Charlie just upped and replaced him and she hadn't even apologized. It was unlike her, cold and harsh and awful and if it had been directed at someone else, he'd be proud. But it wasn't directed towards someone else, it was directed to him. He never expected Charlie to hurt him like this but maybe he should've.
Maybe she never liked him to begin with.
That shouldn't make him sad. It shouldn't. He should be happy, he knew he should. He wasn't supposed to get attached, he wasn't supposed to care, but he was getting attached and he was starting to care and it was mostly because of Charlie. Now that she revealed that she didn't care about him, he could stop his own feeling of attachment and caring. This should be wonderous news.
But it wasn't.
He shook his head. He needed to get out, he needed some time alone. And he needed to put these feeling aside once and for all. He didn't care about Charlie, he didn't care about this hotel, he didn't care he was being replaced.
But he did, didn't he?
Stupid Charlie and her acts of care. They were getting to him and now he needed it to stop. She didn't care for him, why should he care for her?
"Well, Charlie dear," Alastor forced out, forced his voice to sound steady and normal. The girl in question stopped what she was doing, heading over to her father, and glanced over at him. "I hate to leave, but I have things to do and not a lot of time to do them so I better be heading out. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room, but I'll be very busy so I would suggest not coming and bothering me unless it's an emergency and even then, it better be the hotel is on fire, someone is bleeding out, or we are under attack or you may end up on m next show. Ta-ta." He forced his smile to widen, gave Charlie a nod. Then, with that, he got up and left the room.
Charlie paused in the middle of the lobby. There was something off about her friend but she wasn't sure what. He was smiling, that smile that was off-putting and low-key scared her. He had talked normally, his words chilling and strange and slightly threatening, like always. He had seemed to be like his normal, unhinged, murderous little gremlin self, even threatening to kill someone for his radio show even though they all knew he would never kill one of them and broadcast their screams, not even Husk or Lucifer. Granted, that was mostly because Vaggie would probably kill him but still.
Alastor hadn't showed any signs that something was off so why couldn't she shake the feeling that something was?
"I'm going to talk to him," Charlie said as she turned in the direction he had vanished off to.
"I don't think that's a wise idea," Vaggie began. "Love, he literally just asked to be alone for the next few hours... maybe you should respect his wishes? I know it's just a joke when he says he'll broadcast our screams on his radio show but you still need to be careful. You know how he gets, he might hurt you and-"
"He's not going to hurt me," Charlie defended.
"You don't know that."
"I do," Charlie snapped, slightly annoyed. "I know you don't trust him, but I do, Vaggie. He's not going to hurt me and I am going to talk to him."
"Fine," Vaggie sighed, knowing there was no use in arguing with her girlfriend. "Just, be careful. Call if you feel threaten, I'll rip him apart if he lies so much as a finger on you. And don't push him if he doesn't want to talk."
"I know," the princess agreed. "But I'm going to be okay." Then, before anyone else could protest, Charlie vanished down the same hall Alastor had.
She wasn't that far behind him; he hadn't gotten too huge of a lead. Or, he shouldn't have, but this was Alastor and he moved fast. By the time Charlie made it to the doorframe, the man in question was already down the hall.
"Wait!" She called after him, scurrying down the hall before she lost sight of him. "Al! Hold on!"
The Radio Demon froze at the sound of Charlie calling out to him. His ears flicked. Fuck; he knew he should've shadow traveled! But now he couldn't. Now he was spotted. He slowly turned around. "Charlie dear, I thought I asked you to leave me alone," he said with a smile, forced and slightly shaking but Charlie didn't seem to notice... or maybe she did and didn't care.
"I know," she began as she slowed down a few feet away from him. "And I'll let you go soon, I will. I just... I just wanted to make sure you were okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Alastor laughed but, like his smile, it was force and slightly shaking. And just like with his smile, Charlie didn't notice or maybe she didn't care.
"It's just.... You ran out of there so quickly and I just, I wanted to check on you. Are you sure you're okay with my mom helping out?"
"I mean, like I already said, it's your call, Charlotte. If you want her aboard, then so be it. I do wish you told me though." Alastor wasn't sure why he was trying to comfort the girl. Maybe he was scared if he was mean or cruel, she'd go blabbering to Lilith and then she'll be angry with him. Alastor wasn't exactly sure what Lilith's whole plan was nor how she viewed her family, but she seemed to like her daughter well enough and Alastor knew it wasn't just the act. Some part of her cared. Besides, mothers are supposed to love their children unconditionally, right? It's fathers who were a hit or miss.
But, no it wasn't that. The truth was, he wanted to comfort the girl, wanted to stop her from getting upset. But why? He shouldn't care if she was upset or not. He shouldn't care for her period. She sure didn't. But, maybe... maybe she did. Maybe he was wrong about her not caring. She had run after him despite knowing he wanted to be alone and how he gets when someone bothers him when he wants to be alone. She had outright asked him if he was okay. So maybe she did care... but that didn't mean he had to care too.
Then why did he?
"I know," Charlie said, again, sighing and Alastor pushed his confusing thoughts aside to focus on the princess. "I know I should've spoken to you before about Mom joining and all but it's just, I was so excited. You see, I wanted her to join but before I could even ask her, she ask me and I just, I don't know, I guess I realized that she was a kindred spirit and I'm not alone anymore and that there is someone like me... and it's been so long since I last saw her I guess I wasn't even thinking about you or seeing if it was okay before deciding to go through with it and I know that's no excuse and I'm-"
"Charlie," the demon interrupted and the girl in question stopped, looking at him in confusion. "It's okay, I understand." Did he? Maybe not fully, but some part of him could resonate with the finding a kindred spirit and no longer being alone part. He had been looking for someone like that for over one hundred years. "I just... I just wished you gave me a warning before you replaced me." Why did he say that? Why was he being so honest? Was it because he cared? Was it because he saw the self-loathing in her eyes and wanted to be honest with her, wanted to try to make her feel better? But that wouldn't make her feel better, would it? Maybe some part of him believed she didn't even know what she did and wanted to gently point it out, explain why he had ran out and was acting so weird. But she had to know, didn't she?
Charlie opened her mouth to apologize again when Alastor's last sentence finally registered; I just wished you gave me a warning before you replaced me.
"Wait... what?!"
Notes:
Third chapter's wrapped up, folks, and it was a long one so I do apologize. Maybe. *insert evil smile and laughter here*
The amount of historical research I did for the like five paragraphs I needed it for was wild but I'm not about to complain. I like research! (I swear I'm sane). The research in question was literally just to find a historically accurate 1900s female Creole name for Isabelle and to ensure that the whole "Alastor got fired/let go/replaced by the radio station because of racism and not The Great Depression" was historically accurate. Lots of research for some quick Alastor backstory but I like to try to be as historically accurate in my fanfics as possible.
Anyway, random fact I learned during my research; The Great Depression/1930s is considered "the golden age of radio" which I feel like I probably should've known, Alastor would be so disappointed in me.
*tucks this information away for later reference for this fanfic*
I would also like to point out that Vox 𝘸𝘢𝘴 supposed to be in this chapter but since it ran longer than I planned, so Mr. T.V Demon will make his appearance (his annoying and obsessive appearance) in the next chapter.
Until the end note of the next chapter (or maybe the beginning note, we'll see if I need to give a warning or want to make an announcement beforehand), good day or night or whenever you're reading this and, as always, don't forget to comment and broadcast the screams of your enemies.
*frolics back into the abyss*
Chapter 4: Pursing Allure
Summary:
Charlie worries about her co-host as she clears up their misunderstand which only further confuses Alastor; our favorite little deer demon has no idea what to make of their conversation nor his feelings. Meanwhile, as news of Lilith's return circles Hell, Vox is offered a deal he can't refuse.
Notes:
Well, would you look at that my dear children, I am back at the start of the next chapter like the monster who hides in the corner of your room in the middle of the night and watches you sleep! What a surprise!
*insert surprised gasping here*
Don't worry about that monster part... I am not the monster in the corner of your room in the middle of the night who watches you sleep, I promise.
I am, though, the demon that eats your socks... they've very yummy. Yes, that is why you're always losing a pair and no, I'm not related to the demon who eats your socks who doesn't even like socks but eats them to piss you off. If you got that reference, then you are a person of culture, I see, I like you. I will make the most random, possibly niche, references from internet memes and if you get them, then I applaud you. You like the same strange weirdness as me. Congrats, here's a gold star.
Sorry this took so long; I wrote and rewrote this chapter at least a dozen times, stared at the blank white screen for days. I don't even know why this chapter was so hard to write, I knew what I wanted to say, but it was. Fuck writer's block, it's going to be the death of me. I finally managed to crank out like half of this one night, which meant I stay up until like almost three in the morning on a day I had to get up for school, but oh well. The pains of being a writer and I finally was able to write again, so who am I to complain?
ANYGAY (apparently I'm using anyGAY now instead of anyWAY, deal with it), I will stop yapping and get to the point of this beginning chapter note. Like always, this note is here because I would like to give a warning to a topic that occurs in the chapter that may be triggering for some people. So, without further ado; the said trigger warning:
While it's not outright stated, there's a HEAVILY implied mention of human (demon... soul???) trafficking. In other words, there's a heavy implication of promised sex trafficking where said victim is (blissfully perhaps???) unaware. I won't get too much into it as I don't want to spoil the chapter, and once again, it's only implied, not outright stated, but I did want to give the warning because I know it can be triggering.
Also, a trigger warning for Valentino. He doesn't do much (except flirt with Vox and bad mouth Angel) but like, it's Val-fucking-tino. The man's triggering.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
I just wished you gave me a warning before you replaced me.
Alastor's words circled Charlie's mind in a continuous loop like an out of control merry-go-round ride of doom. What in the fiery pits of Hell was the deer talking about? She wasn't going to replace him, why would he even think that? The princess tried to think back to what she had told the group about her mother joining the team. What had she said? She remembered telling them she didn't expect them to trust her mother right away but to at least be nice. Charlie wanted everyone to trust her mother right away but she knew that wasn't going to happen and she wasn't about to force her friends into trusting someone they weren't ready to trust. She did want them to make her mother feel welcomed enough; just because they didn't trust her did they have to be downright rude to her. Her friends could be rough around the edges, and some of them could even be downright cruel at times, but she didn't think any of them were unredeemable. Well, actually, now that she was thinking that, there had been times were Alastor had done something that made her think he may be too far gone but even then, the Radio Demon wasn't all evil and cruel; she could name times were he seemed to be genuinely helpful or even downright nice. Not that she would dare admit that to her co-owner; he seemed so hellbent on keeping up his murderous, caring-about-nothing-and-nobody appearance. The point was, she didn't want her mother to see her friends as the crazy, cruel sinners everyone else saw them as; even the worse of her friend could be nice and she wanted her mother to see that too.
What else had she said? Asking everyone to be nice to her mother wouldn't have made Alastor think he was being replaced. She had told everyone her mother was joining the team; how had she worded that exactly? She tried to think back but her mind was coming up blank. Dammit. She needed to remember her wording; it had to be that to cause this silly misunderstanding between her and her co-host. She wasn't replacing him. Why would she? Sure he could be cruel and unethical at times, but he had helped. He had gotten them another residence— even if that resident was originally sent to spy on him— and he had also tried to protect the hotel and had done a pretty good job, for a while at least, before Adam had broken the shield and managed to defeat him. Charlie still didn't know what had happened on that roof or where her friend had disappeared to for the remainder of the fight and the rebuilding of the hotel. He refused to talk about it and she had even asked him a few times, once outright asking him. He always deflected the question; changing the subject or telling her, in his words, to "not worry her pretty little head about it". Of course, that just made her worry more; she knew something awful must've happened on the roof to cause him to cause him to leave.
Adam was strong— Charlie knew from personal experience— but he had also been sloppy. After all, he wasn't really used to someone fighting back. He had bested her, but she wasn't used to fighting either and while her father had struggled, he had certainly been a better match for the first man and Charlie had a sneaking suspicion the only reason he hadn't completely destroyed Adam was because her father had locked himself away for so long. Alastor, on the other hand, should've been able to win in a fight against Adam; the princess had seen the hotelier fight a couple times and have heard the stories. He wasn't someone who was easily defeated and not for the first time, some part of her worried he had gotten hurt. Her friend was a private person and she knew he'd probably never admit it but it still worried her. She seemed to be the only one who had this sentiment; Vaggie and Husk tried to tell her he probably fled once he realized Adam was stronger than him. Charlie knew there had to be more to the story. Besides, there was his broken cane and it didn't take a genius to realize it happened that day on the roof. Something happened on the roof that day to cause him to leave, that caused his cane to break, that caused him to deflect and change the subject whenever she mentioned it. Whatever happened, she wasn't going to get it until he told her and he seemed to be refusing to do so. Maybe one day he'll trust her enough to tell her what had happened.
Oh, who was she kidding? That was never going to happen.
Darn it, she had gotten distracted. Again. She shook her head to clear it; she needed to get back to the task at hand. What had she said about her mother's addition to the staff that caused Alastor to believe he was being replaced? Her mother had been the one to outright say it, Charlie remembered, but she knew she herself must've elaborated. How had she worded it?
Alastor never heard silence quite this loud. Normally, prolonged periods of silence didn't bother him that much. Awkward silences didn't phase him; while others got uncomfortable and started rambling on about some nonsense to fill the silences, the deer could normally stand them. There had only been a few times, to his knowledge, that he had actually felt uncomfortable in silences.
This was one of those times.
The silence in the hallway was suffocating and Alastor wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was because the voices in his head were getting louder the longer he was standing there waiting for Charlie to say something, anything. Maybe the silence was so suffocating because Charlie was thinking so hard, creating a strange sort of tension-likeness in the air, making the air thick and making it hard to breathe.
Or maybe it was because he really, really, really didn't want to be in this hallway any longer.
After what felt like an hour, but was probably nothing more than another minute or two, of the loudest silence ever, Alastor decided he had enough. He opened his mouth to tell Charlie fuck it, it was nothing, when the princess in question beat him to it.
"I'm not replacing you?" Charlie finally whispered. She still hadn't remember what she had told everyone but the silence had been too unbearable. She couldn't go any longer without filling it with something. Truthfully, she was surprised that her friend hadn't filled the silence himself; he was normally one of the few people she knew who could give her a run for her money with the endless, talking someone's ear off yapping she was known for. His silence only worried her further; whatever she had said had led him to believe he was being replaced and he didn't seem happy about that at all. Well, why would he? No one wanted to be replaced. Still, it was surprising to Charlie that the Radio Demon seemed to be so upset at the thought of being replaced; she wouldn't have expected that from him.
She really didn't know anything about her co-host. Granted, that was his fault for being such a private person, but it still made her feel bad. She knew she shouldn't take it personally; he was like that with everyone and Charlie knew— she wasn't sure exactly how she knew, maybe she was able to pick up on something he wasn't even aware he was giving off or maybe she saw something in him that she knew only all too well— that something, or multiple somethings, must've happened in his past to caused him to be so reserved, so shut off from everyone else, that caused him to build up such thick and tall walls that even Charlie couldn't break them down.
She wondered who hurt him because she would like to have a talk with them.
"I'm not replacing you," Charlie repeated, this time making sure it wasn't phased as a question. Alastor had remained silent when she had said the words the first time; he didn't seem willing to explain why he was so upset and Charlie couldn't exactly fault him for that. Minus the fact that he was a private person who normally kept his real feelings behind a mask of, often creepy, smiles, most people didn't like explaining why they were upset, especially to the person who wronged them. "Mom's not replacing you. Look, I don't really remember what I exactly said about her joining the team, but she's not-" It was then, in the middle of her explanation, did Charlie's words come back to her.
She'll be helping with management...
Oh. Oh, shit. No wonder Alastor was so convinced she was replacing him! In her excitement, Charlie had forgotten to mention what her mother was helping with. She hadn't said a single word about advertising. Neither had her mother, now that she thought about it. Odd, but maybe her mother had been too excited too. The point was, because neither of them mentioned advertising and Charlie's poor choice of words, it sounded like Lilith would be helping run the hotel. Maybe at some point, in the future, when sinners actually wanted to change and the hotel was all booked up, they would need a third pair of hands helping out but as of now, with their one measly resident, they certainly didn't need a third person help running the hotel. Two people running the hotel at the moment was working out pretty well— minus, of course, a few disagreements but even then, the worse that had come out of those were some choice words and angry glares, they were always able to come to a compromise when they disagreed over something in regards to the hotel. And it didn't take a genius to realize Alastor's train of thought; after all, this was Charlie's idea and she had accidentally made it seem like her mother was going to be helping run the hotel, it was only reasonable that if anyone would no longer be running the hotel, it would've been the radio host. Charlie felt horrible; not only had she accidently made it seem like she wanted him gone, but she hadn't even realized for the longest time. What an awful friend she was.
The moment Charlie stopped mid-sentence, the moment her eyes got wide with some sort of shocked horror, Alastor knew that Charlie finally realized what she had said. He had been wrong; she hadn't known what she had said. Part of him was still positive she had known and was trying to act all innocent and kind but he knew that wasn't the case. The Princess of Hell had many talents but acting wasn't exactly one of them; well, not in regards to her emotions. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve and even the times where she had stayed her calm, happy-go-lucky self when him and everyone else were acting like idiots, there had always been a slight raising of her voice or twitch of an eye that told everyone she was not happy. Charlie could try, but Alastor could read her emotions like an opened book and she had seemed genuinely confused. The fact that she stopped mid-sentence and the way her face had changed sealed the deal; she had no idea what she had said until now. Now he had more questions, though. If she hadn't meant to say what she said, then what had she meant to say?
"I'm sorry!" Charlie squealed out, her voice a high-pitch screech, and, despite himself, Alastor found himself flinching. Damn his sensitive ears; her squeals and screeches were like nails on chalkboards. She noticed. "Sorry," she squeaked out, again, but at least this time it wasn't as high-pitched. Still slightly painful but he could handle squeaks. He was used to them, at the very least. "I'm such an idiot!"
Alastor remained silent; if she was expecting him to disagree, she'd be waiting for the rest of eternity. The girl was smart— smarter than most people give her credit for— but she was also naive and, more often than not, a dumbass.
"Mom's not helping with management, that was a poor choice of words!" Charlie quickly went on. "I mean, in a way, she is, but she's going to be mainly helping advertising the hotel. She said she had some say in Heaven, so maybe we can finally get a commercial to run. And she also said she'll get us a social media presence... which, truthfully, I wasn't expecting because, you know, first woman and all and Dad is a lost cause when it comes to social media but I guess she kept up with it or something, but who knows and..."
"So... you aren't replacing me?" Alastor interrupted, grinning, his voice slightly bored but Charlie could tell it was all just an act. There was a slight look of desperation in his eyes. Not that she'd point that out to him.
"Of course I'm not replacing you," Charlie wailed, with enough emotion for the both of them. "You're stuck with me until the end of time," she added, teasingly.
"Or until I get bored and disappear for another seven years," he shot back.
"You better not disappear for another seven years," Charlie warned. What she didn't add was that she didn't want him to leave. Some part of her knew he probably would once he got bored, but she was holding on to the hope that she could get him to change his mind. She knew he liked the hotel more than he cared to admit; he would've been gone already if he was still here solely for entertainment. Sure, seeing Husk and Angel dance around their feelings was fun and Charlie knew Alastor had way too much fun mocking her father, but neither of those would've kept him here, fighting to protect the hotel. He may not want to admit it, yet, but she knew she and the others were starting to grow on him.
"We'll see," he responded. The truth was, he didn't want to disappear for another seven years but it hadn't been his choice last time. He needed to tread carefully in these next few weeks. One wrong move, and it would be another seven years wandering the Void... or longer. He really didn't want to do that again; once was more than enough. The darkness he used to view as a friend was now just a horrible reminder. "Anyway, dear, I didn't exactly lie back there, I do have things to do." Another lie, he had nothing to do. Well, nothing but lock himself in his room and think over this conversation. He had a lot to consider. But she didn't need to know that and technically it was something he was going to do so it wasn't a full lie, now was it? "So, as much as I would love to stay and chat, if you have nothing else to discuss, I really should get to work."
"Of course," Charlie answered. "I did promise that I would let you go do what you have to do, didn't I?"
Alastor hummed an agreement. He turned to shadow travel— no way was he going to walk to his room now and risk getting stopped by someone else— but before he could do so, Charlie suddenly called out to him. Again.
"Wait," Charlie exclaimed and with a sigh, Alastor turned back around.
"Yes dear?" He mumbled, impatient.
"Have fun," Charlie smiled.
"I always do," he grinned, wide and mostly genuine. "But, thanks."
"And stay safe," she warned knowing most of his so-called errands normally involved murder and threats.
"Staying safe is boring," Alastor grumbled.
Charlie sighed, "Anyone ever told you that you're impossible?"
"On a daily basis."
"Why am I not surprised?" she laughed. "Okay, I'll let you go."
"Thanks," he muttered, dead-pan, then, with a gentlemanly bow, disappeared into the shadows.
Charlie watched as her friend vanished, a smile on her face at his antics. It was a genuine smile but the moment he was gone, it fell. She had managed to put out that fire before it could get too big but it had showed her a side of Alastor she had never seen before. A side that concerned her more than anything else. She wanted to help; her friend obviously had skeletons in the closet and a past she knew she so little about. Of course, she couldn't help him if he wasn't willing to met her halfway, if he wasn't willing to let her in at least partially, and knowing him that may never happen but some part of her was hopeful. He had been honest enough with her.
Maybe he was starting to warm up to her. She hoped he was. Despite all the warnings from everyone, especially her father and Vaggie, despite the fact that she knew she probably shouldn't trust him, that he had some plan up his sleeve, she had started to take a liking to the Radio Demon. He was cold and cruel and harsh, sure, but he could be caring and kind to a degree and he was fiercely protective of those he cared about, take Niffty for example. The small maid had managed to worm her way into his heart so it was possible.
She sighed; there was nothing she could do about it now. Only time will tell if Alastor would ever start to let down his walls. She'll be ready when he did, if he ever chose so.
Charlie had no idea how long she stood in the hallway, watching the shadows where her co-host had dissipated into, before she turned around to rejoin everyone else in the lobby.
Alastor sat on the edge of his bed, lost in thought.
Or, more realistically, on the edge of a mental breakdown.
The man was slightly hunched over, his elbows digging into the area right above his knees and his hands gripping the hair right above his forehead, as if that would help him think more clearly or stop his mind from pulling him down into the darkness. He had been in this position for hours, ever since he had shadow traveled away from Charlie after their conversation, and truthfully, the position was not comfortable; his back was starting to ache from the slight angle, his firmly pressed elbows were probably starting to cause bruises, and his death-grip on his hair was starting to make his hands hurt. Still, he barely even noticed the pain, barely even had the thought that he should probably move around slightly since he had been like this for hours. This was probably not a good position to be in for more than an hour, certainly not as long as he had been in it, but he truthfully didn't care.
He didn't care because, somehow, the position was keeping him from breaking. Somehow barely holding him together so he didn't have another mental breakdown. He had one yesterday and that was his quota for breakdowns for the week; one a week, preferably less. He wasn't supposed to have mental breakdowns; he wasn't some weak, mentally unstable sinner. Well, yes, he was a mentally unstable sinner, but he wasn't weak. He should be able to hold himself together better than this. But somehow, somehow, he barely could; the voices got too much, the memories flooded his senses, and no one had ever told him how to healthily deal with these feelings, or any feelings for that matter, so he normally just shoved each and everyone down until he hit a breaking point and boom, mental breakdown. Well, either that, or a murder spree but Charlie would be so disappointed if he went on one of his murdering sprees— she was already upset whenever he killed anyone, let alone multiple people. Why he cared so much about disappointing the girl— maybe he was worried about how certain people (her father and her girlfriend) would react, or maybe there was another reason, one he wasn't willing to even admit to himself— was beyond him but because a murder spree was out of the question, his only other option was to have a mental breakdown. It didn't mean he had to like it which was why he tried to limit himself to one a week. Of course, that didn't always work out and he knew, realistically, with Lilith in the hotel, that he'll probably have more than one mental breakdown a week for the foreseeable future, but there was no reason for him to have to accept that without a fight.
The point was that his uncomfortable was keeping him together. It didn't make sense but who was he to complain about something that was keeping him from losing it? It was like his smile; it was somehow holding him together.
Once Alastor had left Charlie standing alone in the hallway, he had locked the door to his room, pulled the drapes tightly drawn, and collapsed into his bed. He didn't want to be bothered, not that he thought anyone would but better safe than sorry and the any light, even just from the outside world, was too much for him at the moment. When he got like this, whatever this was, his senses were heightened: sounds that normally didn't bother him were ten times louder and too unbearable; smells he normally could enjoy made him sick to his stomach; lights were too bright and overwhelming. It was better to lock himself in the darkness, in the silence. Well, not pure silence; that only made the voices and thoughts unbearably loud. Instead, he had turned on his radio, playing the one song he could stand when he was like this, the one song that somehow calmed him down. It floated out of the radio now, quiet to the point where one would almost strain to hear it, just how he liked it when he was on the verge of losing it. He had tried quietly humming along with it, hoping in doing so he'd be able to distract himself from his thoughts, but after a minute or two of off and on humming, he had given up. He could barely even focus on the sound, which should probably tell him just how close he was to losing it; the deer was normally able to focus his attention on the song better than this.
Today was not shaping out to be a very good day. Granted, Alastor was expecting it; Lilith was here, watching his every move like a hawk, waiting for him to stumble or fall so she could strike. And she was pissed, he knew that much after the previous night in her room. And now that she was going to be here for the foreseeable future, he had to be extra careful. More careful than he had been, more careful that he had ever had to be. Everything he did and say from here on out had to be up to Lilith's expectations— which granted, were much too high— or as close to them as it was humanly possible. He couldn't mess up, he couldn't stray away. He had to destroy Charlie's idea before another sinner got redeemed.
So why didn't he want to?
It didn't make sense. There had been a time, not even that long ago, that he would've had no qualms against destroying the hotel. Sure, he had been sent here by Lilith to destroy it, he wouldn't have sought it out on his own, but as he had told Charlie on that fateful day she welcomed him into the hotel, he didn't believe sinners could be redeemed. Apparently, he had been wrong because a sinner had been redeemed, according to Lilith anyway, and while the woman often lied, Alastor knew this wasn't one of her lies. She had been pissed and he knew that it was the reason she had returned, knew that it was how she knew he hadn't destroyed the hotel yet. He had also told Charlie he had wanted to help out because he was bored and that was the truth too. He had been looking forward to watching Charlie and the other struggle and fail, had been looking forward to watching the Princess of Hell fall flat on her ass and realize her dream of redeeming sinners, of changing them for the better, was nothing more than a silly, naive little dream. But now, now the hotel had a chance to be successful, with Sir Pentious being redeemed.
Of course, the Radio Demon didn't know for sure if the former snake demon was the sinner who was redeemed but it was logically the only answer that made sense. He had died during the battle and, according to the others, he had gone out trying to kill Adam. That seemed like enough for someone to redeem themselves and get into Heaven, although, as Charlie had said after the disaster of when she and Vaggie tried to talk to Heaven, no one really knew for sure what determined you worthy of Heaven, not even Heaven itself. Still, in Alastor's humble opinion, it seemed like it should be enough, for someone like Sir Pentious, anyway. The two had been rivals and the snake had annoyed the deer to no end, but even Alastor had to admit to himself that Sir Pentious wasn't that evil. Not like him, not like Vox, not like countless other sinners he could name. Yes, the snake resident had been cruel and murderous, but he seemed to be more like one of the sinners who was thrown into Hell for something stupid and not because he deserved it. Besides, there was the whole fact that Lilith seemed even more hellbent on destroying the hotel than ever before; if a sinner was redeemed because of the hotel, it would only make sense why she was so desperate to destroy it. He was still in the dark about why she wanted it to be destroyed so badly— he had theories, but each one seemed too outlandish to be true— but he knew enough to be able to determine that she was willing to go to great lengths to destroy it, even to the point of doing the dirty work herself. In all the time Alastor had been under her control, she had always had him, or, he supposed, another one of her souls, do everything for her while she just sat back and reaped the benefits. The fact that she seemed so willing to actually get off her ass for once and do something herself said a lot about how much she wanted this idea destroyed. It confused the hotelier; he didn't know anyone besides Heaven who would hate the idea of the hotel so much they were seeking to destroy it. Yes, part of him had, and maybe still did, want to destroy the hotel but it was mainly because he liked watching destruction and people getting their dreams crushed. It had nothing to do with what the hotel was doing, nothing like the reason why Heaven and Lilith were so determined to make sure it failed.
Alastor wondered if Lilith was in cahoots with Heaven. Now wouldn't that be something. But it didn't really make any sense; he thought Heaven hated the first woman after she had fallen in love with one of their angels and had ditched her no-good husband for him, hated her for being willing to stand up for herself and refusing to be an obedient wife. He found it hard to believe Heaven would've changed their ways, seeing that they were so stubborn and stuck in their ways, but then again, he really did have no idea how Heaven operated. None of what he had been taught aligned with what he had seen of Heaven. At least Hell had been closer to what he was expecting.
He had gotten sidetracked. The point was, for some reason, he was starting to feel against destroying the idea. He had no choice, of course, never did and certainly not now with Lilith breathing down his neck, but suddenly, for the first time since he first came here, for one of the only times he had ever belonged to Lilith, he was starting to think he was against her, against what she wanted him to do. Oh, how she would skin him alive for even thinking that, which was why he was hunched over on the edge of his bed, on the verge of a breakdown.
But it wasn't only his confusion and fear on what to do about Lilith and destroying the hotel, it was Charlie too.
Charlie, who against all the precautions he had taken and the walls he so carefully built, was starting to grow on him.
Was starting to become someone who felt like a friend. Like Isabelle, like Vox.
Nope. Alastor shook his head furiously. He couldn't let down his walls again, he couldn't let someone in again. Not after Isabelle, not after Vox. Granted, Alastor had forgiven Isabelle long again, if he had ever blamed her to begin with, had known that she didn't do it to hurt him but because she had to because the world was cruel and couldn't understand that a man and a woman could be friends without falling in love. And also, because of Jean-Pierre, who, the serial killer had worried, was much too possessive of his former best friend.
Isabelle, even if she had broken his heart and his trust and his willingness to make friends, had had her reasons. Vox, on the other hand, Vox had been an asshole. Alastor should've known, should've kept the T.V. demon at arm's length for longer, for eternity, actually, but he had been a fool and had let Vox in.
That proved to be a mistake, one he wasn't about to make again. Sure, Charlie was nothing like Vox and realistically Alastor knew Charlie wasn't going to hurt him like Vox had, but he also knew that there were other ways a friend could hurt you. He didn't need to go through that pain again. Once bitten and twice shy, as the saying goes.
He couldn't let Charlie in because the girl, even if she didn't mean too, would end up hurting him. That's what friends did, to him, anyway. They broke him, they hurt him, they ruined him.
He probably deserved it.
Alastor had, long ago, come to the belief that he was unworthy of friends. How else would you explain the string of bad friendship he had? Sure, he had Mimzy and Rosie and Niffty, but they were different. Mimzy was more of a casual friend than anything else, someone he could drink with and who wouldn't bat too much of an eye when he murdered someone in cold blood in front of them. Besides, he was starting to think Mimzy only saw him as a form of protection. He kept the woman at arm's length and she kept him there too. She was nice company, but he would never consider him a close a friend as Isabelle and Vox had been, as Charlie seemed to be trying to do. Rosie, on the other hand, was more of a close friend, his best friend, one of the only people he had ever felt truly comfortable with.
Rosie was one of the only ones to see him cry. Not even Vox had ever had that luxury. In many ways, the cannibal restaurant owner had bypassed all the typical close friend stuff that Vox had never managed, and often not even come close to, achieving, a sign that probably should've warned him Vox wasn't to be trusted. Alastor banished the T.V. from his mind, trying to focus on Rosie. Sweet, caring Rosie.
Rosie, who he could talk to for hours and hours without feeling embarrassed or the need to play into some act. Rosie, who he could go to when everything else was falling apart and needed someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Rosie, who was the only one to know not only about the deal but the fact Lilith was his soul owner, who hated the woman's guts and had promised, on more that one occasion, that she was going to kill the queen herself. Rosie, who knew him as well as herself, who knew his favorite tea, how to calm him down, who knew exactly what to say.
Rosie, who was like a second mother to him.
The Radio demon blinked. After he lost his mom on the fateful February day, he had been so lost. He had needed guidance, the kind only a parent could provide, and Rosie had given it to him. Had scooped him up within his first few months in Hell when he was like a fawn, lost and confused and in need of protection. She had brought him into her life and had never let him out since. He was grateful, Rosie was exactly what he needed, even now, and she was the closet thing he would ever have to his own mother. She was his best friend. But his relationship with her wasn't like what he had with Isabelle and Vox, not what he was worried Charlie might become. She was more of a motherly figure than anything else.
On the flip side of the same coin was Niffty. Niffty who had forced herself into his life and refused to leave. Niffty who Alastor had taken an almost instant liking to. Niffty who went from a nuisance to a pet to whatever could only be describe as almost daughter-like. Their relationship had always been weird, hard to define. There was, of course, the fact that Alastor owned Niffty's soul but that hadn't come from malevolence. Unlike with Husker, Niffty had sought out Alastor, had asked for his protection in exchange for her soul. He had hesitated, he didn't make soul deals often and it wasn't how it worked, but she had been persistent and he had finally agreed. She was useful, a great cleaner and bug killer, and there was something about her love for violence and bloodshed that immediately drawn him towards the small cyclops. Niffty was one of the few important people in his life and afterlife but, even after knowing each other for so long, Alastor kept her at a distance. Not only because he didn't let anyone too close but also because he didn't want to burden her with his problems; she wouldn't be able to fix them and she'll only panic and worry about him. He didn't want to do that to her; he wasn't worth her worry. Alastor knew the maid would still worry about him, it was just part of her nature and she cared about him more than he would like, but there was no need to add to that worry.
So far, these three had surprised him.
And now it seemed he might need to add Charlie to that list too.
He closed his eyes, shook his head again. No, he couldn't, wouldn't add her to his list of friends. They were acquittances, business partners, that was all. That was all they could be, with Lilith holding his leash and demanding he destroyed the other woman's dream. He couldn't become friends with her, oh no, that was too evil even for him. He wasn't about to become friends with the girl only to make his betrayal hurt that much more.
Besides, Alastor was darkness, dragging everything and everyone who made the mistake of getting too close into ruin. Niffty and Rosie had their own demons, their own darkness, so he didn't feel too bad about dragging them with him. Charlie, on the other hand, was almost pure light. Yes the girl had her own trauma and issues to work out, but she was also still caring and light-hearted and pure.
Alastor refused to let himself destroy her like that.
Maybe that's why he was so against destroying her idea, he didn't want to hurt her.
Fuck. His feelings were deeper than he originally thought. What was he going to do?
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement. He lifted his head and looked in the direction and there, in the far corner of his room, was Min, his shadow.
The attachment startled at seeing Alastor staring at him but it smiled and nodded towards him anyway. The overlord mumbled a greeting back. Min remained silent because shadows don't talk.
They shouldn't move around and be their own person either but Min was special. Even now, Alastor wasn't exactly sure what Min was. The shadow was some sort of attachment, one that had been there even on Earth, although, back that, he had never seen Min. Instead, Min was just some presence, something always there, almost like the angel (or the devil) on your shoulder. He had his theories on what Min was; an ancestor, some curse of some sort from a voodoo of a family member gone wrong, a guardian angel. Whatever Min was, he had gotten Alastor out of more than one pickle. The attachment had the uncanny ability to sense someone's intentions. He couldn't tell Alastor what they were, the deer wasn't even sure how much Min could tell, but Alastor had started to turn to Min when he wasn't sure if he could trust someone. Min had a good sense of who was going to be good; he had taken an almost instant liking to Rosie and Niffty. Vox, on the other hand, he had not liked and made that perfectly clear in the years of friendship Alastor had with the annoying picture box. Alastor should've listen to his attachment when he said Vox was bad news, but like a fool, the hotelier had been in denial. But Min was more than just some weird attachment who was like a gut feeling. More than once Alastor had noticed that his shadow was expressing the emotions he was feeling but wasn't willing to show which led the deer to believe the attachment was somehow apart of him in some weird way.
More than that, though, more than anything else, Min was like a cat. He liked few people, acted like he was better than everything else, and seemed to enjoy being annoying. He was everything you would think of in a cat but in a shadow instead. Alastor had even seen him knock things off tables when he felt ignored, mischievous, or just plain bored. In fact, Min acted so much like a cat that that was when Alastor had gotten his name from since Min claimed he didn't have one. Min came from the word minou which meant kitty in French but Min had sounded better than minou and Min enjoyed it well enough so it stuck.
Min kept watching Alastor and the deer sighed. Might as well ask the shadow his thoughts. "What do you think, Min? Do you like Charlie?"
The shadow nodded enthusiastically and the Radio Demon groaned in annoyance; he should've known. Min had a wide grin on his shadowy face, a genuine grin, Alastor noted.
"Of course you do," Alastor grumbled. "We aren't becoming friends with her, though, so don't get your hopes up." Min glared at Alastor. "Don't give me that look. You know very well we can't. Lilith, remember, and destroying the hotel? Do you really want to break Charlie's heart like that?" Min kept glaring but it was becoming less intense and Alastor could tell he was starting to get to the attachment. "Look, we need to keep her at an arm's distance, okay? We aren't looking for friends, you know that."
Min nodded, still seeming annoyed, and melted into the shadows.
"Oh, yes!" The overlord on the bed laughed. "Ignore me! Very mature."
His laughter slowly stopped as he began to spiral again. He didn't, didn't, want to become Charlie's friend. He couldn't.
So why did that make him so upset?
Alastor clutched his hair tighter and let himself get lost in his thoughts once more.
Up in the Vee tower, Vox had locked himself in his office and was furiously typing away at his desk. He had so much to do, Valentino was breathing down his neck, and worse, he hadn't seen Alastor in a week. A week!
Vox clicked through his surveillance footage again, hoping he somehow missed a spotting. He knew that his rival was up in the fucking princess' passion project but he normally would be spotted on one of the cameras and he hadn't. It annoyed Vox to no end; where was that old timey prick? He knew the man was alive and well, even if Adam had managed to land a couple hits on him. It was so unlike his rival to not be cavorting around town (heh). Stupid Alastor and stupid Charlie.
Maybe one of these days he was going to storm up to the hotel himself. He was starting to get bored waiting for Alastor. The man had been gone for seven years and when he returned, barely gave Vox a second glance. The nerve! Yes, he had hijacked Vox's song— that bitch! Singing his song better than him and causing him to glitch out— and there had been that fight, if you could even call it that, after he and the other Vees had sent that snake demon, whatever his name was, to the hotel but still! They were number one rivals!
Vox angrily clicked through his footage from the week, his hands slamming angrily into the computer. He didn't even realize how hard he was slamming his finger into the keyboard until he heard a throat clear behind him.
"If only you could smash me like you're smashing that button."
Vox spun around. Valentino was standing behind him, watching with an amused expression.
"Val!" Vox cheerfully greeted then realized what his boyfriend had just interrupted him doing. "Um, how long have you been standing there."
"Long enough to see you obsessively looking for the Radio Demon," Valentino drawled in that Spanish voice Vox loved so much.
"I wasn't... I wasn't-" Vox tried to protest. "How did you know?"
"Because it's all you've been talking about the past week. I'm not an idiot, you know."
"Debatable," Vox mumbled, dead-pan.
"Fuck you!"
"Like, now?"
Valentino grinned and leaned down towards his boyfriend, "I wouldn't be opposed to that... I'm bored." He began flitting around the room. "We should go out, it's been a while since we were on a date."
"As much as I would love to," Vox began, "I have things to do."
"You mean obsessively check for the Radio Demon?" Valentino grumbled. "I'm starting to think you like him more than me!"
Vox chose to ignore the moth's comments. "Why don't you go bother Vel?"
"I tried!" Valentino wailed. "She kicked me out. Come on, I'm just gonna keep bothering you and I know all you're going to do is switch obsessively through your footage in hopes of catching a glimpse of the fucker. Let's go do something!"
Vox sighed; he knew he had lost. "Fine," he whined. "Let's go do something."
"Perfect!" Valentino returned to his normal voice. "Will you be ready to go soon?"
Vox opened his mouth to playfully mock his boyfriend when the door to his office suddenly opened and one of their assistants popped her head in, nervously. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything!" she squeaked. "But I have a letter for you, Mr. Vox."
"A letter?" grumbled Vox. "Who still sends letters? What is this, the 30's?" The assistant shrugged and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes; she was so fucking stupid. "Come on, bring it over. Let's see what old timer is sending me a letter."
"Maybe it's one of those chain letter things," Valentino suggested as the female demon made her way over to the two and held out the letter. Vox snatched it and rolled his eyes, then dismissed the assistant, who quickly left the room.
"Val, no one sends those anymore."
"Nuh-uh," the moth argued. "I got one the other day!"
"Yeah, on your phone." Vox snapped; his boyfriend could be so stupid at times! Alastor was never stupid, well, except for when he rejected Vox but everyone is allowed to be stupid once in their life. He tore open the letter carefully and pulled out a thick piece of paper. It was a creamy off white and as he unfolded it, his eyes were drawn to the seal at the bottom. He gasped, was that-
"Isn't that the Morningstar seal?" Valentino said, peeking over Vox's shoulder to look at the letter.
"Yeah," Vox whispered in awe. "The fuck the king sending me a letter for?"
"Doesn't he hate the Radio Demon too?" Valentino suggested. "Maybe he's reaching out so you two can kill him!"
"Yeah right," Vox laughed. "His highness probably doesn't even know I exist. Besides, I don't need anyone to help me kill Alastor! I can kill him myself."
"Sure."
"I can!"
"Mhm."
Vox glared at his boyfriend then turned his attention to the letter. The handwriting was neat, with a slight curve to it. A female's handwriting. Odd; the Sunshine Princess wouldn't be writing to him. Then who else could it be? Unless...
He began to read aloud, knowing that Valentino was just going to read over his shoulder anyway. It wasn't that long of a letter, nothing more than a few sentences.
"Hello Vox,
You don't know me. I would like to change that. You see, I have a proposition I think you'll enjoy greatly. I cannot go into great detail in case this letter ends up in the wrong hands but I can promise you that you do not want to turn this down. Trust me, this will change your life for the better. For more information on the proposition, please meet me in the abandoned building on South Street, today, at 6 in the evening, to discuss this once in a lifetime opportunity. Tell no one. I'm expecting to see you there.
A friend."
Vox was about to turn to Valentino when he noticed there was writing underneath the signature, if you could even call it that. "Wait, there's more...
P.S. destroy this letter once you've read it."
"Well, that's... something," Valentino mumbled, sounding almost bored. He began walking away from the T.V. who was still sitting down, "But, like, you aren't going to go, are you?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because it's probably a trap?" A voice from the doorway said. The two spun around to see Velvette standing their, her arms crossed.
"Have any of you heard of knocking?!" Vox grumbled annoyed. "How long have you been standing there?
The female Vee chose to ignore Vox's first comment as she made her way into the room, "Long enough to know that going there is a ridiculous idea. Come on, Vox, you can't be that gullible! Meeting in an abandoned building? Destroy the letter? Tell no one? That's a trap if I ever did see one."
"She has a point," Valentino began and the social media demon nodded, cutting the other off.
"Of course I have a point, dimwit. Vox, don't be a dumbass. The letter is a fake."
"What if its's not?" Vox asked.
"It is," Velvette insisted. "Look, that's a Morningstar seal which means that three people could've sent it; the king, the queen, and that daughter of theirs. The king and queen don't even know your exist and if they did, why would the be interested in you? Like, no offense." Vox glared at her, she glared right back. "Anyway, that leaves the princess and while I'm sure she knows of you from Alastor, I really don't think she'll be contacting you. Besides, if she was, she would've come here like that day she came to yell at Val."
"That was a fun day," Valentino grinned with a gleam in his eyes. "Minus the fact that Angel was being an ungrateful bitch."
Vox and Velvette ignored him.
"Then who's the letter from if it's not one of the royals?" Vox asked, annoyed. "It has their seal, it has to be from one of them."
"Or someone close to them," Velvette supplied.
"Alastor." Vox realized what his business partner was implying.
"Correct."
"It doesn't sound like Alastor," Vox protested. "And the handwriting is wrong."
"And you know what his handwriting is because...?"
Vox chose to ignore that. He was going and that was final, "I don't think it's a fake. I'm going and you can't stop me."
"Dumbass," Velvette muttered. "Have fun getting your ass handed to you! When you come back here crying because you lost another fight with Alastor, I get to say I told you so!"
And with that, Velvette left the room.
Vox found himself, less than an hour later, standing outside of the abandoned building on South Street. The building itself was run-down and falling apart, it had been abandoned for almost as long as Vox could remember. It sat sad and neglected. He hesitated by the door; what if Velvette was right and this was just some trap by Alastor? That would be embarrassing. But no, something in his gut said this was legitimate so, with a deep breath, he pushed open the old door before he could change his mind. He didn't come all this way to be a coward.
It took him a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He closed the door behind he and called out, "Hello?"
No answer. He checked his watch; six o'clock on the nose. Where was the sender of the letter?
Vox looked around the abandoned building with little interest; it was dirty and worn down. He didn't want to be here any longer than he needed, this place was giving him the creeps. He was about to call out again when he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He spun towards the direction, a dark corner of the room he had somehow miss, and there, in the shadows, was a woman. She stepped into the light from the mostly covered window and Vox gasped.
It was the Queen of Hell.
She had been gone for seven years, it had cause quite the conundrum with rumors flying around like wildfire. Everyone had their own theories on what happened between her and her husband, where she had gone. It didn't help matters that her husband had disappeared from the public eye after the scandal had broken. Vox remember that time very well but not because of her. It was around the same time Alastor had disappeared too.
That had not been a fun time.
He had heard rumors she was back but he hadn't believed them. Until now.
"Glad you could make it, Vox!" The queen suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "I see you got my letter."
"Yes I... I... I," he stammered.
"You're surprised to see me, aren't you?" She supplied, seemingly amused.
He nodded, " You said you had a proposition for me? One that I would enjoy greatly. What is it?"
"Excited, aren't we?" Lilith laughed, moving closer to Vox. "I like that. I think we'll make a good team, you and I."
"A... team?" The T.V. asked, confused. What the fuck was the woman talking about?
"Yes, a team. You see, Vox, my offer is this." Here, she paused, watching him. He stared back, eyes widen with anticipation. Good, she had him. "This is going to sound quite strange but I want your soul." With that, she pulled away and waited.
"My... soul?" Vox whispered. Was she crazy?! As if he was going to give up his soul! There was absolutely nothing in the afterlife worth that. "Look, no offense but..."
"Hold on," Lilith snapped, starting to meander around the room. "I'm not finished. I want your soul in exchange for all the power you could ever imagine."
Okay. Okay, maybe that was worth giving up his soul. If he could have that much power, he could finally best Alastor once and for all! He could finally make Alastor his if he wanted to. He grinned at the thought; he was willing to hear the queen out now.
Lilith grinned too; just a few more sentences and the T.V demon was eagerly going to be giving up his soul to her. "Yes, Vox. All the power you can imagine. And all you have to do is give me your soul. And do a few tasks for me, but nothing too horrible. I can't tell you what until after you give me your soul, but I do believe you'll enjoy the tasks." She finally stopped, turning to look at him full-on. "So, what do you say?"
"I didn't know you made soul deals," Vox responded. She made a face at him and he knew that wasn't what she was expecting him to say.
"You right," Lilith explained, impatiently. "I'm going to be truthful with you, Vox, because I like you and I think you deserve the truth. I only make soul deals when the sinner has something to offer me. And you, Vox, you have something to offer me."
"And that is...?"
"You're the only one who'll be able to win against my other pet."
"Your... other pet?" Vox questioned. "You have another soul?!"
"Yes, I do," Lilith sighed, annoyed. "I normally limit myself to one at a time, but this one is proving to be... difficult. He's not exactly doing what I'm asking him to, so I would like a second soul to help push him along. You're my best option; he's quite powerful, even without the power I gave him, and you're one of the many people who want to see him suffer, more than anyone else."
"Who... who is it?" Vox asked because he really had no idea who the queen was describing. Vox had many enemies.
"That little rival of yours... the one you're obsessed with," Lilith pandered.
"Alastor?!" Vox squeaked out. The queen stared at him like he was crazy and Vox cleared his throat, trying again, lowering his voice back to the normal volume. "Alastor?" He repeated. "You're telling me that fucking Alastor gave you his soul?!"
"Yes, him," the woman growled. "Where do you think he got all his power from? Me, that's where. And I can give it to you too, if you give me your soul."
Vox thought about it. On one hand, this was his soul on the line and soul deals were no walk in the park; Vox had no idea what kind of soul owner the queen was. On the other hand, if he agreed, he'd finally be able to match and best Alastor. He had been dreaming of this day since their friendship had fallen apart. He had always said he had been willing to give anything to best Alastor and the universe had answered his prayers. But was it worth it?
"I'll sweeten the deal, little one," Lilith said. "You see, as I told you, my pet, your rival, has been... straying. I want to get him back on the right track but nothing I do seems to be working. I need to put him in his place... and that's where you come in." She leaned so close she was practically breathing down Vox's neck. "If you give me soul, and if you do well, I'll give him to you to do whatever you want."
Vox froze, eyes wide with shock. As much as he had always wanted to beat Alastor, this was what he wanted more than even that; to have Alastor all to himself. The old timey prick had escaped his grasp one time, he wasn't going to let it happen again.
It was never really a question.
"Deal!" Vox exclaimed, grinning, throwing out one of his hands to shake on it. Oh how was he going to enjoy this.
"Perfect," Lilith purred. She reached out her own hand. "I think you and I are going to make quite the good team."
Notes:
And the difficult-to-write chapter is done! Yay!
*screams into a pillow for a solid minute*
I'm fine, I swear.
Also, how did that turn out so long? Oh well, I'm not going to complain. It's written! Finally.
Any who, I'm thinking we should shove Vox into the deep end of a swimming pool so he glitches out and we can all stand and watch and point our fingers and laugh at him. Who's with me?
With that, as always, don't forget to enjoy, leave a comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
Chapter 5: You're One of a Kind
Summary:
In Heaven, Sir Pentious is going through hell and Emily is desperate to save him. Back in Hell, two weeks have passed since Lilith's return; Lucifer is barely holding himself together, Alastor is walking on eggshells, and Niffty commits roach genocide (as one does).
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
For the first time in his afterlife, Sir Pentious missed Hell.
He missed the chaos Hell was known for. He missed the sounds that used to scare him, that used to keep him tossing and turning when he tried to sleep, that he then became not only accustomed to but also grew to enjoy. He missed the warm tones, the fiery reds and oranges and yellows of hellfire, the deep reds of the blood of sinners who lost a fight. He missed the heat, often so unbearably hot, but also somehow comforting. He missed knowing what could happened, knowing what to do to protect himself, whether it was from other sinners or Exterminators or something else entirely.
He missed being free.
Because, in Heaven, he was not free.
In Heaven, there was no chaos, not that he knew of anyway. In Heaven, it was silent, so silent that he swear he could hear his own heartbeat, if he even still had a heartbeat. Where Hell's color palette was warm and colorful, reds and oranges and yellows, Heaven's was stark and cold; bright whites that hurt his eyes, golds that reminded him of his second death. Heaven was cold, so so cold, something he wasn't used to. He hadn't been cold since he had been alive and even then, he never remembered feeling this cold.
In Heaven, he had no idea what was going to happen to him.
Sir Pentious had been in this room since the day he had appeared in that room in front of those two angels, the older one that glared at him and the younger one who had squealed, reminding him of Princess Charlie back in Hell. They— the older angels, they had a name but he long forgotten it— had taken to this room, told him to wait.
He had been waiting ever since.
The room was nice enough, albeit too bright and too cold. There was a beautiful table he could sit at, and a chair that was more comfortable than he had ever sat in. A bed that felt more like a cloud than a mattress nestled in the far corner. They brought him food often enough, he never went hungry, and the food was pretty good, much better than almost anything he had in Hell. The room was big enough that he never felt claustrophobic, but not so big he felt lost or small.
Well, he did feel lost and small but that wasn't because of the room.
And he wasn't completely ignored and lonely. He sometimes had visitors too.
It was mostly that young angel that reminded him of the Princess of Hell. The angel's name was Emily and she had been the kindest to him, the only one who didn't stare at him with a look of what he could only describe as anger and disbelief. Emily talked to him, long conversations that were the only thing keeping him from losing his mind. Emily wanted to know him, asked him all sorts of questions about Hell and his experiences and even just about himself. It had been a while since someone wanted to know him.
And, most importantly, most craziest, Emily wanted to help.
She had told him so. She wanted to get him out of this room, show him around Heaven. He would like it, she said, when he wasn't locked in the room like some kind of prisoner.
But she was forbidden to do so. He was to be stuck here until the others decided on what to do with him. How ominous did that sound? She had seemed pissed when she had told him, something he wasn't expecting and something he hadn't seen before that and hadn't seen since, something he hoped to never see again. That also reminded him of Miss Charlie on the rare occasions she got mad and her demon form showed.
Sir Pentious really hated it when they got mad. It was so unlike them and if he was being completely honest, their anger was so intense and raw and so unlike them that it scared him half to a second (and third) death.
The point was, Emily couldn't do anything to help him escape. Well she could, but she would be risking herself and he didn't want her doing that. Not when risking herself meant she was risking falling like the King of Hell or Miss Charlie's girlfriend. The girl had already done enough for him, more than almost anyone else had ever done for him in both his life and his afterlife. He couldn't, wouldn't, ask her to risk falling just to get him out of this prison. Besides, sure it wasn't fun being locked up in here, in a room that was too bright and too cold, but at least he was treated better than he had been in Hell, even if he was often ignored and no longer had any freedoms. This prison could've been worse, it was a nice enough room and he was treated well enough, for someone being treated like a prisoner, at least. He got enough food, he was comfortable enough, he didn't have to worry about dying. He still had worries, huge worries, but at least he knew he'd be okay.
At least, he thought he would be okay. It's hard to tell because he truly had no idea what these angels were capable of nor how far they would be willing to go to act like a Sinner didn't just become a Winner and threw everything they had ever preached into question. He knew how far Exterminators would go but these were not Exterminators. He didn't think these angels would kill him in cold blood but that didn't mean they would've ask an Exterminator to get rid of him. What if they sent in Adam to get the job done again? It was enough to make anyone, but especially him, feel terrified and anxious for the future. Should he be worried he might be killed up here? But no, Emily wouldn't allow that.
But, then again, she was young and he knew, somehow, she didn't have as much power as the elders. He felt sick to his stomach as thoughts of what could happen to him circled his mind. Maybe being in this room was just as dangerous as Hell, but for entirely different reasons.
The snake was shaken out of his thoughts at a sound by the door. His head snapped towards it and there, speak of the devil angel, was Emily. Sir Pentious felt his feelings of worry and concern for the future melt away like ice cream in Hell and, despite his situation, he found himself smiling. He always did enjoy his time with Emily.
The angel grinned back at him. Odd. She often smiled— although he could never tell if they were real smiles or ones that she put on to make him, and herself probably, feel better, both were plausible— but there was something different about this smile. The snake couldn't quite place it but something about her huge grin was lowkey freaking him out. To be completely honest, the smile reminded Sir Pentious too much of the Radio Demon's smiles back in Hell. He shuddered; that man had terrified him to no end and it didn't help that, in all of their fights, the snake had always lost. The closest he had come to winning was when he had manage to pull off a slight bit of the Radio Demon's outfit. That was one reason he was happy he was no longer in Hell; he didn't have to see the hotelier's creepy, always-present smile.
"I brought you food!" Emily squealed, snapping him out of his thoughts once more. She practically glided over to him, careful holding a plate of something. He felt his smile grow; it was his favorite, a heavy soup that reminded him of happy times back when he was alive, of warmth.
"Thanks!" he grinned as she placed the plate in front of him. The girl nodded then sat in the chair across from him. He didn't think too much of it until a couple minutes later, after he had taken a few bites of his food and realized not only was she creepily staring at him without uttering a word, but she also still had that huge smile on her face. That was very unlike her— she always smiled the entire time she was visiting him, but it normally got smaller and smaller the longer she talked to him and the more annoyed she got with her fellow angels. Her smile had stayed the same the entire time, creepy enough that Sir Pentious finally placed down his spoon and stared at her.
"What?" she asked when she realized he had stopped eating and was staring at her with an expression that Sir Pentious could only assume was intense. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"
"Everything's okay," he quickly explained. He didn't want her worrying about him. Everything was fine, with him anyway. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe she had bad news and that was why she brought him his favorite food, why she was smiling like that. She wanted to comfort him before breaking the bad news to him. She was smiling because it kept her from crying. His mouth suddenly felt full of ash and it took everything in him to keep the food he had just eaten down. "Is something wrong with you?" At her expression, he quickly added, "I mean, nothing looks wrong with you. You look nice! I mean, you look like you normally do. What I'm trying to say is that you've been smiling this entire time and like not your normal smile. It's kind of creepy and it lowkey scares me and it also reminds me of this guy back in Hell who smiled all the time and-"
"Someone in Hell smiled all the time?" Emily interrupted, confused. That didn't sound like anything she had known of Hell. She knew it was a horrible place of suffering so who would smile down there? Then again, the worst of the worst were down there so maybe that actually made more sense than she had originally thought.
"Yeah, he was... something," Sir Pentious shrugged then banished the Radio Demon from his mind. "What I'm trying to say is, why are you smiling like that? You have bad news, don't you? That's why you're smiling like the Radio Demon and why you bought me my favorite. You're trying to comfort me before breaking the awful news. Are they going to kill me? Is that what's going to happen? Or is it something even worse? What's worse than death... again? Have they realize you've been helping me? Are you in danger? Are you-"
"Pen," Emily interrupted again, using the nickname she had given one of the first times she had visited him alone, however long ago that was. "I'm okay. You're okay. I do have news but it's not bad, I promise. It's actually wonderful news. Like, really wonderful news, but please finish your food first."
"Why?" He asked, dumbfounded. Maybe this was a lie, maybe she did have bad news and was lying to make him feel better, but he truly didn't believe that. He didn't know why but he knew she was telling him the truth.
"You'll understand later," she simply said. "Go on, finish your food."
He had no choice but to do so.
"Wow you ate that fast," she teased, after he had practically inhaled his food within minutes. He laughed too.
"Yeah... sorry about that," he said, sheepishly. "I was starving. And you kinda got me interested with your whole 'I got wonderful news but I won't tell you until you finished eating' ominous-sounding promise."
"Sorry about that..." Emily mumbled. Sir Pentious shrugged; he didn't really mind and he knew that she was excited to share the news. Whatever it was, it was going to be great, he just knew it. She had told him and he knew her well enough that she wouldn't lead him astray. She leaned forward, her smile somehow growing even more. "Don't worry, I'm not going to keep you waiting any longer."
"I would hope not," the snake teased and she laughed.
"Fair enough. Okay, enough yapping. Here's the absolutely wonderful news."
Sir Pentious leaned forward too, waiting and on edge. Here it was. Here was the news he knew was going to change everything. How he knew that was beyond him but he knew.
Emily continued, "You see, Pen. I am finally getting you out of here! And we're leaving in a few minutes."
"Wait, what?!"
That was not what he was expecting her to say. The angel had a lot of explaining to do.
Luck had been on Lucifer's side for more than a day.
In fact, it had been on his side for almost two weeks! This had to be some sort of record. For him, at least. His entire life had been notorious for being chock full of bad luck. In fact, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times luck had been on his side; the day he met Lilith, the day Charlie was born, and the day he reconciled with Charlie and even the first and the last one were tainted by other aspects that made those days less perfect than they should've been. Also, the day he met Lilith was starting to lose the happiness he used to associate with it. Some part of him was starting to believe that meeting Lilith may have been the worst mistake of his life. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, let alone her. He may have his flaws and he may be stupid but even he wasn't that stupid.
The point was, for almost a full two weeks, Lucifer managed to somehow be lucky enough to avoid Lilith. Of course, her presence hung over him like a storm cloud. He often peeked into every room before he entered to ensure he wouldn't run into her. He barely had time to talk to Charlie in these past couple weeks because she spent almost all her free time with her mother, practically joint at her hip. He knew he couldn't blame her, his poor daughter missed her mother and probably wanted to make up for the time she was away, but it didn't make it any easier to handle. In fact, Lucifer was on edge whenever he knew the two of them were together. Charlie seemed happy whenever he saw her but he knew how easy it was to fake happiness.
He also knew how cruel Lilith could be.
Lucifer banished the awful thought of his ex-wife possibly hurting their child from his mind. Lilith was horrible but only to him. He knew this. He knew she loved their daughter. He knew she was kind to almost everyone else. He knew that no one would ever believe that the Queen of Hell could be so cruel. Of course, sinners and hellborn knew she could be awfully cruel but no one really batted an eye; this was Hell and she had always been cruel to the people who deserved it.
And him, apparently. But maybe he was someone who deserved it.
No. He wasn't going to go down the route. Not at the moment, anyway. Charlie was hanging out with Lilith and she would be safe. Lilith would never, never, hurt their daughter. She wasn't evil, she was just hurting. And hurting people sometimes do bad things, not because they wanted to but because they were hurting. Sometimes he forgot that. Sometimes he viewed her worse than she actually was. Lilith wasn't evil, he was.
Lucifer shook his head again. Nope, he wouldn't, couldn't, sink into himself. Not in the middle of the day. Not in the middle of the hallway where someone (cough cough, the Radio Demon, cough cough) could see and use it against him. He had much more important things to do than having a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway.
Like avoiding Lilith like the plague. And it had been working. It had been two weeks and he managed to avoid her for almost the entire time, only seeing her when everyone else saw her or managing to sneak away before she could catch him alone.
But all luck runs out and his luck was long overdue to do so.
"Oh, Lulu!" A voice from behind him called out and he froze, eyes wide. He knew that voice; overly sweet and seemingly loving. He had heard it for millennia when they had been married. He had heard it in all his dreams and nightmares since she left. He had heard it countless times in the past two weeks, always a warning for him to stay as far away from her as the situation allowed. He often had to be in the same room with her to avoid raising suspicion or worrying Charlie, but it didn't mean he had to be close to the woman, always across the room, as far away enough from the first women as he could possibly be while still being in the same room and not raising any sort of suspicion.
He had been so, so, careful to avoid her and now all of that was out the window. He bit back a groan, bit back the urge to hightail it out of there as if he hadn't heard. The hallway was quiet, they were the only ones there, and he had waited too long to act like he hadn't heard her, not that she would let him go even if he had managed to scamper off right away. He forced a small, soft, smile on his face, kept his face blank of any telltale emotion that he wasn't happy to see her or worried about she might do to him now that they were alone, and turned to face his ex-wife.
She was only feet away from him when he finally turned around, floating over to him like the phantom that haunted his waking and sleeping hours. "I was wondering when you were going to finally turn around, Lulu. You're very hard to track down, you know that?" She smiled, a sweet smile that reminded him of happy times and he could almost, almost, forget about the bad times. Almost.
"I've been busy," he said and it wasn't a complete lie. He had been busy, trying to avoid the first woman but she didn't need to know that. The woman in question looked him up and down without saying anything for a long while and just when he was about to break the awkward silence, she spook.
"I see. Well, we have so much to catch up on, my love!" she purred, using the affectionate nickname as if they were still together, as if she had never left, as if there last encounter hadn't been her screaming and throwing things and cursing his name to Heaven. As if she had never hurt him, so many times and in so many ways, and they just drifted apart and fell out of love. "Seven years is an awfully long time to be away."
"I'm not the one who left," Lucifer mumbled and he had no idea where that confidence came from. It wasn't like him, he hadn't been that confident for a long time, especially not to her. Lilith's eyes widen in surprised and he barely had time to react before she was inches away, her face so close to his he could feel her breath, her voice as venomous as a snake.
"Care to repeat that, Lulu?" she snarled and he shook his head, terrified. Lucifer was not about to make Lilith angry. If he could help it, anyway. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, he always somehow upset her but that didn't mean he had to purposely upset him if he could help it. She smiled and pulled away slightly, still too close for comfort but at least she was no longer breathing down his neck. "That's what I thought. Now, we do have much to discuss. But not here, too many prying eyes." She looked around, almost as if the hallway scared her but he knew it was all just an act. "I swear this hotel has eyes, you ever felt that before?"
Lucifer just shrugged; there were quite a few people here, more than he had been used to living alone in the palace. He often felt like he was on display, mostly for the goddamn Radio Demon to mock and taunt him. God did the King of Hell hate that man with all his being and he absolutely despised how close the man was to Charlie. The overlord was nothing but trouble and Lucifer would be damned again if he let his sweet, naive, far-too-trusting daughter get tangled up in that. Get her heart broken, or worse, because that was what the unbearable prick will do, what he did best. If it were up to Lucifer he would make sure that his rival never got more than a few yards near Charlie but it wasn't up to him. The Radio Demon had shoved his way into his daughter's life and his daughter, far too trusting and kind, had welcomed him with opened arms. He knew she was cautious of him, thank God, knew she kept him at some sort of distance, knew that even she wasn't letting the man too close, but it didn't mean she didn't get far too close for comfort.
Fuck Alastor.
Lucifer shook his head to clear it. Lilith was watching him like he was crazy. Well, he was crazy, but he didn't appreciate his ex-wife looking at him like he was. She didn't get to judge him for losing it after she had abandoned their daughter and broken his heart. After all, who did she think was to blame, at least partially, for his losing it?
Actually, he knew who she thought was to blame. Himself and only himself. He couldn't exactly argue with that but it wasn't fully his fault. As they say, it takes two to tango, so it couldn't fully be his fault. Could it? He didn't want to blame Lilith, but her leaving had broken something in him, had destroyed him in a way he hadn't thought was possible. Her leaving caused him to lock himself away, ditch their daughter just like she had but in a worse way because, technically, he was still there just out of reaching and ignoring her. It was mostly his fault, yes, but she had to share some of the blame too.
Not that he would ever say that to her face. Lilith could be so defensive and he didn't blame her. Her entire life she had been viewed as less than and evil, especially after the Fall. She was a woman, and a woman who didn't want to be a quiet, obedient little wife. Heaven hated her guts and they made sure she knew. Of course she would get defensive when someone started shitting on her, she had been her entire life and it was hard to break a habit. She got defensive when someone insulted her because she had to, even if someone was just trying to help or give her some constructive criticism. Poor woman didn't see it like that and it made sense why. Even if him being hard on her or pointing out a hard truth came from a place of love, he knew it was hard to see that from someone who had been treated so horribly simply because she was a woman and because she made a simple mistake ages ago, a mistake that was his fault and his choice.
He brought her down with him. No wonder she left.
"You coming, Lulu?" Lilith called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. Again. He needed to stop this, stop letting his thoughts run away with him when he was with Lilith. He needed to be clear-minded, needed to listen and understand everything she said. He had to act like her leaving didn't break him or that he finally put the pieces of his life back together again. Those pieces that were shattering again but she didn't need to know that.
"Sorry, yeah," Lucifer said and took a step towards her. "Just... reminiscing." A lie. He was thinking of the past but not with a longing that reminiscing implied. Thinking of how, why, when everything went wrong and how he, and only he, was to blame.
He ruined everything he touched.
Lilith smiled and if the king didn't know any better, he would've believed it was genuine. It looked genuine enough, softer than her smiles had been before, softer than most of her smiles. It reached her eyes. He felt himself relax; maybe she was remembering the good times too.
Maybe she didn't hate him as much as she claimed she did that last time they saw each other.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. Her face returned to it's stone coldness he had gotten used to, her mouth a snarl instead of the soft smile it had been when they first met, that he had enjoyed, that he had fallen for. Of course she hated him. Why wouldn't she? He ruined everything. The smile was just her getting lost for a moment in the happy moments they had.
It was hard to remember those moments sometimes. Most of the time.
They walked in silence back to her room, the one Charlie had given her. It was far from his room and he was grateful for that. He knew that Charlie did it to be on the safe side, because she was worried— especially after how he reacted that first day Lilith returned— about how the two of them, but mostly him, would react to the two of them being together and in the same place again after such a long absence from each other. He knew that Charlie had no idea how grateful he was for this and he could never, never, tell her why.
He refused to badmouth her mother to her, even if the woman deserved it. If the woman was as bad as Lucifer believed she was, he wanted Charlie to find that out herself. Not so she would get hurt but so she would know the truth without his interference. Better for everyone for Charlie to find it out on her own, unless of course, she tries to hurt the girl then, and only then, would he warn Charlie.
No. No, Lilith didn't deserve it. There he went again, blaming and viewing Lilith as more awful than she was. He needed to stop that. She wasn't a monster, he knew she wasn't, and yet here he was was, painting her as everyone else did. He was better than this!
Wasn't he?
No. No, he wasn't. He was just as bad as everyone painted him out to be, no matter how much Charlie tried to argue otherwise. She had to argue otherwise, because she was his daughter and he knew she would never be able to view him in a negative light. Actually, scratch that, she might, if he had ever did anything that was so messed up even Charlie would turn on him. Not likely, yes, but not impossible. It could happen. It might happen. At the rate he was going, he knew it was likely he could make a mistake that even Charlie would hate him. And he would deserve it. He had abandoned her. He had pushed her away. He hadn't been, he wasn't, a good father.
And he never will be.
Charlie deserved so, so, much more.
"Lulu, getting lost in your own mind again?" Lilith snarled, snapping the man out of his thoughts, for what, the third time? He shook his head, again, and looked up at her. God did she tower above him.
"Sorry," he whispered, his voice small and pathetic. Lilith snorted.
"You better be," she snapped. "Anyway," she continued, her voice somehow softer even though he knew she certainly didn't feel that way, that this was all just an act, "I have something very important I want to discuss with you." She paused for a moment, long enough that he opened his mouth to speak, but then she went back to talking and he silently cursed himself. She loved doing this, acting like she wanted him to respond or say something when she really didn't. He had forgotten that little tactic of hers until now. "You see, Lulu, I know you hate me..."
"I don't hate you!" Lucifer protested, a lie.
"Sure," Lilith laughed, telling him she didn't believe him. "Agree to disagree. My point is... I don't want you badmouthing me to Charlie. Look, I will admit that I have made some horrible mistakes in the past, maybe you are right to have a dislike towards me, but probably not. I've made mistakes, I'll admit that. But, whether you are right or not to dislike me, I will never hurt Charlie, never be awful to her. I don't want to hurt her. She is my daughter and I love her, despite whatever you may think. I was already a bad mother when I left her, I never should've left her even if I only left to get away from you I still ended up hurting Charlie and I would never forgive myself for that. Charlie loves me and I love her. We are starting to rebuild our relationship! And," she whispered, stepping far too close to comfort, "if you say one bad thing or get her to turn on me, I will find out and I will make your life a living hell. Do not ruin my relationship with our daughter, got it?"
Lucifer swallowed hard but he nodded. Little did Lilith know, that had been his plan since she had first returned. "Understood," he whispered. "I won't badmouth you to Charlie. You are her mother after all, and she deserves a good relationship with you, even if we don't."
Lilith nodded, approving, "Good, so we can be civilized, hm? I was worried, you could be so stupid at times."
And there it was, the insult. God it only took her, what, a few minutes?
"I know," he whispered, head down.
"Good," she laughed. "As much as I would love for you to stay and chat, as much as I would love to catch up, I do have quite a lot to do, so you are dismissed."
He nodded, thank God. Lucifer didn't want to spend another second with his ex-wife. Without another word, he made his way towards the door, opened the door, and stepped out but before he could walk away, Lilith looked up again.
"Oh, and Lulu?" she called after him.
"Yes?" he asked, turning back to face her through the doorway.
"Watch your back," she grinned, her smile somehow even creepier than any of the Radio Demon's creepy-ass smiles that Lucifer had seen way too much in the past two weeks. He nodded, eyes wide as he realized her threat.
Then, before he could say anything or tell her goodbye, she had slammed the door in his face and there Lucifer was, left standing in the hallway all alone, confused and terrified.
Alastor was fine.
Everything was fine!
He was most certainly not on the edge of a mental breakdown every day. He was most certainly not so on edge that every sound or movement he noticed out of the corner of his made him inwardly tense, waiting for Lilith's cruel word or threat or painful touch. He was most certainly not carefully and perfectly planning out every little word he said, ever little thing he did, hoping that somehow, somehow, it would be enough to Lilith's liking. It never was, nothing he ever did was ever to Lilith's liking and she seemed to be more pissed at him then ever before (could he blame her? He hadn't been doing what she asked, he was dragging his feet and quietly, to a degree, fighting against her, or so it looked. If he was actually fighting against her, and why he was if he was indeed doing so, was up for debate.) He was most certainly not dreading each and every night, knowing that Lilith would call him into his room to speak, which really meant scream and threaten and hurt him, before she dismissed him or left him curled up in a ball, shaking and aching, snarling at him to do better.
Alastor was most certainly not doing any of that.
Okay, he'd admit, to himself, to a very, very, very small, almost unnoticeable, degree, that he was, in fact, doing all that. And he was, in fact, completely and totally not fine. But that was nothing new, he hadn't really been fine since, what, before his mother died, over 100 years ago? Maybe not even then, maybe he was never really fine.
Maybe he had always been mentally unstable.
He was crazy, he was insane. Everyone knew that, he knew that.
Didn't he?
He shook his head. No use thinking about how crazy he was. He couldn't change that, he didn't want to change that, and besides, it was Monday which meant he had to prepare for his radio show tonight at midnight. He really needed to stop waiting until the last minute to prepare, he was normally better than that, but Lilith was sort of making it difficult.
Lilith made everything difficult.
Another shake of his head. A smile. A tight smile, a fake smile, a showy looking smile but not one for show. One to hold him together, keep the bad thoughts at bay, the panic he could feel starting to bubble up down. A lie because a smile meant everything was okay and nothing ever was but no one ever noticed. No one ever noticed his smiles rarely reached his eyes. To notice that, people would actually have to look at him, really look at him, and no one ever did. Well, no one but Rosie but Rosie was different. Rosie didn't count. No one else noticed how fake his smiles were, the hauntedness in his eyes that was the telltale sign that his smile was nothing but fake and for show. And that was okay, more than okay. He didn't want someone noticing the look in his eyes, pointing it out, because that meant someone cared, really cared, and he didn't want that, wasn't ready for everything that it came with, that it meant. Didn't want someone to notice, point it out, because he feared if someone asked, it would be the final straw, the thing that breaks the camel's back, and he would finally shatter beyond repair. And he certainly didn't want to do that, it was bad enough that he broke down, shattered, in front of Rosie too many times for comfort (granted, once would've been too many times in his opinion and it was certainly more than once), he certainly didn't need to, want to, do it in front of others.
At least, he was pretty sure he didn't want someone noticing the hauntedness in his eyes, pretty sure he didn't want someone to care that much about him, pretty sure he didn't want to shatter beyond repair. But a small part of him, a small, almost minuscule, part of him did want someone to noticed his haunted eyes. Did want someone to care that much about him. Did want to shatter beyond repair because he was so sick, so tired, of holding it out all together, of acting like nothing was wrong and everything was okay and he was okay. That he was fine, perfectly, completely, wholly fine.
He was okay. He was fine.
Fine, fine, fine!
He gripped the handle of his door. He forgot he was standing in the hallway, outside of his door, about to go in to work on the show for tonight.
God, he really was crazy. He couldn't even remember where he was.
Alastor pushed open the door to his room, turned on the light, and turned to close the door when he let out a surprised yelp. There, in the corner, was Niffty, cleaning away. He paused for a moment, hand on the door about to push it close. He had been avoiding Niffty, avoided talking to her like he normally would and spending most of his free time with her. He had to, because he was protecting her. Lilith already knew how close the two were, already threatened Niffty and now her threats were more real and possible then they ever had before. He most certainly didn't enjoy hurting the small demoness this way but he couldn't let her get hurt in an even worse way.
He hoped she didn't hate him. Few people didn't, it would be hard of the maid was now one of the many.
She must've sensed him open the door, must've noticed the light come on, must've heard his gasp. She must've known he was in there, watching her, but she didn't acknowledge him. No hello, not even a glance. Alastor swallowed hard; shit, she was either angry or upset.
"Niffty?" Alastor called out, closing the door and locking it so Lilith couldn't make a surprise visit and use this against him. He took a couple of steps toward the small demoness. "You okay?"
She didn't answer right away, scrubbing harder at the floor. At least she was still cleaning his room but he knew that was more of her OCD and need to make sure everything was clean and spotless rather than the fact that she was doing it because she didn't completely and totally hate him. Finally, after long moments of silence, she spoke, "Why have you been ignoring me, Sir?"
Alastor flinched. Flinch at the hurt in her voice, the bluntness, the realization that of course it would be seen as ignoring her and hating her. "Niffty..." He whispered and she tensed and whatever was left of his heart, if he even still had one, broke. He knew that tenseness, did it every day, all day, with Lilith or whenever he was positive he would lose it all because Charlie would finally get sick of his antics and kick him to the curb without as much as a second glance because he knew, knew, that despite her kindness and willingness to help he was too far gone, too horrible and awful and evil that even Charlie would turn on him. Everyone always turned on him, better to act like he didn't care than risk getting hurt again. "You're right," he added, taking a small step towards her. "I have been ignoring you. But it... it has nothing to do with you, dear. I've been busy, which is no excuse, but-"
"So you don't hate me?" she asked, interrupting, her voice small, and he flinched, again.
"Of course I don't hate you," he whispered, knelt down besides her. "I told you before, my dear, you're one of my favorite sinners."
The maid smiled, small and faint but real, "You did say that..."
"I did," he agreed. "I am sorry about the last couple of weeks. I didn't mean to ignore you." A lie, but he was doing it to protect her. Or he had. He wasn't sure if he wanted to keep ignoring her. Sure it was keeping her safe from Lilith but it was causing other problems now. There had to be a way to keep her safe without ignoring her. Right? Oh well, he'll think of something, he always did, he'd just add it to the ever growing list of things he had to figure out.
That list was starting to get uncomfortably long.
"I was being an asshole ignoring you," he went on. "I didn't mean to, but that's no excuse and I'm sorry."
She didn't say anything for a moment then turned to face him, blinking, "So you won't ignore me anymore?"
He nodded, quickly and determinedly, "I won't. Promise. Why don't we try to forget these last couple of weeks, if you're willing to. Put it behind us?"
Niffty's hesitated for a moment and Alastor felt his smile shake, wondered if maybe he gone too far and ruined whatever relationship he had with Niffty, that she wasn't willing to forget and he couldn't blame her, when the small maid nodded enthusiastically, grinning, "Okay!"
Alastor relaxed, slightly, and he knew his smile got a lot more genuine. Well, that was one thing he didn't have to worry about. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, knew that this wasn't a good idea, that it was putting Niffty in danger, but he was selfish and he hated ignoring her in the last two weeks. To Hell Heaven with Lilith. He'd just be careful, keep a close eye on Niffty, make sure Lilith didn't see just how close they were. Extra work, sure, but he would be willing to do it to keep Niffty safe.
He almost laughed; he had told himself not to get attached so many times and here he was, attached to a concerning degree to the small cyclops.
"Sir!" Niffty called out to him, shaking him from his thoughts, and he looked over at her. She had put down her sponge and was scampering over to him, which wasn't that far, even by her standards. "Guess what I did yesterday!"
She clambered onto his lap, giggling. He tensed, slightly, at the sudden touch but he didn't ask her to get off. He knew she would, if he asked, and he really wasn't in the mood to be touched at the moment yet he didn't utter a word. Odd. Maybe he was trying to make up for the last two weeks. Yes, that had to be it.
"Hmmm, what did you do?" he responded, playing along.
"I committed roach genocide!" she squealed and he smiled. Of course she did; Niffty did sure love her roach murder. Well, she loved murder in general, it was why he trusted her more than most and why the two were so close, but she always had a soft spot for roaches. He wondered if there was a reason. "Those roaches never knew what was coming!" she added darkly, with a shit-eating grin that could rival his.
"I bet they didn't," he agreed, grinning. "Tell me, Niffty, where did you commit this heinous act?"
"My room!" she replied. "I wanted to do it in the lobby but Charlie said no." She didn't seem too upset by this and he knew she wasn't. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that she enjoyed it even more doing it in her own room. "They all slowly died, hehehe."
"Good job. Pray tell, dear, what are you going to do with the corpses?"
"Make new roach crowns!" She squealed. "I'm going to make you a new one since you lost the other one in the battle with the angels. King Roach can't be without his crown."
Alastor smiled wider; he had felt bad for losing the crown Niffty had worked so hard on. He hadn't meant to, he didn't even remember he was wearing it until later, in his radio tower, when he was having that mental breakdown and tugged at his hair and it wasn't there. He wasn't even sure when it fallen off, or where, but he knew it was probably gone, reduced to ash or atoms after his battle with Adam on the roof of the old hotel or buried under the rubble when it had fallen. When he had come back, the small maid had taken notice but she wasn't upset. She just promised to make him a new one once she got enough roaches.
Alastor looked around his room; like always, it was pretty much spotless. Of course, there was the bayou in the far corner that Niffty never went to, mainly because he warned her away from it, but the rest of the room was sparkling clean. "See you cleaned up in here," he said because, before, it had been a mess. He was a busy man, worried about Lilith, and cleaning was never his strong suit. It was another, one of the countless reasons he and Niffty worked so well together, why he allowed her in his life in the first place. He was busy and cleaning was such a bore. Niffty seemed to enjoy it, seemed to enjoy it a little too much, and never really seemed to understand why he didn't but she never complained besides a playful mockery of how messy he could be. "Good job, as always. What would I do without you?"
"Have a messy room," Niffty replied, deadpan. "I don't understand, sir, how your room can get so messy!"
"I know," he responded. "It truly is a horrible shame. I am truly sorry," he teased, then, with a grin, added, "but then you'd wouldn't be able to clean up, and that would be even a worse shame."
She gasped at the thought of not being able to clean, "You know what? Keep having a messy room! I love cleaning!"
"I've noticed," he explained, deadpanned. "Done cleaning for the day?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Nope!" She said. "My job is never done! I still have so much to clean. Thank you, sir, for reminding me. I must get back to cleaning. So much to clean, so little time."
She crawled out of his lap and went to pick up her supplies. Alastor got up, remembering that he locked the door behind him when he had come in and realized she was here. "I'll get the door for you, dear."
"Thanks!" she said as she scooped everything up then head to the door. He unlocked it, held it open for her. She had barely stepped into the hall, began to turn around, probably to say bye to him, when something scurried across the floor. "A roach!" Niffty cried. "I missed one."
Then, before he could even fully process what was happening, the maid had dropped her supplies and went running down the hall after the roach. He watched her disappear, leaning against the doorframe, a genuine smile at seeing her antics of chasing roaches.
It was moments like these where he could almost forget everything that was happening. Almost forget that Lilith was breathing down his neck. Almost forget that one wrong word, one slip-up, would get Niffty killed and him sent back to the Void, or worse. Almost forgot how everything could come tumbling down, fast, and he'd be powerless to stop it.
He almost forgot that he wasn't supposed to get attached, be happy, see a future here, with these sinners who were supposed to be his pawns but were turning out to be something more, something else, that he wasn't ready to admit.
But then, a shadow, out of the corner of his eye. He spun in the direction. Nothing. He was being paranoid, he thought, or was he? Lilith was always lurking, always watching, even when she wasn't actually where he could see her. He couldn't let himself forget that. Couldn't let himself slip up. Couldn't let himself get attached. He was the Radio Demon, after all. He didn't make friends. He didn't need friends.
Friends made you weak. Friends were a waste of time. Friends only ended up hurting you and using you and breaking your heart. Friends backstabbed you, abandoned you when you finally opened up to them, when you let them in, when you finally trust them with your life.
He had to learn that the hard way.
Alastor snarled, still a smile in a sense, then slammed the door behind him.
So, you see, he was fine.
Completely, totally, wholly fine.
Notes:
*rises from the dead like Duo after he got hit by the cybertruck*
I live, bitch!
Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter was posted. The next few chapters will be posted randomly when I have time; I have five classes this semester and work part time so I don't have a lot of free time plus writer's block is being a pain in the ass. I will update when I can but it probably won't be weekly anymore. I'll try to update biweekly but no promises. I'll have more time next week during spring break then in May after school ends so hopefully I'll get another chapter out next week but don't count on it.
Anyway, since it's been five chapters, I think it's time we play a game! All the chapter titles have something in common, can you tell what it is? No, Weatherboy, you can't play because you already know. But the rest of y'all can. If you get it correct, I'll give you a shout out in the end (or beginning) note of the next chapter!
Anyway, that's all. Thanks for all the comments y'all have been leaving! Your feedback and enjoyment means a lot to me.
As always, don't forget to enjoy, comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear!
Chapter 6: They Say the Family You Choose Is Better
Summary:
Husk and Angel dance around their (very obvious) feelings and Charlie tries to make up for lost time with Lilith, starting to worry Vaggie, who is starting to have a (very reasonable) distrust towards her girlfriend's mother. Meanwhile, Alastor is struggling to juggle keep Niffty safe and out of Lilith's reach, figure out his feelings, and try to keep everything together.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was only eleven in the morning and already, Angel was drinking.
Husk really couldn't judge him though, because he was drinking too.
They were both sitting at the hotel bar, at the bar actually, because it was eleven in the morning and the bar didn't open until five and Husk was certainly not going to open it early, especially considering that the only people who would drink this early were him and Angel and neither would let a closed bar stop them from drinking; Husk could just get a drink himself and Angel, well Angel has his ways of getting drinks. Husk had a sneaking suspicion that the porn star had a secret stash somewhere, probably along with the drugs he claimed he didn't have, but, once again, who was he to judge? Not that he would judge; he had his own secret stash too.
There they were, sitting together at the bar and if a sinner didn't know any better, it would look like the two were having drinks together. This was not the case no matter how much Husk wished it was. Yes they were sitting close together, only an empty chair between them, and yes they were talking and drinking with each other, but it wasn't together together. Not in the way it looked, not in the way Husk wished it was. Angel had sat down about half an hour ago as Husk was nursing a bottle, and started a conversation. Didn't want to be alone, he said, wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't judge him from drinking before noon. Husk graciously accepted because he always would for Angel and because it was better than drinking alone, but he regretted it the moment the spider sat down, just an empty stool away. Close enough that the cat demon could reach out and touch him but still far apart enough that they couldn't accidently touch. Being this close yet this far from his crush made the room feel suffocatingly hot, thick and hard to breath. He clutched his bottle tighter, squeezing it as if it were his thoughts and feelings instead and if he could just squeeze tightly enough, these feelings would suffocate and wither, perish and die off.
These feelings had to die off. Angel was his friend— were they friends? It had been such a long time since Husk had any friends, had anyone who stayed in his life— well, afterlife, really— for this long. Technically, of course, there was Alastor, who had been in his life since that fucking bet where he lost his soul, even before that, but the Radio Demon didn't really count. The man who owned his soul was more like a foreboding presence, always there, always watching, like clouds you know are coming when the wind changes. Sometime it was nice to have a presence that was always there, even if was fucking Alastor, but they weren't friends. They weren't even really acquaintances; their relationship was solely business. Then there was Niffty, who had been in his life for as long as Alastor, but she barely counted either. They weren't friends or anything but at least he could admit that he liked her more than the one who owned his soul. To himself, at least.
The point was, Angel was probably the closest thing he had to a friend in a long time, he didn't want to lose that. He wanted a friend. That was hard to admit even to himself, he would never tell anyone else, but it was the truth. He was lonely, he wanted a friend. An actual friend, not someone who acted like one to get something or because they're friendly with everyone. Besides, he told himself, these feelings, these thoughts, they were pointless. His crush on the spider was pointless. Why would Angel ever want him?
Now, Husk was not depressed. Well, for the most part. He most certainly had those feelings more often than not, he still felt trapped in his own mind on days were the alcohol just wouldn't be enough. He did not think that Angel wouldn't want him because his mind was mean. Well, that wasn't the MAIN reason. The main reason, the real reason, the reason why he tried and struggled to push down his feelings so they never saw the light of day, fought whenever they tried to make themselves at home in his mind, was because why would Angel want him? Sure, they had a lot in common: they both drank too much, drank to escape the pain, drank at eleven in the morning, drank to the point where others gave them weird looks, reprimands, called them alcoholics; they were both on leashes, to people who you most certainly didn't want to wrong or piss off, who kept them such a tight leash they both knew they would never escape until their soul owner was dead for good; they were both losers, they sang that song for goddamn sake. They could connect better to each other than they could to anyone else in the hotel, to anyone else in Hell, and, in Husk's case, to anyone even back when he was alive. They understood each other on levels Husk had never experienced before. They had so much in common, so much, but they were so different too. Too different.
For as much as Husk could relate to Angel in the sense that they both on the leash of some of the most feared overlords of Hell, on contracts that would never be broken for as long as their owner roamed Hell— and, in Husk's case, when his owner was God knows where for seven years, vanished off the face of known reality and where not even the closest to him knew where he had gone off to (Niffty hadn't known were he had gone off too... or so she told him and he, for some reason, knew she was telling the truth, maybe because of how upset she sounded that their soul owner vanished)— that they didn't even own their own souls, that's where the similarities ended. For as manipulative and evil and asshole-y the Radio Demon could be, he was certainly not as bad of a soul owner as Angel's. Yes, the deer could be cruel and harsh and manipulative. And yes most of the time Husk feared even thinking of a complaint against the hotelier. But, all things considered, Alastor was somehow better than most soul owners. At least from what Husk heard.
The tasks weren't that bad. Most of the things Alastor had Husk do were odd and weird, strange and different, and even though Husk normally rolled his eyes and dragged his feet and whined that he didn't want to do them, they were never, in the end, ones he actually feared doing, sometimes even ones he didn't actually wind doing, truthfully, but he wasn't about to admit that. Even now, helping out with the hotel, for as annoying and boring as it was, for as much as he complained, had been more of an odd request than anything else and he sort of did enjoy it, now, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. He never had to do a task that he genuinely feared doing, which is more than most in soul deals can say.
For another, as harsh and hurtful Alastor could be, for all the times he had screamed and threatened and yanked on the leash, he had never down so much as touch Husk to hurt him. Yes, Alastor was better at being emotionally cruel and manipulative to get what he wanted, but the deer had never laid a hand on him in anger. Had never used physical force to get Husk to do what he wanted. The worst he had done was yank on the leash a couple of times and all those times Husk had said something he probably shouldn't have. The demon was certainly not as bad as Valentino and Husk had heard countless horror stories from Angel about what happened when Valentino was mad at one of his souls. Hours, or even a full night, of abuse, of relentless, horrible, abuse. Abuse so bad that Angel came back to the hotel, limping and shaking, eyes wide and haunted, sporting a long sleeve shirt and too much make-up. Abuse that Husk knew he didn't even know the full scale of, knew that Angel only told him some of, him out of all people who would be able to handle the horror (he thought) of the abuse, whether it was because Angel didn't want to bother or horrify the cat with it or because even the spider wasn't able to admit it out loud, as if keeping it quiet meant it wasn't real. Alastor wasn't as bad as his own soul owner, whoever that was, whoever Alastor refused to name, spoke in whispers about, who made the otherwise calm and emotionless Alastor fearful and scared. Husk knew very little about that but he knew more than most. Knew because Alastor had told him he was on a leash.
It was a year before he went missing. Husk called Alastor's seven year disappearance that because he knew, knew, his soul owner didn't vanish for seven years on purpose. Knew that no matter what everyone else said, what Alastor himself said, that something was off about the man's disappearance. Knew it had something to do with his owner, wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Alastor told him he was on a leash. Alastor had, after all, vanished exactly a year to the day after he had shared his soul wasn't his. And, he knew, Alastor wasn't supposed to tell anyone. He didn't say who but he did say he was on a leash then begged, the next day, for Husk to never tell another soul, real, genuine fear and desperation in his eyes that scared Husk.
That had been a strange night and following morning.
The point was, Husk couldn't really relate to Angel. Not in the way that it really mattered. He could give sympathy, he could be a friend, he could curse Valentino's name into the wind, but he couldn't relate. He didn't know what it was like to be on a leash that, at the drop of a hat or a strange ebb or flow of your soul owner's mood, you could be ripped to shreds, shaking and aching, attacked and clawed at, slapped or worse. Never had to worry about cleaning up blood and wounds. He didn't know what it was like to have to pick up the pieces. Alastor was cruel, Alastor scared him, but Alastor had never, ever, left him bleeding or in pain. Sure, the deer could be cruel and terrifying, but it wasn't anything Husk couldn't handled. Alastor was, after all, more annoying than awful and Husk couldn't exactly complain about Alastor being annoying when Valentino was being unspeakably horrible to Angel. Even the bartender wasn't that cruel or self-centered.
Then, of course, there was the whole fact that he would never be like Angel.
Husk enjoyed sex as much as the next person. Sure he did. But Angel, on the other hand, Angel seemed to breathe it. Husk knew, or at least assumed, that some of that love was probably a coping mechanism, some response from the abuse he suffered under Valentino, but Husk also knew it was rooted in truth, some truth, at least. You couldn't make as many horny jokes as Angel made in one breathe if you didn't really enjoy sex. And that, that just wasn't Husk. It was something the cat loathed to admit, even to himself, but it was the truth and he knew it would do him some good if he started admitting more truths to himself. There were a lot that he wasn't ready to admit, if he was ever going to be ready to admit, but he was able, to a degree, admit this one to himself. He wasn't like Angel, he wasn't overly sexual, and that's what Angel would want, would fall in love with, someone who was like him and made horny jokes more than he breathed.
That wasn't Husk. That would never be him. And that was okay. It really was. It just meant that they could never be together. Husk wouldn't want Angel to deal with him just to deal with him. Angel deserved to be with someone who was like him, someone who wouldn't be annoyed by his constant sex jokes. A relationship needed compatibility, after all, and while the two could be compatible in many ways, this wasn't one of them and, considering that it was such a big part of Angel's life, if didn't seem fair to either one of them.
So Husk was happy just being friends. He was. He had to be, he told himself. Friendship was okay, he needed more friends, or any friends for that matter. Friendship would be fine, it had to be fine. Friendship was good.
Besides, what would happen if they did date, as far-fetched as that was, he asked himself, then he would lose one of his only friends. And God forbid if they broke up. He would be losing a friend, because they were friends, and then the hotel would have to chose sides and that would be a mess for everyone involved. So friendship it was. Friendship would be fine.
And Husk would be fine. He would get over this crush. He had to. Had to destroy this crush before it destroyed him. Because, he knew, it would.
He took a long swing of his drink.
Angel would never like him like that, he told himself. Why would he?
Little did Husk know, Angel did, in fact, like him like that.
Why would Husk ever want someone like Angel? Even Angel himself didn't want himself. He was too much, too over-the-top, too unbearably unbearable.
He knew he was too much, too over-the-top, too unbearably unbearable. Everyone had always told him that; his parents when he was back alive, Valentino was he was in a mood, countless people in both life and death. Angel was too much, they said, too horny. He made people uncomfortable. He wasn't easy to deal with, he couldn't even deal with himself most days. Why did you think he turned to drugs and alcohol as if that would save him? He was a lot, too much for most people to deal with even in small batches, let alone in an intimate way you shared with a partner.
He came with enough baggage to send a plane tumbling from the sky, and then some. He could lash out at the drop of a hat, get in a mood where no amount of talking or cuddling with Fat Nuggets could help. He drank too much, did too many drugs. He couldn't even take care of himself and that was an important part of a healthy relationship. You couldn't relay on a partner to take care of you, that wasn't fair to them.
Angel was a goddamn mess that dragged everyone that came too close into destruction. He wouldn't, he couldn't, drag Husk down with him.
Husk had his own demons, his own phantoms that he tried to find at the bottom of a bottle, but Husk wasn't like him. Husk was put together, to a degree, and Husk didn't deal with bullshit.
Angel was bullshit.
Besides, the porn star told himself, it wasn't like he and Husk could ever get together. There were too many outside sources stopping them, even ignoring Angel and all his problems that would only destroy them in a matter of time. Things and people that would be out to tear them apart and wouldn't stop until they succeeded. They were both on leashes, indebted to overlords who were known for their cruelty, their harshness, their knuckle-whiting grip on their souls. Valentino would never, never, let Angel date someone else, the moth would skin him alive for even thinking that, because Angel was supposed to be loyal to him, and him only, besides, of course, for a porno, which, Angel knew, was funny, because it wasn't exactly like his boyfriend was loyal to him. For crying out loud, Valentino had been dating fucking Vox for as long as Angel could remember. Of course Val's rules would only apply to him.
And, as for Husk, well, Angel wasn't exactly sure what the Radio Demon would do if he found out his soul fancied the porn star. A part of Angel hoped the man wouldn't fly off the handle but this was Alastor. Who knew what would set the overlord off, best not to risk it.
He and Husk were friends, Angel reminded himself, and he needed as many of those as he could get. He only really had Cherri and Fat Nuggets and one of those was a pig so he barely even counted. He didn't even think he had the rest of the hotel, besides Charlie, but Charlie was friends with everyone so she didn't count either. Vaggie could barely stand him, being nice enough to him that he never felt (too) threatened, but she was always undermining him, always mocking his choice of work (was it his choice or did he make one small slip up that night he met Val and now it was the only thing he knew, the only way he could define himself, even if it wasn't actually him?), always rolling her eyes and asking him, well, demanding, really, him to be less horny, if possible. As if his horniness was something he could control and not a coping mechanism. But, she wasn't fully wrong, was she? Sure it was a coping mechanism, but it was also him, wasn't it?
He didn't even know who he was anymore. Another thing to add to the list of why he and Husk could never date. You should have some self-understanding for a relationship to work and not go down in flames. You can't date someone who doesn't even know who they are.
As for the rest of the staff, well, Angel wasn't exactly sure how they felt about him. Alastor had an indifference leaning towards dislike, but that was mainly because Angel made a horny joke every other breathe and it made the other man uncomfortable. The spider had a sneaking suspicion that the hotelier was ace, probably aro, which was why the jokes seemed to bother him so much. If Angel was a better man, maybe he would tone down the jokes around the overlord, but Angel was not a better man and besides, it was sort of fun teasing the Radio Demon with sex jokes that seemed to fly over his head because he was too ace to understand them.
Then again, that might also be because he was from the '30s and refused to keep up with modern day technology and information.
And Niffty, well, the maid was nice enough, despite the fact that she absolutely terrified Angel, especially after she nearly stabbed him when Charlie told him to stab angels. Yes, that was his name, but he wasn't a fucking exterminator! Still, even though she was terrifying, he didn't really know her that well to actually get to know her. She always seemed to be in her own world, or chasing a roach, or flitting around looking for Alastor, or fantasying about bad boys, to ever give Angel a thought and that was okay. They didn't need to be friends, Angel was very happy seeing the small maid from afar, thankyouverymuch.
The point was, Husk was one of his few real friends and Angel wasn't about to throw that all away for a romance that probably wouldn't even work out. You risked losing a friend, the friendship you two had that was so easygoing, and if you were in a friend group with this person, forget it. A breakup could mean not only losing that friend but all your friends. Angel might not want to admit that the rest of the hotel was his friends, not yet anyway, but even he was willing to admit that a breakup between any of them would be absolutely ruining. Luckily, the only ones who were in danger of breaking up were Vaggie and Charlie and that was as far-fetched as Heaven admitting they were wrong. Well, they were the only ones in danger of breaking up as long as Husk and Angel didn't get together and they had a bigger chance of ripping this group in half if they happened to start dating then broke up. That would be a disaster to end all disasters.
Angel shook his head. There was no use in going down that route. The two weren't going to date. They couldn't.
Everything was going against them, including Angel himself, so there was no use in trying to fight it. They just weren't meant to be.
And maybe, maybe, one day, that would be enough. But as of now, it was almost, almost, too much for Angel to deal with. But he had to deal with it, he had no choice. So, instead, he shoved his feelings down where the sun didn't shine and tried to drown them in alcohol and drugs.
It wasn't working but he wasn't going to stop trying. He was too stubborn. Or he was just too addicted to drugs and alcohol. Both?
Angel and Husk sat side by side, drinking, but they weren't together, not really, not in the way they both so desperately wanted to be. Physically, they were close, yes, but emotionally, mentally, they couldn't be more far apart.
Two and a half weeks.
Her mother had been back in her life for two and a half weeks and it felt like barely any time had passed.
Charlie spent all her waking hours with Lilith. The two would walk down the halls of the hotel, sharing stories.
Charlie's was mostly from the seven years her mother was gone: meeting Vaggie, their almost immediate friendship and eventual relationship; coming up with the idea for the hotel, to help sinners and stop the awful exterminations, how Angel was their first guest and how it was going nowhere until Alastor came sweeping into their lives with magic and staff and the promise to help, not because he believed but because he was bored; the years her father had locked himself away, close in proximity, back when they both lived in the palace, but lightyears away emotionally, mentally, how they were just starting to rebuild their relationship, finally. Charlie talked about that fast, quick, not wanting to make her mother feel bad for leaving nor paint her father in a bad light some saw him as. He left, she explained, because he was hurting. He made mistakes, but everyone has. No one is perfect. Charlie told about the disastrous meetings with Heaven, about finding out the truth about Vaggie and how long it took for her to come to terms with it. Talked about Sir Pentious, why he came, how Angel and Vaggie nearly killed him until Charlie had convinced them to let him stay. The story of Adam's threat and meeting Rosie, convincing her and the cannibals to help, how Alastor trusted her enough with his staff. And of course, of that last extermination, of Alastor's attempt to protect the hotel, of Sir Pentious' sacrifice, of her father coming to help, of the hotel falling and Adam's death and the rebuilding of the new hotel, the current hotel, so much better and stronger and nothing like the one before, no longer only built on dreams and held together by Alastor's magic and duct tape, but built to last, built with strength and strong magic and her father's help.
And in turn, Lilith told stories of the past. Of days in Hell before Charlie birth. Stories of her and Lucifer, before things got too hard. Some Charlie had heard before, from long ago before her mother had left and her father locked himself away, when she was young and believed the world to be just and fair. Charlie listened breathlessly; she always thought her parents story was so romantic, despite the fact it was rooted in pain and suffering, Hell and punishment, falls and original sin. It was the type of story she always wished for, the one who hoped she would have with Vaggie, minus the suffering and original sin and falling from Heaven, although Vaggie did fall from Heaven. Then the stories became ones of her, of her birth and childhood, the countless hours Lilith and Lucifer had to stay up. Stories of when Charlie grew, how she was so much like her father, like Lilith, how she always tried to see the good in sinners. Stories Charlie heard and stories she didn't and stories she remembered happening. Stories her mother weaved around her like a blanket, beautiful and warm and soft. Stories all the way up to Lilith's leaving. Lilith didn't say why she left, she didn't share stories on where she went or what happened in those seven years she was gone or why she finally returned. She didn't say how she knew the basics of the hotel when she had first waltzed in two and a half weeks ago. And that was okay, Charlie told herself, she didn't need to yet. She would when she was ready.
Charlie and Lilith spent time with the others too, of course, with everyone but Lucifer who had locked himself away again most of the time, or seemed to stay as far from his former wife as possible. Charlie tried to ignore it, tried not to let it bother her. She knew why, he was hurting and it was hard and he needed time, but it still hurt, it still made her feel like she had to fix it. Her friends still seemed to be keeping Lilith at a distance but at least that was easier to come to terms with. They barely knew her mother, of course it would take them time to trust her, and they were trying. It may take time but they finally would, soon, once they saw her in the same way she did. Most of them had finally gotten around to liking Sir Pentious and Vaggie and Angel had been so ready to murder him at the start. It would take time, but they will finally trust her. At least her mother seemed to like her friends, except Alastor, but no one really liked the Radio Demon that much, after all. No one but Niffty and her.
None of that mattered. Her mother was back and they were rebuilding their relationship. That's what mattered.
When Charlie was with her mother, which, admittedly, was almost always, she could almost forget that her mother had left, almost. She could almost close her eyes and feel like that child again, spending all her waking hours with one of her parents. She could almost forget the seven years they had left, her dream that was going no where, the loss of Sir Pentious during the last extermination and battle with heaven. She could almost forget, almost, but not quite.
Because Lilith had left for seven years, walked off and left her alone with a father who crumbled into himself. Her dream, her hope, of redeeming sinners seemed to be going nowhere, even with her mother's help. And Sir Pentious did die during the last extermination.
No. Charlie shook her head. So what if her mother had left for seven years? She was back and that had to count for something. She wanted to help. For crying out loud, her mother actually believed souls could change for the better!
No one else shared that belief.
So Charlie could forgive the seven years, she was very forgiving. Some may say too forgiving but she didn't think so. She forgave people who deserved it and there was no need to waste time on anger and hold grudges when it wasn't needed.
Charlie forgave her mother. Her mother wouldn't have left if it weren't for a good reason, one day she'll tell her, one day when her mother was ready to share the truth. Until then, Charlie wasn't going to let her mother's absence bother her, wasn't going to let it stop it from fixing their relationship. She wasn't going to hold the leaving against her mother. Instead, now that her mother returned, it was time to rebuild their relationship, to get to know her mother again after such a long absence. Seven years was an awfully long time, Charlie barely even knew her mother anymore and her mother didn't know her, and they had so much to fix, but Charlie was willing to and her mother seemed to be willing to too.
It was where she was now, with her mother, talking about advertising for the hotel.
"Lee," her mother explained. "the website should be done soon."
"Really?" Charlie squealed. "That soon?"
"Yeah," Lilith shrugged, like it was nothing, but Charlie noted the look of pride in her mother's eyes. "Once it's up and running, you should post it on your social medias, you do have social media, don't you, darling?"
The princess nodded, a playful roll of the eyes, "Yes, Mom, I do. I don't live in the stone ages like Dad... Or Al," she added with a giggle. Lilith made a slight face at the mention of the Radio Demon.
"Right, him, well, anyway," she went on. "I'll send you the link once it's ready and you can post it on your social media accounts. Hopefully that will bring some more traction. I'm still working on the commercial, but I'll let you know once that's ready, too."
"So this will help?" Charlie asked, hating how small her voice sounded. "You think more sinners will come to the hotel?"
"Well," Lilith began with a frown. "You know how stubborn our subjects are, they will only come here if they want to change and I don't think many want to." The smaller blonde's face fell and the older quickly added, "But, with more, modern advertising, we'll certainly get word out. It might take sinners a while to come around, but they will, Lee, I promise. And they will come, darling, for you. Because you gave them hope when no one else would, you gave them a second chance."
The taller women started to pack up and Charlie couldn't help but grin, brightly, with a smile that would make Alastor proud.
Lilith looked at her phone, frowning. "Shit, would you look at the time... I didn't know it had gotten so late... I truly hate to leave, Lee," her mother explained, "but I must. I have things to do and so little time." Charlie got up too, and the two tightly hugged. Charlie had come to love her mother hugs, an embrace that made her feel safe and loved and reminds of times she got hurt or was upset and her mother hugged away the sadness.
It had been a while since she had gotten one of those hugs.
Charlie laughed as they pulled away, "Well, I'm not going to keep you waiting."
Her mother nodded, then, with goodbye and a smile, disappeared through the door. Charlie was left standing alone, but not for long.
"There you are, love."
"Vaggie!" Charlie squealed, turning around and running over to her girlfriend who had just entered the room, from a different hallway than her mother had left through. "Guess what! Guess what, guess what, guess what!"
"What?" The ex-angel asked, laughing and smiling at her girlfriend's contagious excitement. She had no idea what set off her girlfriend (to be fair, anything could set off her girlfriend, it was one of the many, many, many reasons she had fallen in love with the other girl) but Charlie was excited which meant Vaggie was excited too.
Well, she wanted to be, and she was, mostly, but part of her had a bad feeling it had something to do with Lilith. And Vaggie, well, Vaggie was having a hard time trusting, let alone liking, her girlfriend's mother.
"Mom's made a website for the hotel!" Charlie squealed. "Well, technically, she still making it, she's not done yet... but she will be soon! And she said the commercial will be done soon too! She'll have to get Heaven to approve it, and I still don't know how she's going to get them to approve it, but I have faith in her. Isn't that amazing?"
Vaggie felt her smile tighten; she knew it had something to do with the Queen of Hell. She tried to tell herself to drop these suspicions, Lilith was obviously trying to help her daughter, but something in Vaggie was ringing off alarm bells. She wasn't even sure why. Granted, yes, she disliked her girlfriend's mother for abandoning her daughter for seven fucking years and being part of the reason Charlie's other parent failed her too. And Vaggie also didn't like how the woman just swept back into their lives, refusing to explain where she was or why she left, but immediately going to her daughter like no time had passed. Maybe it was cruel of the gray-haired girl to be so hard on the first women; she didn't know why the other had left. Maybe Lilith had a perfectly good explanation on why she had to leave, one she couldn't even tell her daughter.
Possible, but Vaggie didn't believe it for a second. She had no proof, but every part of her body curled up whenever she thought about the queen.
Somehow, Vaggie trusted Alastor more than this woman. Alastor, for fuck's sake. At least Alastor was more truthful, probably not as truthful as Charlie believed, but more than Lilith. At least Alastor didn't abandon Charlie for seven years then returned with no explanation and tried to act like no time had passed, that Vaggie didn't have to pick up the pieces once she came into Charlie's life, that the sudden leaving didn't break something in Charlie that Vaggie wasn't sure could ever be fixed.
Ironically, Vaggie thought, Alastor had vanished for seven years without explanation but besides confusion and wondering, his disappearance didn't affect Charlie in the slightest.
Lilith, on the other hand, Lilith's disappearance did.
Vaggie really didn't like her girlfriend's mother. She barely could even stand her girlfriend's dad but at least she was more willing to see his side. That didn't mean she liked him, it would take a while before she fully forgave him for hurting Charlie the way he did, if she ever did, but at least she could reason why.
She could not say the same about Lilith's absence.
But, of course, Vaggie couldn't say any of that. She had no proof, just a feeling, and besides, who was she to crush her girlfriend like that? Charlie obviously wanted to rekindle a relationship with her mother, she didn't want to believe her mother could do wrong. Vaggie didn't want Charlie to get hurt, of course, but since Lilith hadn't actually done anything, Vaggie's warnings would just be based on feelings and Charlie might get defensive. The ex-angel certainly didn't want her girlfriend to know she didn't trust her mother, not yet anyway. Instead, Vaggie would keep a close eye on her girlfriend's mother, make sure Lilith didn't try anything funny, and the second something went wrong, she would share her fears.
Until then, Vaggie could act like she had no suspicions. She would still make it known she was still warming up to the Queen of Hell because Charlie would expect her to take some time before she, or any of the others, fully trusted Lilith.
Vaggie was positive she would never trust Lilith. She hoped she was wrong, that she was making this a bigger deal than it was and viewing Lilith in a bad light for leaving (not that Vaggie believed that could ever be excused) and this all could be clouding her judgment, but she knew better than to hope for that.
Lilith was bad news. Vaggie could only hope when it all came to light, it wouldn't absolutely destroy her girlfriend.
"Isn't that great?" Charlie suddenly said and Vaggie is snapped out of her thoughts. Well, shit, she had forgotten to respond to her girlfriend's excitement and now Charlie was suspicious. Well, Charlie was concerned, but somehow that was worse.
"Oh, yeah, that's great!" Vaggie grinned, a fake smile. Charlie, of course, believed it. And why wouldn't she, Vaggie asked herself with a sickening feeling in her chest. She hated lying to the princess but she couldn't exactly tell the blonde the truth, could she? "Sorry," Vaggie went on, as way of explanation, "just thinking."
"About how this will finally kickstart the hotel?"
"Something like that."
"Well, like Mom said, it may still take a while before sinners actually want to come here, even with the new advertising, because you know how sinners are."
Vaggie silently relaxed; at least Charlie knew that the hotel wasn't going to be brimming with guests in the next few days simply because her mother put out some ads. Of course, knowing that was different than experiencing it, but it was something.
"Oh!" Charlie squealed, snapping Vaggie out of her thoughts yet again. "I need to tell everyone else! They're going to be so excited!"
"You go do that," Vaggie smile warmly at Charlie as the girl gave her another hug than scampered off. Vaggie watched, with a frozen smile, but every part of her was sick with worry.
Somehow, somehow she knew. Lilith was going to crush Charlie and there might be nothing Vaggie could do to stop it.
Alastor was leaning against the wall, his Oh Deer mug in hand filled with steaming tea, keeping a close eye on Niffty. The small maid was running around, cleaning and chasing after roaches to stab, and she had asked— well demanded, really— him to watch. The deer couldn't exactly turn her down, especially not after ignoring her for that week or so that he had when he was trying to protect her from Lilith. He was on edge, though, tense as a live wire, every sound from far off footsteps and voices to the hotel settling to noises outside like the wind or other sinners set him on edge, his ears flickering. At any moment, he knew, Lilith could walk through the doorway next to him and see just how close he was to the small demoness running around, giggling and stabbing. He was already thinking up excuses he could tell her, to throw her off his trail that he actually cared for Niffty because caring around Lilith was danger, a one way ticket to something she could use against you to do her bidding, but the only excuse he came up with that would be plausible enough was that he just so happened to be in the same place as Niffty, that he came here for a break to drink his tea and relax and she just happened to come along to clean and stab. That worked, for the most part, but there was always the chance of Niffty overhearing and protesting. Alastor could only hope if she tried to, he would be able to give her a look and she'd understand and shut up but that was just as unlikely as it was likely; Niffty didn't always pick up on nonverbal cues. In fact, more often than not, she didn't. Alastor always wondered about her past; she was only a few years younger than him when she died, according to her, at least, but she often acted much younger than her age. Of course, that could just be who she was, one of those people who was always a kid at heart, but considering how much she acted like a child, how much she almost seemed stuck at a young age, he was leaning more towards some trauma. He only knew that too well, but in the opposite way; he had to grow up too fast when his mother was killed and even before then, when his father was mean or cruel or when the rest of the world snarled and whispered slurs.
Alastor wondered if the small maid ever would tell him but that was as impossible as him standing up to Lilith. Desirable but impossible. They didn't tell each other things like that; yes, they were closer to each other than anything else and yes, Alastor was the only one who could calm Niffty down when she had once of her OCD attacks, but that was all they ever went in terms of difficult situations. Their relationship always strayed away from that, straying towards killing and gossip and spending time with each other so they felt less alone; there was no difficult talks, no sharing of deep feelings or trauma from the past. That never ended well; once you started to get close enough and showed even one negative emotion, friends are sent running for the hills. Well, that, or claiming they can fix you.
Alastor had to learn that the hard way.
He took a sip of his tea; still steaming hot but he didn't mind. He always joked that he was a human furnace. Hell was, naturally, hotter than any place he had ever been on Earth so every sinner was hotter than you would've been when you were alive, but Alastor seemed to radiate more heat than the average sinner. It was the same way when he was alive, Isabell always joked that whenever she was cold she could just lean against him and slowly warm up and she wasn't exactly wrong; he often felt almost unbearably hot. Even now, in Hell, there had been times were the heat had been unbearable and it was more than just the fact that it was Hell. It had its ups and downs but one of the good things about it was that he was often able to drink pipping hot tea or coffee or take steaming hot showers without it bothering him too much, which was extremely helpful in Hell because hot drinks took forever to cool down to an acceptable drinking temperature and showers were always steaming, no matter how long you had them on. The shower thing never bother him because he was one of those sinners who turned up the heat almost to the max, to the point were it was almost scolding and burning his skin. He had, actually, twice, showered in water so hot it actually hurt, but he really didn't like thinking about those times.
"Hehe, die!" Niffty squealed as she pounced on a bug the same way a cat or other predator pounces on their prey and Alastor couldn't help but laugh at her antics, watching as she stabbed, stabbed, stabbed the poor roach that made the unfortunate mistake of scurrying across the floor in front of her. She turned around to face him, grinning, "Look, sir! Another roach for your new crown."
"Perfect," he grinned, deadpan. "I do so miss that crown."
"Yes," she muttered, frowning, "King Roach cannot be without his crown. But fear not, soon he shall have a new one, even better than the last, once I have enough roaches." Here, she gasped, as another roach rushed by her, probably believing that because she was distracted talking to Alastor, it would be able to slip but undetected but it was wrong; Niffty had the uncanny ability to be able to sense a roach escaping, as if she could feel it's heat or hear it's little feet scurrying on. She giggled then went chasing after the new one, ready to stab.
Alastor was so engaged in watching Niffty chasing her roaches than he didn't hear the quick footsteps approaching until they were almost on him. He hear them, within seconds to spare, and tensed, the excuse on the tip of his tongue.
The footsteps got closer and someone stepped through the doorway. Alastor felt his heart in his throat; a tall blonde female. How the fuck did Lilith manage to find him? The one day he was able to get away and spend some alone time with Niffty and Lilith seemed to sniff it out from across the hotel.
"Al! I've been looking for you everywhere!" A voice squealed and Alastor felt himself relax. It was Charlie. He should've known based off her quick and lighter footsteps; God he was off his game.
"Have you now?" the hotelier asked, taking another sip of his tea. "Didn't know I was that special to you."
"Of course you're special to me, dumbass," Charlie teased. "You're my friend."
"Co-host," Alastor corrected.
"Friend."
"Agree to disagree."
She sighed, rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Anyway, guess what!"
"You killed a man?" Alastor asked and Charlie glared even harder at him in a somehow still friendly way.
"I'll leave that to you and Niffty... And besides, no murder."
"You never let me have any fun."
"Considering your idea of 'fun'—" Charlie quoted the word "— is murder, I don't think you have any right to complain." When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. "And it's even better than that!"
"Debatable," Alastor muttered, quickly and quietly, but of course the princess somehow heard.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" he responded, quickly and putting on his best innocent smile.
"Mhm," she scoffed. "Anyway, what I wanted to tell you before you so rudely guessed was..." Here she caused for dramatic effect because Charlie sure loved her theatrics. Alastor did too; it was one of the few things they had in common. He knew she wanted him to ask what but he wasn't going to take the bait. He had good control over things like that. When he didn't say anything she gave him a look and then continued, too excited by whatever it was that she couldn't wait for him to play her game. "Mom's almost done with the advertising! The website is almost ready and the commercial will be done soon, and once she gets that aired and the website up, we'll have advertising! Well," she quickly added, "more modern day advertising, no offense."
"None taken," the Radio Demon shrugged and wasn't that the truth. He didn't take offense to that; yes he hated how radio was fading into obscurity, but even he could admit, to himself and a small degree, that things were changing. That didn't mean he would change and it didn't mean he would like the changes but he knew things were changing.
"Isn't that wonderful?" Charlie added once she knew her co-host wasn't going to be upset by the new advertising. "Soon we'll have sinners coming from all over to get redeemed! Of course, it might take a while, sinners are so fucking stubborn, and many seem to actually enjoy Hell, like you, but there has to be some who are willing to change!"
Alastor kept smiling— because he always smiled and because if he stopped, Charlie would get suspicious and ask him questions he didn't want to, he couldn't, answer— but his mind was racing. What kind of game was Lilith playing? A website and a commercial, those weren't easy to things to fake! Well, actually, Alastor didn't really understand websites, he never used them, but from what he had heard of them, they weren't easy to fake. Charlie would want to see it so Lilith would actually have to make it, which would've been the easiest way to sabotage the hotel, but she couldn't put false information on the website or badmouth the hotel either because Charlie would notice. Even if Lilith tried to make it look awful or hard to navigate, the princess would probably say something about it, to make it look nice or to make it easy to use. She probably wouldn't put two and two together but she'd certainly would ask her mother to redo it and Lilith couldn't deny it without raising suspicion. So she would have to do the website, make it correct, yet also somehow figure out a way to advise people to not come or even protest the hotel. How she would do that was beyond Alastor; he didn't understand modern technology. Maybe there was a way that he didn't know about, maybe it was actually very easy to make a website that would make people hate the hotel. He didn't think it was likely but stranger things had happened.
Then of course, there was the commercial too. He didn't understand commercials that much either but he understood them better then websites, he had made that one that everyone hated, after all. It wasn't his best work, and he hated making it; radio was, after all, the best way for someone to showcase their talents and advertise. The rest of the hotel didn't like it either; they said the tone was wrong and Vaggie didn't like the shots Alastor took at Charlie. Granted, the commercial was so bad because he didn't know how to make a good commercial but it was also awful because he made it awful. He was hoping that they wouldn't completely hate it and they would get it to air but he should've known. That was too direct; no one had realized he did it on purpose, they all thought it was bad because he wasn't good at modern advertising or maybe because they knew that was what he was like, that the meanness and the strange tone was exactly like him, and he considered himself lucky no one put two and two together. The point was, Lilith couldn't do that, not without needing to redo the commercial like they had to after he did his or raising suspicion because she had been playing the role of someone who wanted to help, who wasn't mean and sarcastic for fun. The hotel would question the sudden change and Lilith wouldn't want that. And she couldn't very well fake a commercial either; they were advertised on the television, something that Alastor only understood enough because of Vox; everyone who was on a channel saw the same thing. Streaming didn't make sense to him at all, because that depended on the television itself, but he at least knew that the advertising was prerecorded and you couldn't chose it like a show. The best way Lilith could've fake a commercial was send it just to their television so they saw it and believed it was airing but that wasn't possible. Was it? No, it wasn't, just like he couldn't advertise the hotel just to the hotel itself on his radio show; he had to advertise it to everyone and he was, because he feared that if he didn't, someone, Vaggie or Husk of the king most likely, would be listening and call him out for it. Call him out for lying to Charlie about advertising when he wasn't actually doing so. Of course, there had been a couple shows where he hadn't advertised, but if anyone questioned he, he would claim he forgot. They couldn't argue with that; everyone forget things.
Two advertisements. Two advertisements that weren't easy to fake, if you could fake them at all, but Lilith was going to fake them or, at the very least, make them in a way to paint the hotel in a bad light. How she would manage was beyond Alastor but he knew she'd find a way. She wanted this hotel to be destroyed, wanted it to be destroyed so much that he knew she would find a way to do the impossible to do so. She was going to destroy this hotel and he was going to help.
So why did that make him sick to his stomach?
"You can still advertise for the hotel!" Charlie quickly said and Alastor silently cursed himself. Of course Charlie would take his silence as something was wrong, that was what he got for letting her know he was upset when he thought she was replacing him. He knew he should've lied; this was why he didn't let anyone but Rosie see his real feelings. Once others see, all they do is claim to worry when, in reality, they begin to plot your downfall. This was Hell; you couldn't have weaknesses.
He seemed to forgetting his place. Stupid Charlie, this stupid hotel. He needed to stop this, whatever this is, before it destroyed him. Because it will destroy him, just like how it almost destroyed him with Isabell and Vox. He wouldn't, couldn't, go through that again.
So he held his head high, gave a smile that was more of a snarl, and spoke with as much disdain as he could manage, "Now why would I be upset if I can no longer advertise for the hotel? If we are being completely honest, Charlotte, it is quite annoying to advertise during my show. It doesn't exactly fit with the theme, now does it? My radio show is all about murder and death and being redeemed just... doesn't fit in."
Charlie's face fell and for some reason, some reason, Alastor wanted to take it back. He shouldn't care if he hurt Charlie, he was planning on hurting Charlie, was he not? So what if he hurt her now, in a small way, so what if he told her he was done advertising? This could work out; he would be able to stop without having someone call him out for it and maybe Lilith would be happy enough that her punishments would lessen. Unlikely, but not impossible. At the very least, it would look like he was still trying to destroy the hotel.
He was still trying to destroy the hotel.
Wasn't he?
Maybe, he told himself, he should go on a murderous rampage tonight. He was getting too soft and he had to put a stop to that. The rampage would upset Charlie and he wanted to do that.
But yet, he also didn't.
Fuck.
"Oh," Charlie finally said, her voice thick was emotion and Alastor cursed himself again. She had been so excited to tell him and now she was crushed. Good job, asshole. But, that was a good thing, wasn't it? He wanted to hurt her. He had to hurt her.
He didn't have a choice.
"It's nothing against you and the hotel," Alastor added, because he felt bad but mostly because he was worried someone would find out and then he'd have Vaggie or his Shortness after him or Lilith wondering why he crushed her daughter's heart. She was doing the same thing, he would want to argue, but he wouldn't because she didn't see it that way and it also pissed her off and he didn't like pissing her off on purpose. He always managed to piss her off somehow but he tried not to do so on purpose, that was a death wish and he certainly didn't have a death wish, even if death would be better than this. "Like I said, it is a little off from my normal show and besides, the people who listen aren't going to want to change, you know that. I mean, I can still advertise because there is always a chance that someone might come across it but you should know that is very unlikely. I'm preaching to no one on the show but if you want me to continue the advertising, I can."
Charlie shook her head, swallowing her sadness, "No, no. You got a point. Maybe you should stop. It's not going to reach many people now is it?" Alastor shook his head and she sighed. "Well, Mom's new advertising will, so you can stop."
"You sure?" Alastor asked, surprising himself. He should just agree and drop it but he didn't want to do that.
Why not?
"Sorry," he added, because he was, to a degree. Everything he said was true; it was just a waste of breath to advertise every week, no one who was listening would take him up on the offer and no one who would take him up on the offer listened to his show. He was only doing it because Charlie asked him too and he was worried about how certain people would react if he didn't. Besides, once again, if he stopped advertising that meant he was doing something to destroy the hotel. It wasn't big but Lilith had to know it couldn't be big. This had to be enough for her.
It should be, but nothing ever was.
"No, it's okay," she said, lying, because she wasn't smiling and her emotions were written all over her face. She was such an open book, so trusting.
Alastor felt bad he was going to hurt her.
"Maybe I can advertise every once in a while?" Alastor supplied. What was he doing? Why was he trying to make her feel better? That wouldn't help him! He should just take his chance and drop it. Drop it, drop it, drop it.
He couldn't.
There was definitely something wrong with him.
"No," Charlie said again and the word sounded so off coming from Charlie. Charlie wasn't the type to say no and she had said it already four time in the last few minutes. It wasn't like her and for some reason, it pained him to know this was his fault. "We have more modern advertising that will reach a wider audience, that will reach the right audience. Doesn't really make sense to advertise to someone who's not going to care, now does it?" She paused then gave a small, slightly real, smile. "Although," she began, "maybe one day I should be a special guest on your show."
He laughed, "Now that, my dear, will be really off brand." Charlie laughed too, because he had a point. "Still," he added once he stopped laughing, "that's not a bad idea. One day, maybe."
"Well it would be fun!" Charlie giggled, sounding more like her normal self by the second. "I've never been on a radio show before."
"Then you're certainly being a special guest on the show," Alastor responded. "That is a crime, Charlie, dear."
"I know, you must be so disappointed in me," she shook her head.
"Something like that," he teased, relaxing. She was back to her normal self. Why that was making him relaxed, he did not know (or maybe he didn't want to admit why) but it did. "Have you told everyone else?" Alastor asked. "About your mother's advertising, I mean."
"Everyone but Dad," Charlie explained. "I wanted to tell you guys first, you know how he is with her. Not that I blame him," she quickly added. "I should probably go tell him now, this is going to be fun." Her face fell and Alastor shook his head.
"Smile, dear," he reminded her. She just glared. "Don't look at me like that, a smile is a very valuable tool."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," she rolled her eyes. "Just not in the mood to."
"Well, it might make you feel better."
"Or it might make me feel worse," Charlie shot back. "Sorry!" she squeaked out.
"Eh," he shrugged. "People have said worse. Don't take my advice then, rude." He gave her a grin and she gave him a weak smile. It was fake and he knew she was doing it for his sake but it was a smile nonetheless. "Good job! Was it that hard?"
"Yes, actually."
"Dear God, you are hopeless." Alastor shook his head. "Well, go have fun telling his Shortness the news. If he tries to react poorly, just warn him that I won't be happy!"
"And you claim you don't care about me," Charlie tsked. "And don't call him that."
"I can call him whatever I like," Alastor responded, ignoring the first part. He had said what he said to push Lucifer's buttons but there was some truth in it, just like there had been some truth when he sang those lyrics during their duel.
He had no idea what the truth was anymore.
"Mhm... Well, wish me luck," Charlie said as she turned around to leave.
"Luck," Alastor responded and she turned around, rolled her eyes, and gave him the biggest, fakest, smile known to sinners. Alastor scoffed, shook his head. She just grinned wider.
At least that was more genuine. She gave him a salute, turned back around.
And then she was gone.
And he was left standing alone. Niffty was behind him, giggling and cleaning, chasing and stabbing bugs, but she seemed far off. Alastor stood there, tea in his hand, lost in thought.
What did he want?
He wasn't sure he knew anymore.
Notes:
So, obviously, I lied.
I know, I'm evil.
I mean, I guess it wasn't a lie lie, because I did say I wasn't making any promises, but still, I barely even wrote during that week so I guess I lied to myself. Shame. Then again, I always lie to myself, haha, so I guess it's on par.
Anygays, I'm talking about not publishing a chapter during my spring break, which was already a couple of weeks ago now, oops, oh well. The chapter was, of course, being annoying and so was my writers block.
#Fuckwriter'sblock
But the chapter is finally published! Yay!
You better be cheering or else. Just kidding!
Or am I?
*evil author laughing*
So, anygay, the results of the game from the last chapter; @Hufflepuff21 was the only person who commented and they got it right. I mean, technically you got it right too, Weatherboy, because you did guess over text, so there, you get some a shoutout. Happy? You better be, or I won't give you the Alastor bracelet. Just kidding! Maybe.
Back to the point. As @Hufflepuff21 correctly guessed, each chapter title is based off an Alastor lyric. Most are from the first season but some are and some will be from the pilot because I needed an extra few. I have an entire list of lyrics that I will use as chapter titles, most of which I have no idea for which chapter, so that's always fun finding out what fits the best.
Also, I made a playlist for the fanfic! Because it's a free country (for how long? Jkjk, I think) and I can. I'll keep adding to it as I find more songs and it is a bit Taylor Swift heavy (look, I love her music and many of her songs fit the story very well). Anyeay, here's the playlist so you can listen to it, if you want: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FkFBmXJlGQlIHQVwouuhI?si=uviDIpyaQXKUm3W9HFUBQg&pi=wejTPh9hQsaKY.
That's really all I want to say. I do want to mention that, once again, chapters are going to be updated randomly cause I do have five classes this semester and I work part time. My semester is almost over, I only have like a month left, but then I will be working full time over the summer, so it might be a little crazy still, but I should be able to publish more regularly over the summer even with working full time. I also just want to mention that my grandfather has just passed. It was expected but it's still been hard. I'm doing okay enough but that may or may not have an impact on when I publish chapters. Ironically, writing helps get my mind off of it so I might actually write more in the next few weeks instead of not writing at all but it really depends on how my mood is.
Also, on a happier note, I got jambalaya to try! I haven't yet, but I will. Hehe, jambalaya.
Anygay, that's all for now, and, as always, don't forget to enjoy, comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
Chapter 7: Hungry for Freedom Like Never Before
Summary:
After a particularly rough night at the hands of Lilith, Alastor finds himself heading to Rosie's, bleeding and on death's door, in desperate need of comfort. Meanwhile, Charlie decides it's time to have a talk with her father.
Notes:
*Lucifer voice*
Hey bitches.
*back to normal voice*
I live.
Or do I?
I do. I think. Who knows.
Anygay, I would like to apologize for the long gap between the last chapter and this chapter. I looked yesterday and realized it has been like, a month and a half since I last published. Oospies.
This chapter probably would've been published earlier but it was the end of the semester for me and since I had five class this past semester (mistakes were made), I was absolutely swapped with finals and final projects the last couple of weeks. I also ended up graduating from the local community college a little over a week ago, so that took up some of my time too but now it is officially summer so, *hopefully* I'll be able to publish more. I still don't think it will be weekly, but that's more because of writer's block.
Fuck writer's block.
The point is, I should be able to publish more frequently. I will be working full time this summer but that shouldn't affect my writing schedule *too* badly. I will try to publish as much as I can in the summer because I'll be transferring to a four year school in the fall and then I'll be back to writing and publishing whenever I have time, but I can make no promises on how far I'll get with publishing.
Can't make promises I don't intend to keep.
I also finally got to try my jambalaya. Very yummy. Unfortunately, Alastor did NOT magically appear in my kitchen when I was making it. A real shame if you ask me.
Anygay, with that apology out of the way, there is a slight trigger warning for this chapter. Nothing too major but it did get a lot more graphic and bloodier then I intended. Alastor suffers. Again. Hey, I warned you at the start that he was gonna suffer throughout this fanfic. Shouldn't be anything too bad but just thought I should give the warning to be on the safe side and because I wasn't expecting it to get as graphic and as bloody as it got.
The joys of being a writer, I guess. You never do know where the story will take you. And for my readers who don't write, never let someone tell you that the author controls the characters. That is a fucking lie. They control us.
That's all for now. Like always, there will be a note at the end of the chapter, so until then, enjoy the chapter.
If you can.
*frolics away*
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The moment Alastor stepped into Lilith's room, he knew: this was going to be a long night.
Lilith was not happy, that much was obvious from the second he stepped through the doorway and closed the door tightly behind him.
Lilith was never happy, it seemed— especially in the past few weeks since she had returned to Hell and came sweeping into the hotel, with false promises to help and an overly-sweet act to deceive her too-trusting daughter as if an act would've even been needed for Charlie to welcome Lilith back into her life— but the queen seemed to be more not happy than usual. She stood in the shadows of her room, creepy and forbidding, arms tightly crossed across her chest, a deep scowl etched on her face, anger rolling off her in waves hotter than Hell itself. Alastor swallowed hard, trying to think back to what he had done in the past few weeks that would piss her off this much. Everything he did pissed her off, everything he said, but this was more than her normal anger, more than her typical oh how you disappointed me. This was the dangerous type, the type Alastor had associated with the worse of her punishments; with seven years in the Void, with fleeing bleeding and on the edge of death's door to Rosie, with an after effect of being on an edge that bordered on paranoia, looking over his shoulder at every sound and shadow, flinching at every loud sound or sudden movement or flash of light.
The last time Lilith was this mad, he had lost seven years wandering around in pure darkness.
He hoped this wouldn't be the case this time.
"Pet," Lilith snarled and Alastor forced his smile to widen, a grin to hid his fear, but of course, Lilith knew him too well. Read right between the lie that was the forced and fake smile he always put on. Few people actually managed to realize the truth and he hated it when they did. It was only worse that Lilith for God's sake was able to read him like an open book. Bad enough in general but worse since she owned his soul. It wouldn't exactly bode well for you for the person who owned your soul to be able to read you that well. He really needed to step up his game.
Lilith laughed, a sound that was harsh and loud, like nails on a chalkboard or forks scraping against glass plates. "Silly, little pet," she hissed, stepping towards him, anger and amusement twisting on her face into something that made the Exterminators look like the angels they were supposed to be. Alastor took a step backwards, against his better judgement because he knew how she would react to his fear, slamming into the doorknob jutting out of the door behind him. His smile faltered slightly, now more tight and forced, as he grimaced in pain. It only made Lilith laugh harder, because, of course it did. Lilith loved to see him in pain. "I am so very disappointed in you." Lilith always seemed to be disappointed in him too.
"Is this about Charlie?" Alastor quickly asked because that was the only think he could think of that would make Lilith this upset. The woman in front of him, as confusing as she and her plans were, seemed to genuinely care for her daughter. If she knew he had upset Charlie, even accidentally, that was probably enough to send her flying off the rails. Enough to make her more angry than normal. Enough to make her consider sending him into the Void or spiraling and bleeding to Rosie's or scared out of his mind for the next week. Lilith stared at him like he was crazy— which, yes, he was, but he didn't like it when she reminded him of that, didn't like it when she mocked him for it, outright telling him he was too crazy and out of his mind— so he added, "About me telling her I'll no longer advertise the hotel on my radio show? Look, that hadn't been my plan, but she seemed okay with it, although I guess that could've been her faking it, she sometimes likes to act like things don't bother her when they do, but I'm normally able to tell... If it's that, I can tell her I changed my mind, but-"
Lilith cut him off, snorting, "You really don't know me, do you, puppet?" No, Alastor wanted to say, I don't. I don't know you because you tell me nothing, you just stand there, hiding in the shadows, expecting me to read between lines you don't even give me. He remained silent because Lilith continued on and because he was no idiot, well, not that much of an idiot. He knew better than to point out her secrecy. She would skin him alive for just mentioning it. He had a sneaking suspicion she liked to be the mysterious presence with you never knowing what her next move would be and he couldn't blame her for that, he did the same thing.
It was easier to be mysterious, to let not a single soul get close to you, to always being held at an arm's reach, never anyone's first choice, than it was to get close to someone just so they could take you for a ride and use you for their own personal gain.
"I don't give two flying fucks if you advertise on that little show of yours, it's not like anyone listens to radio anymore," Lilith continued, of course throwing the insult of radio being on the out at him. He didn't take the bait. "As for your relationship with my daughter, my only requests are that you don't hurt her and that you don't befriend her and considering you can't make friends, the last one isn't that much of a concern, now is it?" She gave a sickeningly sweet smile, as if she didn't just insult him, as if she still wasn't telling him what was annoying her while still making it perfectly clear that he was going to be in for a world of pain and suffering, keeping him on edge and right where she wanted him. "If you hurt her," Lilith went on, her smile dropping away, "on the other hand, I will make your life a living hell, got it?"
Alastor forced himself to nod, biting back a laugh, not because it was funny but because it was ironic; Lilith was worried about Alastor hurting Charlie when she herself was planning her daughter's downfall in a way that was much more worse and and much more hurtful than Alastor's way. Because, yes, he was planning on hurting Charlie, yes he was planning on her downfall, but at least he was doing it in an honest way. Well, as honest as one could get through manipulation and lying by omission; lying by saying he was only here because he was bored and wanted some entertainment rather than telling the actual truth, that her own mother sent him here to destroy the hotel. A lie, a manipulation tactic, but at least he wasn't playing into a role of lies, a role that made her feel like she wasn't alone in the world, only to stab her in her back. At least he wasn't Charlie birth parent, the person who was supposed to help and believe in you no matter how crazy your ideas may seem, stabbing her in the back and destroying her dreams.
Of course, he couldn't say that to Lilith; she would rip him to shreds for even just thinking that. Besides, didn't she want him to crush Charlie in the end, and the hotel in turn? Granted, he knew there was a difference between hurting her by destroying the hotel and just hurting her for the sake of it, but he still found it ironic.
He wanted to laugh at her threat, too; another not because it was funny but because of the irony. I will make your life a living hell, she had said, as if she didn't already do that on a daily basis, as if his life wasn't already a living hell at her hands. Then again, he had learned long ago that she could always always get worse so maybe that wasn't as ironic as he had first though.
He was still deep in thought when a stinging slap snapped him out. "Verbally, Little Fawn," Lilith hissed. Alastor cursed himself, he should've known; Lilith, for some reason, preferred it when he verbally answered her questions rather than a nod or shake of the head. Probably some form of control she felt like she had, as if she didn't already have complete control over him, as if she didn't have him at her beck and call, able to manipulate him into doing anything. Well, almost anything.
"I won't hurt Charlie," Alastor responded, voice barely above a whisper.
"Good. Now was it that hard?" Lilith asked, a pause as if she was waiting for an answer, before continuing on. It was one of her favorite games; pausing for just long enough that it seemed like she wanted an answer, had him questioning whether or not he should. A good, horrible tactic of hers that worked every time. Because, when she did want an answer and he didn't respond, she got pissed for him not answering but when she didn't want an answer and he did give her one, she got pissed at him for interrupting her. He could never seem to play into the role she wanted him to play, wondered if she had purposely changed what she wanted after he did the right thing just so she could lie and hurt him. He could rarely ever tell what she wanted, which made it that much more hard when it came to her punishments "No pet, my anger had nothing to do with your change in advertising for the show. Guess again."
What could he have done to piss her off this much if it had nothing to do with Charlie? Was this about Niffty, had the woman in front of him somehow found out about his relationship with the small maid? Alastor felt his stomach drop at that thought; if that was the case, then Niffty was in even more danger than ever before.
If that was the case, then Niffty only had moments to live.
But, no, that couldn't be it. She wasn't in here and she would be if that was the case, wouldn't she? Or maybe she wouldn't, maybe this was just an excuse Alastor was using to make him feel better. Maybe he couldn't see her because this was Lilith's plan, to lull him into a false sense of security, only to yank him back into a world of seemingly never-ending pain and suffering. She liked that game too.
Lilith liked a lot of games where the whole purpose was to toy with him.
He swallowed hard; he couldn't ask if it was Niffty because on the chance it wasn't, then she would be in danger very soon. Lilith was smart, if he mentioned Niffty, even just the name, she would realize he cared enough for her that she could use it against him. So he couldn't mention Niffty, but he had to come up with another answer because she was staring, no glaring, at him, waiting for an answer.
What else had he said, had he done, that she could take the wrong way? Because, besides spending time with Niffty, Alastor hadn't done anything to piss her off, to go against her. Well, nothing on purpose. But he didn't even think he had done anything wrong accidentally; besides the accidental slip-up with Charlie and getting close to Niffty, he was being extra cautious, thinking and thinking and thinking again before he said or did anything, making sure whatever he said or did wouldn't be taken the wrong way. Sure, literally anything he said or did could be taken in the wrong way; Lilith loved to find mistakes and flaws in literally everything he did, even when there weren't any. She probably had countless complaints against him, mistakes she would claim he made, all of which she would use against him whether or not, but mostly not, that had been his intended purpose, whether or not, but mostly not, had he even actually made a mistake.
Everything he did was a mistake to Lilith and she made sure he knew that.
Alastor had no idea how much time passed as he searched for an answer to get her off her back but it must have been a long time because Lilith finally rolled her eyes, huffed out in annoyance, "You really don't know, do you pet?"
Well, no, no he did not. That should've been obvious.
"Seems like you need a hint because apparently you can't see what's right in front of you," Lilith huffed out, rolling her eyes again. "My daughter's little girlfriend, the fallen Exterminator, that's my hint."
Vaggie was the hint? That nearly made Alastor laugh out loud; what the fuck did he do to Vaggie? What did Vaggie have to do with anything? The two barely ever interacted and when they did, it was always glaring and hostility from the woman's side. Vaggie didn't like him, as if she could see through his lies. Well, either that, or she didn't like someone like he getting close to her girlfriend. Vaggie wasn't like Charlie, she didn't see the best in people and she knew enough about him to hate his guts.
Most people in Hell seemed to hate his guts. Charlie and Niffty and Rosie and Mimzy were the exceptions.
But Charlie wouldn't be the exception for long. Not once he hurt her. Because he would hurt her, that was what he was sent here to do and he wasn't going to fight against that. Besides, he wanted to hurt her, he didn't care for her.
Did he?
At his blank stare, Lilith grabbed his arm, tightly, nails digging in and tearing at his sleeve, tight enough he could feel her starting to drawl blood, "Think Pet. God, I didn't know you were this stupid."
He flinched at her sudden hand on him and she laughed. Laughed at his fear, laughed at his pain. Laughed at him, because he was such a pathetic mess.
"Fucking idiot," Lilith snarled, releasing his arm but not before giving him a hard enough shove that sent him stumbling back into the door, and the fucking doorknob, again. "Since, apparently, you don't have a brain today, I'll tell you. Consider yourself lucky, Pet, I'm being merciful."
He wanted to laugh; Lilith was never merciful. This was just because she was getting annoyed at his confusion. His genuine confusion, he might add, because he really didn't know what her anger today was about, but of course Lilith didn't think he was actually confused. Of course Lilith couldn't be bothered to realize that he rarely ever actually fought against her.
Anything he did that wasn't up to her liking, in her eyes, meant that he was going against her. As if he ever would willingly go against her. He wanted to live.
At least, he thought he did. Sometimes it was hard to want to when Lilith tightened her grip on the leash.
"My daughter's girlfriend doesn't like me," Lilith snarled, bringing him back to reality, "and it's all your fault."
Well, he certainly wasn't expecting that as an answer.
"Wait, what?" Alastor asked, forcing a nervous laugh because it didn't make sense. What in the fiery pits of Hell was the woman talking about? "I don't think I understand."
"STOP LYING TO ME!" Lilith snarled, getting too close for comfort. "I know you fucking told Vaggie not to trust me. That fucking bitch hates me, I know. She is always giving me a look, always trying to pull my daughter away from me, and why else would she if not for the fact that you told her not to trust me? How much did you tell her Pet? Fuss up, I know you talked to her."
Alastor couldn't help but laugh again. Lilith didn't seem to like that, seemed to believe he was laughing at her or maybe just didn't like his laughter, and she yanked his chains hard towards her, hard enough he stumbled forward, nearly hitting the ground face first, the laugher grinding to a halt right away.
"What's so funny?" Lilith snarled as she tightened the chains around his neck, making it hard to breath. He could still breathe, still talk, but it was painful and he could feel the cold mental chain clawing into his neck like the dogs that finally killed him back when he was alive. "You told Vaggie about us, I know you did. Or at least you told her not to trust me. Why else would she hate my guts?"
Because you abandoned Charlie for seven years, Alastor wanted to respond, wanted to scream. Because you and your short little husband both left Charlie alone to falter through life, to be alone when the poor girl obviously needed interaction with others. Because Vaggie, a fallen Exterminator who barely even knew Charlie, did more for her in these past few years than you have done in the past seven.
He couldn't say that, of course, because Lilith would claim she had done no wrong.
Lilith always claimed she did no wrong.
But she was in the wrong here. She did abandon her daughter for seven years for Heaven. She did leave her daughter, who need interaction and others like Niffty needed stabbing, alone to spiral. Vaggie did do more for someone who only knew for three or four years than Lilith did in these last seven years, probably did more than Lilith did in Charlie's entire life , all two hundred and twenty seven years. Vaggie was protective, Alastor would argue too protective, of Charlie, but he couldn't even blame her in this case.
Even he, who didn't care for Charlie in the slightest (he didn't, did he?), was pissed at Lilith for abandoning her daughter for seven years. Abandon her without a single thought or care. You don't do that.
You don't purposefully abandon your children.
A yank on the chains. He stumbled. Right, Lilith was still expecting an answer and he couldn't tell her the truth.
Well, not the whole truth.
Alastor forced his smile to widen, widen until it almost hurt, shook his head, "That, dear, has nothing to do with me. Vagatha just doesn't like anyone, very protective of Charlie, you see. And considering you did abandon Charlie for seven years... eh, I think it might take some time for her to warm up to you. Don't have any hard feelings, though, she really only likes a handful of people and I am not one of them so rest assured that even if I did tell her about us, which I never would dream of doing, the chances of her believing me are in the negatives."
"Don't you dare judge me for leaving," Lilith snarled because of course that was what she took away from his mini-rant. Not anything about Vaggie, not insisting he didn't, wouldn't, tell her about them, but the jab at Lilith for leaving. Because, it was a jab, was it not? Seven years was an awfully long time to leave your family.
"I'm not," Alastor lied because he most certainly was. He was an asshole, yes, but even he wouldn't abandon his family for seven years. Well, not his mother, anyway, he was a different story. "I'm just merely pointing out a fact. I am sure you have a very, very valid explanation for why you left for seven years and I'm sure you have an equally valid reason on why you cannot tell even your own daughter, but like I said, Vagatha is very less understanding and she is quite protective of Charlotte, honestly overprotective if you ask me, she doesn't trust me and I have been in Charlie's life far longer than you have, I mean, since Vagatha was too. Granted, that might mainly be because of who I am, but she also doesn't trust his shortness so, yeah, not really your fault, your daughter just managed to get an extremely overprotective girlfriend."
Alastor forced himself to stop talking. He ranted on longer than he had planned but he was nervous. He normally wasn't one to rant and ramble when he was nervous but this wasn't like normal. This was with Lilith and normality always turned on it's head when he was dealing with her. He was meek and he was scared, he was quiet and obedient. He kept his head down, didn't question Lilith no matter how crazy or dangerous or confusing the thing she wanted him to do was, did everything she asked with a nod and a quickness. Everything he normally wasn't, everything he normally didn't do. He was a perfect little pet, because it was easier, safer, to play into the role she wanted him to play, to do her bidding without a sound, than to do anything else, than to be anyone else.
Be her good perfect little pet and you might survive another day.
For a moment, Lilith didn't utter a word. Her room was silent as a tomb, silent as the hotel was in the dead of night. All he could hear was the beating of his heart— if that was what it was, if he still had one—about to fly out of his chest and kill him for a second time. He tried to read her expression, gauge how she was going to react, but of course, he couldn't. She kept her emotions and thoughts behind a blank mask, nothing showing on her face. She was good at that, she never slipped up, and he could never, never, tell what she was thinking. It was what made her that more dangerous. For all you knew, she could be plotting a hundred and one ways to kill you without anyone ever finding your body or learning that she was the one to get rid of you. You never knew is she was pleased enough to let you live another day, you never knew if she was about to rip you to shreds.
You never knew if you genuinely honest response was enough for her to keep her cool.
Although, now that he was thinking about it, his genuinely honest responses were never enough for her to keep her cool, no matter how real they were.
"I don't believe you," Lilith said, with a smile that sent shivers down Alastor's spine and he was all for creepy, face-splitting smiles. Maybe because it was on Lilith or maybe because the unsettledness was directed towards him. Maybe it was because he knew what that smile meant. She had already made up her mind before she even finally told him what was pissing her off, before he had even stepped into her room, before she even had yanked on the leash letting him know she wanted to "talk to him".
And there was nothing, nothing, he could do about it.
"I think," she went on, stalking towards him. He went to back up but there was no where to go, he was already backed against the wall. "I think," she repeated, "that you did tell her, told her something at least. Just like you told that little cat pet of yours about me. Luckily, you never said my name, now did you, but you still did tell him about us and I distinctly remember telling you not to tell a soul you were on a leash. I gave you a fair punishment that time, didn't I? Seven years in the Void. But don't worry, Little Fawn, you won't get that treatment again, not this time. Can't have you disappearing again or sinners are going to start asking questions and we can't have that, now can we? Besides," she added after a pause, "that was too lax of a punishment it seemed."
Alastor wanted to laugh. Seven years, wandering around in pure darkness, never eating or drinking, crashing into walls, walking so long sometimes he ended up collapsing on the ground he couldn't see, that was too lax of a punishment?
Of course she would think that, she didn't have to lose seven years.
She never considered ending it all in the Void. Not that you could end it in the Void, there was nothing but black floors and walls. No food, no drinks, no weapons, no drugs. Nothing to put yourself out of your misery. Honestly, he had to admit, it was a good torture tool.
Too bad it was only ever used on him. He would kill to use it on sinners. Oh how Susan would scream and wail, how Vox would lose his mind.
Lilith was too close for comfort, close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to, but why would he want to do that? Instead, he slipped away to the side, trying to escape, as if there was an escape from Lilith's punishments. When Lilith was mad, she was mad, and she would let you know. There was no use trying to escape Lilith's punishments and Alastor should know. He had tried and tried again to do so. It only ever made her punishments worse.
Yet, he was trying again. He never did learn, did he?
"Trying to get away, I see," Lilith laughed. "You are really off your game today, Pet, I thought you knew our game better than this, I thought you knew you couldn't escape. But, hey, I'm not mad. It's fun to see you act like a scared little fawn."
Alastor stepped backwards, blindly, his ankle rolling and sending him tumbling to the ground. He could hear Lilith's laughter as she got closer and he tensed, waiting for her punishment.
A minute passed. Then another. Odd. He opened his eyes then realized that was exactly what she wanted. He had played right into her trap.
He always played right into her traps.
She grinned, terrifying and menacingly, and then with a flick of her other hand, the one not holding the leash tightly clamped around his neck, the shadows that had originally engulfed her when he first entered her room came to life.
Alastor had no idea how long Lilith had tortured him. How long the shadows— how long she— had attacked, but by the time she was done, he was left bleeding and curled up on her floor, every move sending waves of pain shooting through him. He groaned softly as he tried to sit up, only for his hands to slip in the sticky substance he was lying in. Lilith was probably watching, amused or annoyed, he couldn't tell and he honestly didn't care. All he cared about was getting out of this hellhole (hehe) and into his own room so he could assess the damage. He knew it wasn't going to be pretty.
Finally, finally, he managed to get up, albeit shaking and leaning against the wall for support. Lilith was watching, her face in an amused smirk until she noticed he was watching her and it fell off her face. She glared at the pool of blood at his feet as if it had personally offended her, as if she wasn't the reason it was there, "Look at the mess you made on my floor! Now I have to spend hours cleaning that up and I was planning on spending some time with my sweet little Lee before retiring for bed but I guess that's out of the question. I can't even have that little maid of yours clean it up because she would question it and she might somehow even recognize it as your blood, that little freak."
It took everything in Alastor to not lunge at Lilith for the dig at Niffty. But he couldn't. Couldn't let her figure out how much the small maid meant to him. Couldn't fall into her trap like that. He had to be better.
She looked back up at him, a look of annoyance, disgust, and surprised mixed on her face, as if she couldn't believe he was still here, "God fucking damn, scram, Pet. I'm done with you, I thought that was obvious. Are you waiting for an invitation? Get out of my sight."
You don't need to tell me twice, Alastor thought and dissipated into the shadows.
He stepped out into his room, teetering and only managing to stop himself from crashing gracelessly onto the ground by throwing his hand out on the wall near him to catch his fall. Shadow traveling was probably not the best option, it required strength he didn't have at the moment, but he couldn't exactly wander out of Lilith's room dripping blood to his own room, even if it was only two doors down, now could he? The hotel would notice. They would ask questions. They would judge, they would mock. Worse, they might worry and pity him and he certainly didn't want that. He didn't need people to worry about him, he didn't need pity. He was the feared Radio Demon after all. He was supposed to drive fear into sinners, not pity.
He didn't feel like the great, feared Radio Demon at the moment, though, not when he was bleeding out in his room, alone and shaking.
Oh no, at the moment, he felt oh so very small and insignificant.
He held onto the wall for a long time before he slowly pulled his hand away but without the support, he began to teeter again and he flung his hand back out. Well, great, that was just great. He slid to the floor, crashed really, snapped his fingers to turn on the lights, and took a heavy deep breath before looking down to survey the damage.
Just what he thought; he was a bleeding mess, drenched in so much blood that he couldn't see his skin and his outfit was redder than usual, stickier. He cursed under his breath then slowly, excruciatingly, peeled off the clothes that clung to his skin, threw them into a pile near him. He would clean them so Niffty didn't get worried, he would clean the pool slowing growing beneath him. His blood soaked outfit had clung to him in a way that made him want to claw at his skin. He didn't, though, because that wouldn't help and because his skin was already clawed at, already stinging. Luckily, most of the scratches weren't too deep, they would heal on their own. Some cleaning up and some bandages would fix them, and they didn't hurt that much. He had dealt with worse wounds. What was really worrying him, what was really hurting like the devil (which, now that Alastor had actually met him, that saying made him want to laugh, Lucifer was nothing like the stories made him out of be, nothing more than some short duck king who couldn't even push aside his emotions for his own daughter who he claimed he loved very much), was the angelic wound from his duel with Adam.
The one that only Rosie knew about, the one that she had helped him sew up. The one that nearly did him in.
The one that very much had not healed since he vanished off the battlefield during the last extermination.
The one that had just fucking reopened.
It had opened again because of course it had opened again. Rosie warned him to be careful, he promised he would be, but of course, he didn't account for Lilith nearly killing him in cold blood. He wished she did. At least killing him would put him out of misery.
He needed to see Rosie. And he needed to see her soon, before he bled out to death on his floor and Niffty or Charlie accidently stumbled upon his dead body. He would very much prefer not to give them unneeded nightmares, thankyouverymuch. That thought, that wanting to not give Charlie nightmares, it wasn't because he cared for her. No, he just didn't think she deserved that, she didn't deserve to come stumbling over one of her friends bodies because that's how she viewed Alastor, a friend.
He wasn't. He really really wasn't.
Was he?
Alastor dragged himself to his bathroom, dragging dripping blood all the way over. He just needed to clean up enough, bandage the wound, redress, then he would go to Rosie's. Nothing too hard. Well, minus the fact that he could barely move and blood seemed to be pooling out faster than he could stop it, but hey, this was nothing new, he had tended to much worse wounds before. Not a lot of times, yes, and he never really did a good job, but he had done so and that's what mattered.
Slowly, painstakingly, Alastor managed to stop most of the bleeding, managed— with shaking, unsteady hands— to wrap a bandage tightly around the gapping wound on his chest, tight enough it made it hard to breath, thick enough he hoped it wouldn't bleed through before he got to Rosie's. He managed to clean up the rest of the blood clinging to his skin, shoved his blood-soaked outfit into the scalding hot tub, burning his hands for a moment as he dropped it in. He let it soak as he shoved on something else— shivering and unsteady the whole time— on, as he stumbled back out of his room to clean up the pool of blood on his floor. He paused by it for a moment, before cleaning it, because he realized he probably shouldn't have put on a new outfit before cleaning it up so he snapped his fingers and off the outfit went. The deer dropped to the ground, scrubbed away at most of the blood. Cold water could do wonders, he learned. He felt eyes on him, looked up to see Min watching him with a concerned expression.
"Fuck off," Alastor snarled and his shadow flinched but didn't vanish. Min took a couple steps forward, a hand reaching out. Comfort. He didn't need comfort. He didn't deserve comfort. "I'm fine," Alastor hissed, glaring. "Fuck off, Min."
The shadow hesitated but didn't vanish. Alastor sighed; Min wasn't going anywhere. Fine. He could sulk in the corner, Alastor didn't care.
Alastor gave up cleaning after a while. The ground was still red, it was still obvious that there was blood on the ground, but at least it wasn't a pool. Niffty would just assume it was prey. He stumbled back into the bathroom to pull his outfit from the tub. Clean enough, he'll have Niffty work her magic. He would blame it on prey again. That was the good thing about being a known serial killer in Hell; when you end up nearly bleeding to death because of the person who owns you soul, because you thought you could go up against fucking Adam, you could just blame the blood on murder. Well, as long as there wasn't too much of it.
Alastor shrugged the new clothes back on, stared at himself in the mirror and forced a smile. There. He looked more like himself. Looked like the demon everyone feared. He could do this. He wiped any pain off his face, took a deep breath, and left his room.
His plan was simple. Get to the door, get to Rosie's. A long journey but he could handle it, he had done it plenty of times. Granted, not when he was bleeding out but hey, that wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
He was almost at the door when someone called out.
"Al!"
He bit back a sigh and turned to face Charlie. "Charlotte" he nodded towards the blonde, "Good evening."
"Right back at you, Al," Charlie beamed. "I was wondering if you wanted to do a lesson with us? I know it's late, but it might be fun." She frowned, glanced over his shoulder towards the exit that was so close yet so far. "Are you... heading out?" She questioned.
"Maybe another night, dear," Alastor lied, replying to the first part of her sentence first. He didn't really like her lessons but he sometimes played along to avoid raising suspicion and, he had to quietly admit to himself, they could sometimes be a little fun, mostly just watching the others stumble through them like babbling idiots. "I'm going out for the night, dear, promised I'll meet Rosie tonight and it totally slipped my mind until a little bit ago."
"Oh, is everything okay?" Charlie asked because of course she would. Of course she would be worried.
A part of Alastor regretted what he was going to do to her eventually. A part he needed to kill off.
"Everything's fine," Alastor lied because it was a lie. Nothing was fine. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore but there was no reason the princess had to know that. "We just like to hang out sometimes, gossip, drink tea, all that. You know... friend things."
Friends. A word that sounded strange and foreign in his mouth. Charlie didn't seem to notice the way he stumbled over the f word or maybe she wasn't going to say anything, it was always hard to tell with her.
"Well, have fun then," Charlie beamed again. "And tell Rosie I said hi. Oh, and give her this."
"Give her what-" Alastor began then the blonde flung her arms around him. He gritted his teeth, forced his smile to widen. Don't show pain, don't show pain, don't show pain. He let the girl hug him for a minute then pried himself away. "Charlotte."
"Sorry!" Charlie apologized. "I forgot." She always forgot but he couldn't find it in himself to be mad at her. She gave him a look and he sighed.
God she was too good for Hell.
Too good for him.
"It's okay," he lied but it wasn't. Her hug made his skin crawl but it had nothing to do with the girl in front of him. It was his history of others touching him, his history with her mother. Histories he couldn't blame her for. So he smiled, like he always did, and he lied, because that's what you did to make Charlie happy and why he wanted to make Charlie happy was beyond him. "I'll give her the hug."
"Yay!" Charlie squealed, happiness etched on her face. If only he could be that easily happy, when was the last time he felt that free? Sure, he knew the girl had her own struggles, but that rarely stopped her.
"Well," Alastor finally said. "I do hate to leave, but I did promise I'll be at Rosie's in an hour and it is a long walk so I best be getting on my way. Ill probably be gone for a couple hours at the very least so no need to stay up for me, I can handle myself."
Could he?
"Understandable," Charlie nodded, interrupting his thoughts. "Have fun!"
"Thanks, dear, you too," Alastor tipped his head towards her then, with a grin, turned from the princess, and walked out the door.
He could feel Charlie's eyes on him the entire time.
Charlie watched Alastor disappear through the door, watched the door close behind him, loud in the silence he left behind. She flinched involuntarily at the bang that rippled through the hotel lobby, she frowned.
Something was off.
What was off was not clear to her nor why she thought that nor what even gave her an inkling that something was wrong with her co-host. In fact, Charlie wasn't even that sure something was actually off, or if she was, instead, seeing things that weren't actually there, making something up because she had been worried about her friend since that day a few weeks ago when they had that misunderstanding. The misunderstanding over her mother's new role in the hotel, when her poor friend, so unlike himself, thought she was replacing him and seemed genuinely hurt by it. She still didn't really understand what that was about, still didn't like seeing that side of Alastor, so she had been watching him, keeping a closer eye on him that normal, hoping that she would be able to pick up on what was wrong. No one else ever seemed to pay that much attention to him, not even Niffty, and Charlie would never forgive herself if she missed the warning signs simply because she never fully paid attention to her friend. She wasn't exactly the best at reading between the lines but she could try and that had to count for something. Unfortunately, with the knowledge that something may be terribly wrong with her friend, everything he did or say, every slight change in emotions or strange light in his eyes, made her think that something was off. She was pretty sure that most of the time nothing was actually off and she was imagining it, letting her imagination get away with her all because of one time something was wrong, but still. He was a good liar, he always smiled, his eyes and face rarely gave anything away. It wasn't exactly easy to tell if something was genuinely wrong or if she was making things up to try to piece together why he was so upset when he thought she was replacing him. Sure, everyone would be upset if they thought you were replacing them but, for some reason, Alastor had seemed more upset than the average person.
Or maybe Charlie was just that desperate for the fact that her co-host wasn't as happy as he claimed to be. That probably made her an asshole but she didn't want him to be upset and lying about it, she just knew that, in Hell, people lied. No one could genuinely be happy with eternal suffering, could they? You could like the murders, you could like the crimes, you could like the violence, you could like the suffering of others, but no one in their right mind would like their own suffering. Would they?
The point was, Charlie really didn't know if something was off with her co-host or if she was making it up to create a narrative of him that wasn't even remotely close to the truth.
But she was leaning towards the former. Something felt off. She just couldn't tell what or why.
And she couldn't tell if she was just going crazy.
Charlie shook her head. There was no point in trying to figure out if there was indeed something wrong with Alastor or if she was just making it up, that wouldn't help anyone. Even if something was off, it wasn't like he would ever admit nor could she pinpoint exactly what was off so it wasn't like she could help him either way. And he would be against any sort of her help too. All she could hope for was the fact that something wasn't off or that he finally opened up to her and the latter was next to impossible so she wasn't going to count on it. She would just have to come to terms with the fact that if something was indeed wrong with her friend, she'll never know what.
That didn't mean she had to stop keeping a close eye on him.
Charlie sighed.
Whatever. It was probably a good thing that her friend left to see Rosie. She had been meaning to talk to her father and she was worried that if she tried talking to him when Alastor was around, the latter would somehow find out or overhear and then she would never get the truth out of her father. With Alastor gone for the night, or for however long he planned to be on Rosie's, which, like he said, would be a few hours at the very least with the journey and all, her father would more likely be truthful.
More likely, yes, but not necessarily.
Her father, unlike Alastor, was much easier to read. He tried, but Charlie knew, more often than now, when something was off. Didn't always know what was off but almost always knew that something was off. It was both helpful and annoying. Annoying because her father didn't seem to realize he was easy to read. He liked to lie, liked to claim everything was fine, when it was very much obvious that nothing was fine. Getting him to be honest was next to impossible but at least he did talk about his feelings. Not as much as she did, not as much as she would like, but more than almost any of her friends, except for maybe Niffty.
The rest of her friends, Husk and Angel and Alastor, and her girlfriend, all seemed to despise the whole "talking about feelings" talk Charlie loved so much. She didn't really understand why, but somehow she knew it had something to do with their past, with traumas they refused to talk about. She would never push them (unless she needed to and even then she would feel oh so terrible) but it didn't mean she liked it nor fully understood it.
Oh well. She couldn't fix people who didn't want to be fixed. That didn't mean she wouldn't try. Charlie was, if nothing else, optimistically stubborn. It was her strong suit. Well, she, and a handful of her closed loved ones, viewed it as that. Most people found her stubborn optimism to be annoying and strange in Hell. Some of these people said it was an amusing sort of annoying and strange, odd but in an endearing way, like most of the hotel, but most found it off-putting and bad. Still, she would take the off-putting annoyance and strangeness any day over what Adam had said to her.
She hadn't told anyone what he had said, knowing that anyone she told in the hotel would get angry and be out for Adam's blood, even the ones who claimed not to care for her, if they heard what he had told her, and while she couldn't exactly blame them— what he had said was uncalled for and shitty and lived rent free in her head, no matter how much she tried to forget about it— she also didn't want anyone going after him for it. Yes what he had said was shitty and uncalled for, yes it had been bothering her since he had said it, and yes it kept her up at night, sometimes, but, truthfully, it wasn't that big of a deal. Not a big enough deal that someone would have to risk their afterlife to go after the first man.
Besides, she wondered if he was, at least partially, right.
It had been during his final battle, after Alastor had vanished off the face of Hell it seemed, and the rest of her friends were fighting other exterminators, or, in Vaggie's case, Lute, when Adam had came after Charlie when he had said it. He had crossed the battlefield, gave her a look. She gave him one right back, angry and full of fire despite the fact that she absolutely terrified. Charlie was no fighter. She could fight, if she had to, but she didn't enjoy it and it wasn't her strong suit. And Adam was the opposite, a fighter who seemed to be trained his entire afterlife, all thousands and thousands of years, and a fighter who seemed to enjoy, to a disturbing degree, the bloodshed and violence that came with fighting. It certainly didn't help that she would have to face him on her own nor the fact that, even at that moment, in the midst of the fight, she knew that it didn't bode well for her that Alastor out of all people, the goddamn Radio Demon for crying out loud, ended up losing to him. She didn't know where he vanished after the fight, still didn't, and didn't know then or now why he had vanished but it didn't take a genius to know it had something to do with losing his fight to Adam.
The point was, she had been terrified, but she wasn't about to show it. She wasn't going to give Adam that satisfaction. And besides, she knew that if she gave into the fear, it would put her in even more danger. She already was no fighter, she didn't need to add fear to make her an even worse fighter.
Then he said it and shook away whatever confidence she had managed to build up.
You're like no one I've ever met before he had began with and she, like the fool she was, began to thank him because she had thought he was giving her a compliment.
She should've known better.
He had cut her off with a mean spirited laugh. Oh no, he snorted that wasn't a compliment. I mean there is like, genuinely, something wrong with you. There should be a disorder named after you.
That had hurt, that still hurt. It was uncalled for. She wondered, now, if maybe that it had been a way of him getting under her skin, reading her like an open book and being able to pinpoint the fear in her face. Possible, and maybe part of the reason, but she also knew he was genuine. He truly believed that there was something so wrong with her that it should be labeled as a mental disorder.
Maybe he was right.
Charlie shook her head. Nope, she was not going down that path. He wasn't right. Yes she was different than most people in Hell and yes she was optimistically stubborn, but that didn't mean she was mentally ill. Adam didn't understand genuine kindness, that was all, and truthfully, she almost felt bad for him. Almost, but not quite. She was still glad that Niffty ended him.
A sentence she never thought she'd think, being happy another soul was so brutally murdered, but Adam deserved it. Only a few souls truly deserved to die for good and Adam was one of them.
Lute was another.
Charlie shook her head again. She shouldn't be wasting time standing her thinking of the past. She wanted to talk to her father, make sure everything was okay (well, okay to a degree, considering her father rarely ever seemed genuinely okay), before asking him if he wanted to join the rest of them for a lesson. Hopefully, with Alastor out for the night, her father would actually want to join in on a lesson for once. He had been here for a handful of weeks already and yet he had never joined in on a lesson and she had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her co-host. Well, either him, or her mother, since there seemed to be some sort of strange tension between her parents, a strange tension that seemed more than just two souls who had fallen out of love being forced to see each other after an absence.
Because, Charlie knew, despite what her father had always told her, despite what her mother had responded with time and time again since she had returned, whatever happened between them wasn't something as simple as falling out of love. Not for Lucifer, at least. He could claim, all he wanted, that the two had fallen out of love, that thousands and thousands of years was too much time for any couple, but Charlie had already established that her father lied about his feelings as much as the ebb and flow of a river, and that he wasn't a very good liar either. Charlie had never said anything, she knew he was trying and it would be an assholely thing to do anyway, but it didn't mean she didn't pick up on it. She did alright. She picked up on a lot more than most people gave her credit for, even her own parents, and was able to pick up that her father, despite his claims, still did love her mother. Even after all these years, even after everything that must have happened between them, he still seemed to love her as much as when they had first met.
Her mother, on the other hand, was harder to read. Sometimes, Charlie was positive her mother was in the same boat as her father; still so deeply in love you never would've know that thousands of years had passed. Other times it seemed like it was the opposite, that Lilith had gradually fallen out of love. Sometimes it felt like it was something else entirely.
The first woman wasn't exactly easy to read. Not like Lucifer, not like Charlie. Her mother, like her friends, was a closed book, keeping the truth carefully tucked away and just when you thought you catch a glimpse of it, it changed so fast you weren't even sure what was a truth and what was a lie.
If not for her father's very obvious lies, maybe Charlie would've believed it was just a falling out of love thing that separated her parents. But there was her father's very obvious lies, the look in his eyes when he talked about her mother, the way he had crumbled into himself when she had left. None of those pointed to the story her parents insisted was the truth.
There had to be more than either her father or mother were telling her.
But she wasn't going to get the answer standing in the hotel lobby, if she was ever going to get the answer, so she began to turn, towards the hallway that would lead to the stairs to the upper floor, and therefore, her father's room, when she froze.
She could feel someone watching her.
Charlie spun around, searching. No one. Well, no one she could see, but someone was definitely watching. Slowly, cautiously, she turned, eyes trained on the shadows and the walls and the hallways, searching for even the slightest of movement. But the hotel was quiet, still, except for at the bar where Angel and Vaggie were drinking and Husk was bartending. It wasn't one of them though, because Husk and Angel were deep in conversation, only having eyes for each other, and Vaggie seemed to be half listening half focusing on her drink. Charlie watched them for a moment, first focusing on her two friends who were so deep in conversation it appeared that, even from across the hotel lobby, they didn't even realize there were other sinners in the lobby too. Despite the situation, the fact that she knew someone was watching her (was someone watching her?), she couldn't help but smile, grin really, at seeing the two so deep in conversation. It didn't take a genius to realize that Husk and Angel had a crush on each other. It was obvious enough that even her father, who had barely been out of his room since her mother returned, had picked up on. Obvious that she had overheard Vaggie and Niffty making bets on how long it would take for the two to get together. Obvious enough that Lilith had mentioned it once or twice, always in passing with a playful roll of her eyes, as she asked if those two fools have finally gotten together yet. Obvious to everyone, that is, except Husk and Angel.
Neither one seemed to realize the other liked them too. Neither had made a move. Charlie found that annoying, she didn't understand why they were being so stubborn about it. She understood, of course, that it would be hard for the two to get together, considering that they were both on a leash but still! You would think they would at least try to figure something out. But nope, instead, the two just spun around and around, playing a game that neither seemed to realize they were playing but was so obvious to everyone else around them. At this rate, Charlie might have to take matters into her own hands. Vaggie had warned against it, telling her to let them get there at their own pace, but Charlie wasn't exactly the most patient person. So far, her favorite plan was to lock them in a closet together until they finally confessed. No distractions, no running from the truth, nothing but them finally realizing they needed to face the fact that they deserved to get together. Truthfully, locking them in any enclosed area would do the trick, Charlie believed, but a closet, in her opinion, added a layer. A punny layer, sure, but a layer nonetheless.
Charlie, after all, sure did love her theatrics almost as much as she loved a good love story and she believed her friends all deserved one of their own. Well, except for Alastor, but that was because she was 99.99% sure he was aromantic, even though he would probably insist he wasn't, despite not knowing what aromantic even meant.
She should probably give him a rundown on all the sexualities. After all, they weren't exactly talked about during his time and he seemed so stuck in the past she was pretty sure he hadn't even heard of most of them. Somehow, strangely, he seemed to have heard of, and understood, and even seem okay with, to a degree, just plain, old homosexuality, he barely even batted an eye when she had told him she and Vaggie were dating. She was surprised, pleasantly, yes, but surprised, considering how old fashioned he was and the horror stories she heard of the human world, especially back when he was alive, being so against the queer community.
Yet, she was staring to learn, for all his old-fashioned mannerisms and beliefs, he also, somehow, seemed to be ahead of his time. He could be an asshole but at least he wasn't a sexist, racist asshole.
Those were the worst and there were certainly too many of those in Hell.
Next to the two idiots hopelessly in love sat Vaggie. Charlie could barely make out her girlfriend from where she was standing, but she knew that the fallen angel was at least slightly amused by the two next to her. Not as amused as she normally would be, though, because Charlie could see the way she kept glancing at her glass and the way that her body posture seemed slightly off. Charlie's smile, which had grown when she began to watch her girlfriend, fell away.
Just another person she cared about who seemed to not be telling the truth. Her father, Alastor, Vaggie. All of them, lying, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
As long as they didn't try to kill her first although, truthfully, Alastor was probably the only one she would have to worry about doing that and even then, somehow, despite the warnings and the knowing that she couldn't trust him in the slightest, she didn't think he would hurt her.
At least, she hoped he wouldn't. Some part of her knew, somehow, that he would end up hurting her but she was hopping that she would manage to shove her way into his heart before, because, despite what everyone said, despite what he said, he did have one. Everyone had a heart, after all, and she saw the way he was with Niffty, the way he was with Rosie and even Mimzy, the way he spoke of his mother, rarely and never more than a few words, but with fondness she never saw in him before. She knew that, for all his talk of working alone and not needing friends and not wanting attachments that he did, in fact, have friends, have attachments.
And for those who were lucky enough to get that close to him, well, you didn't want to mess with them that was for sure.
Charlie was snapped out of her thoughts by a movement out of the corner of her eye but when she spun to face the hallway it came from, she realized it was only Niffty, cleaning. The small maid's back was to her as she swept, so it wasn't her who was watching Charlie either. Charlie frowned, sighed. If it wasn't any of her friends, than who was it?
Alastor had left for Rosie's, so it wasn't him. Her father was, like he had been for the past month or so, locked away in his room. Her mother was also tucked away in her room. They were supposed to hang out, like they did every night, but her mother had found her a few minutes before Charlie saw Alastor leaving to tell her that she wasn't feeling well and was retiring to her room. She apologized half a dozen times and sounded so upset that Charlie felt bad. She was upset, sure, but she knew her mother wasn't feeling well and she knew her mother felt bad and she wasn't going to hold that against her. Instead, she had said it was okay, because it was, and told her mother she hoped the older woman felt better soon. Lilith had smiled, thanked her, then wondered out loud what she did to deserve such a wonderful daughter.
It was when she said things like that Charlie felt bad for ever having a bad thought against her mother. Who cares if she left for seven years? Her mother loved her and that was all that mattered.
The point was, everyone in the hotel was accounted for, either away in their rooms or at the bar or out and about or cleaning in the hallway, with their back towards her. No one was watching her. But, then, why did she feel eyes on her, why did she still feel eyes on her?
As a last ditch effort, Charlie wandered over and peaked out the window. Maybe someone was outside, staring through the window at her. Well, that would be creepy, wouldn't it? But, luckily for her, the area around the hotel was silent, still, and she didn't see another soul as far as she could see. Well, at least, no one close enough that would be able to stare back at her. She could see movement through Hell, downtown where there was always movement of sinners walking and whisking through the streets knowing God knows what.
No one is watching me, Charlie tried to tell herself. She was probably just on edge, nervous over the fact that so many things seem wrong, or excitement that her mother was back in her life and shared the same dream as her or maybe it was a combination of the both, but, whatever it was, she was imagining someone was watching her. No one was watching her, that was too creepy even for Alastor.
Charlie shrugged it off. It was nothing. Just her imagination. Nothing to worry about, no one was watching her.
With that thought, Charlie turned back towards the correct hallway and walked off, determinedly, to speak to her father and, hopefully, get some sort of truth from him.
What Charlie failed to notice, in the far corner where the shadows danced in and out of each other, someone stood, silent and watching. Someone who had seen the entire interaction between Charlie and Alastor, had watched as the latter left and the former stand there, concerned and lost in thought.
Someone who was starting to grow oh so very tired of her little pet's games.
Lilith watched, for a moment longer, as her daughter disappeared down a hallway opposite of where she stood, before stepping back to let the shadows engulf her even more. Voices, from the bar, lifted across the room to her and her frown deepened. The spider, the cat, the fallen angel. All of them, nothing more than lowly sinners but not in her daughter's eyes. Lilith hated it, hated that her daughter took after her ex-husband. She should know this would happen, her daughter had always been too sweet and kind for her own good and Lilith did leave for seven years, but the first woman was hoping her daughter would grow up, realize the truth.
Sinners didn't deserve to be saved.
Lilith couldn't wait until this hotel burnt to the ground.
Notes:
Seventh chapter's a wrap. What did you think? Liked poor Alastor's endless suffering?
Y'all are probably really starting to hate me, aren't ya? Don't worry, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. A lot worse.
No, I will not apologize. Suffer.
Like Alastor.
God, I am evil.
Anygay, I probably won't publish the next chapter until after pride starts so, happy early pride. Be gay, do crime, magically become a rainbow to haunt the homophobes.
*throws rainbow glitter up in the air*
I should probably clean that up. But I won't. Guess there'll just be glitter forever. Oh well.
As always, Don't forget to enjoy, comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
*crawls back into the depths of Hell*
Chapter 8: When You’re Looking for Assistance
Summary:
Alastor arrives at Rosie where the cannibal has some choice words for the first woman. Alastor finally begins to express his doubts about everything for the first time. Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Vaggie has a run-in with Lilith that begins to shake her confidence in her relationship with Charlie.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Alastor managed to stumble to Cannibal Town in a time that was much slower and longer than his normal, brisk pace. Most of the way he was fine, albeit slow and every step slightly— or, honestly, very— painful, but when he hit Cannibal Town, it was an entirely different story. He could feel the blood starting to soak through the bandage and he quickened his pace as fast as he could move. He knew better than to be caught bleeding in Cannibal Town; cannibals could smell your blood from a mile away and come running. Normally he would be able to fend them off but he wasn't so sure he could in his state at the moment and the last thing he could deal with at the moment was Susan bothering him with that annoying little voice of hers. He could barely deal with her under normal circumstances, if he had to deal with her when he was bleeding out and in excruciating pain, he might lose it. He might just kill her on the spot, fuck what Rosie told him, if he could find the strength to do so. He stumbled forward faster.
Soon, Rosie's emporium came into view and Alastor stumbled over to it, nearly crashing to the ground on multiple occasions. It was late, she was closed, which was good because Alastor knew better than to waltz into her restaurant bleeding with patrons around. He was no fool.
He paused outside her door, pressing his one hand into the doorframe and leaning against it for support as he lifted his other hand to knock.
Three knocks, a pause, three more, another pause, a final knock. It was their secret knock, the knock only they knew about, the knock to let the other one know who it was.
Alastor waited. Nothing. Maybe she was already in bed. He lifted his hand to knock again but then the door opened.
"Alastor!" Rosie grinned. "Wasn't expecting a visit from you!" She went to pull him into a hug but stopped short, looked him over. "What's wrong?"
Of course Rosie was able to tell something was wrong. He forced his smile to widen but that only made her frown deepen, "Haha, about that."
"You're bleeding," Rosie muttered, nervously, the way a mother would when she saw her child was hurt. He looked down and wouldn't you know, he was. Well, shit, the bandage didn't help and now he was bleeding through another outfit. Today was just great, wasn't it? "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." A lie, because it was easier to lie than to admit the truth. She'll learn the truth when she fixed him up but that didn't mean he had to outright tell her it was all going to shit. "Just need you to help me with something."
"Is it the wound from Adam?" She asked because Rosie was smart. He looked away and she sighed. "I told you to be careful, Alastor!"
"Hey, it's not my fault," Alastor said, looking up and letting go of the doorway, took a step towards the cannibal. Of course, letting go of his support sent him stumbling forward and Rosie reached out to steady him.
"Okay, inside we go. Careful, let's not get you hurt anymore than you already are," Rosie laughed but it was nervous. Forced and fake, like the smile plastered on his face. She helped him towards a table, helped him to a seat. He dropped into it, the impact sending pain shooting through him. He tensed and nearly fell off the side, only managing to stop himself by clutching onto the table in front of him. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that Alastor? Coming here when you're bleeding out, when you're obviously in pain, when you obviously can barely stand. What would you have done if you ran into a cannibal? If you ran into Susan?"
"If I ran into Susan, I would've punched her-" Alastor began.
"Sure," Rosie cut him off, "because you would most certainly be able to punch someone in your state. Makes perfect sense."
"Hey," the deer protested.
"Don't hey me. You know I'm right."
The two stared at each other but Alastor finally looked away. No use in trying to win against Rosie. Her face softened.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad. Well, that mad. I swear, Alastor, I'm going to kill you one of these days if you don't end up killing yourself first. You're playing with fire, darling, don't be surprised when it burns you."
"I know," he whispered. "I know it was stupid to come here when I was bleeding, I just didn't know where else to go to."
"Well, you came to the right place, despite what I said earlier," Rosie smiled. "Sit tight, I'll be right back."
"Where do you think I'll go?" Alastor joked as the cannibal disappeared into her kitchen. She laughed as she vanished from view. "I can barely walk, remember?"
Alastor sat in silence, struggling to even his breathing. Everything would be fine. Well, fine enough. He just needed to get his mind off the pain.
The deer looked around the room. It was spotless, like always. It was darker than normal, too, because Rosie had only turned on a couple of the lights. No point in turning on all the lights just for her and Alastor.
He took in the restaurant around him because it had been a long time since he did, after seven years in the Void then spending most of his free time at the hotel. Even when he had come here with Charlie before that final Extermination, he hadn't really had time to look around, they hadn't even been in Rosie's for that long before they had gone back outside for Charlie to try to get the cannibals on their side. And she had, because of course she had, she was Charlie.
Alastor would never dare admit it, not even to Rosie, but he was proud of Charlie for managing to get them on their side, and especially managing to get Susan on their side. Once Susan agreed, the rest of the cannibals quickly followed suit. He was also proud of Charlie for throwing that insult towards Susan. It was unlike the girl but it was understandable. Susan was an ornery old bitch and the fact that she managed to get on Charlie's bad side said a lot about her character.
Rosie reappeared, carrying what looked like a mug of steaming hot tea in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. She placed the tea in front of him, sat in the other chair at the table, gave him a fake smile. He gave her one right back.
"Thanks, dear," he whispered, voice barely audible, as he moved the mug of tea closer to him. The tea was a bright red, almost looking like the blood she and the other cannibals loved so much, smelling of roses and a slight fruitiness. It was his favorite of her teas— sweet enough but not overly sweet, just what he liked— her signature, and of course she had put it in his favorite mug, the one she had gotten just for him a little over a year after they met, all those decades ago. It was faded after so many uses, the bright red of the mug now more of a faded pink and the gold design of a radio tower now chipped and starting to fade. Rosie had said, on multiple occasions, that she would get him a new one, one that wasn't faded and looked ready to break but he refused. This one was still good, they would get at least a couple more uses out of it, and, what he had never told her, he was holding on to it for sentimental reasons. It was one of the first things she had given him, like a promise she wouldn't abandon him like everyone else, and he clutched onto it like a lifeline. Maybe it was stupid of him, being so sentimental for a goddamn mug, but he couldn't bring himself to let it go, to want a new one. For everything that had changed in Hell, for how much he changed in Hell, this was the one thing that stayed the same.
Stupid and unnecessary, yes, but true.
Alastor stared down at the liquid, as if it would tell him all the answers he wanted, but of course it sat still and quiet.
He kept staring at it. The color, the smell, this was the tea Vox had given him that last time they spoke, the last day they were friends, before everything shattered and Alastor was left spiraling. The deer felt his stomach drop remembering that day, remembering that fucking goddamn tea, remembering Vox's final words as Alastor had stormed out of the T.V's apartment.
He looked away from the tea.
Rosie had opened the first aid kit, was digging through it when she felt his eyes on her. She looked up, sighed and shook her head, "Oh, Alastor, at this rate I'm going to have to buy a new kit within the month."
"Sorry," the Radio Demon apologized because he did feel bad. He hated to come to Rosie's after one of Lilith's punishments, expecting the cannibal to clean and help him, to pick up the pieces because he certainly couldn't. That was not what their friendship was. At least, it wasn't supposed to be. He didn't like putting her into this role because he was an idiot and couldn't take care of himself.
"Don't apologize," Rosie shrugged because of course she did. She always claimed she didn't care, that she wanted to help. Alastor knew it was all just a lie, she was being nice. Soon, at some point, she would finally get sick of being the one to clean up his wounds, to pick up the pieces, and she would turn her back on him, just like everyone else.
Everyone always turned their backs on him. He deserved it.
"Unless, of course," Rosie added with a laugh, "you're the Queen of Hell in disguise then, yes, it is your fault."
He laughed, "Wow, I can't believe you would dare accuse me of that, Rosie, dear. I am wounded."
"Well," Rosie grinned, "Now I know it is you. Kind of tragic, though, I really want her to waltz in one day. She'll never know what hit her."
"Rosie," Alastor began, pausing.
"How much do you think I could sell her for? If I could outright say it was her, I could sell even just a finger for a good thousand dollars, but of course I couldn't say it was the Queen, I don't want people coming after me or wondering how or why I killed her."
"Rosie," Alastor repeated, louder.
"I'd figure something out and I'll still fucking destroy her sorry little ass because she hurt you and fuck her and I hate her sorry little face, she's such a fucking bitch, and I wonder how easy it would be to end her life if she's not expecting it-"
"Rosie!" Alastor finally snapped and the woman froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You know you can't kill her."
"I could totally kill her," she pointed out, grinning.
"You totally could," he agreed, "but you know that's not what I meant."
"I know," she echoed. "You know," she added with a larger grin, "normally I hate it when a man thinks I can't protect myself, because I totally can, and have, but I can't be mad at you for doing it. You're the exception."
"I'm flattered but I'm not-" Alastor began but then stopped because that's what he was doing, was it not? Protecting Rosie, because if she tried to go after Lilith she would almost mostly certainly lose— not because he doubted his friend's ability but because he knew the strength of Lilith's power firsthand, knew that it wasn't possible to win against her, no matter how strong you thought you were, no matter how much power you thought you had— and Alastor would never forgive himself if Rosie died trying to avenge him.
"Sure, Alastor," Rosie beamed. "I know you care about me." She playfully poked his arm. He tensed but remained silent; had anyone else done that, anyone but Niffty, and maybe Charlie, he would've snapped at them quicker than they could blink. "The quicker you admit it," she added, "the easier it will be for you."
He looked away, "You know I can't do that." As if it were that easy, as if the only thing that was holding him back was his refusal to get close to someone again after Isabelle and Vox.
She sighed, "All the more reason to kill her then!"
Of course Rosie knew what he meant. Of course the cannibal next to him could read him like an opened book. There weren't any secrets between the two, not really. But, wait, no, that wasn't true, was it? Because there were secrets between them, at least, secrets on Alastor's side that he kept locked away from everyone including Rosie, the one person who knew him better than anyone else, who knew him better then the rest of the hotel, Niffty included, combined.
Secrets, Alastor had found, that were easier to lie about and dodge then to answer truthfully because he could barely even admit the truth to himself.
Like the fallout with Vox because Alastor never told Rosie the truth about what happened between him and the other media demon. The real, ugly truth, not the story he told everyone who cared, which wasn't many (Rosie, Niffty, Husk because the cat had stumbled upon one of the pictures of Alastor and Vox that the former had never been able to bring himself to get rid of and asked, demanded, to know why his owner had a picture with his rival), the watered down version, the simple he wanted more from the relationship then I wanted to give. Nothing more, nothing less. They could interpret it however they liked because it was easier to let them decide what that meant for themselves than it was to admit out loud, easier than to even admit to himself, what he really meant by Vox wanting more from the relationship than he had been willing to give.
The watered down version that he himself was trying so hard to convince himself was the truth. Of course he knew it wasn't the truth, knew the real truth, but the watered down version was much easier for him to swallow than the truth because even after all these years, nearly a decade after their friendship shattered and broke into a million little pieces, he still couldn't admit what really happened even to himself.
Like where he had vanished off to for the last seven years. About the Void. When he had returned, almost a year ago, he had shrugged off the question, said it didn't matter and she mustn't worry her pretty little head about it. And when she probed, because she cared, he had asked, almost demanded, her to drop it. She must've saw the look in his eyes or heard it in his voice, because she did drop it, told him that when he was ready, if he was ever ready, she would be willing to listen.
Alastor would probably never be ready to admit losing seven years wandering around in pure darkness, a hand on a wall he couldn't see. He could barely even admit that to himself either.
He'd never admit the truth of those two secrets not only because he couldn't admit it to himself but also because Rosie had more than enough to worry about without worrying about everything that had gone wrong in his life.
What had gone wrong in his life was a long, long, long list.
"Alastor, darling," Rosie shook him from his thoughts, "can't mend that wound of yours through your shirt now can I?" She grinned, a laugh. A playful teasing, as if she was trying to make this, what happened, better. Nothing could make it better but he couldn't fault her for trying.
"Right," he responded, a nod, because he didn't trust himself to say anything more than that. Shrugged off his jacket, his shirt, his undershirt that clung to his skin like Niffty had clung to his arm after he had called her when he returned, refusing to let go and tutting on how could he do this to her, leave her without a word for seven years. He peeled off the badly wrapped bandage. Rosie took in the wound, the gap really, across his chest, shook her head. She didn't say anything as she got to work but she didn't have to. He knew what she was thinking, she had said it the day after his fight with Adam, when he arrived here, just like tonight, shaking and weak, eyes wide and scared, his smile more forced and fake. No one, not Niffty, not even Charlie, had noticed that his smile was more fake than usual, noticed he flinched whenever they gave him a tight hug or moved toward him without warning, noticed that there was a look in his eyes that hadn't been there before or the fact that his smile had stopped reaching his eyes. And he hated to admit it, even to himself, but it hurt. Niffty he wasn't surprised by; she was too overjoyed that he was back and well and for as smart as she was, she had never noticed that things weren't okay. It wasn't like he admit it and Niffty was never good at reading unsaid signs. Charlie, on the other hand, had surprised him. It shouldn't have, he knew, he did keep everything behind a mask and that was how he liked it, that was how it had to be, but he thought that if anyone would notice something was wrong, it would've been Charlie. But she didn't, didn't give him more than a happy glance when he popped into the new renovated hotel, hugged him and told him that she was happy he was okay, then gushed about the new hotel, how her father had done such a good job helping, told him about the loss of Sir Pentious, mourned in that little way of hers. She barely knew the snake, their time together had been short, but of course she was upset because that was Charlie, far too caring about almost everyone around her. There were few people she didn't like and somehow, somehow, he wasn't on that list.
Not yet anyway. He would be, at some point, and he wouldn't even blame her.
Rosie, on the other hand, Rosie knew, knew something was wrong the moment he had stepped inside after closing. A worker was sweeping up, looked up to tell him they were closed, but froze when she saw it was him. Rosie dismissed her and the girl, a small cat-like demon that somehow reminded him of Husker, had protested for a bit, which did not remind him of the cat bartender who would jump at the chance to stop work early, before she scampered off and left the building, heading home or out, leaving the two alone. Rosie only had to look at Alastor with a slightly raised eyebrow and a frown and a looked that reminded him of his mother before he had spilled everything; his failed battle with Adam, nearly dying, how no one seemed to care that he vanished, or asked if he was okay. She had listened without a word, tended to his wound with a shake of the head and a roll of the eye. She hadn't asked how he survived an angelic wound from an angelic weapon which was good because he had no idea what to tell her. Barely understood it himself. Had warned him, after, that he needed to be careful and that he was such a fool and this is why we don't try to fight fucking Adam alone.
She was thinking that again, that he was a fool for fighting Adam alone, the deer knew, and she was right.
He was a fool for thinking he could fight Adam himself and win. He thought the shield would hold better but he should've know. Should've know when Adam landed on the roof that he would most certainly not win the fight. But he was, is, arrogant. And maybe he would've won if Adam hadn't broken his staff.
But Adam had. And Alastor had lost.
Some great and powerful Radio Demon was he. Maybe the old him, the him who had killed overlords without even breaking into a sweat, who had terrorized the streets of Hell for decades, would've totally have destroyed Adam but Alastor hadn't been that demon in a long time.
Not since Lilith managed to break him, to keep him exactly were she wanted him, with power that was strong enough to destroy her enemies but no strong enough to destroy her or to get himself out of this fucking deal that he ended up stumbling into.
Oh how he regretted ignoring the shadows around him when he struck the deal with Lilith when they had warned him to run as fast as he could.
But he didn't really have a choice, did he? By then, by the time they warned him to run, by the time she had proposed the deal, it was already too late. He was already in her sights.
Actually, scratch that. He had been in her sights for far longer than before they ever met. The deal he ended up making had been inevitable. Running then, when he had the chance, would have only pushed back what was bound to happen.
He still should've ran, though. Still should've escaped even if it was only for a little while. And maybe, maybe if he had managed to escape her grasp that time, she would've lost interest in him, found someone she wanted more, before she was able to force him into a deal he wasn't sure he wanted to make.
More power, more protection, yes, but no freedom he had fought so hard to earn, no control he so desperately needed.
No guarantee that she wouldn't end him whenever she felt like it or send him on a suicide mission for her own personal gain.
"Good as new!" Rosie exclaimed as she pulled away, yanking him off memory lane, as she started to put away the medical kit. "Would you like some new clothes? I think I still have some up in the guest room..."
"Nope," the deer shook his head. "I'll be fine." Would the old clothes even fit, he wondered. He had lost a considerable amount of weight wandering around in the Void. Weight he hadn't gotten back. Seven years he had gone without eating or drinking. You would think, after seven years without eating, that he would've been starving since he returned, that he would've eaten at every chance he got in the nearly a year since he returned, but that hadn't been the case. In fact, he had barely ever been hungry, only eating because Rosie told him to or because he didn't want to raise questions at the hotel or for some attempt at some sort of normalcy. Almost as if after seven years, hunger became a distant memory, or maybe some unconscious coping mechanism in case he was sent back to the Void. Because she would sent him back to the Void, he knew that, once the hotel was destroyed and he crushed Charlie's dreams.
And maybe, this time, the Void would be permanent.
Rosie glanced to the pile of bloody clothes on the table with a raised eye but she didn't dare utter a word. Smart girl.
"Well, you get changed, then. And be careful of the wound, I mean it this time Alastor," the cannibal warned him with the same tone his mother had given him whenever he had threatened to go after one of the white people who had given his mother a look or whispered, but not really whispered, a word that Alastor refused to repeat.
"Can't make any promises," Alastor teased as Rosie got up to put the first aid kit away. "If you want me to stop getting hurt, talk to Lilith."
"Oh, I want to," Rosie grumbled as she disappeared from view. "But somebody won't let me."
"Well maybe somebody wants to keep you safe," he shot back.
"Maybe somebody," she added from the other room, "needs to start worrying about himself for once."
Well, he didn't have a comeback to that. She had a point, not that he would ever dare admit it even to himself.
He sat in silence, staring at the still steaming tea, for who knows how long before Rosie returned, "Well, you should stay for a while, darling, I barely get to see you anymore."
"Sorry," he apologized because he was sorry. "Been busy with the hotel." And Lilith, he added silently.
"Ah yes, with your new friends." At the horrified look on his face, Rosie laughed, shaking her head, "I'm kidding. God."
"They are not my friends," Alastor growled, knowing he sounded like a child but he didn't care. Because they weren't, they weren't his friends. Most of them didn't like him and Charlie, who did, could never be, would never be, his friend. She was nothing more than a bargaining chip for him to get out of the deal with her mother.
Wasn't she?
"The princess didn't seem to think so," Rosie said as she sat down, holding her own mug of tea, the steam twirling and twisting it's way up towards the ceiling.
"Charlotte doesn't count, you know that," Alastor grumbled. "She's friends with everyone. Well, almost everyone," he added with a laugh. " Oh, she says hi, by the way, and also wanted me to give you this."
"Ooh, a present!"
Without a word and an eye roll big enough it probably created a breeze, the deer demon reached over and gave the cannibal a hug. She laughed.
"Should've know," Rosie giggled once he had pulled away. "That girl is a hugger."
"That she is," Alastor agreed. "That she is." He wrapped his hands around his mug, felt the heat seeping into the palm of his hands, somehow comforting and grounding, and stared at the tea.
It still wasn't giving him the answers, why did he think it would?
"Speaking of the princess," Rosie said after a moment or two of silence, "how is she?"
"Same old Charlotte, " Alastor responded. "Far too forgiving and trusting. Welcomed Lilith back without even a second thought." He shrugged, rolled his eyes. Tried to sound deadpan and bored and like it didn't matter to him in the slightest that Charlie let her good-for-nothing, lying bitch of a mother back into her life with opened arms, without a question or any hesitation whatsoever. Because he didn't, he didn't care. Let Lilith break Charlie's heart. Let Charlie hurt herself by being far too forgiving and trusting. Let Charlie be a fool to think that her mother's seven year absence and sudden return with zero explanation had no ulterior motives that would end up not only destroying her hopes and dreams but her precious little hotel too. He didn't care for Charlie and he certainly didn't care if she got hurt because she trusted her mother when she shouldn't have.
Then why did he feel like he did?
And why did his voice catch ever so slightly on that last part? Caught as if he didn't want to see the outcome he knew was bound to come.
As if every part of him was screaming to warn Charlie, because, for some reason, every part of him twisted with dread at seeing her welcome back her mother who only returned to crush her dreams and break her spirit.
"And that worries you," Rosie said. It wasn't a question. Because of course she would know he was lying. Of course she noticed the slight strangeness in his voice.
"What?" He asked, with a nervous laugh and an even more forced smile. "No, I don't, why would it?"
"Because you care for her," the woman said simply.
Alastor froze, hands on the mug he was about to lift up. He opened his mouth to protest but the words got stuck in his throat and his mind raced and suddenly, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He closed his mouth, swallowed hard, tried to organize his racing thoughts for some sort of, any, cohort protest that wouldn't sound half-mad or fake as fuck. Rosie watched, barely blinking, with a knowing look that made him want to scream.
Why did she have to know him so well? Why could she read him like an open book, read his thoughts as if he had spoke them aloud, including the ones he couldn't even say to himself?
"No I don't?!" He finally managed to get out, but he heard the way his voice rose at the end, how he phased it as a question. He heard the uncertainty, the fakeness, the desperateness of trying, and failing, to deflate. "I don't," he insisted, trying to sound more confident but was pretty sure he failed spectacularly. "I don't care for her. I don't. Why would I care for her?"
Rosie just laughed for a moment and if it was anyone else, anyone else but Niffty, the mug he was now clutching like a lifeline would've been thrown directly at her face. He tightened his grip on the mug.
He didn't care for Charlie. He didn't, he didn't, he didn't.
"Because," Rosie explained once she had stopped laughing at him, "I saw the way you watched her that day the two of you came here before the last Extermination. The same way I've seen you watch Niffty."
"And what look is that, pray tell?" Alastor asked, slowly releasing his death-grip on his mug. He was surprised it hadn't shattered in his hands. This poor mug was really being put through the wringer.
It was a fucking miracle it hadn't broke yet.
"The kind of look a father would give when watching his daughter. You know, a fierce protectiveness. A proudness."
It's a little funny, you could almost call me dad.
That song, everything he had said, they were lies, ways to get under the king's skin. They weren't the truth. They weren't.
Or maybe, maybe, they weren't lies.
Maybe, just maybe, there was more truth in his words than he had originally intended. More truth than he wanted to admit. A truth that Rosie was somehow able to see without even hearing him tell those lies, those words he hadn't really meant but now, for some reason, seemed to be more true than not.
He shook his head. They couldn't be the truth. He didn't care for Charlie, he couldn't. He refused to care for Charlie like that. Couldn't be another parent figure when he was actively working with one of her real parents to break her heart and destroy her dream.
Alastor was evil but even he wasn't that evil.
Her biological parents already failed, already backstabbed, her time and time again. She didn't need a fake parent, a parent who accidently stepped up because her real parents couldn't do their fucking job, to backstab her too.
"Besides," Rosie continued, "out of all the times you've said her name, it has never been harsh, cruel, annoyed. Not like how you talk about most sinners. It's... softer. Kinder. Gentle. Like the tone you use when talking about Niffty... or your mother."
Alastor stood up so fast, the chair screeched across the floor. He flinched, ears pulling back at the sudden burst of noise, but he didn't sit back down. He didn't apologize, "I need to go."
"Sit your ass back down," Rosie snapped. "You're not storming out of here because I dared to bring up something you don't want to admit to yourself."
For a moment, he hesitated. He didn't have to sit back down. He could storm out of here. He had come here to stitched back up, not to have this fucking conversation.
But, if he left, then he would've left on bad terms and he hated doing that with Rosie. Hated to leave on any terms that weren't good because what if, God forbid, he ended up in the Void again? What if Lilith ended up ending him before he could return? He didn't want to leave things off with Rosie on a bad note if he could help it.
Besides, a small part of him whispered, he was getting sick of dealing with these feelings alone. He wasn't going to admit that, God no, and he wasn't going to tell her the full truth, or maybe any of the truth, but this was probably the closet he would get to be able to tell anyone even an inkling of the truth.
And didn't his mother always say that talking about a problem was the first step to solving it? His mother had pretty good advice in the past and it had been such a long time since he had took her advice.
Maybe it was time to start taking it again.
And so, against his better judgement, he pulled the chair back with as little annoyance as he could managed and sat back down.
"See, was that hard?" Rosie asked after his glare towards her had lessened.
"It was actually," he grumbled.
"God you can be unbearable sometimes."
"That's why you love me!"
"Don't change the subject." She gave him a look and he went quiet, even through he wanted to argue right back. He knew better than to keep pushing her buttons when she gave him that look. "I'm going to be blunt with you for a moment, okay? Because I know you can handle it and you need to hear this." He remained silent. A nod. Somehow, he knew he wasn't going to like what she said next. "Look, I know there are... circumstances that are holding you back. The whole thing with Lilith, whatever happened between you and Vox, your, frankly, unreasonable stubbornness against making friends." He began to protest but she simply held up her hand and he stopped, going back to silence. Well he had been right. He didn't like what she was saying. "And I know that you aren't ready to outright admit how your feeling because God fucking forbid you're actually something that doesn't fit into the personality of the uncaring Radio Demon you've made yourself out to be. But, for everyone's sake, for your own sake, you need to figure something out. You need to at least come to some sort of terms with these feelings. Because, darling, you're destroying yourself."
No, Lilith is.
But maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn't only Lilith destroying him.
Maybe he was destroying himself again. Like he did so many times before.
"...what if I don't know what I'm feeling?" Alastor found himself saying. He didn't know why he said that but it was the truth. He didn't know what he was feeling. These feelings, that felt so familiar, felt so different too.
"Well," Rosie said with a shrug, "you've came to the right place. Can't promise I'll understand or be right about everything but I can try."
She gave him a grin, a genuine, real grin, and he weakly gave her one back.
"You make it sound easy," he whispered after a moment of silence. "I don't even know if I can put it into words. Stupid right? Can't even put my own thoughts and feelings into words."
Rosie shrugged again. Pushed the mug he had shoved away when he had stood up in a huff back towards him. "It doesn't need to be perfect. Hell, it doesn't even have to make sense at first. But you'll never know until you try."
For a moment, they stared at each other, the silence stretching out like the dreaded dead air you didn't want on a radio station. And then, then, without even being fully aware of himself making the decision, everything he had shoved down, every thought, every feeling, every confusing emotion he had been feeling since Lilith had returned, since the battle with Adam, since, even, some time before all that, came spilling out.
Vaggie was wandering around the hotel in search of her girlfriend.
Where the fuck had Charlie run off too?
Yes, the hotel was rather large, but the woman was always in the same few rooms; her office, their bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, the lobby, the bar, or her parents rooms.
Her parents rooms were new ones and granted, Vaggie wasn't about to waltz into either one of them. She could barely stand Lilith so she would very much rather not waltz into the Queen's room and as for Lucifer, well, he had locked himself away the past couple of weeks and Vaggie really didn't want to walk into that. Besides, if her girlfriend was with one of her parents, Vaggie should probably leave them alone to talk.
Still, that didn't mean she had to give up looking. The princess wasn't in their bedroom or her office, so she was probably in one of the downstairs rooms. Better to check there before giving up.
Vaggie was on the first floor, turning the corner from the stairs to the hall that would lead to the lobby and bar, when she stopped in her tracks.
There was Lilith, standing in the middle of the hallway, with a creepy ass smile and looking as though she had been waiting for someone.
"Vaggie!" Lilith purred with a strange sort of cheerfulness that reminded the fallen exterminator of Charlie but it a creepy, strange way. A fake way. Vaggie blinked, took a step back, as Lilith made her way towards the other at an alarming rate.
Every hair stood up on Vaggie's neck.
Something was definitely off with this woman.
"Your highness," Vaggie grumbled with enough disdain and sarcasm that Lilith stopped in her tracks, titled her head to the side, and blinked. Something about it made Vaggie even more on edge. She had the whole deer in headlights look that she would normally think of as innocent and confused, but, on the Queen's face, felt like a lie. A trick.
"Do you not like me?" Lilith whispered in a sugary sweet voice that mad Vaggie want to puke. God this woman was creepy. Anyone who used a voice like that was hiding something.
"Do you really want me to answer that? Honestly? When your husband asked the same question, he got very upset at the answer and started wailing."
"Ex-husband," Lilith corrected, her voice still sweet and fake. "And he's pathetic. Can't handle the truth unless it's boosts his ego. But I want the truth. I can handle the truth."
"If you insist. Look, since you asked, since you insisted, I want to like you, I do, but it's not exactly easy after what you did. After abandoning Charlie for seven years."
The words had barely left her mouth before the smile dropped off Lilith's face and she moved toward Vaggie even faster than before. The younger woman barely had time to blink before the older one roughly grabbed her arm, leaned in way too close, and snarled, "You have no right to judge me when you yourself used to be an Exterminator."
"What the fuck?!" Vaggie yelped as she tried to pull away but the woman just tightened her grip. "You're hurting me."
"Oh, calm down, I'm barely even touching you. How did you ever survive as an Exterminator if a little grab of the wrist hurts you?"
"How do you even know about that?" the gray haired woman asked, still trying to yank her arm away from the clearly insane woman in front of her. She really need to find Charlie now. She had told herself she wouldn't tell Charlie her suspicions unless something gave her reason to.
This was more than enough.
"I have my ways," Lilith said with a shrug, finally releasing Vaggie's wrist like nothing happened. Vaggie took a step back, rubbed her wrist where the women had dug her nails into. "I'm sorry, that wasn't very nice of me, now was it?" The first woman whispered, back to the overly sweet sugary voice, blinking innocently as if she hadn't just dug her nails into Vaggie's wrist.
"No??" Vaggie laughed but it sounded mad. This woman was freaking her out. "Look, I need to go talk to Charlie and-"
"And what?" Lilith laughed too, but it was cold and harsh and sent shivers down Vaggie's spine. "Tell her I'm being mean to you? Didn't know you were such a tattletale! Besides, Vagatha, who do you think she'll believe? Me, her mother, he sweet, sweet, loving mother, or you, her girlfriend who lied about being an Exterminator?"
"You're clearly mad," Vaggie muttered, taking another step back, ignoring what Lilith had said. Had to, because if she didn't... well, she didn't want to think about that. Normally things didn't phase her but this women was clearly not in the right state of mind. Her drastic change in emotion, the sudden hurtful grabbing of Vaggie's wrist, the words that sounded like threats, everything Lilith did in the past few moments made Vaggie realize that she had been absolutely right about this woman the whole time.
"Is it mad to want the best for your daughter? Is it mad that you don't want you daughter to date a murderer? Is it mad to think your sweet, loving daughter deserves someone much better than some lowly ex-winner-turned-sinner like yourself?"
The former angel flinched. Lilith was ruthless. She had no right, no fucking right, to say the words that Vaggie had tried so hard to ignore.
"Struck a nerve there, did I? Tell me, Vagatha, do you really think you're good enough for my daughter? Honestly. Think about it. You couldn't even tell her the truth about your past! Started off your relationship with a lie, never a good sign. And then you kept lying to her, and kept lying to her, for what? Three, four years? And the only reason, the only fucking reason, the truth even came out was because my first fucking husband told her! For once, that man did something right in both his life and his afterlife, and he is as old as me. Must be pathetic to take that long to do something right but at least he, in all his patheticness, is less pathetic than you. To think you deserve my daughter? Ha, peak patheticness."
"My past isn't ideal, I'll admit that," Vaggie began, her voice smaller than she would like it. Smaller than normal. She cursed at herself. She was pathetic for letting Lilith get to her. Lilith, who ditched her family for seven years and who now returned and was playing some game with her own daughter's heart.
What an asshole.
"Oh, and don't even get me started on not being able to protect her during the last extermination!" Lilith continued on, stopping Vaggie right in the middle of her sentence. Rude. "Thank God, my, also good-for-nothing-else ex-husband was able to arrive on time! But what if he hadn't? What if my sweet, innocent Lee had died? It would've been all your fault. You would've failed to protect her. Some girlfriend you are, failing to protect your partner!"
Another flinch. God. How did the Queen know all this? Better, how did she know each and every one of Vaggie's greatest regrets? The regrets that Vaggie only allowed herself to think about on her darkest nights when she lay awake, long after Charlie had fallen asleep, haunted by that extermination, by the fact she wasn't there to stop Charlie from making that deal with Alastor (even if, thank God, the princess hadn't ended up selling her soul to the creep), by the fact she had lied so long to her own, (overly) truthful girlfriend. Those nights were rough, staring at the peacefully sleeping form of her girlfriend, knowing, knowing, that she wasn't, and never would be, good enough for Charlie.
Was anyone?
But. But, yes, technically, she failed to save Charlie and that failure would forever haunt her, forever haunt her just how close she came to losing Charlie, but, at the same time, it wasn't like she failed to protect Charlie because she wasn't doing anything. She was, after all, fighting fucking Lute and her former fellow exterminator was not exactly easy to fight. So yes, she failed to be by Charlie's side, she failed to be there when Charlie fell off the roof and all the times Adam had nearly killed her, but she was doing something. She was, in a sense, protecting Charlie. She hadn't succeeded, yes, but she hadn't failed either. And what was Lilith doing during the fight? Vaggie thought as she felt her spark begin to return. Well, she didn't know, but it certainly wasn't fighting tooth and nail for this idea she claimed she supported so much. Even fucking Alastor had fought more for this goddamn hotel than Lilith had. He might have done a shit job and he might have dipped to leave Charlie to deal with Adam alone, but at least he had fought for Charlie. That was more than Lilith could say. She hadn't even been there during that extermination! And maybe, maybe Vaggie shouldn't blame her because the woman wasn't here so she couldn't have fought for the hotel but at this point, the former angel was fucking done giving the first woman excuses and benefits of the doubt. She obviously didn't deserve it.
"You're right, I wasn't there to protect Charlie," Vaggie growled, took a step forward so she was more leveled with Lilith. "But I did fight for the hotel. I was trying to protect Charlie. Maybe I wasn't where I should've been, maybe I didn't catch her from falling off of the roof or shield her from Adam's blows or delivered the killing blow to Adam for daring to try to even touch Charlie, but I did fight for her. I fought tooth and nail to keep Lute away from her, because Lute would've also gone after her. And yes, I know I failed to kill Lute, and I will live with that regret for the rest of my afterlife, but don't you dare think for one fucking moment that I wasn't fighting and clawing and doing my best to protect Charlie." She should stop there. She made her point. But, she couldn't. She wouldn't. Not when she was finally back to her normal self. Not when she managed to shake off Lilith's words. Oh no, Vaggie was pissed. Lilith deserved a taste of her own medicine. "And where were you? Certainly not here. It's not like you fought for Charlie or this hotel you claim you support so much. So, maybe, take a look at yourself and what you didn't do before you attack me for not being able to be in two places at once."
Vaggie barely finished her final sentence when Lilith moved. The gray haired woman tensed, waiting for the other to yank on her wrist again, waiting for the rage she saw in the first woman's eyes. Waited for it, but didn't shy away from. She was ready this time.
But Lilith didn't grab her wrist. Lilith didn't start to scream. Instead, the woman got close, uncomfortably close, so close that they were nearly touching, and laughed. Laughed a mean spirited laugh that was somehow worse than any of Alastor's creepy smiles, worse than any of Lute's threats while they had fought, worse than even realizing just how close she had been to losing Charlie. Another shiver down her spine.
She had greatly misjudged the sanity of this woman.
"You're lucky I don't end you right here," Lilith said with a calmness that was scary. The rage in her eyes told a different story. "You're lucky that I love my daughter so much that I am willing to let you live. No, not only that, but I'm willing to give you another chance. Prove me wrong, little angel. Prove you're more than just some lowly sinner like the rest of this... hotel. Prove that my daughter deserves you, actually deserves you, and maybe, maybe, I'll actually accept you as her girlfriend. Maybe, but not definite. And, besides, you have to prove me wrong first, and that has never happened, so good luck, really, you'll need it."
Vaggie took a step back, kept her head up. The spark she had bought back was gone as quickly as it returned but she'd be fucking damned again if she backed down now.
"And what if I go and tell Charlie about this conversation? Maybe I am her girlfriend who lied about her past but it's not like you're that much of a saint yourself. You left for seven years. Arguably worse than what I did. At least I didn't leave my daughter behind while I ran off to God knows where doing God's knows what and only returned for God knows why. And maybe Charlie will believe you over me and maybe I will lose her but I'll fucking risk that to warn my girlfriend that her mother is a creepy asshole who just threatened her girlfriend!"
Another creepy laugh that was worse than Alastor's smiles, Lute's threats, almost losing Charlie. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"And why is that?" Vaggie snarled right back.
"Trust me, I can make your afterlife a living hell. Pun intended. Do you know how many sinners I have ended? How many sinners' afterlives I have ruined? I can, and I will, make your life a living hell. And, normally, I don't tell sinners how I will ruin their afterlife, but I do admire your stubbornness. Reminds me of a younger me. Point is, I will tell you how I will your afterlife. You see, Vagatha, I know a lot more than people give me credit for. A lot more. And I know exactly how many sinners you ended up killing during your and your fellow exterminator's little... trips down here."
"You're... you're bluffing," Vaggie stammered out but her stomach twisted. She didn't know how, but, for some reason, she knew that Lilith wasn't bluffing about this.
"Oh, I'm not. Honestly, it's almost impressive how many sinners you have killed. But, you know, Charlie wouldn't like knowing that you killed millions, millions of he... our people. Millions. Only second to Adam. Oh no, Vagatha, Charlie really wouldn't like that, now will she?"
At the look on Vaggie's face, Lilith only laughed that creepy laugh of her. Patted her on the head like she didn't just full on threaten and blackmail Vaggie into silence. Because she did just threaten and blackmail Vaggie into silence. The woman wanted to believe that the other's threats were empty but this whole interaction proved otherwise and she knew, knew, that it would absolutely crush Charlie to hear how many people she had killed during Exterminations. So, so many sinners dead at her hands.
Their relationship wouldn't survive that.
"Be a good former angel," Lilith purred back in that sugary sweet voice Vaggie hated with her whole being. "My daughter... and no one in this hotel or outside of it either... will ever know about this conversation, right?"
A nod. She didn't have a choice, did she?
"Good. Now, go, do whatever you were doing beforehand. You are dismissed." Another nod and Vaggie began to move away from the crazy woman in the hallway when the madwoman called out one more time. "Oh, and just in case you think you'll be able to get away with telling anyone about this conversation just know, I have eyes everywhere. In this hotel, around Hell, nothing gets by me."
Somehow, Vaggie believed her.
The fallen exterminator waited a moment, then another, before she realized that Lilith was actually done this time.
And without another moment of hesitation, Vaggie walked into the lobby.
She was still on a mission, that hadn't changed. The mission, though, the mission had changed. No longer was she looking for her girlfriend, oh no.
Vaggie needed a fucking drink. Or three.
Notes:
Y'all didn't have to wait a month and a half for the next chapter this time! Yay!!
Honestly though, I am sorry about the wait for the last chapter. Never meant for it to go that long between chapters.
My old therapist will probably tell me to stop apologizing. She's probably right.
ANYGAY I am totally sane (obviously, that's a fucking lie, have you read my previous author's notes? I'm clearly insane... but hey, being insane is fun! Sane people have no idea how boring they are.)
You know what else is totally sane (read as totally insane, why do I keep lying to y'all (I'm a writer, it's lowkey my job to lie))?
This fucking timeline.
Look, I don't like to get political in my chapters because God fucking KNOWS how political American society has gotten in the past few years (Skip the next few parts of the author's note if you don't want to read this, which is completely fair) but I gotta address the elephant in the room.
Which is the Elon and Trump breakup.
Please. It's fucking funny. It was NOT on my 2025 bingo card but everything that happened this year wasn't either so honestly I'm not even surprised at this point. This might be the breakup of the century, y'all. And during pride month too? Tsk tsk. In the words of the wise Weatherboy "gay wrongs!"
Poor Vance... wonder who's gonna get custody of him after this divorce...
Also, why is their whole feud literally just Alastor and Vox's whole thing. Think about it, it's literally the real life version.
And now that Elon is apparently crawling back to Trump (who would've guessed, thanks for the update, Weatherboy), it's LITERALLY Alastor and Vox with Vox (Elon) being obsessed (trying to win back) Alastor (Trump).
Either I am a genius or I have official lost it.
Both are possible.
In all seriousness, to my fellow American readers in the comments, please stay safe. It's a scary world out there at the moment and honestly with the way this year has gone, we really have no idea what the next couple of months are going to bring but the No Kings protest gave me, and many others I know, hope that we haven't had in a while.
Maybe we'll survive this. Maybe.
(Okay, political talk is done)
And back to the ACTUAL purpose on this author's note which is, really, basically just thanking y'all for all the comments on the previous chapters. I try to reply to all of them (sorry if I don't respond for a couple of weeks, I am not ignoring you I promise) because I know that it takes a lot to put a comment on a fic and I want to show my appreciation to y'all. Really. Y'all are fucking amazing. I'm glad you've been enjoying the story so far (apparently we all like our Alastor angst here... maybe we need help...) and the author notes too.
Trust me, I've gotten a lot of comments who like the unhingedness of my author's notes. And, you'd be happy to know, I am not just acting this unhinged! My friends will tell you that I am, in fact, this unhinged in real life.
Can't get snatched when you're this unhinged! (Otherwise THEY will be stuck with YOU, not the other way around, hehe!)
That was your randomly given advice of the day. I shall give you more random advice at another random date.
Will it be in the next author's note or in ten chapters? No one fucking knows.
Not even me!
ANYGAY as always, don't forget to enjoy, comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
Until the next chapter, I am going back to Hell. Turns out now only is that were I belong because of all the suffering I cause and chaos I create, but apparently I am Hell's source of heat as well (apparently I am a human furnace, you can probably cook an egg on my hand with the amount of heat I give off). Y'all better thank me, I'm keeping Hell from freezing over.
*frolics to Hell*
Chapter 9: As Strong as He Purports
Summary:
With Alastor out for the night, Charlie attempts to have a conversation with Lucifer about his and Lilith's relationship but it quickly becomes obvious that despite her father's promises to be more truthful, he is hellbent on keeping what happened a secret. Across Hell, Vox is struggling to keep the fact that he no longer owns his own soul from the other Vees and begins to wonder if, maybe, he would be better off without them.
Notes:
*to the tune of Without Me by Eminem because I watched a short with the song in it a few days ago and now that one part of the song has been running in head nonstop and I can't get it no matter how many times I listen to other songs (read other songs as Stayed Gone)*
Guess who's back. Back again.
IT'S ME BITCHES, I'M BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER. AREN'T YALL EXCITED?
Why am I screaming? The world may never know. I like to be unexpected, my friends can attest to that.
Anyway, another month between chapters. I really need to stop doing that. BUT! I do have an excuse this time. Sort of.
So, first of all, I have been busy. Mostly with work since I'm working more during the summer and because of that, even when I work in the morning or get off at a reasonable time, I'm normally too tired to write. I just trained like two months ago to be a cashier and the job itself is pretty fun but dealing with the general public is fucking draining. I swear to God customers walk in through our automatic doors and all common sense and logic immediately leaves them like ice melting into the pavement on a hot summers day. What's up with that? I also finally got out of the reading slump that I've been in the past few months without even really realizing I was in a reading slump to begin with. I'm a huge reader and I'm normally able to read books in about a week or so, give or take how long the novel is and how interested I am in, but since like March or even February, it's been taking me a good few weeks to finish a book, even ones on the shorter side. That's probably because I read like five books in the month of January alone and most of them turned out to be shit, but who knows. Luckily my reading slump finally ended after months once I read the new Hunger Games book (I think it may be my favorite in the series, maybe only second to the OG book) so I've been reading like crazy again so most of my free time *has been* (heh heh, Hazbin) filled with reading. Second of all, on the chance I actually had a chance to write when I wasn't exhausted from work or sucked into another book (I've read like six books already in the month of July, it's been a while since I've read that much in a month, finally starting to make a dent in my Goodreads goal, lol), I've been staring at a blank white page and blinking cursor for hours on end. The writer's block has been strong these past couple of weeks. Honestly, fuck writer's block. I just want to write, is that too much to ask for? Honestly it was the second part of the chapter that was really getting to me. While I did have writer's block for the first part, I was able to work through it pretty quickly while the second part was starting to become the death of me. Then it got worse.
How did it get worse you might ask? Well, two days ago, Saturday the 19th to be exact, I finally got a breakthrough and cranked out nearly the remainder of the chapter. Shit was looking good, I was getting ready to save as I write on here because I like the format when apparently the writing gods (or Vox, honestly) decided to fuck with me and my page glitched, kicking me off the wifi for a moment, and I lost all my process. I tried everything to get it back but it was all gone and worse, I had to get ready for work and do a five hour shift so by the time I finally got a chance to write again, the writer's block was back and I was in a hangover from losing all my process. Anyway, I blame Vox for my losing all my process but I'll explain more on that at the end of the chapter note because why I blame him and all would give away spoilers for the chapter and I don't want that.
Anygays, the point of this author's note was to explain why y'all had to wait another month and a half for the next chapter but also to give a quick trigger warning. Clearly, based off the summary, the Vees play a huge part in the chapter so a trigger warning for Valentino because bro's a piece of shit and is honestly just a walking trigger warning. What Vox sees in him I do not know.
Anygays, enjoy the chapter, even if half of it was supposed to be different before I lost it all.
*cutely pulls out a pew pew and goes on a manhunt for Vox's ugly ass face*
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Charlie stood outside Lucifer's door, wringing and twisting her hands together. Tried to steady her breath, rapid and irregular. Quickly tapped her foot on the ground as she struggled to calm her nerves.
She could do this.
Right?
She had done harder things in the past. Had harder conversations. Like that conversation with Adam that had ended with him telling her the Extermination had been moved up six months. Like that meeting with Heaven that also didn't go well, ending with her learning the truth about her girlfriend's past. Like the speech to Rosie's cannibals to get them on their side. At least that had ended better but she had a sneaking suspicion that was because she had sung to them and she couldn't exactly have this conversation by singing to her father.
Ironically, now that Charlie was thinking about it, all three of the hard conversations she had in the past six months had happened in the form of a song.
Couldn't do that this time, though.
She sighed. Whatever. She could do this. Totally. And without having to sing a song. She had survived conversations with arrogant, asshole-y Adam; with the stuck-up, 'we're-much-better-than-you' council in Heaven; with murderous, blood-thirsty cannibals who she was 95% sure would've eaten her if Alastor and Rosie hadn't been there. This conversation, as hard as it would be, was with her father at least. Her father who wouldn't make her want to cry, or feel less then, or terrified half to death.
She could do this.
Charlie lifted her hand and knocked.
For a moment, silence. Silence so loud that Charlie began to second-guess if Lucifer was even in his room in the first place. But he was. She knew he was. For one, if not in his room, then where? There were few rooms in the hotel her father would be in and she had just came from one of them. And besides, Charlie remembered her father saying he was retiring to bed after dinner, which earned him a scoff and an over-the-top eye roll from Alastor. Her father glared right back, quietly mutter a fuck you under his breath that, of course, he co-owner somehow managed to hear. It was a miracle they didn't end up getting into another one of their musical duels at the dinner table.
Children, she thought now with an eye roll of her own. My father and other fa... co-host are children. Always bickering and trying to one up each other. Always muttered retorts under their breath that the other always managed to hear. It had gotten old, fast, even if seeing one of their musical duels was a guilty pleasure Charlie would take to the grave. If only the two would get along. Charlie didn't even know why they hated each other so much but she certainly didn't like having to pull the two apart when one of their screaming matches got to be too much for her.
The screaming matches always got to be too much for her. Too loud, too overwhelming, too many memories of that last year of her parents relationship, when angry whisper-yelling would wake her up with a start. Still, she'd take the attempts to be quiet any day over that last argument, the one that was so loud it hurt her ears, the ones her parents hadn't tried to quiet because they had no idea she was in the castle with them.
Movement from inside her father's room snapped Charlie out of memory lane, out of that awful day her mother left, and she blinked, listening. Another moment of silence, and then, soft and quiet, a word.
"Yes?"
Even through the thick door, Charlie could hear the tiredness in Lucifer's voice. Not the tiredness of needing sleep but the other tiredness. The mental tiredness. The one you felt when you could barely hold yourself together and you were trying, trying so desperately, to keep yourself from falling off the edge. The tiredness her father always tried, and failed, to hide. He was failing again.
"Hi Dad!" Charlie responded, trying to sound as cheerful as she could manage considering the conversation she was about to have. Her father's tired voice only heightened her anxiety over this conversation. It didn't seem like he was in a good place to talk, but she really had to have this conversation now. Couldn't push it off, not with Alastor out for the night. "Can I come in?"
"Char-char!" the response came, much more cheerful then the first , but Charlie could still pick up a note of tiredness. Fuck. Still, this was an improvement. "Yeah, just give me a moment, the door's locked."
Charlie tried not to think of what the door being locked implied.
Another moment of silence and then the click of a lock being turned. The princess hesitated for a second but when nothing happened, and her father didn't say a word, she stepped towards the door and turned the knob, gave it a gentle push.
It silently opened.
The doors of the old hotel would creak. You couldn't sneak around with those, couldn't get anywhere, really, without everyone else in the hotel knowing you were entering or exiting a room. And the walls, paper thin, didn't help matters either. If you didn't sleep one night (or multiple) then you'd hear creaking doors and slightly muted footsteps all night long.
It was a wonder no one had murdered someone else in that old hotel. Creaky doors, barely muted footsteps, drafts that seemed to come out of nowhere, always at the worst possible times.
She missed it.
Maybe there was something terribly wrong with Charlie to miss that old hotel. It had been held together by an insane amount of duct tape, by hopes and dreams, and by some crazy amount of luck. But she did. She did miss that hotel, even if it was probably a safety hazard. So many memories were tied together with the old hotel. It was where she locked herself away after finding out about Vaggie; where they had gotten their first two residents (even if one had originally been sent there to spy and ended up staying); where Alastor had come sweeping into her life, with staff and promises to help and enough power and influence and strange skills to actually get the hotel off the ground (quite literally, part of the old hotel had been sagging into the ground before her co-host had waltzed into her life and refused to leave).
But that hotel was gone, reduced to rubble.
It took a second for Charlie to process her father's room after she had stepped through the door. She blinked, looked around. She should've known.
There were rubber ducks everywhere. On every table top; on top of the dresser and the window still; piled on bookshelves and all the otherwise empty furniture; stacked on the floor. There was barely even a walkable path around the room, most of it blocked by more piles of rubber ducks you would have to step over just to get to piles and piles of rubber ducks and the only piece of furniture that wasn't completely covered in rubber ducks was the bed, which, at the moment, somehow housed both Lucifer and about a good few dozen rubber ducks.
Charlie blinked, startled. Felt Lucifer's eyes on her. Finally, "Dad, you might have a slight problem."
"Me? A problem? Whatever do you mean, Char-char?"
"I can barely step anywhere without risking stepping into a pile of rubber ducks. How does Niffty even clean anything in here?"
"She doesn't," Lucifer explained. At the look on his daughter's face, he added, "I don't trust her, she freaks me out."
The woman rolled her eyes, "Dad, be nice. We're all a little weird here. Besides, she's harmless. I'm like, 70% sure."
"That's not a hundred and besides, are we forgetting that she just stabbed Adam to death? Stab stab stab and he was dead. Then she kept stabbing him..." He shuddered. "Oh! And she has some strange obsession with..." Here he paused, glanced around the room as if someone was going to step out of the shadows or pop out from one of the piles of rubber ducks, before, quietly, hesitantly, he finished, "...you know who, so sorry for not trusting her." Lucifer pulled as many rubber ducks as he could feasibly hold closer to him, as if they could protect him from the person who's name he refused to say even thought it was very obvious who her father was talking about. Sure Niffty seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with anyone she deemed "a bad boy", in her words, but there was one she was more obsessed with than the rest, and one her father hated so much that of course he would refuse to say his name.
"You can say Al's name, you know," Charlie said with a laugh and another eyeroll. "It's not like he's gonna magically appear just because you said his name."
"You don't know that!" Lucifer protested. "He's always watching, always lurking, always waiting to pounce... Char-char, please be careful, I don't want him hurting you."
Charlie bit back a sigh, bit back the regular arguments she normally had when her father got like this. Her defending of Alastor was always pointless. Lucifer already made up his mind about her co-host and there was nothing she could do or say that would change his mind. No use wasting energy on an argument that wasn't even going to work. Besides, this wasn't why she came here.
"I didn't come here to talk about Al," she said after a moment of silence.
"God, I would hope not. That would make for a dreadful conversation, even with you, Char-char."
"He's not as bad as you think-" Charlie began, annoyed despite the fact that she had told herself she'd let it go. She knew Alastor couldn't be fully trusted, for fuck's sake she knew he was keeping secrets from her, secrets that would probably ruin their friendship and break her heart in the process, but that didn't mean she didn't trust him at all. She did trust him, to an extent, and, despite what everyone else told her (her father and Vaggie, Husk and even Alastor himself) she did care for him. He was her friend, even if he rolled his eyes and always (gently) corrected her, and she didn't like people hating on her friends. Especially not her own father.
"You're right!" Lucifer cut her off. "He's worse."
Absolutely pointless.
She sighed. Pushed away the annoyance that her father didn't trust, didn't even like, her co-host. She could be upset, she knew, but she wouldn't be able to change his mind.
"Sorry," her father apologized and it sounded genuine. Any negative feelings she had melted away. She knew why her father was so distrusting of Alastor and although she couldn't agree with him, she couldn't blame him either. "What did you want to talk about, Duckie?"
Here it was, the moment of truth. She could have this conversation or she could be a coward and make something up on the spot.
That second option was sounding pretty good at the moment.
No. She couldn't be a coward. She needed to have this conversation, no matter how hard she knew it was going to be, and she needed to have it now, tonight, because who knew when she would have this perfect of an opportunity again.
"Mom," Charlie suddenly said before she could lose the little confidence she had managed to build. "I want to talk about Mom... and you."
Maybe that was a tad bit— okay a lot— more blunt than she had intended, but it got the job done, did it not?
Lucifer's face fell even harder than it already was, "Can we talk about the Radio Demon instead?"
"Dad."
"What?"
"I deserve to know the truth," the princess whispered, surprised at how quickly the words came out. But it was the truth, the whole reason she came here to have this conversation in the first place. She wanted, needed, to know the truth about what happened between her parents, why they were always quietly yelling at each other in the past year, why their relationship— which she had always thought was strong and unbreakable, proof that it was possible for relationships to stand the tests of time, especially down here, where millennia would pass and threaten to ruin even the strongest bonds— ended, why they seemed so weird around each other now. It was more than just two exes seeing each other after a long time of absence, more than what she had always imagined two divorced parents would act like when having to deal with each other for the sake of their child. They didn't scream at each other, they didn't insult, but they didn't act like they had a shared past either. And it didn't help that her father locked himself more often than not, that on the occasions she did bring it up, they lied to her and acted like the relationship just ended after years of being together. She knew they lied because she saw it in their eyes, heard it in their voices, watched the way they (but mostly her father) refused to even look at her. Knew they lied about falling out of love because anyone could see that Lucifer never stopped loving Lilith. That was clear, oh so painfully clear, that even her mother must be able to see it, if she didn't already know.
"The truth?" Lucifer asked, confused. "I already told you the truth, Duckie. We fell out of love. It happens, Sweetie. A millennium is a long time, after all, and we were together for more than one. Much more than one. So much time for us to change, for the relationship to change, for us to drift apart. There wasn't anything to set it off, either, if that's what you're thinking. Just years of a relationship slowly fizzling out. We fell out of love. I know it must be... hard for you to understand that but it is the truth."
There he went again, lying. Lying right through his teeth. Looking, stubbornly, anywhere but at her, as if the room he had locked himself away in was suddenly one of interest. As if there was anything to look at besides piles and piles of rubber ducks, piled so tightly together and stacked so high it was probably a safety hazard. Repeating that sentence, we fell out of love, twice in a minute. The same sentence he used whenever she brought up their failed relationship, the sentence her mother used too, as if, whatever happened between them, all the fights they had that she knew about, why they seemed to refuse to give each other more than just a passing glance or nod or smile, they had come to one final agreement. Use that excuse "we fell out of love" whenever Charlie asks. Like, even if they seemed to disagree on everything, because if that last year was any indication she had onto why her parents split it was the fact that they rarely agreed on anything anymore (so many things they had disagreed on, from small and insignificant, to big ones that always resulted in them ignoring each other for days on end while Charlie, even then, was always the mediator), they finally agreed to this. Agreed to lie to their daughter. Lie to their daughter because they knew how sensitive she could get, because she was young, too young, to know the truth. And maybe, maybe, back then, when her mother first left and her father refused to look at her when she asked where her mother had gone and when she would be back, she had been too young, only 220 years old, practically a baby considering how long she'd live. And maybe it was only seven years since then and she was only 227 now and still so young considering, but she was older too, by seven years in a literal sense, but even older than that, too, with all that she had been through in the last year. How quickly she had grown in the last eight years. Had to grow quickly in the last eight years, with her parents marriage in that last year and the seven years that followed. Maybe that was why she held onto her childlike sense of innocent and seeing the best in people (most would call it naive) as some way to hold onto the childhood she had lost.
They were lying to her, always, always, lying.
She was so sick of the lying. So angry.
Everyone always, always always always, underestimated her.
Can't handle the truth, they said. Saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Never had to face any real horrors. Was far too naive and trusting and forgiving.
And maybe she was too naive and trusting, maybe she hadn't faced much horror before she opened this hotel, maybe she did see the world in a way she wanted to see it, but she could handle the truth.
She could.
"I don't believe you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the silence like a knife and Lucifer flinched, as if the words as sharp as a knife struck him like a real one would and Charlie wanted to apologize, to take it back and say that she believed his clearly horribly told lies. She didn't, though, because that would be going back to square one and proving that everyone else was right and she couldn't handle the truth. "Why do you keep lying to me?"
"I'm not lying to you!" Lucifer protested, getting out of bed and nearly stumbling into a pile of rubber ducks. "We fell out of love!"
"No, Dad," Charlie snapped. "She fell out of love. You still clearly love her!"
There, what she had been thinking in the weeks since her mother returned, no, longer than that, in the seven years she had been gone, was out in the open. Lucifer stopped moving, stared at the woman in front of him with wide eyes and a look that looked like he didn't know who she was. The words left her mouth, the look on her father's face, and suddenly, all her anger was gone and she wanted to reach out and take those words back, as if they were tangible items she could hold. But they weren't, even as they seemed to hang in the air for a moment before crashing to the floor. Lucifer dropped back into his bed, without a word, and kept staring right at her, the same way she had glimpsed him staring at her mother the day she returned, with a strange glazed over look and something that looked like fear.
"Shit," Charlie whispered, her voice soft and shaking. "Dad, look, I didn't-"
But Lucifer cut her off with a shake of his head. Breathed in, pull yourself together, he thought to himself, and forced his face to remain blank, forced himself to keep any emotion out of his voice, his face, his eyes. He needed to be careful with how he worded these next few words because he did want to be more truthful with his daughter, she was old enough and she did deserve the truth, just like she had said, but he couldn't tell her the actual truth either. Couldn't because he didn't want her to get a bad picture of her mother, because he didn't know how to put it into words, because he knew ho Lilith would react, screaming and threats and he was trying so hard to get back on her good side again. Maybe she would never love him again like she had before (if she had ever loved him before, a small part of him whispered but he banished that thought best he could) but maybe they could still be friends. They didn't have to hate each other, they could be on the same side. Lucifer could push aside his feelings for her and they could become friends. It was possible to become friends with your ex, wasn't it? It had to be, he would make it work. Had to make it work because he may have lost her love but he still wanted her in his life, one way or another.
Charlie was right, he did still love her and if he had to love her quietly, than he would do that. He would be fine with friendship, he would be, and he would fight tooth and nail to maintain that friendship but he wouldn't force her into it. He wasn't like Adam, he wasn't, even if she had screamed that at him the day she left.
You're just like Adam!
He knew, then and now, it was just a way to get to him, to shake him to his core and leave him feeling unsteady, because she always knew exactly what to say that would strike the deepest (just like a certain somebody) but doubt crept into his mind, like it always did. What if he was like Adam, just as awful and controlling? He didn't want to be so he was trying so desperately to prove he wasn't. If he was like Adam, then he would change. Adam wouldn't change and he couldn't be like Adam if he was willing to change. Didn't protest anymore as she left through those doors that day to Heaven. Didn't try to reach out to her in the seven years she was gone, even though he probably would've been able to. Hadn't run into her room that first night she had been back and begged her to reconsider. He could try to excuse those last two as finally coming to terms with the fact that she had left him and that she didn't love him but if there was anything the past few weeks proved, it was the fact that he still hadn't.
How pathetic was he, loving someone who clearly didn't love him back. He had thought it wasn't that obvious but he should've know. He wore his heart on his sleeve, just like his daughter.
The daughter who was currently standing in this duck filled room, watching and waiting because she had immediately regretted raising her voice at him. The daughter, who in moments like these or when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye in that too empty palace, reminded him too much of the woman he loved. And in that moment, the moment she had snapped "you still clearly love her!" he had froze, because, suddenly, it wasn't his sweet, far too forgiving and trusting, who gave almost everyone in Hell the benefit of the doubt, even the fucking Radio Demon, even her mother who left for seven years without a word, who reminded him so much of himself it hurt daughter, it was the larger version of her, the one who was everything the two of them weren't. It wasn't Charlie standing there in his bedroom of ducks, but Lilith, that last day they had spoken before she had left, that day in her room a week or two ago (or was it more?), the times she had turned on him, so fast and sudden, he could only freeze and wait until the storm that was Lilith settled down. She had always said words that had cut deep. She apologized most of the time, after, taking him out to his favorites spots or getting him that present she knew he wanted and all would be forgiven until the next time he pushed her too far. And he had froze, because he had always froze when it came to Lilith. The only time he hadn't was that day he had worked up the courage to talk to her. Where that courage came from, he had no idea, but he was glad it did, because, even after everything that happened, he didn't regret it, not really.
"You do deserve the truth, Duckie. And I.... I want to be more truthful with you, I do. It's just... hard. Being truthful never was my strong suit."
Charlie laughed, that was certainly the truth, but she remained silent otherwise.
"You are right, in a sense," Lucifer continued and his daughter startled, watching him with confusion. "You mother fell out of love first. Nothing happened, just like I already said. Years passed and the relationship fizzled out for her, the spark no longer there."
Charlie was frozen, rooted to her spot. She had no idea the last time her father had been this honest and she was scared that even the slightest movement would cause him to curl back into himself again. So she remained silent, frozen, as she listened to him talk, to tell what felt like the truth.
"Me, on the other hand," Lucifer scoffed, "well, you know me. You know how crazy I was about your mother. I didn't fall out of love with your mother, oh no, not at first. Oh how I tried to fix our relationship, how I tried to win her back. You saw, well, heard, how bad that last year was." Here, Charlie nodded, because Lucifer had stopped talking and was watching her and she was scared that if she didn't play her cards right, she would lose him again. She nodded, because it was better than talking and saying something that might have him disappear into himself again and because she was worried her voice would break if she said anything else. "But I couldn't make her stay, I would never make her stay."
I'm not like Adam, Lucifer thought as he said those words.
"Do you know where she went?" Charlie whispered, unable to stop herself. She tensed, waiting for the question to send them back to the start, but instead, after a moment of pause, of her father processing the question, he shook his head.
"No, I don't. I would've told you if I had now, Duckie," Lucifer lied because of course he knew where his wife had gone. To Heaven, because they had told her to come.
Charlie nodded and he continued; she believed that lie too.
"That first year... okay, first few years, were rough," he whispered. "I was still hoping she would come back, still waited by the door hoping she'd realize she made a mistake. Held onto the hope that she still loved me even though it was clear she had long stopped... I regret those years, now, because I should've let her go, emotionally, that day she left. Maybe it still would've taken me time to fall out of love with her or maybe not. But I did cling onto the past for too long those first few years, clung onto them so tightly that I pushed you away. I wanted to call, you know, but by the time I had come to terms with her leaving and... everything, it had been so long I didn't know where to start, wasn't even sure you still cared, or wanted me in your life. Wouldn't blame you if you didn't, you know." He shook his head. No. He wasn't going down that route, not today. Maybe one day he would talk to her about those years they barely talked but today was not that day. "My point is, while it too me longer, much longer, than it took your mother to fall out of love, I did fall out of love in the end, Duckie and that's the truth."
But it wasn't, was it?
"And I do want to be more honest with you, more truthful. You do deserve the truth, Duckie."
Charlie sat down on the bed next to her father, opened her arms for a hug. He blinked, confused, but accepted.
"Thanks for telling me the truth," Charlie said with a smile once they pulled away and Lucifer relaxed because his daughter, for once, had bought his lies.
Charlie, on the other hand, Charlie had told a lie of her own.
She knew her father was still lying. Knew that what he had said to her hadn't been the truth. Far from it.
He lied about falling out of love with her mother. He lied about being more truthful.
And he lied about not knowing where her mother had been for the last seven years.
Sitting in an absolutely horrendously decorated hotel room (he could just picture Velvette's face, the tantrum she would throw, and the pit in his stomach grew) in a hotel far away enough from the Vee Tower he felt he was in another world yet close enough that, if he looked from the right angle at the right time through the one window in the room, he could catch a glimpse of it towering over Hell, Vox sat on the edge of a highly uncomfortable bed, wondering how it all went so wrong so quickly.
At least he could pinpoint the exact moment the cracks had started to form.
The moment he made the deal with the Queen of Hell, which had been exactly 3 and a half weeks ago.
Well, no, not at that exact moment. He had had about an hour of bliss, of feeling on top of the world and like everything he had ever wanted was, finally, just within reach. It was after, once he had returned to the Vee Tower after making the deal, had everything started to shatter.
Not that he knew that in the moment.
Vox had left the abandoned building feeling like he was floating, with a grin so huge it would rival Alastor's (or maybe, Vox had secretly hoped, would've made his rival proud, the Radio Demon had always been telling him, back when they were friends, that he should smile more and Vox had ignored his friend more often than not, just another thing he still regretted doing (or not doing in this case) during his relationship with the other media demon, that maybe if he had smiled more, if he had taken Alastor's other advice, maybe they would still be friends, ruling Hell side by side instead of being rivals and hating each other's guts). The Queen had made him stay another half an hour or so after they made the deal, going over the conditions of the deal.
Don't tell anyone about this deal, do as I say as quickly as possibly (unless otherwise noted), don't question me no matter what had seemed to be the biggest rules she had, the most important, and he wasn't about to break them. You didn't want to get on your soul owner's bad side, everyone knew that, even if, silently, he had thought her first rule, which she mentioned even more than the other two leading him to believe it was the most important, even more so than the other two, had been weird. The latter two made sense; after all, it seemed like it should be common knowledge that you should do what your soul owner said as quickly as possibly (unless, as she had noted, they said otherwise) and you shouldn't question them while doing so either. They were your soul owner, after all. The first rule, though, about telling no one about the deal, didn't make much sense. He didn't question her about it, of course, because not questioning her had been one of her rules and he wasn't about to break one so soon, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious. It seemed strange to him that she wanted their deal to be a secret; most soul owners used the fact that they owned souls as a class thing, a social standing thing, as the more souls you owned, the better off you normally were, the more power you normally had. That wasn't the case for everyone, of course; Alastor being the most well-known example of this being the opposite. To Vox's knowledge, his friend-turned-rival had only ever had two souls, the same two he had now— that weird grumpy cat demon and the clearly just as insane as him cyclops demon (that Valentino had a run-in with and now seemed to be absolutely terrified of, the thought of his boyfriend making the pit in his stomach grow again)— yet Alastor had been, after all, one of the most powerful beings in Hell, still one of the most powerful beings in Hell, if Vox was being completely honest, even if the radio host did seem to be past his prime, literally living in a hotel with the name being a play on the words has been. Of course, Alastor also seemed to, more likely than not, kill other sinners rather than take their souls, which probably played into why he was so powerful with so little souls to his name. The point was, soul deals were important. Very important. Soul deals were a power play and some of the most feared Overlords, besides Alastor of course, owned enough souls to create a small army (or a large army, in some cases). And soul owners normally gloated over who they owned and how many they owned, too, but Vox was starting to get the suspicion that the Queen of Hell wasn't like normal soul owners.
For one, she had literally told him that she normally only kept one soul at a time, which wasn't common for most soul owners. Once again, collecting souls was a game among soul owners and most of the time, the more you had, the more well off you were. Clearly that was not the case for the Queen; after all, she literally was the Queen of Hell, already more well off then everyone besides her husband and daughter. She didn't need more souls to be more well off. Then, of course, there was her swearing him to secrecy, so unlike normal soul owners, and the fact that she was, after all, the Queen of Hell. That fact alone was bound to make her a completely different soul owner than most. He didn't really care much if she wasn't like other soul owners, but it did worry him a little (okay a lot) that he had no idea what type of soul owner she was. How cruel she might be. And even though he knew she was different than a normal soul owner, something told him she wouldn't be any less cruel than one if he stepped out of line.
Luckily for him, he wouldn't dream of doing so, especially since she all but promised Alastor to him if he was good. Vox was no fool.
The T.V demon had waited a few minutes, as per her instruction, after she had left before leaving the abandoned building himself. She hadn't wanted anyone to know they were together. He didn't mind waiting a couple more minutes, it gave him time to imagine what his future now held. Once he had given himself five minutes after he had seen her disappear did he finally leave, all but frolicking back to the Vee tower, humming a happy song as he practically bounced through Hell. He was slightly aware that other sinners were watching him like he was crazy but for once, he didn't care about his public image, and to Hell Heaven with Velvette and her complaints he knew she would say if she found out he was thinking that way. He was too happy, too excited, to care about what other sinners thought and he was allowed to be happy, was he not? Just because this was Hell and just because it was supposed to be eternal suffering, anyone who was in Hell long enough knew that wasn't the case for most. And Vox didn't give a damn about the Vees image because he was too caught up in his newfound power he could feel circulating in his wires and the future he could see starting to form; finally besting Alastor once and for all.
It was because of this, because he was so lost in the idea of his newfound power and future, that Vox never considered what he would tell the other Vees.
He had made it up to his office without problem but it wasn't until he unlocked his office door, stepping inside, still humming and feeling onto of the world, did a problem arise. Namely, Valentino, bouncing over to him, demanding to know what the meeting the letter had informed him of was about. And it was then, staring at his boyfriend, did Vox realize that he had no excuse to tell the other Vee. He couldn't tell the truth, of course, but he didn't know what to lie with either.
And that was when everything started to crumble.
Hour after hour, day after day, Vox tried to steer Valentino from that conversation but his boyfriend was stubborn, annoyingly so. Sometimes the moth demon could be easily swayed, distracted, with the promise of a date or a present or sex, but, more often than not it seemed, the other wouldn't drop it, no matter what Vox would promise him, and it would lead to another fight.
They had so, so many fights in the last few weeks. More than they had ever had in the past. They had had fights in the past, of course, boyfriends fight all the time, it was normal, and Vox and Valentino were no exception. Granted, their fights were normally small and mostly over stupid things, but they had also had some big fights in the past, fights that lasted days or even weeks of them not talking to each other or screaming at each other for hours on end or being so passively aggressive with each other that Velvette, and their VoxTech workers, would take notice. Still, even with all these fights they had had in the past eight years they were together combined was less then the amount of fights they had had in the past 3.5 weeks, where they fought more often than not, sometimes, most of the time, starting another fight without even making up over their last fight. More often than not, in the last three and a half weeks, the two male Vees were screaming at each other or ignoring each other.
But even their worst fights, even the fights the ignored each other for weeks or the fights that had screamed and lashed out at each other, even the rest of the fights they had had since Vox made a deal with the Queen, even those fights were nothing compared to the one that landed Vox in this hotel room to begin with.
It had started off like all their past few fights had started; Valentino demanding to know what the letter entailed and Vox refusing to tell him, because he had made a promise he would and while he normally didn't keep promises, he kept this one because he didn't want to upset his soul owner. But, unlike the rest of the fights they had, this fight finally seemed to ruin them, maybe for good.
Sitting in this horrible hotel room on this horrible bed, the fight replayed in Vox's mind yet again, as it had done ever since it happened, a constant replay that he wished would stop. He didn't need to be reminded that he probably just lost everything, thankyouverymuch.
"Come on," Valentino had whined, sounding more like a child than a fully grown adult, which, if Vox was being completely honest with himself, was often the case for his boyfriend. "You can tell me! I won't tell anyone, I promise."
That had made Vox laugh, a mean sort of laugh that he normally reserved for their stupid workers when they were being stupider than usual. "Oh, come on, Val," Vox snorted, rolling his eyes as he stormed around his office, Valentino trailing after him like a lost dog. Vox was faster, normally was, so he breezed through the office, going this way and that, and even faster than usual, anger and rage normally making him unable to sit still for more than a moment, as his boyfriend struggled to keep up, following him even though anyone with half a brain would realize it was not a good idea to follow someone who was clearly mad at you. But Valentino, after all, didn't have even a quarter of a brain. "I don't buy that for a second," Vox continued, trying to the best of his ability to ignore the fact that his boyfriend kept following him even though the TV was clearly trying to get away from the other. "If I told you, which I already said I wasn't going to and I mean that, you won't keep it secret for more than a day. Honestly, I'll be surprised if you would go more than an hour or two without posting it to social media or telling one of your whores, who'd tell their friends, and then all of Hell would know. Nice fucking try, Val, but you can't keep a secret to save your afterlife."
"I can keep a secret," Valentino shot back.
"Yeah right," Vox huffed, giving his boyfriend a glance that said otherwise
"I can!" the moth grumbled. "And, let's just say, for the sake of this argument, I couldn't keep a secret, which, like I totally can, but just for the time being, let's say I can't. Why the fuck would it matter if I told someone else about what happened during the meeting."
"Because," Vox grumbled, without thinking, "I promised I wouldn't."
"Promise eh?" Valentino said, even more curious that before. "You rarely keep promises, Voxy."
"Well, this is different," Vox began, still not realizing his mistake. He wasn't looking at his boyfriend, couldn't without feeling even angrier and the rage hot enough he would start to overheat, so he didn't see the gleam in Valentino's eyes or how the moth seemed even more desperate to find out what happened. "I have to keep this promise so no, I will not be telling you, because you will tell others, I know you will, because you can't keep a fucking secret. You're clearly lying to yourself if you think you can."
Valentino ignored the insult, too interested in what Vox had just reveled. What promise could his boyfriend possibly make, and with who, that he was so scared to break it? That wasn't Vox, Vox never cared about breaking promises. They were above keeping promises; that was for the weak and for women and for people who wanted to kiss up to others. The porn demon tilted his head to the side, grinning, "What promise did you make Voxy?"
"None of your goddamn business," Vox snarled.
"Maybe not," the moth demon shrugged, "but now I'm curious. You never keep promises, Voxy-"
"Yeah, you already mentioned that."
"Don't fucking interrupt me. You never keep promises, Voxy," Valentino repeated and after a pause to make sure his boyfriend wouldn't interrupt him again, he added, "until now. Suddenly, you're hellbent on keeping this promise? That's suspicious, that's weird. What promise did you make, mi amor, and to who? Who are you so scared of crossing?"
It was then, with his boyfriend's last few sentences, did Vox realize his mistake. Shit, shit, shit. He finally froze, near his desk, realizing he just dug himself into a hole. If Valentino was interested in learning about what happened in that abandoned building before, he was twice as interested now, that much was obvious to Vox without even turning around to look at his boyfriend. He probably should've, now that he was remembering it after the fact, knowing what happened next and realizing that if he had just turned around earlier, maybe he wouldn't have been kicked from the Vee Tower. For the time being, she had said, but it didn't take a genius to know that this kick might be permanent if Vox didn't play his cards right the next few days, once he had cooled down.
Of course, it was always easier to look back and wish you done something different after the fact, wished you said something different. Now, looking back, Vox would've changed what he said, long before they had gotten to the point of no return, but of course, it was hard to know that in the moment, hard to think about the future when you were pissed and angry and rage-filled, when, in Vox's case, you were fighting yourself from overheating and glitching out. Easier, in hindsight, to know where you went wrong and Vox could admit, to himself but not to anyone else because his pride wouldn't let him, that he had went wrong so, so many times in their fight.
"What part of none of your goddamn business do you not understand?!" Vox hissed, remembering the way he had felt the heat rush towards his head, remembering how, faintly, he was warning himself he needed to calm down before he overheated, before he glitched out, before his anger rushed out in an electricity hum that would probably put them, and half of Hell, out of power, just like months ago, when Alastor had hijacked his roast song and somehow ended up doing better than him. And maybe he would've calmed down, maybe he would've stopped himself from doing what he did next, if Valentino hadn't continued, if Valentino hadn't pushed him right off the metaphorical edge. But Valentino did continue, did push him off the metaphorical edge. Maybe what happened next was Vox's doing, but it was just as much his boyfriend's fault as it was his own. It takes two to tango, after all. He had added, still angry but hoping, hoping against hope because he should've known better, that if he said the next few sentences, his boyfriend would listen. "Leave me alone, Val, I fucking mean it. Leave me the fuck alone." He needed to be alone, needed to be alone before he said something he regretted.
It never crossed his mind he might do something he would regret.
And unfortunately, for the both of them, Valentino was too stubborn, too hellbent (heh) on learning what happened, that he couldn't see what was right in front of him. Couldn't realize that pushing Vox anymore was certainly not a good idea.
"Oh, I think it's every right of my goddamn business to know what happened," Valentino had snarled, seeing his chance to finally move towards his boyfriend. "And leave you alone? Yeah, no. I'm not going that until I get the fucking truth out of you. Tell me what the fuck happened!"
"I already told you no!" Vox snarled back. "And I fucking told you to leave me alone." At that point, after that sentence, Vox finally spun around to face his boyfriend, who was right behind him. In that moment he had spun around, in that moment nothing had happened because he was processing the fact that his boyfriend was right behind him, that was when everything had finally tipped over and shattered.
Valentino was right there, inches away from him, and with his last sentences replaying in Vox's head, with the anger that had been building in the last few weeks, but especially during that last fight, with the fact that Valentino wouldn't just fucking drop it, Vox had finally snapped.
He didn't overheat and glitch out, knocking the Vee Tower, and the surrounding area, out of power. He didn't push Valentino. He didn't even start screaming all the things he was thinking at him boyfriend. But, oh how he wished he did one of those things. Any one of those things would've been better than what he actually did.
Because, when Vox snapped, he had lunged toward his boyfriend and zapped him half to death.
Static hit skin as Valentino screeched in either pain or surprise, or, more likely, a combination of the two and the moth was sent sailing across the room, hitting the opposite with a dull thud that seemed to shake the entire room. Vox froze, hand still outstretched, eyes wide as he realized what he had just done, all the anger that had just boiled over gone in a blink of an eye.
"Val?!" Vox shrieked, his voice sounding wrong even to him. "Val?!" A slight movement from his boyfriend and Vox felt himself relaxing slightly; Valentino was still alive.
Still alive, yes, but that didn't change the fact that Vox had just fucking zapped him.
He had never zapped his boyfriend before. Never even dreamt of doing it. Okay, that was a lie. Vox could admit, to himself, that there had been times the thought had crossed his mind, times were the other had been pissing him off so much, the thought had filled his mind before he could stop it, but he had never intended to actually go through with it.
Valentino could be a pain in his ass but Vox had never wanted to hurt him, let alone nearly kill him.
The still standing Vee took a few steps towards the other, hands shaking, apology ready, as if an apology would make what he had done better. "Val, shit, I didn't mean-"
"What the fuck did you do, Vox?"
The man in question froze, halfway across the room, because the question hadn't come from his boyfriend still lying and twitching on the ground. No, instead, it had came from his far left, nearly behind him, in the direction of the door and he turned, slowly, oh so slowly, towards Velvette.
The female Vee was right beside the closed door, arms tightly crossed over her chest, with a glare sharp and hot enough to melt rock. Vox swallowed hard, felt himself shrink back in Velvette's anger; he had seen her pissed before, he had dealt with her tantrums, but something told him this was the angriest he had ever seen her. And the fact that this rage, this anger on a scale he had never seen before, was directed at him made it all that much worse. Still, he wondered how long she had been there for, how much of the fight she had seen. Maybe, he had thought, she had seen enough to understand why he did what he did. Not forgive what he did, because he didn't think anything would and it was pretty clear that she was far too pissed at him to forgive him for it now, if she ever would, but maybe at least she would understand.
"Vel..." Vox began, hating how small his voice sounded. "You have understand-"
"Understand what?! You zapped him, Vox, nothing you're gonna say is going to make up for that!"
"But he was being annoying..." Vox hated that that was his excuse.
"He was annoying. That's your excuse. That's rich, Vox, coming from you. I know Val can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but don't act like you can't be one too. In fact, you've been a worse pain the ass in the last few weeks than you have ever been before yet you don't see me or Val trying to zap you, now do you."
"Well, no, but-"
"But what?!" Velvette snapped, clearly starting to get annoyed at Vox's excuses. He couldn't blame her, they were shit. Still, she had to see his side of the story. There were two sides to every story, after all, and she only seemed to fixate on Valentino's side. Now, thinking back on it, Vox could admit that he didn't deserve to have her, or anyone, for that matter, hear his side of the story. It didn't change the fact that Vox fucked up. But he was prideful, always was, so dangerously so, and, despite the fact that he thought his anger had melted away the second he zapped his boyfriend, it was clear that some of it still remained. Mostly at himself, yes, but it had always been easier for him to lash out at others than to admit he was angry with himself for messing up.
He should've dropped it. Should've accepted he fucked up and that nothing he could say or do would make up for it. But Vox was, is, prideful, stubborn, and in that moment, staring at Velvette, he was hellbent on trying to share his side of the story that he couldn't thinking logically. He never could when he was feeling any sort of strong emotion, which was why the situation with Alastor, that last day they had been friends, spiraled so out of control. Granted, though, the end of their friendship was the other man's fault, not Vox's. But that was besides the point. He was running on emotions, not logic, and that, in the end, was the real kicker.
"He wouldn't drop it!" Vox tried to protest. "I asked him to and he kept bothering me about me telling him what happened in the abandoned building a few weeks ago. It's none of his business and-"
"That's your excuse?!" the woman scoffed. "He wouldn't drop it?! God, Vox, you're much worse of an asshole than I originally thought, dear lord."
Vox flinched. In the moment, he had thought it was because of the anger in Velvette's voice but now, after the fact, he knew that it was actually because he knew, deep in his mind, that she was right. Of course she was right. It sounded stupid, even to him, that someone not dropping something was enough of an excuse to zap them. But, of course, he was still angry, still struggling to make sense of what happened, that in the moment all forms of logical left him.
"I know it sound's like bullshit," he began but she cut him off with a raised hand.
"Save it, Vox" she hissed. "It is bullshit. Honestly, what has gotten into you lately?"
"Nothing," he began, a lie, and Velvette snorted, rolled her eyes.
"Nothing my ass. You've been bitchier than usual, more secretive. Clearly something happened that day you got that letter to meet in that abandoned building and truthfully, if I didn't know any better, I would say that I had been right in my assumption that the letter was a trap by the Radio Demon to wipe the floor with you, again, but you all but frolicked back in here that day so clearly that didn't happen. And you also didn't defeat him either because you would be boasting about it and you aren't. I don't know what the fuck happened that day, Vox, but it gives you no right to be an asshole. It gives you no right to attack Val. Honestly, I can't even blame him for wanting to know what happened. Granted, I'm not gonna hound you for information, but still. And I know nagging can be annoying, especially when it's Val, but dear fucking lord, Vox, that doesn't mean you can zap him!"
"I know it doesn't," Vox whispered, shrinking back, wishing he could just disappear or that the ground would swallow him whole. He didn't want to be here, having this conversation, dealing with the fallout of his actions. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't going to cut it!" Valentino grumbled from the ground, still lying there but no longer twitching. "You fucking zapped me."
"I have to agree with, Val," Velvette explained, quietly adding, under her breath, "for once."
"Hey!"
She ignored him, "You zapped him, Vox. You could've killed him. You really think sorry will make that better?"
"No! No, I know... I know that what I did can't be forgiven with an apology. I know that, I do," Vox promised, taking a step towards his female business partner. She stepped to the side in response.
"Get the fuck away from me, Vox. I mean it."
He stopped moving. Watched her as she moved towards his boyfriend, standing close enough that she could look him over but not nearly close enough that she could accurately examine him. Of course, she did just that from her spot, glancing him over until she nodded, gave a hum of approval.
"Luckily for you, Vox," she spat his name like it was poison, "Val will be fine. Well, fine considering you just zapped him half to death."
"Easy for you to say," the moth grumbled. "You weren't the one who was zapped."
She ignored him again, turning the ire of her anger towards Vox once more. "You really messed up this time, Vox."
"I know! I know," the man swallowed hard. One mistake, one moment of losing control, and now he couldn't be trusted. He couldn't exactly blame the other Vees for glaring at him, for seeming almost scared of him, for looking ready to murder him themselves. He understood, yes, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. "Look, I know an apology won't cut it, I know that. But I am sorry. I fucked up, I know I did, and I know it's going to take a while, if you can ever, to forgive me, and I accept that, I do. Just... just tell me what I have to do to make up for it and I'll do it, I swear."
"You zapped me!" Valentino hissed. "Nothing is gonna make up for that."
"Now, hold on, Val," Velvette said. "There might be something."
"Yeah right," the moth snorted. "And what, may I ask, could possibly make up for Vox nearly killing me?"
Vox turned his attention to Velvette too. He had to admit he was curious. What did she have in mind, what did she think would be enough to make up for him messing up as badly as he did? He should've known, though; curiosity killed the cat, the saying goes, and oh how true it was for Vox.
The woman in question turned her attention away from the moth, stared Vox directly in the eyes, and said, "He can leave."
Valentino grinned, an evil sort of grin you would see only on the worst of the worse. He nodded, "You might be onto something."
"Of course I'm on to something," she shot back.
Meanwhile, though, as his two business partner argued, if you could even call it that, Vox had been confused. What did Velvette mean by leave?
"Wait, wait, wait," Vox interrupted. He had questions, so many questions. "Hold on. What do you mean leave?! You can't possibly mean..." No, he had told himself. She clearly meant something else. Maybe to take a walk or take the night off. She couldn't possibly mean leave for good.
"Oh, but I do," she shrugged. "I mean fuck off."
"You're kicking me out of the Vee Tower?!" Vox shrieked, aware he sounded desperate but he didn't care. He was desperate. He knew he messed up but this seemed extreme. And how extreme was she willing to be, he worried. Was this a permanent removal from the tower? And what about his place in the company, although, Vox knew asking that would probably paint him to be an even bigger asshole in Velvette's eyes than he already was. "Vel, come on, that seems extreme."
"And so does zapping Val because he wouldn't drop something yet here we are."
Okay, she had a point, but still.
Velvette seemed to realize that she was being a little extreme so she sighed, looked at him with what almost seemed to look like pity and suddenly, he missed her anger. At least he could understand her anger. Her pity seemed strange, out of place. She shouldn't be feeling bad for him. If anything, he should be feeling bad for her, for his now-former (for the time being, Velvette's voice whispered in his head) business partners. He had power now, more power than he ever had before and a future he had always wanted within reach. They were the ones who were still stuck having to get power the old way, through work and cutting corners. He should feel bad, feel pity, for them. But, no, instead, Velvette was looking at him with pity, as if he was something to be pitied. "Look, it's not forever, Vox. Just for the time being. I'll even give you a credit card to use if that's what you're worried about. I just think that it would be best for everyone if you took off for a couple of weeks, or months, I don't know. Until you cool off and Val and I can agree that we think we're ready to forgive you. Or at least, start to forgive you, because you are gonna have to do a shitload of stuff to make up for fucking up this badly."
Vox wanted to laugh. Or maybe cry. Wanted to do both, probably, at the same time, some weird combination of the two that would definitely give Velvette a reason to pity him. And did she really think that badly of him, that poorly of him, that the only reason he might be upset over the situation was because of money?
Considering how he acted in the last few weeks, how he acted in the last day especially, maybe that wasn't as far fetched as he had originally thought.
Now Vox really wished the ground would just swallow him up. He was being kicked from his own goddamn home and there was absolutely nothing he could do about, that much was obvious. Velvette and Valentino were too pissed to change their minds and he wasn't even sure he blamed them. He still thought kicking him out was too extreme but Velvette was right; what he had done was extreme too.
At least she had answered most of his underlying questions. Now he had a rough idea on how long this would be but the timeline she had given him, until she and Val were ready to start forgiven him, wasn't going to happen any time soon and who knew how many weeks, months, maybe even years (god he hoped not) that would take. He could be out of their favor for the foreseeable future.
The next few weeks, months, years maybe were going to be hell.
When he didn't say anything for a few moments, the woman repeated that one fucking line that, now, had been repeating in his head ever since he left, "It's just for the time being, Vox."
He wanted to scream at her; that didn't make it any better. But yelling at her would make it worse, make the rift between them grow from a gorge to a chasm, grow so big that it may ruin any chance for them to reconcile, if he even ever had the chance to do so in the first place. So he remained silent, quiet, even as his rage started to grow once more. He had to keep it tame this time, though, he couldn't let it widen the rift.
So he ignored the feeling, the anger, and focused all his attention onto the other feeling he couldn't shake. Something was nagging at him and it took him a second to place what it was.
Velvette had answered most of his underlying questions, he realized, except for one. What this meant about his place in the company. He hated that that was the thing he was fixating on but he was. If they were kicking him from the tower for the time being did it mean the same thing for his place in the company? Or would they suck it up to work with him because they had to keep up appearances? He was leaning more towards the latter, knowing how obsessed Velvette always was with their image. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.
He really was an asshole, he realized, if he was willing to exploit his friend's (were they even friends anymore? Was he even allowed to use that word after what he had done?) weakness for his own gain but that was Hell. Friendships only went so far. You had to be willing to turn on your friends, to use them, to stab them right in the back if you ever wanted to climb the ranks, and he was willing to do, and more, to become powerful.
"What about the company?" Vox asked.
Velvette stared at him, confused he could tell. "What about it?" she finally asked after a moment of silence.
"Am I kicked from that too?" he responded but when she opened her mouth to response, to tell him that he was also kicked from the company because something told him that was what she was going to say, he cut her off. "And before you say I'm kicked from that too... for the time being," he added, making his voice overly fake and sweet, mocking, "may I point out how horrible that would make our image? My name is the one on the company, after all. Doesn't exactly bode well if I, Vox, am kicked from VoxTech, now does it?"
"He's got a point," Valentino agreed.
"I know he's got a point," Velvette snipped. "Hold on, I'm thinking."
Vox could tell he had gotten to her. She was pissed, yes, and she was still willing to kick him from the tower without another glance but he could also see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. She wanted to kick him from the company for the time being too but, just as he had mentioned, that would ruin their image and she would never stand for that. He had backed her into a corner. He may've been kicked from the tower but at least he was still in the company.
Something seemed to click within her mind and he grinned, waiting to hear those words. The words that all but said that he was right.
Wasn't he in for a nasty surprised when Velvette said, with a grin of her own, "You're taking a sabbatical."
"What?!"
"You're taking a sabbatical," she repeated, like repeating it would make it magically become clearer to him. At the still clearly confused look on his face, she added, with annoyance, "We'll tell everyone you're taking a sabbatical. I think a month sounds good. That will give you enough time to cool down and hopefully enough time that Val and I will be willing to work with you without actively plotting your murder, but can't make any promises." She laughed, then added, as if it just occurred to her, which it probably did, "I hope you realize that the month of sabbatical is strictly for your place in the company. It has nothing to do with your residency status here. Once the month ends, you can be here only to work."
He should've known.
"So, what you're saying," he grumbled, his pride at what he thought was a victory was gone, "is I'm kicked from living in the Vee Tower for the foreseeable future but you'll allow me to be in here during the day to work. Well, after a month of... 'a sabbatical' as you put it."
"Yep," Velvette shrugged, her voice drawn out and cold. "Unless you want to argue then I think I can bump up your sabbatical from work to two months. Or three." She gave him a look, a smile, that told him she wasn't playing around. He didn't really have a choice, did he? He had to chose this option, if you could even call it that because it wasn't like he was really choosing this, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He couldn't argue with it at the risk of raising the amount of time he would have to take a (forced) sabbatical, but he could still make himself a problem.
"Fine, I'll leave the company for a month. I'm sure you two will have no problems running it without me."
"We won't," Velvette shrugged. "I think you're forgetting I'm the backbone of the Vees."
"Keep telling yourself that," Vox shrugged, "it helps feed your oversized ego." She glared at him and he ignored it, acting like it didn't bother him even though, truthfully, it sort of did. "Anyway, you two have... fun running this company. I, on other hand, will have a month to try to become even more powerful. Who knows, maybe in a month's time I'll be so powerful I don't need to be a part of this rinky dink company."
And with that, he spun on his heel and walked towards the door. He was reaching for it, so close to making a perfect dramatic entrance, when Velvette whispered something, quiet enough but loud enough it was clear he was meant to hear it.
"He'd be powerless without the other Vees."
He froze, hand on the door handle, as he slowly turned to face the female Vee. "What was that, Velvette?" He asked, using her full name because he refused to use her nickname. She didn't deserve a nickname.
"You heard me," she shot back and at the look of anger on his face, she laughed, mean. "What, are you going to zap me too?"
He wanted to, he really wanted to, but that would certainly ruin any chance to get back into their good graces so he stood tall, forced a small smile. He could be the bigger person, he would be the bigger person, and he would be able to use that against the other two later. Even on the brink of losing everything, of being destroyed by the other two because if they ended up ganging up on him, he was collecting ways to get back at them.
No one ever said their relationship was healthy. Or good.
"Nope. Luckily for you, I'm being nice and choosing to be the bigger person," Vox shrugged, like it was no big deal but they all knew it was. He was, after all, a vengeful sort of sinner, if his feud with Alastor said anything.
"For once."
He was choosing to ignore that to. He gave them both one final glance, one final glare, and left the office with his head held high, slamming the door behind him. The moment it closed behind him, though, he dropped the act. Wandered to his room as if in daze to pack, fought to ignore the way the workers stared at him, with knowing or pleased looks, as if they somehow knew what had happened in that office. They probably did, now that he thought about it, it wasn't like he and Velvette, or he and Valentino for that matter, were quiet during their arguments but he would take the knowing and pleased looks any day over the looks of pity. He didn't need pity, especially not from lowly sinners who were so low on the totem pole they had no choice but to work for the Vees. Not a horrible job, Vox thought, but not a dream job by a landslide.
Still, even in that dazed state as he pack and left the tower, even as he stumbled through Hell, looking for a hotel far away enough from the Vee Tower that the other two wouldn't complain but close enough he could still see it, Vox managed to keep himself from falling apart. Managed to keep himself from falling apart as he finally found a hotel that was in the ideal location, one that was cheap enough he didn't have to worry too much about spending the foreseeable future here but also not some hole in the wall he didn't want to be caught dead in. He requested a room on the top floor and that was where he was now, sitting on the uncomfortable bed in a horribly decorated hotel room.
And now alone, away from prying eyes, did Vox finally fall apart.
He didn't cry, oh no, he was no crier. He couldn't even remember the last time he had cried. No, instead, when Vox fell apart, he had raged.
Raged at Valentino for pushing him off the edge and raged at Velvette for kicking him out of the tower and out of the company for a month under the guise of a sabbatical. Raged at both of them for turning on him even though he couldn't really blamed them.
And raged most of all, most illogically, at the Queen of Hell herself. This was her fault, wasn't it, that he had lost everything (his friends, his home, his place in the company) in one fell swoop. She had taken his soul and then disappeared. He knew, logically, it had only been three and a half week, less than a month, but still. She had talked a big game, made him promises, they vanished off the face of Hell. It hardly seemed fair that he was playing by her seriously crazy rules while she didn't hold up her end of the bargain.
So he raged at her most of all, because she was pissing him off but also because it kept him from coming to terms with the fact that he was actually the most angry at not the Vees, not the Queen, but at himself.
He was the one to fuck up. He was the one to zap Valentino. He was the reason he was in this mess in the first place but admitting he was wrong wasn't something he did so instead he raged at everyone else, blamed everyone else.
Once he got tired of raging, once the room was a mess that he would leave for the underpaid workers of the hotel, Vox decided he needed to get out of this awful hotel room. He dug around his suitcase for his own credit card because he'd be damned if he used the one Velvette lent him and dig himself into that hole too. Time to buy himself a few rounds of beer.
Not from the hotel bar. God no, that shit was cheap and they hiked up the prices. He had a much better idea than that. He remember seeing a row of bars on the next street over earlier in the day on his search for the hotel and that stripe of bars had given him the perfect idea.
Bar-hopping.
It had been a long time, way too long, since Vox had barhopped. Velvette never liked it, always preferring to spend hours at one bar, which Vox never understand the appeal of. Why stay in one bar, normally some top the line, top dollar because that was what Velvette liked bar were even a beer could cost an arm and a leg when you could visit more than one, getting more for your dollar and without being holed up in the same place for hours on end. Valentino didn't mind it and while they had done it a handful of times, doing it with his boyfriend was always a chore, more stressful than relaxing, because they always managed to find one (or more often than not, multiple) of the moth's souls at a bar and ended up being there for longer than Vox would've liked.
The truth was, as much as he hated to admit it, the last time he had actually gone bar-hopping, the last time he had actually enjoyed it, had been with Alastor, back when they were friends. His former friend didn't enjoy it as much as he did (no one ever seemed to enjoy it as much as he did) but he did enjoy it more than Valentino and definitely more than Velvette. And he never ended up running into someone he wanted to see or didn't want to see (it was never clear with Valentino if he was happy or not to see one of his souls out at a bar, but it didn't matter because whatever the truth was, it made them stay for hours at one bar). Bar-hopping with Alastor, he had to admit, had been fun. It rarely took more than a few minutes of convincing to get the Radio Demon to agree, although, in the last few years of their friendship, it had taken a while to convivence the other to go out more often than it hadn't, because, for some insane reason that Vox still couldn't understand, his friend-turned-rival seemed to prefer to stay inside, at one of their apartments, those last few years rather than deal the general public, which Vox could understand in regards to stores or grocery shopping or other mundane everyday tasks, but not for something like spending the night getting black-out wasted. Sure, staying at home without having to worry about what other sinners thought or needing to keep a close eye on your drink could be fun every once in a while but the other man had seemed to prefer it, which was just plain unhinged. And while Alastor himself was, after all, plain unhinged, it seemed even more unhinged than his former friend's normal unhingedness.
At least that was something Vox didn't miss about the Radio Demon.
Vox shook his head, banished the old-timey prick from his mind. He wasn't going down that path again, not today. Today was already a shitshow without adding the longing factor that always came into play when he thought of his old friend. That was in the past and you couldn't be stuck in the past in Hell, not if you wanted to climb the ranks. He knew that, of course, but it didn't stop him, on nights were he had too much to drink or Valentino was annoying him more than usual or on the bad nights he couldn't sleep, from thinking back to when he and Alastor had been friends, before everything had shattered. Considering that tonight was going to be three for three with the factors of getting stuck in memory lane, Vox was in no mood to rush that.
He took a deep breath, held his head high, and, with his credit card, phone, and hotel key in the same pocket, he left the hotel room and headed for the elevator. It was just the start of the evening and Vox had the whole night ahead of him to barhop and drink himself into oblivion and he planned to do just that.
By the time Vox had made his way back to the hotel, all he wanted to do was collapse onto the uncomfortable bed. It might've been the most uncomfortable thing he ever had the misfortunate to discover, but at the moment, drunk out of his mind and exhausted from the day, it sounded like Heaven.
It took Vox a few tries to unlock the door, even though the hotel had those electrical keypads that were so much easier and better than using some stupid old lock and key, and he grew more and more frustrated the longer he struggled. It had gotten to the point where he had nearly threw the keycard on the ground and stomp like a toddler but he forced himself to calm down, to be sober enough for a moment, to actually unlock the door like a functioning adult which end up paying off with a satisfying click and a glow of green. The hallway of the hotel was quiet, dimly light, because, it was, after all, like three in the morning, and the silence, and darkness, were starting to creep a drunk Vox out. As he pushed open the door, he fumbled for the overhead lights, planning on turning every light in this awful hotel room on, and then finding the remote (and trying to figure out how it work) to turn on the TV so he didn't have to sit in silence. At least the AC was on, he realized as he was bathed in light, closing and locking the door behind him. He was thinking about locking the deadbolt (he was used to having a lot of locks on the door, the Vee Tower was heavily secured on the off chance an unhinged sinner decided to blame the Vees for their misfortunate) but he was in a hotel room that no one knew he was at, far away enough from the Vee Tower and all the dangers that lurked there, that he wasn't sure he needed the extra protection (who was going to attack him) when he finally noticed the figure on his bed. Well, not his his bed, that was back in the Vee Tower, but his hotel bed, in his hotel room, that he (Velvette) paid for.
Lying in his hotel bed was the Queen of Hell.
Notes:
So, what did y'all think of the chapter that was almost the death of me? Y'all better have enjoyed it after all it put me though, just kidding, just kidding.
Maybe.
Anygay, now that the chapter is done I can get to the part I'm sure y'all been waiting for. I'm kidding, of course, obviously the chapter itself was what y'all been waiting for but the *other* thing y'all been waiting for. Maybe. Or maybe you weren't, who am I to judge?
The part, of course, being why I blamed Vox for deleting half my chapter, minus the obvious fact that he has control over technology and can knock half of Hell out of power as we saw in Stayed Gone.
Clearly this chapter was me slandering him and making his life hell, so of course he took it out on me by deleting half my chapter after I finally cranked it out. I guess he thought I would lose my mind and like, I sort of did, but certainly not in the way he thought, heh.
Combined with the fact that it's that time of month for me (fuck being a woman) and the fact that I had a stressful semester in the spring (long story) and the fact that I am clearly dancing on the line of being completely and totally unhinged, messing with me by deleting half my chapter was a stupid fucking move but hey, Vox never was the sharpest tool in the shed, or, I guess, the brightest device in the world.
Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for me (and my mental health) I have ways of extracting revenge without actual murder. I am a writer and you mess with me, just know that you just practically agreed to me making your life shit in my writing and considering I'm writing a fanfiction in which Vox will make appearances, he really should've known this was going to happen. Clearly, he didn't, and in the wise words of Weatherboy (see, I *told* you I would give you credit) "his fate just got noticeably worse in a significantly shorter timeline". Obsessed TV Man's life was already gonna be shit in this fanfic but he just made it a shitload worse for him, uh oh. Ain't my fault he's a fool hellbent on revenge. You would've thought he would've learned by now after everything with Al but he's still out of his mind obsessed with our favorite deer demon so clearly the saying that you can't teach an old dog new tricks is very true for Vox.
Anygay, I am finding some fun in what happened. Have to because I do think I would start crying if I don't attempt to see a silver lining.
Besides the fact that I am now plotting my revenge on Vox (and revenge is very fun, hahahahahahaha), I would also like to share some irony, for lack of a better word, about the situation. This fucking bitch (Vox) deleted everything after the line "what the fuck did you do Vox" as if he himself, and the writing gods, knew he fucked up.
Bro really dug himself into a hole and thought that one ironic sentence would make up for it. He really thought he ate but he ate just as well as he did in Stayed Gone, which is just a fancy way of saying he did not eat, just made a fool of himself.
He is good at that, isn't he?
Sucks to be him, honestly. He deleted my chapter from existence, I'll delete him from existence, it's as simple as that.
On a totally different note, and has nothing to do with that chapter but rather the previous one, y'all are luckily I published the chapter when I did. I shit you not, literally the day after, we had a huge storm that knocked my power out for a couple of days (or maybe that was also Vox, I really do blame him for everything, he's such an easy scapegoat). It wasn't anything too bad and the power did come on pretty quickly all things considered (my power grid always takes the longest for some reason, even if we lose power because of a car accident or a freak accident, I don't understand it), it did mean I wasn't able to write for a few days and the day I published the chapter, I actually almost pushed off finishing it to the next day, which would've been the day I lost power, so maybe my luck from publishing the day I did ran out and that was why Vox was able to delete half my process.
I would also like to tell y'all that I'm going on vacation at the beginning of next week for a few days (early Sunday to late Wednesday) so I'll be unable to write during those days (or maybe I'll have some time to write in the hotel room depending on how I'm feeling, but probably not) so the next chapter won't be out for a while. Hopefully it will be quicker than this chapter, because I do think the next chapter will be easier to write (knock on wood) but only time will tell.
Anygay, this note is a longer than I intended and I am running out of characters so, like always, don't forget to enjoy, comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
Would you look at that, I had just enough characters remaining to write that. And this too. Maybe luck is on my side again.
Anygays, back down to hell I go. Ta-ta for now.
Chapter 10: I'm Sure Your Plan Is Sound
Summary:
Up in Heaven, Sir Pentious takes it in for the first time as Emily leads him across Heaven to a safe house with surprising ties to Hell. Down in Hell, Alastor returns from Rosie's to find Charlie struggling with a potential new resident who believes they are above the rules.
Notes:
CHILDREN DID YOU HEAR? WE HAVE A RELEASE DATE FOR SEASON TWO!
October 29th, just in time for Halloween! We're getting a Hazbin Halloween, y'all.
It's funny, you know, because I am also a Stranger Things fan and as those who are also fans of the show already know, the final season has three volumes (basically a handful of episodes from the season for those who aren't fans) which are releasing the day before Thanksgiving, Christmas day, and New Year's Eve and now with Hazbin releasing near Halloween, I'm going to have something for all the remaining major holidays!
My fandom heart will be very happy (and also crying it's eyes out, especially with Stranger Things).
Anygays, just wanted to make that announcement. I am so fucking excited for season two, can you tell?
*has a countdown on SnapChat that I check religiously just so I know how many days we have until season two drops because I have an unhealthy obsession with this show but at least I can admit I have a problem unlike some people (yes, that was shade thrown at Vox, it's not my fault he's so obsessed with Alastor).*
Moving on.
Did I have to rewrite the entire Sir Pentious part of the chapter because I didn't like how it turned out?
Yes.
Did I also have to rewrite the ending of the chapter because I also didn't like how it turned out?
Also yes.
Was this chapter supposed to be published yesterday but because I decided to rewrite the ending and because I had a migraine I couldn't write last night or publish it even though I had plenty of time?
Also also yes.
Did Vox delete half the chapter again?
No. No he did not. I'll take my wins where I can.
Did he not delete the chapter because I was so traumatized by him doing it last time that I saved the chapter after every paragraph or so? Well, yes, yes I did.
Clearly I am completely and totally sane, what are you talking about?
Also, clearly this chapter was not published before my vacation at the end of July and I didn't get a chance to write at all during it. Oh well. I did have fun if y'all wanted to know but of course I had a fucking migraine because when *don't* I have a migraine?
I should probably get that checked out.
Am I going to? Probably not. I have the self-preservation of a cat.
Hey, my self-preservation skills might be shit, but at least they're still better than Alastor's.
Anygay, as always, this authors note at the start of the chapter is a trigger warning. Nothing major, but there is a Karen in this chapter and on par for Karens she's a homophonic, misogynistic piece of shit, so warning for homophobia and misogyny. Nothing too horrible but she still is pretty homophobic and misogynistic. Little does Karen know, she's messing with the wrong hotel; they have a literal ace up their sleeve.
It's Alastor.
Get it? Because he's literally ace? I know, I crack myself up.
Anygays, enjoy the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After weeks (or was it months?) of being locked in his golden prison (that was how he was referring to that cold, beautiful, too-big room they kept him in since his arrival in Heaven), Sir Pentious was finally free.
Well, freer than he had been.
He probably would never be free again. Not until the angels in charge (what was their name anyway? he still couldn't remember) admitted they were wrong and that was as possible as that old saying of when Hell freezes over which was just a nicer, fancier way of saying absolutely never. He would never be able to live the rest of his eternity anywhere besides his golden prison— which towered over them, even now— he had just left or the safe house he was heading to.
The safe house was Emily's grand idea, her solution to their problem of him being locked away, the action to her I'm getting you out of here announcement she had made earlier in the day after he had scarfed down his food like he hadn't eaten in months, even though that wasn't true, because Emily always made sure he had three meals a day. Well, at least he thought that was what she tried to do, it was hard to tell time in his golden prison and being dead and in Heaven (or Hell for that matter) meant you didn't need to sleep every night, or nearly every night, like you had to back when you were alive, so without a clock or a window to watch the fake sun and moon, it was nearly impossible to tell when a day started and ended.
It was even harder to tell how many days he had been in that golden cage. Weeks or months, he had no idea. He was hoping it had only been weeks because the thought of losing months, even if they meant nothing in the grand scheme of living for eternity in Heaven, was too much for him to bear and made his stomach twist and turn just thinking about losing that much time simply because some people (read the fucking angels in charge) couldn't admit they were wrong about sinners being able to be redeemed.
The point was, Emily's idea to get him out of his prison had been to take him to a safe house, which was where they were heading now. A good idea, if you ignored the fact that they were going to have to sneak across Heaven to the place where Sir Pentious would hide away in peace. Well, as much peace as one could have when they knew this could all easily blow up in their faces.
Still more peace than he had in that room, so he would take his wins, no matter how small and insignificant they probably were. A small win was better than nothing. He might've learned that in Hell, which was supposed to be the exact opposite of Heaven, but as the days, weeks, maybe months, dragged by, he was beginning to realize they weren't as different as everyone made them out to be. Well, they were different, of course, vastly different, different as night and day, but they also had more similarities than anyone (especially Heaven) was willing to admit. That should probably upset him, and it did, to a degree, but it also brought a strange relief. A strange comfort. So he held on to that small win, the fact that he would have more peace than he had had in the past few weeks or months, but not nearly as much peace as he had in Hell (a strange thought, considering he never thought he had any peace in Hell but looking back, it was clear he did, clearer to see in hindsight and after the fact, as it was so often the case; after all, the grass always looked greener on the other side until you jumped the fence and realized everything you took for granted, even if, in this case, jumping the fence to the other side was ending up in Heaven and looking back at what you had left was Hell).
Sir Pentious would have more peace in the safe house, more freedoms, yes, but it didn't come without a whole new set of worries, namely, the one that was making his stomach twist and turn, the fear of what would happen if they were found out. Because, for all the problems he had in his golden cage, at least he wasn't doing anything wrong besides existing. But this, hiding away in a safe house, leaving the room they locked him in, this was doing something. He wasn't even that worried about the consequences he would face. For one, the worst they could do was lock him away again or somehow send him back to Hell, if that was even possible which, considering they hadn't already, he didn't think it was, and while neither one of those outcomes were ideal, he had been locked away before, had been in Hell before, so that would be nothing new.
For another, he was no longer the selfish asshole he was in Hell and when he was alive.
No, what was really worrying Sir Pentious, what was really concerning him, were not the consequences he would face but rather the consequences Emily would face and the consequences this Winner, whom he didn't even know their name, would face. Because they would face consequences and he knew they would be far more severe than any consequences he would face.
The snake was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But he couldn't tell that to Emily, not after seeing how excited she was when she told him the idea, they way she had thrown the cloak over him and all but dragged him from his golden prison. Not when, even if they turned back now, there was no guarantee they wouldn't be caught anyway and still have to face the consequences of their actions. At least if he got to safe house and then this all blew up, at least they would have done something, at least they would've tried. Turning back now and risk being caught, though, would mean all of this was for nothing.
So, despite the fact his stomach was twisting and turning, despite the fact that every part of him was screaming to turn back around, despite the fact that he was pretty sure he was either going to throw up or faint or burst into tears, or maybe all three or some strange combination of two, he pressed on, following Emily through the streets of Heaven, head down so no one would recognize him despite the heavy cloak that was all but drowning him in black cloth and the fact that no one outside the castle or palace (what was the difference anyway?) or whatever the building that housed his golden cage was would recognize him. A hard task, but at least he was able to somewhat distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head and his traitorous body trying to turn against him with the breathtakingly beauty that was Heaven.
He had thought his golden prison was beautiful but that was nothing, nothing, compared to the rest of Heaven.
Hell was a dark, deary place, all stone and sharp edges, bathed in fiery reds and oranges and yellows, blacks and dark grays, hellfire and suffering in every direction you looked. Buildings that teetered on the edge of despair and disrepair, or ones already there, buildings on the edge of collapse or ones that were nothing but rubble, empty, abandoned buildings that sat like that for years. The buildings all burnt and charred. Tall, looming structures that felt more like monsters waiting to pounce rather than the homes and businesses they actually were. There was always something burning, a home, a business, a sinner, always the smell of brimstone and burnt buildings, burnt plastic, burnt sinners. A thick layer of ash always covered everything; buildings and sinners, the landscape, clogged the air so thick it was always hard to breath. Windows and lights didn't really shine, coated in dust and grime and ash so thick no amount of cleaning and scrubbing ever made a difference. Your eyes aways watered, you nose always stung. The landscape of Hell wasn't any better than the buildings, all looming mountains and monstrous hills, burnt trees that looked more like demons ready to grab you, lakes and rivers of red, burning hot lava you didn't want to make the mistake of falling in. You'd regenerate, at some point, if you made the mistake of stumbling in but the agonizing death that awaited you was enough to warn most Sinners aways. Cliffs of sharply jagged rocks and slow painful deaths were as common as the pools of lava themselves. And everything, everything, always burning, always smoking. Few things could grow in Hell and those that did were nothing good. And then of course, they were the Sinners themselves, broken down souls so used to pain and suffering they barely batted an eye when something happened in front of them. Haunted, lifeless eyes. Forced, fake smiles. Expressions forever tortured by the horrors of the afterlife, the pain and suffering evident on their faces. Even the overlords carried themselves with a despair, a haunted resignation, even the ones who claimed they were fine, because the truth was, you never really were in Hell. You never won in Hell. You could feel like you did, you could win a fight or a game or a gamble, but happiness, true happiness, was fleeting in Hell. The Exterminations each year, the pain and suffering all day every day, the finances of Hell that were such a disastrous mess that most sinners had to fight tooth and nail just to sort of stay afloat made sure of that. You couldn't really be happy in Hell, or happy for that long, when any moment you could lose everything. It was why most sinners where oh-so selfish, clinging so tightly on to whatever they managed to win because who knew how long you could call it yours. It was why once you got to the top, you kept backstabbing and clawing you way higher. The higher you climbed, the more you had, but the more you had to lose.
The streets of Heaven were nothing like the streets of Hell.
Heaven was bright, all glass and smooth edges, every shade of white and light gray, blue and purple and green, gold that glowed as bright as the fake sun above them. Besides their height, mostly tall buildings towering over him but some smaller ones thrown into the mix too, these buildings were nothing like Hell's. Even the tall buildings in Heaven felt different than the ones in Hell; rather than imposing, looming structures reaching out to grab you as you scurried past, the towering buildings and homes of Heaven felt like they were eloping you in a hug, shielding you from the rest of the world (even if what you really needed to be shielded from was already in Heaven's walls). They stood tall, proud, to Hell's slumping buildings. Various shades of blue and purple and green reflected on the streets beneath him like the stained glass of a kaleidoscope. It reminded him of standing in a church in the early morning as the sun was rising or late in the day as the sun was setting, hitting the stained glass windows at just the right angle it created dazzling patterns of color on the floor, on a grander scale that took his breath away. There was no layer of ash, no layer of grime or dust or dirt to steal away the glow of the buildings. They sparkled like a field of snow the day after the storm, so bright it almost hurt to look at. The landscape was brighter, lighter, too, more alive than anything in Hell: trees so alive, with leaves so green they almost seemed fake, not burnt out husks of themselves; small, delicate hills with grass so soft and green you wanted to roll down like you were a child; forests that were alive and well, all sorts of trees and plants growing in them, a gardener's dream come true. Lakes and rivers of the bluest waters, so blue and perfectly crafted and with so many winners splashing about he knew they were cold and refreshing, everything the lakes and rivers in Hell weren't. There were no towering cliffs with jagged rocks and sharp edges, no looming mountains that towered even higher than the buildings, no dead forests or fiery pools that warned you to stay away. The air was clean and fresh, smelling like freshly cut grass and honeysuckles, like summer afternoons, like freshly baked bread and sweet pastries and grandmama's kitchen. It didn't hurt to breath, his eyes didn't water and his nose didn't sting, and he could take in breath after breath without chocking. And, of course, there was the winners. Happy angels streaming in and out of buildings, walking arm in arm or hand in hand with friends and family and significant others. There were no hauntedness, no fear, no defeated resignation. Eyes full of light, a brightness lacking in Hell. Smiles so real they were almost contagious, smiles so genuine it almost hurt. Expressions who never had to face any horrors, not up here, anyway. Relaxed expressions, happy expressions, peaceful expressions, such a drastic difference that the ones in Hell. Happiness so evident it almost felt like you could feel it in the air, like a tangible thing you could reach out and touch. There was laughter and playful whispering, conversations drifting as groups of winners passed by.
Everything seemed to glow, the buildings and the lakes, the trees with their rustling leaves and the winners that pranced around them to and fro.
For all the ways Heaven had varied so drastically from what he had always been told while he was alive, the looks were the closet thing to the truth.
They were more breathtaking than anything he had been told, yes, but at least they were in the same ballpark. At least they were the same sport.
They had been walking for a while. Sir Pentious hadn't kept track of how long, too distracted by the beauty around them, not that he had a way to keep track of how long they had been walking anyway. All he knew was that when he braved a glance behind him, the towering, glowing building that had been his prison was long gone, not even a speck on the horizon. To be fair, they had twisted and turned throughout the streets of Heaven so much, but considering how the building itself had been more white and gold than any other building (most buildings had been primarily some shade of blue or green or purple, with a small handful being primarily white, but those were fancier than most, bigger, with more gold designs he believed they were of some importance, but even those had been nothing compared to the building that housed his golden prison) considering it had sat on a hill, considering the size towering so high above him it somehow reminded him of the buildings in Hell (despite being in a condition a thousand times better than any building he had ever seen in Hell) because it made him feel so small and insignificant (then again, all the buildings in Heaven made him feel that way), he was pretty sure they had wandered quite the ways away. Emily was in front of him, focusing all her attention on staying hidden and getting them to their destination, but it was like she had sensed him thinking that because she finally spoke. "Sorry about the long walk, Pen," the angel called over her shoulder, "but we're almost there. Charlotte lives on the edge of Heaven. She's the only one I trust enough to do this. Well, the only one I trust enough that also lives far away enough it. The further we get you away, the better."
"The lower the risk of this all blowing up in our faces," he confirmed. She laughed but it was bitter and fake. Humorless.
"Exactly."
They walked in silence again after that. Emily because she went back to leading and Sir Pentious because he was worried what he might say if he kept talking.
Heaven had distracted him with her beauty for a while, yes, until he could no longer see his prison, no longer feel suffocated in it's reaching shadow, and he still thought it was just as breathtaking, just as beautiful as when he first stepped through the doors of the building that held his prison trailing Emily, he thought he would never get used to the beauty, but his racing thoughts had started to creep back into his mind and it certainly didn't help that Emily had shared the same worries as he did. She hadn't spoken them out loud, not really, but she had agreed when he had and that somehow made it even worse.
This could all blow up in their faces. This could all go south. The angels could find out Emily snuck him to a safe house, they could find the safe house he was hiding in if they tried hard enough, even if it was on the edge of Heaven as Emily had reveled to him. Emily would be punished, this winner who was helping would be punished, he would be punished, and there was nothing they would be able to do to stop it. Not unless he and Emily turned back now and that thought, that one way out, was beginning to sound so perfect that he barely managed to keep himself from suggesting it. He managed, by distracting himself once again, this time going over the little information he had been given about the winner helping him. It was important he knew some things about the winner; hardly seemed fair she was risking everything and he didn't even know a single thing about it, even more unfair since she would've been told some things by Emily, like his name and why he needed a safe house in fucking Heaven anyway.
The winner was a woman. Someone Emily knew well enough, trusted well enough, which he had already assumed but it was good to have the confirmation. It was always good to have the confirmation because wrong assumptions could be deadly. He had learned that the hard way in Hell and while he didn't think they would get you killed up here, it was better safe then sorry, especially since Heaven was turning out to be like nothing he had always been told. She lived far away enough from the center of Heaven (at least he assumed it was the center, something told him Heaven was probably circle shaped, like an angel's halo, probably because that was what it looked like when he had stood in front of the pearly gates the day he had been redeemed), another thing he had assumed, or at the very least suspected, but glad to get confirmation on. And the most important bit of information he had received on the winner who was risking everything to help someone she didn't know, the information he needed the most so he didn't make a complete fool of himself when he met her (because he certainly was going to make a fool of himself), the information to somewhat level the playing field even though nothing would really level it considering all that this winner was risking for him, was her name.
Charlotte.
A common first name, but he couldn't help but note the fact that it was also the Princess of Hell's name. Not that anyone ever called her that, not anyone who knew her, anyway, well, no one who knew her besides the Radio Demon, but he didn't count. The point was, he found it strange. Plausible, because Charlotte was a common enough name, but strange nonetheless. Comforting though, too, because it was almost like the princess was up here with him. Granted, Emily already made him feel that way, the two had so much in common it sometimes hurt, but he wasn't going to be seeing Emily anymore once she left him at the safe house, a fact that sadden him more than he would care to admit.
The information Emily had given him was better than nothing, but it was small and mostly insignificant for the most part (besides the name), so it didn't take long to go over it and once again, with his mind no longer distracted, the thoughts began to claw their way back in.
Sir Pentious was beginning to spiral.
He need a distraction, anything, to keep himself from falling off the cliff into the abyss below. He would never pull himself out if he fell in.
The snake glanced at the buildings around him. Smaller than the ones he had been seeing, he noticed, but still just as specular. It was a stupid thing, but he focused on that; the buildings and homes were getting smaller and more subdued, but still more breathtaking that anything he was used to, still so tall they towered above him, still top of the line. The further away you got from the capital, the less wealthy it seemed to get, even though these homes, these yards, these forests and lakes beyond were more wealthy than anything Hell, more wealthy than most homes back in London (except for the ultra wealthy, of course, which had never been him) when he had been alive. The irony wasn't lost on him; even the less wealthy, the less well off in Heaven, were more wealthy, more well off, than most sinners could even dream of.
Oddly enough, it angered him. Most sinners struggled to make ends meet, even those with more power and influence than most, most clawed and fought for leftovers that weren't even really worth it but it put food on the table and a roof over you head so you fought for it anyway. He didn't wish the struggles in Hell on anyone up here but it hardly seemed fair.
They turned down a street, one so far from the center of Heaven that he could see the golden gates that circled it between the homes to his left. The homes here were the smallest he had seen in Heaven, still massive to anything he was used to, less flashy, but just as breathtaking.
Emily stopped in front of a house on the right so suddenly that Sir Pentious nearly crashed into her, barely managing to stop himself only centimeters from her back.
"Sorry, Pen," she said. "Almost forgot what house was hers, it's been a while since I visited her and she used to live closer to the Palace so not as used to this home as the one she used to have."
Now he knew what the building he had been stuck in was.
Sir Pentious followed the angel up the walkway, taking in the house that was going to be his safe house for the rest of eternity. It was a beautiful structure, one shade lighter than violet, two stories with a wrap-around porch and a garden of brightly colored flowers below. The porch was up a set of three or four stairs, full of wicker furniture, with cushions in pale shades of purple, green, and blue, and a porch swing that rocked gently in the wind. There was a bay window on either side of the front door.
Up the stairs they went and Sir Pentious held back just a tad while Emily lifted her hand and knocked.
"Charlotte!" she called out, her voice louder than she had used the couple times she had spoken on their journey but nowhere near yelling, probably still cautious even if they were as far as from the Palace as they could get in Heaven. "We're here!"
"Coming!" a gentle voice responded from within and a moment later, the door opened to revel a doe winner, smiling a soft smile that made his fears melt away like ice cream in Hell. She stood at least a head taller than Sir Pentious, long hair a bluish-purple a shade shy of black that reached her waist. She had those wide, bright eyes you associated with deer, soft features and a kind face, the type you would seek out if you were in trouble and needed help. She was slender, skinny but not in the way most sinners in Hell were from starvation. She seemed older, at least in Heaven and Hell standards, compared to Emily even though she probably was younger than the other woman.
She also looked vaguely familiar.
He startled at that because there was no reason for her to look familiar. This was the first time they were meeting so why did it feel like they met before? Why did it feel like he knew her from somewhere else?
"Emily, dear, when was it that last I saw you?" Charlotte drawled, her accent only making the familiarity feeling grow. "Not that it matters because this must be... now, don't tell me, I know it, it's just is slipping my mind at the moment, I swear I am normally much more organized than this, dear..." She trailed off, deep in thought. "Aha, Sir Pentious, right? Did I pronounce it correctly."
"Yes, ma'am," he whispered suddenly feeling shy.
"None of the that," the woman shook her head. "Charlotte is just fine, dear.
"Okay..." he breathed, "Charlotte."
"Wonderful!" she beamed. "I would ask if you are adjusting well to Heaven, dear, but I doubt you can when they keep you locked away like some animal because they can't admit they were wrong."
"Tell me about it," Emily agreed.
The two kept talking but Sir Pentious could barely hear what they were saying. He knew Charlotte somehow, he knew he did, but he couldn't figure out how. It wasn't from Hell and it wasn't from Heaven because he had been locked away until an hour or so ago. Maybe back from when he was alive? It was a long shot, sinners and winners rarely looked their human forms, but it was the best explanation he had.
"I have a weird question," he found himself saying and the two turned to look at him. "For Charlotte."
"Yes?" the woman asked, clearly confused. "Is everything okay dear? Do you need something to drink?"
"No, no, I'm fine," he said, even though, if he he was being honest, he was thirsty, but he could wait a little longer. "This is going to sound crazy, but do I know you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's just, you look familiar and I can't figure out how I know you and the only logical explanation I can think of is we somehow knew each other back when we were alive. Where are you from? If you don't mind me asking."
"You don't look familiar to me, dear," the woman frowned, her voice gentle, tilting her head to the side, yet another strangely familiar gesture. "The chances of us knowing each other when were alive are slim but never zero. New Orleans, to answer your question, late 1800s, early 1900s. And France too, but I left when I was young so probably not from there."
Sir Pentious frowned, "England, mid 1800s."
"Darn," Charlotte frowned. "Maybe I remind you of someone?"
"That's probably it," he agreed but what she had told him, where she was from, only confused him further.
New Orleans, New Orleans, New Orleans.
Why was that ringing a bell?
The familiarity was so strong it almost hurt. He was almost there, he just had to put the pieces together.
"Anyway," Charlotte turned back to Emily, "you should stay awhile, dear. At least for dinner. I'm making jambalaya."
"I wish I could," Emily said, soundly truly regretful, "you know how much I love your jambalaya. Charlotte makes the best jambalaya," she explained to Sir Pentious before addressing Charlotte again. "But I really should be getting back or they'll start to get suspicion."
"Oh. My. G-" Sir Pentious just managed to stop himself from saying God, because that had to be frowned upon in Heaven. Still, the shock in his voice was evident enough because the two woman turned to face him.
"Pen? What's wrong?" Emily asked, all concern. He could only shake his head because he couldn't believe it, it wasn't possible.
He finally figured out why Charlotte felt so familiar but it couldn't be possible, it couldn't, the chances had to be less than one but that didn't mean zero.
He should've known. It was all right there in front of him; she was a deer, had called him and Emily dears nearly every sentence, she had been smiling this entire conversation, she was tall and the accent was right and she was from New Orleans circa the early 1900s, him in all but personality, but it was that jambalaya comment that everything finally clicked together.
But.
It was possible he was jumping to conclusions, right? Because there was no way, no way in the fiery pits of Hell, this was who he thought it was. Two questions, technically one with a follow up questions, and this would determine if he was right.
"Do you have a son?"
"What?" Emily asked, visibly confused. "No, Charlotte lives alone."
"I mean, did you, back when you were alive?"
The woman in the doorway stared, eyes wide and confused, "Well, yes, but how did you-"
"What was his name?" Sir Pentious hated to interrupt but he had to know. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be-
"I don't... I don't understand-" Emily whispered but the snake and the doe ignored him.
"What was his name?!" Sir Pentious all but screamed. He didn't even know if this was going to help, he could've changed his name once he was in Hell, most sinners did, but something in the back of his mind told him this particular sinner hadn't. Faint recognition flashed in Charlotte's eyes, as if she was starting to put the pieces together herself.
"Alastor," she whispered, her eyes telling the snake she was still putting everything together but he was far ahead of her. She had given him the last piece.
That was the confirmation he needed.
The sinner-turned-winner stumbled back, nearly falling off the porch. He was right, he was right, he was right.
He took a deep breath. What he was about to say shouldn't be possible but it was. What where the odds anyway?
"Charlotte," he began, softly, so unlike himself, "I know your son."
For the first time since Lilith's return, Alastor didn't spend the night in the hotel.
It had been Rosie's idea; he hadn't planned to spend the night. But after everything came tumbling out (his confusion on everything that he had been feeling and thinking these past few months since Lilith reappeared), he had been exhausted. Oh-so exhausted. Not physically, no, not like he needed sleep (he probably did need sleep, it had been such a long time since he actually slept, sometime before he made the deal with Lilith ten years ago at the very least, but he was stubborn and he didn't really need sleep in Hell so why waste time on sleeping anyway?), but emotionally, mentally. It wasn't easy talking about your feelings, especially since he never did.
Rosie had taken one look at him after their talk, as he thanked her and got up to leave, and frowned.
"You sure you don't want to spend the night?" She had phrased it, asked it, like it was a suggestion but he knew it was really a demand. A demand coming from a place of love, yes, but a demand nonetheless. She had given him a pointed look when she said it too, so any doubts it was just a suggestion were merely a lie he was telling himself.
"I really should be getting back to the hotel, " he had protested, and a weak attempt at that. The hotel would be just fine without him; they were just fine without him the day after the failed Extermination when he had been off tending to his wounds.
"They can survive without you for a night."
"But Lilith..." he had began. There it was, the real reason he really couldn't spend the night even though he wanted to. It would be a night free of dealing with Lilith again after the night he already had, and her prying eyes and painful touch and death grip on the leash. But she would not be happy if he tried to spend the night away from the hotel. And she was already pissed at him, more than usual, which was why he was here in the first place and he really didn't want to piss her off anymore.
"Fuck Lilith," Rosie snapped but he knew the anger wasn't directed towards him. "You're staying."
"Rosie," he began, protesting still because, for one, he was stubborn. Dangerously so. Never mind he wouldn't mind spending the night at Rosie's, away from Lilith, he had already protested against it. Here he was, stubbornly refusing rather than just admitting he wanted to stay. That was being clingy, needy, even if it was with Rosie who didn't give a fuck (and never had all the times he had broken in front of her, all the too many times he had) if he appeared needy or clingy or, God forbid, weak (because he was weak, wasn't he? The strong persona he always put on was just that) and being stubborn was better than being clingy and needy and weak. Well, easier, anyway.
Stubbornness doesn't get you hurt. Not from other people, anyway.
For another, it was easy for her to say, for her to shrug off the threat of Lilith. She never had to deal with the first woman's anger, she never had to deal with the consequences of making a choice that Lilith didn't like. She didn't lose seven years in the Void because she told Husker about the deal (even though the slip-up, if you could even call it that because some part of the deer was positive he had told the cat demon on purpose, even though he would never admit that to anyone but himself, on the worst nights, even though it wasn't the only reason she threw him into the Void, just one). She didn't have to be on the receiving end of Lilith's torture. Rosie knew more than anyone, cursed Lilith's name more than he himself did, felt his pain more than anyone else, but even she had no idea just how awful Lilith was. Which was his fault, he guessed, because he kept things from her. The worst of it; the seven years in the Void, the things Lilith had told him that pushed him closer to the edge, the times she had nearly killed him with the tightening of the leash or attacking shadows. Rosie already did more than enough for him; if she found out just how much trouble he was in, she would just put herself in danger to fight a battle that wasn't hers.
She had no idea how it felt to be absolutely terrified of the woman who owned your soul. Because that was the truth, if he was being completely and wholly honest with himself and he never was.
He was scared of Lilith. Absolutely petrifyingly terrified. He had every right to be; he knew what she did to her souls when she was done with them, when they pissed her off one too many times.
It was why she had so many shadows following her like ghosts. Because that was exactly what they were. Ghosts of the souls who were unlucky enough, foolish enough to make a deal with Lilith in the first place. Just like him. He had never confirmed that the shadows were actually indeed the ghosts of the murdered, broken souls of Lilith's, but he had always assumed and for good reason: the way he felt them staring at him, pity and sadness, warning and fear; the way they hovered strangely near her, as if they didn't want to be there, as if they were there against their will; the way they had filled his mind with warnings to run, run as fast as he could, that first day he and Lilith met. Well, the first day they met to his knowledge, the first day he met her.
She, apparently, had met him long before that and he didn't even know it happened.
"Yes?" the cannibal asked sweetly, blinking at him and all but clasping her hands together in front of her like a choir girl, the pinnacle of innocent. He had almost forgotten he had said her name in warning. He was forgetting a lot lately. Probably from all the stress of the last few months.
And the seven years in the Void. That definitely had something to do with his forgetfulness lately. Those lost years were still fucking him over, even almost a year after he had returned, and probably would continue fucking him over until Lilith ended his life, which, was more of a possibility than ever before.
The truth was, he feared that once the hotel was destroyed, she would finally get rid of him for good.
Maybe that was why he was dragging his feet; he knew once this was over, so was he.
He could tell himself that was why he was dragging his feet but he wasn't sure if that was the truth or just an excuse he was telling himself.
"Lilith will be-" he had began but suddenly, he didn't really give a damn. Lilith's anger was for future Alastor to deal with; he wanted a night of peace. He was probably going to regret this but when was the last time he hadn't done something that he regretted? Long enough he didn't even remember what that felt like. "Fine, you win."
The woman across from him grinned, "That's what I thought. You deserve the rest of the night off."
She had a point. Lilith had been worse tonight than usual, much worse, and who knows if he would have to deal with a part two if he returned to the hotel for the night. That had never happened before but she also hadn't been this angry since the day she sent him the Void and that was a first too.
"And besides," Rosie continued, "It's been too long since you last spent a night, when was it anyway?"
He had froze again because he knew exactly when it was; the two nights after the fallout with Vox. He had spent those two days locked in her guest room, fitfully pacing the room, yanking at his hair, teetering between rage towards Vox so hot it burned to sadness so thick it felt like he was suffocating, because he had no idea on how to deal and cope with the feelings of fifty fucking years of friendship washed down the drain in less than an hour. He had left early afternoon that second day, unable to pace around Rosie's rooms once more, unable to feel her gaze on him for another moment, foolishly thought he'd be fine.
Clearly, he wasn't fine that day he left because one idiotic choice had led to another and before he even knew what was happening, he found himself in a situation that turned out to be the start of this mess.
Rosie, for her credit, seemed to remember exactly when the last time he had stayed over last because she dropped the subject without another word.
Lying in her guest bed the following morning, the fake sun just barely up over the horizon, Alastor had stared at the ceiling. He could hear movement in the kitchen, the walls of Rosie's apartment paper thin, like all the walls in Hell (well, almost all the walls in Hell, the hotel was one of the few buildings that had thicker walls, the new one at least, and that was only because Lucifer had rebuilt it), knew she was up and already making breakfast. He had cursed himself; he knew he should've gotten up earlier. He had planned to get up before her, make breakfast for her, as a thank you and as an attempt at a repayment. Knew she got up early and knew he had to get up even earlier. But he had been a fool, relishing in not having to deal with the chaos of the hotel in the morning (somehow worse than the rest of the day, if you would believe it, which he barely believed himself and he saw it firsthand), relishing in actually having a somewhat peaceful night after dealing with Lilith's rage the night before, that he hadn't gotten up when he should and now it was too late.
Too late to make up for the night before.
His debt to Rosie just kept growing.
Alastor knew he shouldn't think about his friendship with the cannibal that way; friends were supposed to help each other out for nothing in return. But this was Hell and every favor needed one in return or you'd rank up a debt so high you could never pay it off, not until the Sinner used it against you. He learned that the hard way.
Rosie wouldn't do that, yes, but that didn't matter. He had to pay off this debt.
He had been telling himself that for nearly a century and the mountain just kept on growing.
By the time the deer demon had finally managed to pull himself out of the bed, unable to do so any earlier as if he had been asleep and just woke up even though, in reality, it was the guilt and regret starting to settle in, the sun was well above the horizon, and as he made his way towards the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the corner of the room.
He would've thought he would look more relaxed than he had in the last few months from a night away from the hotel and Lilith, but his eyes were still as haunted and bloodshot and he forced his smile to widen even more.
He was fine, he was fine, he was fine.
He found Rosie in the kitchen, standing over the stove, humming some vaguely familiar melody he couldn't quite place. The annoying picture box was on in the the far corner of the room, barely audible over whatever she was cooking sizzling on the stove and her humming, but a quick (admittedly begrudgingly) glance towards it told him it was the morning news and that annoying host of a woman, Cathy or something Killjoy was yapping about the weather, as if they were ever going to get a change from hot, hot, oh-so fucking hot.
Well, that wasn't exactly true, now was it, because there were some changes in the weather every once in a while; firestorms and even hotter temperatures than usual. Summer in Hell wasn't for the faint of heart.
"Careful when you leave, dear," Rosie said despite the fact that she hadn't even glanced at him nor had he said a word. "It's a hot one out that."
"It's Hell," he had pointed out, "it always hot."
"Hotter than usual," she corrected herself. "Start of a heatwave."
"Great, that's the last thing I need," Alastor sighed as he made his way over to her coffee machine, one of the few more modern inventions he wouldn't only accept, but was grateful for. "When it rains it pours."
The machine whirled to life as she turned and gave him a thin smile, forced a laugh. His own smile widen in response, bigger, but just as fake as hers.
He was alone in her apartment, now; she had barely given him a plate of food before she had rushed downstairs, needing to open for her first few hungry, impatient customers, telling him to take all the time he needed. He knew she had meant hours, maybe even the whole day, but in reality, he stayed just long enough to eat, to clean up (because that was the right thing to do and because it was better than nothing, even if it wasn't even a rock from the mountain of debt he owed her), and to write a quick thank you, left on her counter where she would surely see it when she returned because even though he knew he didn't have to, it made him feel somewhat better and besides, his mother always did tell him to be thankful when someone went out of their way to help you.
Rosie was always going out of her way to help. A crappy thank you wasn't going to come close to make up for it but it was a start.
He locked her door behind him because this was Hell after all, and you could never be too careful and he would never forgive himself if Rosie ended up in danger because of him, and headed back to the hotel.
She wasn't kidding; the heat was almost unbearable, and the humidity not helping in the slightest, clinging to his skin like a wet blanket. It felt like walking through a wet blanket too, every step, every breath, painful, thick, heavy, and he was a sweating mess within seconds of stepping outside. The streets were deader (heh) than usual for the morning, most sinners having enough of a brain to stay inside. Those who were out, whether they were stupid or had to get somewhere like him, were mover slower than usual, searching for any relief they could find, which was none. There was no relief from the heat when it got this bad; standing in the shade did nothing and there was no lakes or rivers of water to try to cool off in. They were more irritable than usual too: more than once he had watch a sinner nearly bit off the head of another for merely accidently bumping into them or getting too close for one's comfort when, usually, eyerolls and grumbles were the standard for most; glares were stronger, more potent then usual; the arguing of shop owners and customers drifted though open windows, angrier and meaner and louder than usual. One argument in particular seemed to be going south pretty quickly and he scurried past before he could accidently get caught in the middle of an angry customer and scheming owner.
Then, of course, there was the bodies. More than usual, because everyone's emotions were running high and the heat never helped when you were angry and there always were more murders during heatwaves. He had to keep an eye on the ground, careful not to stumble over a dead body, even though the stench was enough to keep him away. Normally the smell didn't bother him, normally he even liked it, but the heat made it reek worse than usual and even the serial killer found himself feeling slightly sick.
By the time he made it back to the hotel, he was exhausted. His clothes were clinging to him just like they had the night before, but worse, because they clung to him everywhere and felt soaking wet, as if he had stood under the spray of a shower fully clothed. He felt light headed, dehydrated, despite the moisture in the air, and knew he needed something to drink or his migraines would return full force, which, considering he hadn't had one in a while, wouldn't be pleasant. He felt snappier than usual, like even the smallest thing would set him off, wanted nothing more than to step inside the blessed AC of the hotel— another modern invention he actually found himself grateful for— and watch whatever shitshow was going to go down today. Also chug as much water as he could possibly force himself to take. Had to stop the headache at the source.
He had slipped in through the back door, not really wanting to risk running into anyone, especially not her when he was this sweaty and dehydrated, found himself in the kitchen with a glass of water that wasn't nearly cool enough, when voices floated from the lobby to him. One he recognized, soft and so quiet he could barely hear it, was Charlie's; the other, angry and loud, was new.
The Radio Demon grumbled to himself, downed the glass in one tip of it, and headed towards the lobby.
He really should be with Charlie if they were getting a new resident.
The woman in question stood by the front desk, clearly disheveled, her voice strange and high-pitched. She was smiling but it was weird. Fake, clearly, but almost scared, the type he was used to seeing on some poor woman who attracted the attention of a man she didn't want to talk to and wouldn't take the fucking hint to leave. Even from the doorway, even though she was almost obscured from view, he could see her hand tapping lightning quick, clearly nervous, and he couldn't even blame her because the sinner on the other side of the desk was all but screaming at her, the words not making any sense to him because he just came into this blind.
"Charlie, dear," he smiled as he swooped in next to her and he could see her visibly relax. Her eyes were still scared, she was still breathing heavily, her hand was still tapping away, but at least she didn't look like she was about to cry. "What seems to be the issue?"
"Finally!" the sinner, a woman with short hair and a mean face, cried, "Someone who might actually be able to help me!"
Which was a strange thing to say because for all of Charlie's flaws, she was always willing to help. She was normally extremely helpful. And this whole thing was her idea anyway, so there should be no logical reason Charlie couldn't help. The girl flinched at that sentence and it was clear that this sinner was bullshitting.
He was starting to really hate this sinner and he had only been here a couple minutes.
"Not sure what you mean by that," he began, giving Charlie a confused glance. "Charlotte here is normally pretty great at helping and this is-"
"But she's a woman," the female sinner interrupted, glaring in Charlie's direction, and the girl in question shrank back, "and everyone knows women are absolutely helpless in the business field."
Alastor gripped the desk, strangling the life out of it; this sinner dared to interrupt him and she was also one of those women, who were somehow more sexist then most men, who believed herself to be better than any other women. He had dealt with his fair share in Hell, they had always made Niffty cry on the rare occasion they went out and ran into one, and it always took everything in him not to kill these women and considering he rarely ever murdered women, it was saying something. They deserved it, though and this one was no expectation, and the only reason he didn't lunge across the desk to strangle this woman was because Charlie quietly whispered, "Al...", gently, almost begging, and he couldn't bring himself to do so.
"Well," he forced out, his voice shaking with the anger he was barely able to control and was only controlling for Charlie's sake, knowing she would want him to shut his mouth and try to deescalate this situation so they could get a new resident even if how this woman was acting told him that she didn't deserve to be one, that is he was, the hotel would go to shit, "if you are going to be an asshole, then I'm going to ask you to leave. We have a very strict no tolerance policy-"
"Zero-tolerance policy," Charlie gently correct, her voice slightly closer to her normal tone, slightly less shaky, but no where near her normal voice.
"Right," he nodded, because the whole thing was new to him and he was still getting used to it. "We have a very strict zero-tolerance policy which includes misogyny. That is your first strike and you are toeing a very dangerous line here, my dear, so I would be careful of what you say next. Let's start from the top; Why are you here?"
"I want to be redeemed," the winner replied, clearly annoyed. "Obviously. That's what you do here, is it not?"
"It is," he agreed. "Don't explain why you are yelling at Charlie here, though."
"Because!" she whined, glaring even hard at Charlie. "She's making it difficult!"
"I just told you you have to fill out a form and give us some information," the princess protested. "It's standard procedure and-"
"Why should I give you any of my information?!" the bitch of a woman snapped back and Charlie took a step back.
"Because we need your information to decide whether we should take you in or not," Alastor replied, not understanding why it was such a big deal. It wasn't like they asked for anything personal. For God's sake, they didn't even ask for a background check because this was Hell and everyone had a fucked up background. They could look into it if they had to, he knew that the Morningstars had information on every Sinner that ended up in Hell, but they would never asked for it without clause.
"Whether you will take me?!" she snipped. "I thought you were supposed to take everyone who wants to be redeemed. What kind of business plan are you running here anyway?"
A breath let out. This woman was really, really pissing him off. God; if it weren't for Charlie this woman would be being regenerated.
"You're right, I worded that wrong," the hotelier began slowly, tightening his grip on the desk. "But we still need you to fill out a form. Nothing personal, just some basic questions and-"
"I don't need to fill out a form! Do you have any idea who I am?"
"You are talking to the Princess of Hell," Alastor shot back. "The only people more important than her are her parents and you aren't them so, clearly, you aren't as important as you think you are."
"Fuck you," she snapped.
"Hey," Charlie, ever the mediator, tried. "Let's all calm down and I'll get the forms for you to fill out. No need to be mean."
"I wasn't talking to you, bitch," the sinner snapped back and Charlie flinched but turned around anyway, searching for the forms. Alastor's rage only grew; he didn't know why it pissed him off so much that this woman was being a piece of shit to Charlie, but it did.
"Strike two," he warned. "One more and we'll have no choice to kick you out. If you want to stay here you have to fill out the forms, that's final."
"Then I want to speak to your manager!"
He had heard that sentence before, in restaurants and stores, had always thought it was an odd request and hated the way they said it to some poor, probably overworked and underpaid, worker. As if they were entitled enough to speak to a manager over their shitty little problems. He was feeling that now, but the feeling was stronger than ever. Unfortunately for this Sinner, but fortunate for him, she had been talking to the managers this entire time. Charlie was still looking for the forms and he didn't want to bother her even though he knew she would approve of this. She liked her theatrics almost as much as he did.
"Sure. Let me go get him," he told her, with a fake sweet smile and his voice so sugary sweet Charlie stopped what she was doing and looked at him, head tilted to the side. He just grinned at her and turned on his heel as if he was going to leave, didn't move an inch, then spun back around the other way. "Hi there, I'm Alastor. What seems to be the problem?"
The look on the woman's face was priceless. Also pissed. "I want to speak to the owner, then."
It took everything in Alastor to not start laughing; this was just getting better and better!
"Charlie, dear," he said, turning to her with a smile, "she wants to speak to you." Charlie smiled back, relaxing even more, clearly enjoying this almost as much as he was.
"What seems to be the problem, ma'am?" Charlie replied, giving the other woman a fake smile, as though she hadn't just been arguing with her just a few moments before. She was playing along too.
"Seriously?!" the woman on the other side growled. "He's the manager and you're the owner?"
"Technically, we're co-owners, but pretty much," Charlie shrugged.
"Fine!" the Sinner grumbled, realizing that Charlie was being truthful. "I'll sign the stupid papers."
Well, that was easy.
Charlie finally found them and pushed one across the desk to the woman.
"Why is it so thick?" the woman grumbled. "I thought you said it was just some basic questions."
"The first page is the form," Alastor slowly said, starting to get exhausted with this sinners antics. "The rest are the rules."
She grumbled but said nothing else, silently filling the form out with the pen Charlie had also gotten her and he foolishly thought that the worst was over when the woman let out a noise of annoyance. "I'm sorry, but what the fuck are these rules?!"
"They're really basic rules," Alastor gripped the desk again. "Don't really see the problem."
"Don't see the problem?!" the woman all but wailed. "This is the problem! This rule, right here." She spun the paper around and pointed to one about halfway down. Charlie and Alastor leaned forward, reading it, and glanced each other.
The rule that was upsetting this woman was the rule against being prejudiced.
"If you can't not be prejudices then I don't think you're a good fit here," the deer began but the woman cut him off once more. God was she pissing him off. Cutting him off, being a piece of shit to Charlie, telling them that she was such a prejudiced piece of shit that a rule telling her not to be was throwing her into a tizzy.
"It's this part, right here!" she pointed within the rule itself, the part where it said what wouldn't be tolerated, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Charlie shrink back even more. Valid, because the part the woman was pointing to was the part of not being prejudiced towards sinners of different sexuality orientations.
"It's time for you to leave."
Alastor startled at the anger in his co-host's voice but he couldn't say he was surprised. Charlie could be too forgiving for her own good but even she had her limits. A glance in her direction told him what he already knew; Charlie was pissed, all almost red eyes and flickering demon traits, any signs of her being scared or about to cry long gone. She hadn't been pushed over the edge yet but she was teetering towards it.
The sinner glanced between the two, debated, then decided glaring at Alastor was probably her best bet, which it normally wasn't, but with Charlie seconds away from snapping, it probably was, even though glaring at either of them at the moment certainly wasn't a good idea at all, not with Charlie's anger, not with Alastor's anger, quite and hiding compared to Charlies. "I know when I'm not wanted," she said, as if there was any doubt in Charlie's words, in the way she was about to go full demon mode, in the glare Alastor was giving back. Anyone with half a brain would know they weren't wanted here but clearly the sinner didn't have that. That was obvious from how she was treating the goddamn Princess of Hell herself, from the fact she was still snapping at them despite Charlie's anger, from her entitled belief she didn't have to fill out the interest forms like any other potential resident.
Then, because clearly this woman was nothing but an overgrown toddler, she threw both the packet of papers and the pen off the desk and onto the floor, stormed out, slamming the door so hard that the curtain rod at the window next to the door fell off the wall and into a heap on the floor.
The slamming door seemed to snap Charlie out of her anger and she shook her head as if to clear it, her eyes returning to normal, her flickering demon form gone, breathing heavily, looked around the room, frowned at the mess the Sinner had made. She glanced at him, forced a small, weak, obviously fake smile that was clearly meant for his sake, then, after a moment to catch her breath, said, in a tired and slightly defeated voice, "Well, there was our first Karen."
"So she told you her name?" Alastor asked. It must've happened before he had stepped in, before he had even arrived, because he didn't remember her giving them a name. He found it weird that she did, considering how against filling out the form she was but maybe she had before she went off the rails at Charlie.
Alastor should've killed her the moment she had made that misogynistic comment towards Charlie. Or at least kicked her out without giving her three chances. See, this was why he never gave out second chances; if you fucked up the first time, chances were you weren't going to change the second time around.
"What?" Charlie startled, frowning. "No, I don't know her name."
"But you called her Karen?"
"Oh, right." Charlie gave a small laugh; she sometimes forgot that Alastor was from the 1920s and '30s, that for all his beliefs that were ahead of his time, he pretty much stayed stuck in that time period. She was sure they had entitled customers back during his time, sure they had Karens even then, but they certainly weren't called that then and since he wasn't on any form of social media, he wouldn't know that the term meant more than just a name. "Not the name. A Karen. It's a term used on social media a lot to describe sinners like that. You know, the entitled, demanding to speak to the manager type."
"Didn't know there was a term for those people." You learn something new everyday. He had heard the name thrown around in the last few years but he had always just thought it was just the name of whoever the sinners were complaining about.
"You would know if you were on social media," she teased.
"Never going to happen."
Charlie just shook her head then moved around the desk as she went to pick up the packet of paper and the pen on the floor, "Can you fix the curtain rod?"
"Anything for you, dear," he muttered, sarcastically, and a moment later the curtain and the rod were back up on he wall, the curtain back in place, all before Charlie was even finish putting away the papers and pen. "You'd be absolutely helpless without me."
"I know." She looked like she was about to say something else when Vaggie suddenly raced up to her.
"Charlie, love, are you okay? I heard yelling a couple minutes ago and I came as quickly as I could," the fallen angel explained, glancing between the two. "What happened? Did he say something to you?"
"Wow, you have no faith in me, do you Vagatha?" Alastor teased. The woman in question glared daggers at him. He glared right back.
"I mean, I don't, but that's not why I'm blaming you. You two are the only ones in here so clearly you must've said something to Charlie. What was it? What do I need to kill you for?"
"Good deduction skills, Vagatha, but you came to the wrong conclusion. Per usual." The glaring from the gray haired woman was stronger now, not that he cared. "I was not the one who was yelling at Charlie. If you must know there was an absolute bitch of a woman a couple minutes ago demanding we take her in without her filling out the needed forms. Real piece of work, all entitled and mean. You would've known that if you were here but, you know, you weren't."
Vaggie glared at the deer demon but before she could even open her mouth, as if it finally hit her what had just happened or as if the adrenaline finally wore off, Charlie burst into tears. Any anger or wanting to fight was gone in Vaggie's face within seconds and she was immediately consoling the girl, holding her close, stroking her hair, talking quietly with soothing words, "It's okay, love. She's gone. She's not coming back any time soon."
"But she was so mean!" Charlie wailed. This was above Alastor's payroll (not that he was being paid); he never was good at comforting. Couldn't even comfort himself most of the time. Truthfully the only time he was ever good at comforting was with Niffty when she was having one of her OCD attacks and he was only good at that because he had had enough experience in the past.
Vaggie responded but Alastor was already out of the room when she did so he couldn't make out what she said, a slight throbbing in his head warning him of an impending migraine if he didn't try to stop it at it's source.
Ten minutes later, in the kitchen and on his third glass of water (he was desperate, chugged the previous two quickly, probably too quickly), the throbbing in his head had lessened. It wasn't gone completely, but at least it wasn't as bad as it had been, and that was certainly better than nothing. Maybe today wasn't going to be that bad.
Oh, who was he kidding? Lilith was going to be extra unbearable in this heat, extra cruel, extra easily pissed off.
At least, Alastor told himself as he downed his third glass, at least he wouldn't have to deal with a migraine on top of it.
It was the little things that kept him from spiraling off the edge.
Notes:
*crawls out of the shadows on the ceiling*
Did you guys like the chapter?
I feel like I ask that every chapter.
Oh well.
Karen really thought she could get away with being entitled.
She didn't, because Alastor and Charlie were not putting up with her shit. Sucks to be her.
Anygays, I do want to let y'all know that I will be starting school again next week (Monday to be exact), and I will be working during the school year so the chapters will be published sporadically again (I say that as if they hadn't been published sporadically during the summer too, but more so). Luckily I do only have four classes this semester instead of five like I had last semester, but they're also almost all lit. classes so, honestly, who know when I will be able to write. I will try to publish at least once a month but no promises. Dang, that's a sad difference compared to when I first started this fanfic and said I would published weekly. Maybe at some point I will get back into that but we are getting to the middle of the fanfic too and that's always the hardest part to write for me. Although, I do have to say, I think this is the longest I ever gotten in a fanfic without losing interest so I have a pretty good feeling.
Also, guess what children! Did you forget that I adopted you at the start of the fanfic, that hasn't changed, y'all are still my children... my children I am clearly traumatizing, s u f f e r.
It's almost my birthday! Yay!
Y'all better wish me a happy early birthday in the comments. Just kidding, just kidding.
Or am I?
And it's not just gonna be my birthday in about a week but it's gonna be my 21st! I can finally legally drink!
I say that like I have illegally drank in the past, which I haven't. That's one crime I haven't committed.
I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I'm an innocent little bean. Just a perfect model citizen.
Anygays, that's all I wanted to say, and, as always, don't forget to enjoy, comment, and broadcast the screams of your enemies for all to hear.
*crawls away on the ceiling*
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