Chapter Text
In the murky darkness, the Snake hid like an ambush predator—or like cautious prey. He slowly backed away from it, hoping the silence would extend to himself. He was lucky; his tail made not a sound on the murky ground below. Even so, those red eyes followed him as he moved back and back and back and even though he slithered back and back and back, that Snake followed him with its eyes and body, never moving but keeping pace at the same time.
He kept backing up because he knew if he stopped, it would come closer and closer and closer. It would come within touching range, come within speaking range—
He bumped into something. It groaned with an oddly staticky quality, and when he turned to face it, he came face-to-face with an indistinguishable mass of white noise.
A scream tore through the deafening silence. He backpedaled, tripping on his own knotted tail, but bumped into something else.
A hand clamped around his own. The Snake emerged, smiling merrily with just the slightest hint of blind rage in those red, soulless eyes.
He yelped. Tried breaking free of the hold, but the hand gripped him tightly, tightly. Those red, soulless eyes stared deep into his own, stared deep past him as it spoke—but it was nothing he could understand, nothing that made sense.
And yet this sense of fear, this sense of anger and terror permeated every nonsensical word it said and left him trembling trembling—
In those eyes was suffering he could scarcely remember. In them were wars fought that he didn't know the details of. In them were cases of betrayal, but he couldn't have done that, he couldn't because he couldn't remember, he didn't know—
That smile turned into a snarl. Any sense of merriment was gone, twisted into sharp fangs and a prickly tongue.
Don't! it screamed. Nonexistent walls closed in on all sides, the windows and doors previously open but unseen slamming shut all around them. The Snake grew taller, grew wings that encompassed the already cramped space.
Despite the fear and the claustrophobic conditions, he spoke. Maybe if he could reason with this Snake, then maybe it would let him go? Maybe it was just—just afraid. Yes, that had to be it. It was afraid.
“D-don’t what?” he asked, tentative and soft compared to the loud and fierce Snake.
Its hold on his wrist twitched for but a moment, and for that moment, he thought that maybe he could slip out and run away—but the hold tightened once more. He winced at the pain shooting up his arm and yelped when the Snake shoved its face into his own. Its smile returned, now tinged with madness of all varieties.
Don’t. Speak, it spat. Don’t. Want. Don’t. R—
Static behind him. The Snake shrieked and disappeared, but in the midst of the relief and the confusion came terror. The face that rounded to his own cackled and sizzled and crackled, a mishmash of undiscernible reflections of those he feared the most, whose faces he could not remember, he couldn’t remember them.
The choking scent of rotten eggs invaded his senses as the thing opened its mouth wide. Yellow goo hid in the crevices, and he was helpless to do anything but stand there and take it as the face drew near, as its teeth closed in, as it swallowed him whole—
—only then did he scream and thrash and fall onto the floor in a flailing heap, tail whipping around for any purchase or something to get out of this suffocating mass of static.
When Edward finally freed himself, it was to an unfamiliar room all red and black and dark, dark, dark. He could still hear the static, could still feel his heart racing— racing racing he needed out—
Closed walls on all sides, no exit, no way out. His hood pressed against his neck as he looked around frantically for the open door, the door was supposed to be open please—
There it was. Closed but—but it could be opened, they were never locked in Heaven. Emily kept hers unlocked and so did Sera, so this one had to be, it had to be!
Edward darted to the door and all but fell in his hurry to just get out. His hand clamped down on the doorknob, the thundering in his heart from more than the contact. He twisted—pulled— but nothing happened.
No.
No no no please open please—!
He twisted harder, yanked harder! A desperate scream bubbled up in his chest, threatening to rip out of his throat if he couldn’t get this door open.
“Please,” he whimpered. “Open, open, please let me out, open please, let me out let me out, please!”
His hand slipped. His fingers scrabbled for purchase. Panic welled up in him, overriding any and all rational thought. And through it all, he begged to be let out, for the door to open, please open please let me out!!
“Boss?” a small voice called. Edward stopped cold. “Boss, what's wrong?”
This was wrong. Frank was here? He was here—here where danger lurked in the corner in a cloud of static and rot and—
He couldn’t take his eyes off Frank. His back to the door, he started pounding on it with all his might.
~.~.~
One depressing hotel tour later, and Charlie practically deflated. Everyone was in bed by now—and now there was nothing to keep their minds off everything. Vaggie flopped onto the couch beside her with a deep sigh, leaning against her arm and just trying to process the day's events. It was tiring and depressing, and honestly it was just another day that reminded all of them how shitty they'd been as friends.
It reminded Vaggie that when her friend had needed her the most, she'd failed him.
“I can't believe we let this happen,” Charlie mumbled—she kept repeating it, but no matter how many times she did, it never lost its impact because it was true. They let it happen. Charlie let her head lean back against the back of the couch, and her hand grasped for Vaggie’s. She eagerly clasped her girlfriend's hand in hers and intertwined their fingers. “He . . . really can't remember, can he? We really did lose him.”
“No . . .” Vaggie whispered. She groaned and scrubbed her hands down her face. Any excuses she could make—that they couldn't have known, that this was something bigger than them, that he could have let them know in any other way—all paled in comparison to the utter blank slate that had sat before them. Proof of cruelty on both sides of the afterlife. “We fucked up, Charlie. Big time.”
Charlie whimpered sadly. “Yeah . . .”
For a moment or two, they sat together on the couch because seriously, they'd fucked up. They were in charge of making sure every guest, both current and former, felt welcome in their hotel, and they'd just driven their friend to amnesia. Sure, Alastor went and did a shitty thing with that whole fake party and show, and Angel and Cherri really laid into him about the deception, but in the end, Charlie and Vaggie were the ones who were supposed to keep the peace. They were the ones who led with kindness, the ones who forgave where everyone else didn't. They had to set an example.
And yet, here they were.
They took a few more moments to get themselves together before Vaggie stood up with a sigh. At Charlie's questioning grunt, she said, “Come on. We have to make sure everyone's comfortable before we go to bed.”
“Yeah, good idea . . .” Charlie heaved a sigh before pushing herself to her feet.
Hand-in-hand now, they made their way out of their room and to the rest of the guests.
Not many rooms were occupied; only one more since Sir Pentious first came back to them under the alias Pen. They checked on Cherri and Angel. They were having a sleepover in Cherri’s room tonight with Fat Nuggets snuggled between them. Charlie made sure to lock their door before closing it, knowing how much they liked their privacy. Maybe with all the commotion tonight, they just forgot.
Emily’s room was shut but not locked. Vaggie opened it to check on her and found her praying quietly on her knees. Her bright coloring was a stark difference from Hell’s predominant reds and blacks, so Vaggie noted in the back of her mind that this was something to address later. Careful not to disturb her, she shut the door as softly as she could and elected not to lock it. Emily was awake, so she could decide whether or not she locked her own door.
Finally, Charlie and Vaggie came upon Pentious’s room—but they were not the first to get there. They found Alastor peeking in briefly before shutting the door. Vaggie growled softly; she had half a mind to kick his ass just for going near that door.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.
If he was surprised by her presence—though she doubted he was—he didn’t show it. His smile was as present as ever, his stance relaxed and in control. It pissed her off.
“Why, I’m checking on our guests,” Alastor replied smoothly. “What kind of hotel manager would I be if I didn’t?”
“Just leave him alone, Al,” Charlie said. “Don’t think we forgot what you did.”
“Oh, how was I supposed to know he was going to have such a bad reaction to the surprise?” Alastor shook his head. “Good night!”
“Don’t you fucking leave—!” Vaggie swiped at Alastor, but he was gone before she could catch him.
Of course he was. She sighed harshly.
“Let’s make sure nothing’s wrong,” Charlie offered, and she stepped toward Pentious’s door. Vaggie made an affirming sound and stepped forward with her. Who could tell what Alastor had done when they weren’t looking?
Charlie turned the knob only for it to click. Locked. They shared a glance.
“Should we get the key?” she asked. Vaggie shook her head.
“Doesn’t sound like anything’s wrong,” she whispered. “I don’t want to risk waking him up.”
Charlie bit her lip, but she nodded nonetheless. Ultimately satisfied, they returned to their room to sleep the day’s events away.
-.-.-
She could feel something was wrong before properly waking up. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Vaggie wracked her brains for anything that could have been amiss first thing in the morning.
They'd checked on their residents, so there couldn't be anything wrong there. Maybe Alastor? No, it couldn't be him, not right now. She could see his radio tower buzzing with light and practically buzzing with activity. He was still in the middle of his radio show—or had even started it, depending on the time—so it couldn't be him. Maybe Husk or Niffty? No, she would have known straight away.
Vaggie sighed. She didn't exactly want to leave Charlie's warm arms, but she didn't really have a choice. Not bothering to change into something more appropriate—this felt strangely urgent, even if she didn't know what exactly it was—she hurried down the stairs to the second floor.
Halfway down the stairs, she was met with Angel, his face twisted with grim worry. She opened her mouth to ask him what's wrong, but before she could even get a word out, he mumbled a quick, “Come on, we need ya” before grabbing her hand and rushing her down the hall.
“Angel—hey, what's going on!?” Vaggie protested, but Angel didn't even answer her. They broke into a run after turning a corner, and her stomach dropped at the panicked screaming echoing down the halls.
She'd heard that screaming before, usually in an unserious setting and usually not this fearful.
Dread curled in her stomach when pounding accompanied the screams.
“Hey, hey, it's okay!” Cherri’s voice floated down the hall, barely audible over the panicked pleading and desperate pounding. “Come on, Penny, just unlock the door, yeah? It's right in there, ya just gotta turn the latch!”
They reached the door— Pentious’s door—and were met with Cherri standing right in front of the door, leaning so close to it that her mouth nearly touched it as she tried to get through to him. Emily paced behind her, near tears and beside herself with worry. When she spotted Angel and Vaggie, she nearly sobbed with relief.
“Oh, Vaggie, you have to help him!” she pleaded, fluttering to them and taking Vaggie’s hands in hers. “I-I don't know what to do! The—the door wasn’t supposed to close, and it’s locked, we can’t—”
“What's going on?” Vaggie demanded even as she started looking for her keys on her person.
“I-I—” Emily swallowed thickly. “We all woke up when we heard Edward screaming. He—I think he forgot the door locks from the inside. He—he still hates closed doors, why did it close!?”
Vaggie looked up sharply. “He what?”
Suddenly, the screams died off. Vaggie tensed and rushed to the door, all but shoving Cherri aside in her haste. Pressing her ear to the door, she tried to listen for even a hint that he was still in there.
“Please,” he whispered, and his voice was hoarse. “Please, I'm sorry, let me go please I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry, let me go, please—” His voice broke off with a desperate sob. She heard a weak thump. “Please, I'm sorry!”
“Oh, Pentious . . .” She searched once more for her keys only to remember she was in her pajamas. Cursing, she pointed at Emily. “You. You remember where my room is?”
Emily jumped but nodded.
“Good. My key ring is right on the nightstand. I need it now.”
“R-right!” And Emily sped off down the hall, her wings flapping desperately and quickly.
Behind the door, Pentious devolved into miserable crying that held so much desperation and misery that Vaggie wanted to cry herself. She just barely held herself together and knelt beside the door and tapped it gently. She could hear Cherri and Angel shuffling nervously behind her, but she paid them no mind.
“Sir Pentious,” she called, but it was like he hadn't heard her. Damn it, how could she talk to him if he wouldn't—
“Perhaps I should introduce myself again. My name is Edward Alexander Penn. My memory may be fuzzy, but I do remember that much.”
“Sir Pentious? What a silly name! Tell me, who thought up something so foolish?”
Vaggie swallowed thickly. Please let this work.
“Edward,” she called a little more firmly. A small whine was her only sign that he'd heard her. It was good enough. “I need you to listen to me, okay?” A small mhm drifted out of the room. Good enough. “We're going to get you out of there, you hear me? We're getting the key right now.”
“I'm sorry,” Pentious whimpered, and he sounded like he was working himself up to screaming again. “Let me go, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry please—!”
“Edward!” He fell silent. Vaggie felt bad for raising her voice, but she needed him to calm down. “You didn't do anything. Everything's fine. Just breathe—”
“Here it is!” The jingle of keys and Emily's voice was like a blessing now. Smiling her thanks, Vaggie took the key ring and looked for the room key.
It took a little finagling, but she shook one key out of the ungodly amount of keys and quickly inserted it into the lock. It clicked, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of not hunting it down any more than she needed to. The moment the door opened, Pentious shot out of the room, and it was all Vaggie could do to catch him before he hurt himself.
He was sobbing incoherently, beside himself with panic and anxiety. Nearly collapsing under his weight, Vaggie guided them both down to the floor so she could properly comfort him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frank rush out and cling to Pentious’s shirt, looking both confused and distraught. At the same time, Charlie came sprinting down the hall only to stop short at the scene in front of her. Her mouth worked around whatever words were stuck in her throat, but she only ended up swallowing thickly and joining Vaggie in providing comfort even though she was far from calm herself.
Slowly, Cherri, Angel, and Emily joined their little impromptu hug session, though Emily was the only one who joined in the actual hug. She whispered assurances that Vaggie could not get past the lump in her own throat, and between all of them, they managed to calm Pentious down enough to snap him out of his verbal loop.
Finally, Cherri spoke up. “Penny,” she murmured, and Pentious looked up at her with tired, puffy eyes. “Look, the lock’s inside.” As she pointed to the lock, his eyes followed her movements. “Why were you so scared?”
Pentious’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I . . . I don't know . . .” Now that it was all over and done with, his upset switched from the locked room to the inexplicable nature of his panic. “I—I don't remember. Why don't I . . . ?”
Vaggie hugged him tighter. “Don’t. Let's just go back to sleep, okay?”
The arm around her tightened impossibly more. “I—I can’t—I couldn’t—”
“Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb.” Emily’s tired voice, soft though it was, cut through the building panicked verbal loop. Pentious seemed to latch onto her words desperately with the way he immediately shut his mouth and leaned into her hug. “I brought some snacks from Heaven if you want to try some. They’re in my room. Just—take Edward with you, okay?”
Cherri and Angel exchanged a glance. “Uh, why?” Angel asked. “Full offense, but this ain’t exactly the time for midnight snacking.”
“Please.” She carefully pried Pentious’s arms from around her and Vaggie despite his desperate whimpering. “It’ll help, and—and I need to talk to Charlie and Vaggie.”
Angel balked. “And leave us outta—”
“I don’t want to know,” Pentious whispered. His throat was wrecked, and his gaze was far away, but his tone was as determined as could be. “Just—whatever you’re going to talk about, I don’t want to know.” His grip on Vaggie and Emily loosened. He pulled away enough to sit back and wipe at his face.
Vaggie ached for him. Compared to what Heaven had done to him, Hell seemed like a paradise.
“You better fill us in,” Cherri demanded. “If there’s something we gotta know, then we all gotta know.”
“Of course.” Emily gave them one last smile before getting up looking to Charlie and Vaggie.
“This way,” Charlie murmured, leading them to her and Vaggie’s shared room. Vaggie stayed behind long enough to see Frank jump into Pentious’s arms and Angel and Cherri lead him decidedly away from Emily’s room before following Charlie.
The walk there was quiet, a deafening silence after the wild commotion from earlier. It was only when they entered the room and the door clicked behind them that Charlie marched over to the bed, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it.
Vaggie swallowed down the compulsion to yell and took a deep breath. Emily, no matter her association with Sera, did not deserve to be yelled at right now.
“What happened?” Charlie asked, her voice shaking with stress and grief, and Vaggie remembered that she would have to tell her the—the pure chaos that had happened before. The screaming, the stress, Pentious freaking out about something he couldn’t remember—
Through thinly-veiled anger and stress, she recounted it. She didn’t want to—would rather get down to the nitty gritty of it because why the hell would Pentious freak out about something he didn’t remember!?—but she did.
And when she finished telling Charlie about the stress and the fear over something Pentious couldn't remember, it was clearly all Charlie could do to not burst right out that door again to do everything she could to make him feel better.
“But if he couldn’t remember, then why did it make him upset?” Charlie asked through gritted teeth. “I thought you guys said he couldn’t remember anything!”
“That’s not exactly accurate . . .” Emily twiddled her thumbs for a bit before sighing. “He doesn’t remember the events, but his body and mind seem to remember the feelings.”
Vaggie raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the memories are gone, but the feelings remained! So—so, he remembers the stress, but he doesn’t remember what caused the stress. The things that happened to him still deeply affect him. You know?”
“But what could have been so bad that he reacted like that!?” Charlie crushed her pillow in her hands. She trembled and shook, though whether it was anger or grief causing this was unclear—she looked ready to cry and punch the pillow itself. “It was just a door! A stupid door!! And that’s—that’s not all, is it? Because every time he came back from his room or a ‘meeting’ or something that had to do with Heaven, he came back worse! Like, like something had hurt him or scared him or—or—” She screamed into her pillow again and flopped down on the bed.
Vaggie took one more deep breath. “Yeah. That.” When she looked at Emily, she was met with pure grief. “I get that it’s hard to admit Heaven isn’t perfect, but we really need to know anything that could, I don’t know, scar our friend? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to accidentally torture him here.”
Emily flinched. Hard. Vaggie’s eyes narrowed.
“U-um, you might wanna sit, too,” she whispered. “It’s . . . heavy . . .”
She hesitated only a moment before sitting next to Charlie. Emily started pacing as she looked for how to explain this.
~.~.~
They did not go to Emily’s room—fuck that. He didn’t know about Cherri, but Angel knew this was definitely not a snacking kind of situation. This was a drink-til-you’re-shitfaced kind of situation, and he knew just who to go to for that.
Pentious let them drag him downstairs with little complaint even when they pulled him past Emily’s room. Seemed he agreed, too. He was quiet, though, only really responding in noncommittal hums to Frank’s frankly weird rambling.
Seeing Husk sleeping at the bar made Angel snort; the guy had his own room, but he still slept there of all places. Letting go of Pentious, he strode up to the bar and knocked on the counter. “Yo, whiskers,” he called. “Up and at ‘em!”
Husk slowly blinked awake. He dragged his eyes up to Angel with a displeased scowl. “What?” he slurred. “The fuck you want?”
“We need to get shitfaced,” Angel said, sitting down and waving Pentious and Cherri over. “What’s the strongest you got?”
The scowl only deepened. “What time is it?”
“Any time’s a good time to get drunk, babe.”
“I ain’t servin’ no alcohol just so you can get—” He blinked. Angel saw Cherri sit beside him and felt Pentious sit on his other side; that must have been what had Husk cutting himself off. Out of the corner of his eye, Pentious still looked shitty—almost as bad as before, when he came back from Heaven after weeks and weeks of being gone. Even the small, amused huffs at Frank were overshadowed by the darkness in his eyes. Husk slowly straightened up and grabbed a bottle of fortified wine from the shelves. “Guess I’ll make an exception.”
Husk served them their drinks. He didn’t ask questions, just gave them weird looks and served himself something, too.
“So,” Cherri said after the silence stretched too long. “I’m workin’ on something.”
“Oh, yeah?” Angel raised a brow and smiled at her. “What’s the occasion?”
“New turf.” Cherri’s smile widened. She looked past Angel and at Pentious, but he didn’t look her way. Her smile fell a little; Angel bumped her slightly to get her to go on. “I’ve got this new rival itching to get at my cafe, and there’s no way I’m losing that!”
While those two talked about the turf war that was absolutely going to happen no matter how much Charlie didn't like it, Husk paid attention to Pentious. As much as they tried to include him, he kept to himself and took tiny sips of his wine. Something had happened, clearly, but Husk wondered if bringing it up now was a good idea. It was clearly still fresh, and while talking about it while it was relatively fresh was good, it could do more harm at times. This was probably one of those times . . .
“Bad dream?” he asked anyway. Pentious flinched a little, but he shrugged. “Wanna talk about it?”
Pentious huffed. The smile on his face was less than amused. “I would if I could remember it.” Husk raised a brow, but Pentious didn’t elaborate. Not at first, at least. But when the silence became much more noticeable once Cherri and Angel stopped talking, he all but shrank into himself.
Maybe being nosy would—
“I-I don’t know why, but closed doors scare me,” Pentious said before Husk could even consider prompting him for more. “And the darkness, and the—the smell of—of—” He covered his mouth and shivered violently. “And I don’t know why. It’s . . . very confusing . . . and terrifying . . .”
For a moment, none of them said anything. They all knew he’d gotten rid of his memories, but to remember those kinds of fears? And where the hell did he get those anyway?
Cherri was the one to break the silence. “Let’s take that a little at a time, yeah? You’ve got some good memories here, so let’s try to focus on that?” She smiled an awkward smile with none of her bombastic attitude, and Husk wanted to slam his face on the counter with how not-comforting it was. Hell, maybe all it would do was make Pentious draw further away!
But a little light seemed to return to his eyes, and a tentative smile spread across his face. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”
“DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME!” Frank suddenly yelled—ah shit, that’s right, Frank was still there and . . .
And Pentious’s wine was empty. Empty and in Frank’s hands.
Damn.
Frank wobbled a little. “I can see the strings of fate! All the futures n’ plots!”
“Oh dear,” Pentious sighed. The little egg stood up and nearly teetered off the edge; Pentious’s hands quickly shot out to grab him before he fell. “How do you sober an egg, I wonder . . .”
“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Angel laughed. “How about some early breakfast?”
Husk looked at the time. “At four in the morning?”
“All the horses n’ men n’ eggs put themselves together!” Frank promptly collapsed. The snores started almost immediately.
Cherri stood up and stretched. “Come on, I’m hungry! And one drink won’t cut it, bitch!”
“Hell yeah!! We’re making breakfast!” Angel grabbed Cherri and Pentious and dragged them off, beckoning Husk to follow with a third hand.
Well, whatever. He could go for some food right now.